#Post-Blackfyre rebellion

[duchess-of-oldtown]

Head empty, thinking only of Dunk beating the hell out of Aerion.

[pigeon-princess]

How many eyes does Lord Bloodraven have? A thousand eyes, and one. 

[maekarlargenaturals]

How many eyes does Lord Bloodraven have? the riddle ran.

[snake-berry]

a young-ish aegor rivers

his expression isnt quite as "bitter" as it maybe should be and his hair isnt as dark as i imagine but i was focusing more on experimenting w my painting style than anything else. i am (controversially apparently) very interested in this character lol

[allyriadayne]

just endlessly fascinated by the barba ➡️ aegor ➡️ daemon ii relation. so you are your mother, you are turning into your mother. all that you hated when you were growing up. so daemon LEAVES just like aegor left barba to do the opposite of what their parent wanted.

[horizon-verizon]

Important quotes:

[...] One that hasn’t been suggested, as far as I can tell, is sincere philosophical opposition. A Blackfyre victory is not only a victory for Daemon, but a massive cultural push toward this Prom King of the Seven Kingdoms “better man” ideology. It’s not hard to imagine why Brynden Rivers would want to oppose that. If the just and peaceable King Daeron II, with the might of the Iron Throne behind him, can be overthrown because he doesn’t fit the masculine ideal, what place will there be for someone whose deviation from this ideal is literally all over his face?  If hostility toward the Rhoynar proves this potent a motivation to warfare, what’s next? The Dornish at least keep the Andal faith, which is no small thing; who’s to say that this new regime won’t want a new enemy to rally people against and decide that those weirdo tree-worshippers are a convenient target? I don’t think his motivations were predominantly about principle or self-preservation, but at the same time, if you were in his shoes, wouldn’t you fight tooth and nail to resist that?

................

Bloodraven is a bastard in an era where bastardy is a social flash point, he is a warg in a world of disappearing magic, he is an albino in a world where divergence from a physical ideal is treated as a moral failing. At some point, covering (as I hypothesized that Daeron may) or trying to kick down the door into Normalcy (as Daemon and Bittersteel definitely do) becomes corrosive, self-destructive, utterly exhausting. There is nobody else like Bloodraven, and he lives like somebody who knows it.

................

Archery is thought to be below knights, supposedly because it isn’t considered to bring too much glory. As a skill, it’s literally worth less in their world[...] The more cynical explanation for this cultural attitude is that it’s bluntly classist: people can make pretty effective bows and arrows and even learn to use them on their own, they allow people to be valuable in battle even if they can’t afford expensive armor and well-kept horses, and once those same people leave the battlefield they can also use those bows and arrows to feed themselves. Brute strength is less important, which means maleness and able-bodiedness are nowhere near as much of an advantage as they are in more “honorable” fights. And what does Bloodraven use to strike down foes? A weirwood bow. Foreshadowing things to come, yes, but I suspect the character made this choice precisely because of its symbolism.

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But the main issue is, look how much of this is scapegoating and outright dehumanization, and how little of it is based on actual events. “He killed his half-brother and nephews on the battlefield" - fair enough, if stripped of the context of Daemon’s kinslaying intent, but then - “and then he made the plague happen and killed the half-brother he was fighting for! Oh, and Baelor Breakspear, who hundreds of reputable sources saw someone else kill! Oh, yes, and somehow he did this overly-complicated magical feticide but still GOT CAUGHT doing it even though he is magical and all-powerful! Also LOOK AT HIS GROSS FACE!” As long as he lives under his own name, he’s going to be demonized. What he looks like is sufficient ammunition against him; if he starts hiding his appearance, he outs himself as a sorcerer, because the way he looked before is very memorable. This exists in dialogue with the social bias that lumps him in with his mortal enemies.

................

What’s especially impressive and engaging and above all unusual about this character is that he could, if he wants, cover more effectively than anyone else. He could disappear into the libraries with Aerys; he could either pretend not to have his affinity with ravens or choose to be one full-time. He can pass himself off as a Plumm – or for that matter, probably the Lannister or Tyrell of his choice – or any other person whose skin and hair and eye(s) don’t draw attention. His shape-shifting abilities could be read as a metaphor for the ability to cover, which is learned so well by stigmatized people. But as Melisandre tells us, glamours take a toll. Even with the means to do it, he refuses to crouch defensively and use his abilities to coddle other people’s biases and deny his own identity. He inhabits his own skin, and he throws people by forcing them to meet him on his terms. If people construe your existence as offensive, then the best defense is to give offense. This is radically different from the “wear it like armor” attitude Tyrion Lannister tries to take. Armor is defensive. Armor, like glamors, is something that you put on when necessary but is dead weight to carry when not. Bloodraven wears his difference like a set of brass knuckles. You might resent him for refusing to play by the established rules – but you’ll watch your mouth or lose some teeth.

................

When someone who is outside of society is above it and okay with it, then there’s no need to challenge ourselves on what alienation might be doing to them; when they don’t care about the system, they don’t threaten our perspective on how it’s organized. Bloodraven, though, is always playing toward some long game or another, and he always uses the most powerful tools he can get his hands on to do it. He is not a devotee of chaos. He is about order, bare and unflinching -and he stands in starkly visible contrast to what most people assume their social order to be.

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Better Men: Bias and Bastardy in the Blackfyre Rebellion, Part 3

I tried to keep this post from turning into a general deep dive into Lord Bloodraven, the biggest greatest of bastards and the newest of my favorite characters. Given the subject matter of this series of posts and what we know about the character so far, there’s a lot to explore. I’ve tried to limit this one to the character’s relationship to his own difference and how that influences his thinking.

White as bone were the skin and hair of Brynden Rivers, and his eye - he had only the one, the other having been lost to his half brother Bittersteel at the Battle of Redgrass Field - was red as blood. On cheek and neck he bore the winestain birthmark that had given him his name. (TMK)

In some ways, the Lord Hand is a fairly straightforward exploration of the concept of stigma. His face bears a literal mark, which defines his social identity to a point where he’s publicly named for it - a name referencing an animal, no less.

Straightforward,perhaps,but far from simple.This is a complicated subject, inhabited by a very complicated character.

Keep reading

[oneirotect]

Thought I would post some of the character ref art from our ASOIAF campaign for your viewing pleasure!

I’m running a homebrew campaign with the official SIFRP system by green ronin, set in 207 AC between the first and second Blackfyre rebellions!

From left to right:

Tobiah ‘Toby’ Martell, 26 (Played by Nico): A legitimized bastard of House Martell, nephew of Maron and Daenerys.

Oswick ‘Redtusk’ Crakehall, 47 (NPC): A close ally of Daemon Blackfyre during the first rebellion, fled to Essos with Bittersteel in 196 AC.

Gwyndon ‘Gwyn’ Pyke, 26 (Played by @pigeon-princess): A bastard of House Farwynd of the Lonely Light, skinchanger and warg.

[gwenllian-in-the-abbey]

Do you think Rhaenyra would have killed her siblings or it was mere paranoia on Alicent's side? The book doesn't provide a solid answer for this, and in the show it's clear that Rhaenyra would never harm her siblings.

Hi anon, I kind of went into it in this post, and although that ask was about Jace vs. Aegon III, I think the principle remains the same. In short, no, I don't think it was paranoia, but to understand why, we have to understand why Rhaenyra's brothers pose a particular threat to the stability of Rhaenyra (of Jace's) rule. Keep in mind, this isn't a moral failing specific to Rhaenyra, but simply a byproduct of the conditions of her inheritance.

I don't think Rhaenyra would have wanted to kill her siblings (or their kids), or even have planned to kill her siblings, but I also think that ultimately what she wanted wouldn't matter very much. All it would take would be someone wishing to rise in her esteem claiming that Aegon was fermenting rebellion, perhaps producing a forged letter as evidence, or an eyewitness who would swear that he had been secretly meeting with former greens. Could she risk it? Her brothers are weapons that can always be used against her. And at some point, it would be out of her control. Rhaenyra won't live forever, nor will Daemon, and when Jace attempts to take the throne, with no less than 7 legitimate male claimants alive who would have a claim ahead of him, there are bound to be challengers. The Blackfyre rebellion began with much flimsier pretexts.

We have real life examples of this. Henry VII intended to keep the remaining Plantagenets alive when he took the throne, as long as they stayed loyal. After all, they were his wife's family members, and killing them off would not be a good look. But the remaining Plantagenets would always be a threat to the Tudors. Ten year old Edward Plantagenet, the son of George of Clarence, was imprisoned in the Tower of London for 14 years before he was executed in 1499 for a supposed connection to Perkin Warbeck's scheme. Henry VII finally took action at least in part because he was negotiating a betrothal between his heir and the daughter of King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella. The Spanish monarchs did not want their daughter marrying a man whose succession could be challenged, and so Edward, the strongest claimant at that point, had to go. Henry VII's son, Henry VIII, increasingly worried about the stability of his own succession, became vulnerable to the whisperings of opportunists looking to rise in the king's esteem and eliminate their own political enemies. At this point, the remaining Plantagenet claimants became a source of paranoia, justified or not. The arrest and execution of Margaret Pole, the niece of Edward IV and Richard III, was based upon a tunic found in her home that supposedly represented her support for her son's claim to the throne and the restoration of the Catholic church in England. The tunic was almost certainly planted by Henry VIII's chief minister, the protestant Thomas Cromwell, the same man who orchestrated Henry's divorce from Catherine of Aragon (yes, the same princess whose hand Edward Plantagenet had died to secure). And Henry VIII liked Margaret, she'd been the governess to his daughter, and though they had their ups and downs, he certainly didn't hate her. Still, when her son was put forward as a rival claimant and she was accused of supporting him, she had to go too. And of course, going backwards a bit, there are famously the princes in the tower, Edward and Richard, sons of King Edward IV, who despite having been officially declared bastards (a law, you see, was not enough), were still enough of a threat to the throne that they were (most likely) murdered, whether by Richard III or one of his associates. Mere rumors that those boys still lived sparked rebellions during the reign of Henry VII.

And you can say well, there's a difference, surely, in that Rhaenyra is the rightful queen, and these other people were not? But "rightful" is not some inherent state of being, it's dependent upon who is in power. Every person who sits the throne believes themself to be the rightful king or queen. But Rhaenyra in particular gained her position because her father exercised his power and declared her heir in defiance of the expected order of inheritance, contradicting the very decision that made him king in the first place. After Viserys dies though, for all intents and purposes his wishes cease to matter. He is no longer king, and lacks any mechanism by which to enforce his wishes from beyond the grave. At that point, people will choose to support one claimant or another, based upon their own concerns (dragon math, precedent, oaths, promises made by one or the other, existing family bond) and to consider Rhaenyra or Aegon (or any other claimant down the road) the rightful king/queen. Rhaenyra's security upon the throne, like the position of Henry VII or Richard III, is inherently weaker because she comes to the throne through unconventional means. All it takes is a plague year, a famine, or a foreign invasion for any random group of lords to decide that the true king Aegon/Aemond/Jaehaerys/Maelor should be on the throne and that they should start a rebellion in his name. If Rhaenyra feels insecure in her rule, or in Jace's ability to peacefully inherit after her, it only makes sense to eliminate any potential rivals, and her brothers and their children will always be a threat, no matter her original intentions. Even if Rhaenyra keeps her word and does not harm her family, her brothers and their line pose a threat to Jace and his line as long as both lines exist.

So Alicent is not being paranoid at all, she's being realistic. If Viserys were to disinherit Rhaenyra, or were Rhaenyra to accept the peace terms and give up her claim, she would become simply another sister, but Aegon can never be just another brother to Queen Rhaenyra because in the eyes of some, he will always be a potential rallying point for dissenters, and if not him then his brothers, or his children, whether they want to be or not. That's the point Alicent is making. It's not a reflection on Rhaenyra's character, it's just that if it came down to a choice between securing her reign/Jace's succession, and the lives of her potential political rivals, it's not difficult to guess what Rhaenyra would choose.

[drakaripykiros130ac]

“I hate Targaryens because they think that they are better than everyone else.” - something very interesting I have seen a couple of TG stans post.

I am not going to get into how I always find TG fans who fight for Alicent’s children to be seen as Targaryens, yet they despise Targaryens, never not funny. Let’s focus on the comment itself.

Targaryens think that they are better than everyone else? The same thing can be applied to all families in Westeros. All of them. Here are some examples:

1. The Lannisters believe that they are better than everyone else because they have money.

2. The Tyrells deem themselves superior because they have the most fertile lands.

3. The Hightowers believe they are better than everyone else because of their close connection to the Faith and the Citadel (which they only use for personal gain, not because they are truly religious).

4. The Arryns’ motto is “As High as Honor” and they look down upon anyone, who in their view only, is not to be considered honorable.

5. Even the Starks (though I love them - my second favorites after the Targaryens) play the morality police and like to believe that no one is as just as they are.

You know the difference between these Andal Houses and the Targaryens?

The Targaryens actually have pretty good reasons that set them apart from other families in Westeros: their Godly features of silver hair and purple eyes and their ability to bond with and ride dragons. They conquered the Seven Kingdoms and created the Iron Throne.

There are people who claim that the Targaryens are the worst thing to have ever happened to Westeros, simply because of their somewhat tumultuous reign.

I say the opposite. The Targaryens are the best thing that ever happened to Westeros. Before them, the Seven Kingdoms were at constant war with one another. By uniting the Kingdoms and creating the Iron Throne, the Targaryens gave the people a good chance at peace. They controlled the Realm and kept Lords in line with the help of dragons.

Yes, there were civil wars, like Maegor’s usurpation, the Dance of the Dragons (another usurpation courtesy of the greedy Greens/Hightowers) and the Blackfyre Rebellions.

The truth is that you cannot avoid these types of wars. Regardless of which family controlled the Iron Throne, succession wars would have taken place. Andal Houses were celebrating having taken down Aerys II, and they thought that with the Targaryen dynasty ended, all will be well. Look what happened after Robert Baratheon’s death. The first Andal King passed and a civil war with five contenders to the Iron Throne started.

The Targaryens did their best, and the people of Westeros knew more peace during their reign, than they ever did before or after them.

[atopvisenyashill]

@aegor-bamfsteel not sure that i did anything to deserve the derision in this reply nor do i appreciate the implication that i haven’t actually read the books. i never said that all the blackfyres were anti dornish or anti intellectual in whole but you simply cannot deny that there is textual, canonical evidence that there was a loud faction in the blackfyre rebellions that WERE anti dornish & anti intellectualism that daemon courted and that they actively shot their cause in the foot by alienating a large number of potential allies by being loudly and proudly racist towards Dorne. that’s not just something that yandel threw in to suck up to the crown, it’s information out of daemon & eustace’s mouths as well as in dunk’s reflections over the conflict. i do not see the point in pretending that a number of the blackfyre supporters weren’t racist & pretending they’re not is just silly and underplays the very real racism that baelor, valarr. and later elia & rhaenys face in the capital from andal, valyrian, and first men cultures.

“why would elaena marry a dornishman when they’re nasty evil people who murdered her poor innocent brother daeron”

maybe because once elaena grew up she realized that there were better ways of bringing dorne into the realm than violent conquest, and that daeron got the death he deserved from not just a nobility that is valid for fearing subjugation from valyria but also a smallfolk sick and tired of these people showing up every few decades to set their principality on fire, and put aside any anti dornish sentiments she may or may not have harbored as a child to see the way her family had directly attributed to their suffering, eventually even falling in love with and marrying a dornish man??

also, considering daeron ii attempts a type of proto-reparations act in bringing dorne into the kingdom, it’s not out of the realm of possibility that someone as intelligent as elaena would recognize the inherent racism in the targaryen conquest of dorne and especially considering the very loud anti-dornish, deeply anti intellectual faction in the blackfyre rebellions, realized they wouldn’t be kind or understanding of an intelligent woman like herself and had no interest in herself or her daughters (of which she had four!!) getting shoved back into the maidenvault again?

like, daeron i is on some andrew jackson manifest destiny shit, and if it makes me an asshole for thinking “god i wish someone had merked jackson before he genocided & displaced my ancestors, good on the dornish for realizing you can’t negotiate with imperialists” than i am perfectly comfortable being considered an asshole right next to my girl elaena.

[tweedfrog]

That post about disability rep in asoiaf also reminds me that i rlly rlly dislike what show adaptations are doing with non white characters in asoiaf.

Like I think they want the bridgerton points of having a quasi-historical setting with a diverse cast and to just ignore racism and I very much get the appeal of that EXCEPT canonically. Westeros is straight up a racist place and the characters you are casting using white actors explicitly have racism impacting their storyline.

The whole point of Baelor Breakspear was that he was visibly half Dornish and there was a reactionary backlash to a court that didn't treat Dornish people and women like dirt (eg Daeron respecting Myriah Martell and allowing Elaena Targaryen to negotiate with the Iron Bank using her husband as cover).

The lords had such a hard time with that they launched FIVE SUCCESSIVE REBELLIONS. Does this seem like the kind of world where they see someone who isn't white and start holding hands and singing kumbaya?

I understanding wanting to skirt around the issue of racism since it can feel like we're dragging it bringing it up in a fantasy setting where dragons exist. Like if they can accept dragons in westeros why can't they accept brown people? Except in that case GRRM maybe shouldn't have written a world where racism exists and impacts character storylines.

I'm waiting to see how they adapt the blackfyre rebellions in the Dunk and Egg show but idk i don't have a lot of faith.

[1800naveen]

SJM fans gotta be quiet

Saw some chick on tik tok say some bullshit. "HBO should adapt Throne of Glass instead of giving us more got spinoffs and it could be better than game of thrones."

Delete the app now. Get rid of it. Pack your bags, you're getting sent off to delulu land.

That would be plagiarism if it got adapted. COPYRIGHT, HOE.

I would rather watch George RR Martin take a fat fucking shit in front of my eyes and destroy the damn toilet.

"Don't you like throne of glass?" Yes, I do and I don't care.

Are SJM fans not aware of the world of a song of ice and fire? It's not only game of thrones?? GOT comes from A song of ice and fire (the main series) and House of the Dragon comes from Fire and Blood (basically a history book).

George has written one of the best worldbuilding I've seen in books, Sarah wish she could come up with that. It's so damn beautiful, I could shed a tear. Sarah's worldbuilding got some plot holes, confusing magic systems, and other stuff that don't make sense if you think into it.

Both got weird things in their stories, I can't lie. But George somehow finds a way to mostly have a reason for it (Not all of it though, not all of it. Targs gonna Targ with the inbreeding.) In A Court of Wings and Ruin, there are twins named Dagdan and Brannagh which are incestuous for no reason at all. It says they're sexual partners on the wiki page. Knock off Jaime and Cersei? Wait, that goes to Mor and Cassian. She had no reason for them to be partners like what the hell??

The amount of stories that could be turned into shows (small edit because I fucked up and put stories again)from George's work? That's much more than SJM's. Like we got another show coming out about King Aegon V and Duncan the tall (A knight of the seven kingdoms), one about Aegon, Visenya, and Rhaenys and the conquest for Westeros, Corlys and his nine voyages (The sea snake). The entirety of Fire and Blood could get adapted on screen.

We could still get shows adapted to the big screen even after George leaves this earth (peepaw is old, I'm worried and hoping he's staying healthy.)

Examples are:

Robert's rebellion

Nymeria's war

Old Valyria and how it came to an end

The Blackfyre rebellions

The Golden Empire of Yi Ti (not much is known on the place so I really want this)

Snow (This was shelved because they didn't have anything to work with, not a shocker)

The Amethyst Empress and the Bloodstone Emperor (she was usurped by her younger brother and when she died, the long night came to the world. Sound familiar?)

The Long Night and Azor Ahai

Great Empire of the Dawn

Maegor's entire reign. It's so wild.

Jaehaerys, Alysanne, and their children. Would love to see that.

They need to stop acting like fools when they say this shit. YOU WOULDN'T HAVE THRONE OF GLASS IF A SONG OF ICE AND FIRE DIDN'T EXIST. REMEMBER WHAT CAME FIRST.

Here's a post I made about throne of glass and asoiaf.

Anyways, that's enough of my yapping. Till then when another Sarah J mASS fan makes me mad✌🏾✌🏾

[goodqueenaly]

Which pre/post-Conquest events and in-series events do you think would be popular plays/operas in each of the Seven Kingdoms and Essos?

Well, we do get a bit of a sense of what sort of "history plays" have been written and performed in Braavos (though whether these have been popularized elsewhere in Essos is a bit of a mystery). Arya references the mummers of the Ship teaching her speeches from, among other plays, The Conqueror's Two Wives, presumably about Rhaenys and Visenya Targaryen (which I personally think would be a potentially fascinating study on the respective characters of as well as the relationship between the two sisters). Likewise, in "Mercy", Arya-as-Mercy notes that Izembaro borrows a threat from Prince Garin in Phario Forel's Wroth of the Dragonlords, a play about the doomed final resistance of the Rhoynar against the Valyrian Freehold. Of course, the main action in "Mercy" centers around the staging of Forel's newest work, The Bloody Hand, a play which - obviously more than a little loosely - adapts very recent Westerosi history, staged in that chapter for the entertainment of the Baratheon-Lannister court's envoy, Harys Swyft.

Westeros doesn't appear to have exactly the same theatrical tradition Braavos seems to have, but there are certainly both puppet shows and mummer's plays performed across the Seven Kingdoms. While the specific entertainments we've seen have been limited to either mythological (the story of Florian the Fool) or allegorical (the unsubtle tale of the kingdom of beasts reported by Qyburn to Cersei) subject matter, there might nevertheless be any number of opportunities for historical events to, no pun intended, take center stage. There are way, way too many historical events and figures in the roughly eight millennia of Westeros' existence as a collection of political entities (again, to say nothing of Essos), so these ideas are not even scratching the surface, but I thought I would come up with a few.

So, for example, the accusations against Queen Naerys and Prince Aemon (perhaps complete with a Katherine of Aragon-like defense by the queen) might mirror, say, Henry VIII. The collapse of the Gardener kingdom under the weak and ineffective Garth X, followed by a devastating civil war, feels to me like an opportunity for a Reach version of Henry VI (perhaps echoed with the Dance of the Dragons, many centuries later). Even the story of Torgon Greyiron might have its share of light Hamlet parallels, as the story of a royal son quasi-usurped from his royal place by the wicked murderer of his kinsmen while he was away from his homeland (though with Torgon having something of a more fortunate ending than Hamlet himself, naturally). Not, of course, that we need to limit our imaginations only to perfect parallels of Shakespeare plays (to say nothing of any other history playwrights). Benedict Justman, for one, seems like a figure whose life could be used to ask deep questions on, say, the nature of power, the importance of love versus duty, and the importance (or not) of legitimacy. The flight of the Manderlys from the Reach and their welcome by the Starks might likewise be used by some enterprising playwright to explore themes of justice (and injustice), alienation, and self-identity.

And of course, what entertainments might be popular would likely be dependent on the politics of any given time and/or place. Would, say, plays depicting King Ronard Storm have been popularized during the reign of King Aegon IV or King Daeron II - maybe to denounce Ronard's reign as defined by lasciviousness and resistance to lawful authority (as with Aegon's), but maybe also to depict a bastard as a stronger and more worthy heir than his legitimate half-brother (if, say, the play was written by Blackfyre partisans)? Perhaps in the immediate aftermath of Robert's Rebellion, Riverlands playwrights would have looked for inspiration to the heroic uprising of Edmyn Tully against the wicked tyrant Harren Hoare (though perhaps with less emphasis placed on the king rewarding Edmyn being the first of the recently overthrown Targaryen dynasty). Daeron I's conquest of Dorne might have encouraged pro-conquest playwrights to create works about King Durran the Young, whose similar name, apparently similar youth, and very bloody military campaigns against Dornish armies might have made a natural comparison for these creators (though probably less so the idea that King Durran supposedly "became besotted with his own niece in later life and died at the hands of his brother Erich Kin-Killer").

Personally, I would love to see more fanfic invent plays or similar entertainments from Westerosi history. I, of course, would be remiss not to note my own, albeit very humble attempt at a Westerosi history play, The True History of the Blackfyre Rebellion. (And please no one remind me that I have a second play that I probably have to completely rework and is certainly nowhere close to being done.)

[dwellordream]

current ongoing writing projects

Eye for an Eye: ASOIAF Self Insert into Mya Rivers. Crack treated seriously. Revolves around the 1st Blackfyre Rebellion. Currently updating on SB, will be posted to ao3 when finished.

The Fox & the Mulberry: Original fantasy fiction. A former mercenary, a reluctant diplomat, and a maidservant are pulled into a conspiracy to kill a king. Currently updating on ao3. recently completed writing projects

Stolen Thunder: ASOIAF Self Insert into Argella Durrandon. Crack treated seriously. Character explorations of Aegon, Rhaenys, Visenya, and Orys. 

future writing projects:

Upstate: Original thriller/mystery fiction. A dysfunctional couple on the verge of breaking up are pulled into an investigation when one's sister goes missing and the other's stepbrother is the prime suspect.

[ewanmitchelll]

Imagine Taylor Swift’s songs (X): Long Live.

Imagine you are transported to the past… instants before the legendary battle between Aemond and his uncle Daemon Targaryen occurs. What will you do? Part I.

Warnings: drama, angst, smut—fluff; loosely based on “Outlander”.

Warnings 2: alternative universe concerning the end of “GOT”’s season 8 where Daenerys lives and Jon Snow never killed her, with a more modern take.

Warnings 3: long post.

***

• Current days.

With the war coming to an end and the recent coronation of Queen Daenerys, your life has finally returned to what it used to be… before the threat of the Others, when you were forced to flee from Winterfell to go down South and live with your uncle and aunt all the whilst the rest of your family decided to move to Sunspear, in Dorne.

You start a new life at King’s Landing, taking a course at the Westerosi University, making new friends and even finding a few dates for yourself.

“We should definitely head to Aegon’s Hill”, your friend Margaery says. “There’s a very mystical place, abandoned after the Usurper fell”, she adds in reference to Cersei Lannister’s death by treason.

You hesitate, but what’s there to lose? Security has been restored thanks to the joint efforts of Queen Daenerys and her King Consort, Jaehaerys II after years of civil war plus the madness coming from the north.

“We should celebrate there”, another friend named Lyna adds.

And that is how it all begins. But who could tell what was going to happen?

*

In the first hours of the morning next you, already dressed in red, black stripes pants and a white, winter like blouse, get your fundamental things in your backpack with an adventure feeling you cannot get rid off.

“And here we go”, you mumble to yourself after getting some coffee.

You hear the sound of a “beeeee”, and you know it’s Margery on the car. You wave a quick goodbye from your aunt and uncle before dropping into it.

“Don’t get yourself too late at home!”, you hear your aunt yelling over her shoulder.

You laugh quietly before yelling back:

“When have I ever failed you?”

And so you are driven all the way to Aegon’s hill, singing a random song seconded by your girl friends.

“I feel so excited about going there”, you, usually the quiet one, find yourself chatty this morning. Is the coffee the cause of it? Maybe. “I was reading about it and rumour has it there are a few enchantments surrounding the stone blocks that remain still.”

“You can’t honestly believe this shit”, Lyna reclines back the backseat and gives you a look. “It’s all mythical. Stories tell us that that hill received the Conqueror’s name because that was where he flew with the great Balerion.”

“But before his arrival there used to be the spot of ancient religions that turned such spot one very meaningful for their practices and all. Aegon himself kept it, aware of its importance”, you honestly don’t know what’s with you, but part of you likes the mysterious aura that place has.

“There is also a legend dated from the days of the Blackfyre rebellion that if you are not careful enough you can be tossed into the past”, says Margaery.

“How past that is, one wonders”, Lyna muses, eventually taking in the idea.

“That depends. The three eyed crow could tell… but it’s been said the man was killed by the Night King.”

You tilt your head as if pondering what the girls are talking about.

“I still can’t believe he died during the war”, you muse out loud.

“He sacrificed for the realm. Apparently he always knew that.”

No one dares to say anything. The Great War is still a sensitive topic to many and your group isn’t an exception to it. Eventually, however, you manage to get to the hill.

It’s large and surrounded by very ancient stones indeed. The beauty in its mysticism makes all the more alluring to you. Something so captivating calls you and, distracted, as if you have been hypnotized, you attend it.

In baby steps you walk, ignoring the bubbling of your friends. A soft hymn, as if played by a harp, is heard.

“Do you hear this, girls?”, you turn at them, missing the mist that rises from nowhere.

But they seem unable to hear you. You try to reach them, especially when the sound of an earthquake scares the hell out of you. You grip tightly the stone, or try to, but it’s when everything spins and you scream.

When your friends turn at you, you are no longer there.

***

• Days of War

I said remember this moment in the back of my mind. The time we stood with our shaking hands. The crowds in stands went wild…

A thunder scratches through the black clouds, roaring it violently. It only announces bad omens. Men paint the soil with their blood in red all the whilst dragons rip skies in cursed fighting.

As it starts to rain, Aemond Targaryen prepares to fight his bitter enemy, confident that he will bring victory to his side. Rhaenyra has been suffering with many losses, betrayals, no one believes her cause anymore.

Dressed in dark green leather, he doesn’t mind the rain that soaks his long silver hair. A twisted, evil smirk is seen as he rests his hand over his sword sheath.

“And here we go, Vhagar”, he mumbles when climbing Aegon’s hill where his dragon, the legendary beast that followed Balerion and Meraxes in the conquest of Westeros many moons ago, awaits.

But it’s precisely when seeing Vhagar agitated and spitting fire that has Aemond startled. What could be the cause of its state? He is ready to run to it when he sees… you.

A scared woman in what he judges to be in her mid 20’s has just tumbled before him. Dressing in strange clothes, your hair is soaked and you shake. You are bloody scared, he can tell, and in other circumstances he’d shoo you away.

However, you not only possess strange objects he’d never seen, but something else that captures his attention. And when you see who’s the man that stands right before you… you remember your history lessons.

And you scream.

Right before you pass out.

“What the fuck?”, Aemond breathes heavily, wide eyed gazing at you. Part of him tells to leave you there, but another cannot. Curiosity takes the best so he forgets the battle for now and carries you with him. “Vhagar, it appears we are delaying the freaking encounter this day. For now.”

Not in the best of the moods, he is, however, intrigued by you. As he flies with you to his secretive spot—away from Alys, he keeps it in mind—, he wonders about your whereabouts and why you dress such unusual clothing. And what’s this object you carry behind your back? A product of witchcraft perhaps?

He narrows his eyes, suspiciously so. But in the midst of this long term war, one thing is for sure: you have brought him back the inquisitiveness that he’s long lost…

***

When you open your eyes, it takes you a few minutes to realize where you are… and when realizing that your clothes are changed, you are forced to acknowledge that whatever happened the day before was not a dream.

You begin to panic when you see your surroundings. You are in a large, comfortable bed with lamb skin made blankets over your frame. The furniture is not as modern as the one your aunt has in her household.

You swallow hard, scanning still your eyes s modest desk, and a simple window. All of this makes you miss the discreet presence of Lord Aemond, who’d been watching you from the side of the chamber you haven’t noticed yet.

“I wonder the cause behind your astonishment”, his husky voice breaks the silence in such a powerful way that you nearly jump out of the bed, which makes the prince amused.

Never before had you stood a royal before, even if this man is not the kindest of his station. You force yourself to remember your history lessons and behave in the most natural way possible.

Therefore you stand and dip into what you judge a careful curtsy. Aemond’s eyebrows are raised, arms folded. But he is no fool.

“You are not from here”, he continues. “Who are you? A very weird spy sent by my dear sister to distract me?”

In other circumstances you’d have laughed out loud. But you are too frightened to do that. Aemond sees you are shaking, a clear sign of fear.

“Well? Has the cat eaten your tongue, my lady?”, he sighs heavily, not the most patient of men.

“I… No, lord. I am not”, never before you’ve been thankful for learning the ways of nobility, aware few of the etiquette has altered in the course of centuries. “I… I am not your sister’s partisan.”

Aemond can tell you speak the truth, but he approaches you, shortening the distance between you two. Then he shows you your backpack and all the things there are still inside.

“What are these then? Are you a witch, lady? Has my sister bought you so you could use such witchcraft against us, against me?”

Part of you finds ridiculous how this is going. Another is trying not to laugh at the face of danger. The reasonable self there is still in you prevails by masking your sentiments, reminding that you need to conquer this man’s trust if you want to go back home.

“If I tell you, lord, you will not believe me”, you opt for the truth. If the prince has long decided to burn you, then what does it matter?

Aemond is surprised by the moment you lift your eyes. Something about your gaze shakes his heart, as if bringing the tempest within. He ignores the shiver that now runs over his spine.

“Try me”, he commmands you to.

“I must have your word that you shall not burn me.”

The prince side smirks at you.

“Do I have the reputation of slaying ladies or sending them to death? Believe me, my lady, my mistress has been associated with dark magic and here I stand.”

Without thinking twice, though, the following words roll out of your tongue:

“But you are renowned as the kinslayer. That speaks for itself.” It’s only then you know you’ve angered the prince. Shit. “I’m sorry, lord.”

“You are my prisoner”, Aemond snaps back at you. “Bear in mind you need my favour if you have any love for your life.”

Your eyes are puddled with tears. Once too proud, you slide to your knees and beg him for your life.

“Lord, I’ve been a victim of witchcraft. I’ve been casted here, that is the truth and only truth. I come from the future and there is where I belong. I’ve never meant to stay in your way. I beg you to spare me, we have no cause for otherwise.”

Aemond’s good eye is slightly wide. He can tell, being a good observer, that you are not lying even if his reason cannot conceive it. On the other hand, what surprises him more is the way you are begging him. He’d taken you as a proud woman. The scene now disconcerts him.

“I must depart. I am needed and…”

You know you should not meddle in the past, aware of the consequences. This is a bad reputed prince, the chronicles helped making you dislike him greatly. However, you depend on him in going back to Aegon’s Hill. Therefore…

“Don’t go. You will die.”

Aemond’s eyebrows raise epically.

“What? Listen to me, young lady. Whomever you may be, sent by my sister or not, you shall better hold your tongue.”

Oh this couldn’t go any worse, could it? You sigh heavily.

“And then what? I need you, lord, to find my way back home. If you die today, I’ll be stuck in here for good.”

“Perhaps then I should have left you to Alys.”

“No!”, something about your cry scares the untamed prince. “Lord, please. I…”

A moment of silence. Neither could believe in what is going right before their eyes. You, stuck in the middle of another war; him, in the presence of what he judges to be a product of witchcraft.

“How should I address my lady?” Aemond opts to begin again.

And when you soften, so does he.

“Y/N, lord.”

“Y/N, I am Aemond Targaryen. Looks like there’s so much to catch on…”

To change the fate of Westeros, he stays.

***

The night you danced like you knew our lives would never be the same. You held your head like a hero on a history book page. It was the end of a decade, but the start of an age.

Aemond’s good eye studies you as you eat like you haven’t been fed for ages. Your hair is still hanging lose behind your back and you are still wearing a pair of delicate earrings he’d never seen before, but all else makes you look like a woman of his own times.

“So the enchantments of Aegon’s Hill are true”, he muses, breaking the silence as he takes a sip of his wine.

“They are, lord.”

“But never heard of a case where they had… succeeded, in fact.” He tilts his head. “What proof can you give me you are actually from there?”

“My objects aren’t proof enough?”

This silences the prince for now.

“I do not think wise to meddle in these events”, you say in turn. “Lord knows what that’d be like for my own days.”

Aemond is intrigued as he watches you pale. Then curiosity knocks his pride out.

“What’s like? The future?”

You wonder if you should tell him. As if he reads you, Aemond adds:

“Eventually I die. I am not asking you how. But your days, lady, I want to know. How better are they from mine?”

Sadness sparks behind your y/c eyes, a sight that inspires sympathy on him.

“Worse, I dare say. I was first raised in a long civil war. And then… another came, worse still. I really have no words to put it.”

“I cannot conceive a war worst than civil war”, says Aemond. “But another civil war bled Westeros?”

“Yes”, you try not to speak too much.

“Fuck”, Aemond grumbles under his breath. “All of this… for nothing?”

Not knowing what to say, you choose silence. And not knowing how to react, Aemond breathes in frustration. He decides to leave you.

And you end up that evening alone. But early next morning, Aemond, too intrigued with your presence to remember to fight his enemies, paces anxiously around the castle. He must know, he needs to know. And when waiting becomes unbearable, you show up.

Dressed in a blue velvet gown, you look properly like a lady of these times even though you cannot mask well your discomfort. Aemond’s own thoughts disappear before the sight of you, feeling so lost, so… out of place.

“My lady”, he doesn’t admit how taken aback he is by your beauty. “I pray you have slept better this night.”

“Not really, I’m afraid”, and your red eyes are a clear sign of how you actually spent your night. Aemond frowns at that, preoccupied. “I shall make my mission taking you home… after the battle that awaits me.”

You should not care, but you feel disconcerted by his presence. The way he looks at you says all.

“I cannot convince you otherwise”, you sigh. “Can you at least leave me at Aegon’s Hill, though?”

A request that defies your sanity, you know well. One that poses your boldly despair very clear. But you are now a survivor struggling to live in such a strange world.

However, Aemond is not willing to let go easily of you. Inspired by mixed feelings, he says:

“You are my prisoner now, remember? I shall keep your secret”, he approaches you slow, shortening the distance between the two of you. “Just tell me how to beat my uncle, how to win this war.”

“Oh Lords”, you find support in the wall. “What kind of question is that? In one moment you…”

“Just tell me!”, Aemond cuts you, rather impatiently.

“I cannot! Lord, if I do, the world I know my disappear.”

He realizes the dilemma you are. Confused by all of this mess, Aemond hesitates.

“Just stay here until I come back.”

Without waiting for any response, there he leaves you, but not to fight Daemon Targaryen. Not now. And you weep because this is all you can do for now.

***

You try to leave the castle, disguised as a peasant, but your plan comes to fail when Aemond comes back and from above, he spots a strange figure running through the woods.

Now here you are, a prisoner again. This time the prince is in a better mood.

“You are really trying to get away of me. In other circumstances, I’d be mad at you for this bluntness”, he muses, offering you wine as you sit in front of the fireplace.

You shoot him a glare, not saying anything.

“What am I to you but a toy so you can play?” Desperation hits a different tone and before you know you burst into tears, swiping away his mug smirk.

After a while, Aemond comes to his senses. He reluctantly takes your hand and when both of you see fingers intertwining, a different heat seems to rise.

“I lament profoundly to cause you pain, lady Y/N”, says he. “But this is who I am. Shouldn’t you know that?”

“I believed in other men’s judgement where you are concerned, but now…”

“Now what?”, he asks, somewhat anxious.

“Now I know in the hard way we should be better than be led by prejudices.”

Aemond leans back in his chair, thoughtful. You realize he doesn’t let go of your hand.

“Wise words, lady Y/N.” And then he muses. “I died, didn’t I? We lost this war, didn’t we?”

You avoid his gaze, opting for silence. But your silence screams unspoken words that reach the Prince’s heart. And he sighs, in between melancholy and resignation.

***

The following days you are not entitled as the lord Aemond’s prisoner any longer. Showing some colours in the horizon, hope stands as he presents you as the illegitimate daughter of some nobleman loyal to the green house who’d been deceased in the previous battles.

With a more convincing background, you are better instructed by maids of his trust in the manners of the times. Soon, you are offered a place to serve Queen Helaena.

It’s when you remember that droll tragedy.

“Oh no!”

Aemond raises his eye at you.

“What makes you deny this privilege any lady would kill to earn?”

You blush.

“I mean to say…”, you struggle with words, “I am unfit for such a position.”

“Allow me to disagree with you”, Aemond smiles and suddenly the view pleases your heart very much. “There shall be a ball on behalf of my sister’s birthday this weekend.”

“Will we dance?”, you blurt it out before you realize.

Aemond’s cheeks go pink at your spontaneity.

“Dance, you say”, he muses thoughtfully. “I am no dancer, my lady.”

“We are performers in life. Therefore anyone can be a dancer.”

“Quite a wit you possess”, says he in reluctant admittance. “Very well. If it pleases my lady…”

One smile is enough to turn tables.

“It does.”

And a new fate is sealed.

***

“It doesn’t feel like you are an outsider”, so mumbles Aemond to you alone as you two dance amidst courtiers.

It’s a sweet melody, cheerful somewhat in its beat, certainly bringing many presents a smile on their faces. The Dowager Queen looks pleased and delighted, entertained by her twins. One look at them and you are remembered by the upcoming events.

Oh, the burden of knowing too much. You swallow the bitter thought as you dance with the rogue prince. Earlier the Queen, who had welcomed you in the merriest of the moods, had said no one but a traveler could bring a man as her brother to dance. Her remark, not taken seriously by many, did manage to leave you uncomfortable. After all, you forgot that she had the Targaryen ability of possessing dreams.

“How come?”, you inquire, and it doesn’t take long before your gaze meets his.

He doesn’t strike you as the villain.

“You fit here just fine”, Aemond whispers in response.

As you twirl, hands barely touching his, you feel you are about to fall right into the trap.

“Do you think so?” And then you flash him a mischievous smirk. “Who’d ever thought we could get along?”

“Who, indeed?”

And then the dance comes to an end. Aemond takes your hand and bows, as you curtsy. But when he presses his lips against your skin, your heart races.

It appears you found your hero, after all.

***

Long live the walls we crashed through, how the kingdom lights shined just for me and you. I was screaming, "Long live all the magic we made” and bring on all the pretenders. One day we will be remembered…

It’s late night. Aemond’s thoughts are only on the strange woman who was tossed out of time and space to go straight to the core of the civil war that will be known in posterity as dance of dragons.

He’s been so captivated that he’s long forsaken Mistress Rivers and his obsession in defeating his sworn enemy, his own uncle Daemon Targaryen. Therefore he decides to go after you. Covered by the shadows of night with only the guidance of faint candlelights, he soon finds your bedchambers.

There is hesitation at first. His own thoughts are confused, his heart hammers in silent agony. There is half hope, half atonement in his heart beat.

Nevertheless, he came too far to stop now. So he knocks at long last.

There is no answer at first. And then…

“My lord Aemond”, you are surprised to find him on the other side of the door. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Despite the admonishment in your words, he can tell there is amusement in your eyes.

“Aye. But I couldn’t find myself able to sleep. And neither could you.”

A faint blush paints your cheeks, earning him his typical smirk.

“I wonder if the same thought has been the cause of our restless nights”, he begins, eyeing you up and down, much to your discomfort.

Dressed in your long white nightgown with your hair down in your back, you look as ethereal as your background. There is beauty, but there is also something unknown in your aura. There is a connection between you two.

And you, on the other hand, are more than familiar with the rules of those days you are now inserted. However, are you able to resist this man?

You wait, though. Maybe you’ve figured this out in the wrong way?

“Your silence mortifies me, lady”, Aemond sighs impatiently. “Is this not evidence enough of how I came to love you?”

Your eyes go wide and you almost drop the candle you’ve been holding.

“Aemond… I am hardly the most appropriate woman for you.”

“Titles and lands are nothing for me”, he responds anxiously.

It’s when he takes your free hand into his, locking fingers at last. To feel his warm skin against yours, colder by comparison, gives goosebumps and small shocks as a result. You fear that you are about to lose your control.

“Aemond…”

He steps forward, saying nothing until he closes the door behind him and puts the candle somewhere safe. Only then he holds you against him and finally kisses you like you’ve never been kissed.

And indeed you have never experienced the firm grasp of a man, the decisions of one confident who knows what he wants. You could have never imagined that one of the kind exists and could desire you this much.

Worse perhaps is to discover how long you’ve been dreaming about this. As his lips clash into yours, your morals die unheard. You let him reclaim you, shuddering under his intense grip, his burning touch.

Before you could do anything, though, Aemond lies you on your bed, lifting your skirts to your waist and then…

“Oh, Lord!”, you whimper out loud. “Aemond…!”

This is certainly the best experience you’ve had. And so easily your legs get heavy, that heat comes down your belly and you… burn.

You want to pull him over you, but the messy prince flashes you a side smirk, dropping by your side.

“Do you honestly believe I shall deflower my lady in a most ungallant manner?”, he chuckles as he watches you frown in frustration.

You raise your eyebrows. You hesitate in whether telling him about your previous experiences. Unwise it may be to be honest, but worse is to ignore your conscience’s voice.

“My prince, as much as I appreciate your kindness and respect to me…”

He furrows his eyebrows.

“In my days these matters have changed significantly”, and then you are quick to add. “It doesn’t mean I’ve had plenty of others, though.”

You give up justifying yourself when you watch Aemond struggle with comprehending your point. Eventually, however, he cedes the battle and says:

“I am not an example of morality, I suppose. Even so I stand what I said.”

Your face lightens up.

“You cannot honestly mean…”

“…that I intend to espouse you?”, Aemond scoffs. “Of course I do. It’s a better way to protect you, by the way. These are trying times, my lady.”

That being said, you cuddle onto him, forgetting completely there is a bloody civil war outside and that you are not studying the period anymore, but living it at its fullest.

***

It is often remarked how to achieve peace one must be prepared for war. And in war, few are familiar with good sense.

Whatever are your thoughts about it, your first taste of tragedy comes in the form of revenge. You are just going back from a stroll outdoors at the gardens when screams get at you.

As you rush to the indoors, you are prevented by Aemond.

“You should be better left out of this. Let me resolve it.”

“No”, you protest. “Aemond, I…”

But he isn’t listening. He leaves you there, as if you are a ghost haunting the castle. Your eyes start to get teary as you realize what part all of this is about.

You cover your ears as the screams continue endlessly, echoing in a kind of pain that you’ve been familiar once. The sounds awake old traumas, opening wounds long thought to be healed.

You can’t stay in there. Useless you feel, therefore you motion outdoors. All you do is walk. Perhaps this is the better time to go to Aegon’s Hill. You want to go home, you don’t want to spend any more time there…

However, once you do, you are prevented from doing so by Aemond. The rogue prince, paled with angst, is perplexed at the thought of you gone. Despaired, he comes after you, thankfully not needing to reach Vhagar for that purpose.

“I cannot stay here”, you tell him, body shaking in evident signs of trauma. “Please, take me home.”

“Y/N…”

“Please! I don’t belong here, Aemond!”

“Yes, you do. You belong with me”, he cups your cheeks and then reading your eyes, he denudes your soul, almost if by chance he has a glimpse of the future through you. “Whatever happened there… and whatever happened here are not who you are. Listen to me, Y/N. It’s you and I against the world. I am honestly sorry these are the circumstances we are now in, but we must be brave.”

There are so many words but none leaves your mouth. Aemond embraces you, rocking you in his arms.

“You already knew what was going to happen”, he is not asking a question. “But this is not the reaction one might’ve expected. You are also a survivor… of war. Bloody seven hells, Y/N. I’m very sorry, my lady.”

You melt in his embrace, sobbing as the nightmare of leaving everything behind in the midst of panic and fear strikes you again. You’ve never seen yourself as a survivor, until now.

“Come inside”, he asks you gently. “Don’t go now. Please.”

Never before he was seen vulnerable, but then again so are you. It had been a while since your wounds were so crudely open, left to bleed in such a painful manner. You’d think you overcame it, but not entirely as you’d like to believe.

Here you are, however, comforted by this character whom you were taught to hate all thanks to the chroniclers that registered his bad deeds. Although he may have done such, and you won’t find excuse for his bad reputation, he’s so much more than that, than words written by thirds.

He’s your prince. He’s your hero and you shall not think anymore of it.

***

After these dark days are gone, sun rises in paradise again. Aemond invites you to fly Vhagar with him.

The decision comes after Rhaenyra and her husband Daemon are put off the show for now. The greens hold victory for now, and even you forget the upcoming events.

“I cannot fly her!”, you shake at the thought. “Do you want to see me dead?”

Aemond laughs heartily and the sound of it melts your heart and soothes your mind. He twirls you around him before holding you against his chest.

“Do you trust in me so little that I’d let you slip so easily?”

You giggle.

“I am just not a brave woman you might expect me to be”, so you say, drowning in that good purple eye.

“Oh, dearest. You are a lot braver than you’d judge.”

Saying so, he kisses you on the lips, and you save his taste as you gladly return it.

I said remember this feeling. I passed the pictures around of all the years that we stood there on the sidelines wishing for right now. We are the kings and the queens. You traded your baseball cap for a crown

You cast him a long loving glance as the prince holds your hand, giving you side smirk before leading the way to Vhagar. This ancient beast, a companion to the Westerosi conquest two other Valyrian dragons, seems to read you the moment your gazes meet.

A sight too frightening to behold, one you’ve seen before the moment you were tossed in this time and space. You recollect the fear that shook your bones and froze your reason and this seems to happen again.

“Don’t be afraid. She knows you are with me”, says Aemond in a nonchalant manner.

You nod your head, but Aemond feels your body shaking. He gently pulls you against him and in a matter of seconds you are suddenly mounting that legendary creature.

“Holy cow!”, you scream.

The silver haired prince laughs quietly, before whispering the words in Valyrian to Vhagar start to fly.

“Calm down, love. Don’t be fearful, it’s worse if you do.”

“I am no dragon rider, Aemond”, you snap at him, eyes going wide as Vhagar begins to rise higher, flying in an incredible speed—fast enough according to your judgement and lack of experience where dragons are concerned, not entirely fast when comparing Vhagar to younger dragons like Caraxes, for example.

But all Aemond does is laugh away your fears. He takes your hands, holding them as he shows he’s commanding the situation. Despite your fears, the adrenaline comes at it and so suddenly you are flying higher than getting an airplane to Dorne.

“AEMOND!”

The silver haired finds adorable the way you trust him, holding onto him as if your life depends on him. But he knows you are overcoming a fear of heights and this only grows his admiration of you.

Eventually though, as if Vhagar is sensing your fear, she slows down and only then she settles in a pace that doesn’t fight you. It’s when you risk patting her back, stroking your delicate fingers over the asperity of the creature’s skin.

“Remember this feeling”, he whispers in your ear. “This is what freedom is like. This is what it means to never let anyone hold the reins of your life.”

“I see the lights of Westeros shining for us”, you don’t even know what you are thinking, but these words seem to make sense for you.

“They are”, Aemond spots the fire pits in towers where orange flames wipe away the fog that instaure that evening. “But you shine the brighter, my dear.”

You blush violently at his words. Never before you felt so loved and understood. Slightly turning your head, and locking gazes with him, you tell this silver haired prince open words regarding your heart.

“I love you, Aemond. Truthfully, I do. I only shine brighter because of you.”

His wide gaze shows no emotion, perhaps skeptical about the genuine feeling you put in them. But Aemond knows you are sincere and this moves him more than he admits.

Locking his arms around you, he kisses you before saying:

“I love you.”

And this is enough for you.

***

You are married in secrecy to a man whom history despises being the kinslayed. His vices are listed perpetually in dust parchments, used as propaganda to disperse any honesty there might’ve colored the shades of the green party that ruled Westeros for a short period of time.

But you see his virtues that no chronicler bothered to see and those overcome the former in a colorful prism of human being.

Daeron Targaryen, his younger brother, is the only witness of the ceremony.

“Welcome to the family, my lady Y/N. In other circumstances, this would be a merry and most favorable occasion.”

“My brother, this matters little. I appreciate the warm wishes, though, and I bet better days are about to come.”

Aemond is pleased to see how well you and his family get along. When one lives history, easily it is to forget it. And so it goes.

When you are taken to his privy chambers, who’d think this was when history is about to change?

“You look so beautiful. Astonishingly so.”

“You make sparks fly”, you smile at him, taken by handsomeness, hands stroking his long silver hair before holding his face. “I adore you, my prince.”

It starts slowly. Your tongue pairs perfectly with his, in one same passionate rhythm. Only then impatience rises when the heat begins to burn.

Your hands start to undress him, automatically moving down to his leather pants.

“Let me show you my devotion”, you break the kiss to whisper in his ear.

Aemond hisses under his breath, eyes closed as he already reacts to your caresses. Your lips leave traces of warm kisses from his neck to his shoulders, going down to his belly and then… you kneel to say your prayers.

*

But he is now devouring you like a hungry man, starving for your soul. His lips on your nipples do wonderfulness. You roll your eyes, moaning softly as your hands play with his hair.

When his skillful fingers find way to your core, you know you are lost. Aemond smirks at how loud you can be, this arousing him further.

“Hmm, my darling”, he raises to meet your mouth, clashing it in a fervent kiss, therefore muffling your lustful cries.

And right as you come undone, he doesn’t wait any longer. Sliding right inside you, you open your eyes, somewhat pleasantly surprised by his intensity.

“Aemond!”

He could not tell whether you are moaning or complaining.

“Yes?”, he groans as starts to move inside you.

“You… are… so… fucking good!”

The prince laughs at your cursing.

“My lady, watch your tongue”, says he in such a malicious way that you feel you could come undone right now.

“Aemond, you devil”, you whimper, legs locked as you begin to move as one.

He smiles down at you, holding your hands above your head. As you kiss, you meet a heavenly bliss.

***

War, however, comes back in unsafe and soundly steps. You, merged in domestic happiness, allowed yourself to forget that in great delights await greater sorrows.

Thirty days after your marriage, to your surprise you find yourself conceived. You want to tell him in the ways your prince likes: flying Vhagar. By now you and this ancient beast have somehow gotten used to each other’s presence.

“May we fly together this evening, husband?”, you ask him, trying not to sound too eager.

Aemond somehow senses you are different. But he cannot tell what exactly is.

“For someone who feared Vhagar, you’ve become quite a dragonrider.”

This day you are breaking fast with your husband’s family, now pleasantly aware of your secret matrimony, notwithstanding Ser Otto’s initial disapproval.

You giggle quietly.

“That is what marrying to you means, is it not?”

Aemond laughs quietly.

“Why, my darling, I could never refuse you anything.”

“Just be mindful you two”, muses the Dowager Queen Alicent, distracted. “It’s cloudy today.”

***

May these memories break our fall. Will you take a moment? Promise me this. That you'll stand by me forever. But if, God forbid, fate should step in and force us into a goodbye, if you have children someday when they point to the pictures. Please tell them my name. Tell them how the crowds went wild. Tell them how I hope they shine…

How could you know what was about to happen then? You are excited to share the news, believing this is the best scenario you could’ve pictured.

Dressed in proper robes, you follow Aemond excitedly and when greeting Aemond with your characteristically sweetness, he snorts and says:

“Who could’ve known we’d come to this? You turned my dragon war in domesticated dog, Y/N.”

You roll your eyes at his teasing.

“Don’t be silly, Aemond. She needs love and caring like every animal”, you smile. “As well as respect.”

“I wonder at times if you are real.”

You turn your head slightly at him as you two prepare to ride.

“Why wouldn’t I be, my love? You are my husband, or am I mistaken? Have you been with Mistress Rivers ag…”

He interrupts you by kissing you passionately. And right there Vhagar roars through the air. You feel as if you’ve been electrified. And the look in your face awakes the best of him.

“I love you, woman.”

But every happiness dies when skies grow darker and Vhagar’s roar sounds different. Aemond frowns his eyebrows.

“Shit. There’s something wrong”, he is quickly alert.

You, focused in telling him about your state, begin to grow afflicted when remembering that that battle between him and Daemon Targaryen didn’t happen the way it should.

You interfered.

Fuck.

“Aemond, honey…”

Wind blows colder, it announces storm. He begins to drive Vhagar lower, flying higher as darkness sweeps away the last rays of light. You try not to panic, but by the looks on your prince, you are promptly a victim to it.

“I’ve ruined everything. I shouldn’t be here. I messed all.”

“Don’t say that”, Aemond doesn’t have a clue of what you are trying to say, but he is already familiar with your background to prevent your insecurity to meddle in it. “You have been the best thing to happen to me…”

Before you have the time to answer him, a different roar echoes through the thundering clouds.

You know where it comes from. You know the one behind him.

And you are at the wrong place, at the wrong time.

“Aemond!”

“Nothing will happen to you, this I swear”, but then he adds, without looking at you. “If, however, something happens to me…”

“Don’t!”

He continues as if you hadn’t protested.

“…never forget how you turned me into a better man. I am unworthy of the Seven Heavens, but I tasted a bit of sacred forgiveness when you loved me. You redeemed me of my sins, my lady, even when I was a miserable. Move on as you should. But never forget me. Or us.”

“Aemond!”, you cry because you remember the result of this battle, and worse is now the effect of his words. “I love you!”

There is so much to be said, but you cannot. Time steals you from him. As Aemond and Daemon faces each other, the prince tries to find a way to save you.

However, no dragon flees from battle. But because Caraxes is faster, it soon attacks Vhagar. It’s right here that, above Aegon’s hill, every shadow eclipses the sun.

It’s right here that in midst of it all, you fall. It happens too fast. Aemond is trying to fly away, but Vhagar doesn’t obey him again. It soon responds Daemon’s Caraxes offense with another.

But when Vhagar gets bitten in the neck, the ancient dragon loses balance for a moment and right here a storm wind knocks you out.

Aemond screams, trying to save you, but you refuse to be saved. You are still in tears, judging to see him attacked by Daemon when the spells of time engulf you.

‘These violent delights have violent ends, And in their triumph die like fire and powder…’

To be continue…

[daenerysoftarth]

Like I said I’m not really sure of the reason in this hypothetical. For the sake of argument, in this scenario Daenerys is still taking care of things in Slaver’s Bay and Young Griff is an authoritarian asshole who Jon feels compelled to overthrow for moral reasons. Idk if it will actually happen, but I think the generational parallels would be interesting. Because both Young Griff and Jon could take the role of both Blackfyre or Targaryen, depending on how you look at it.

It would be kinda cool if Jon was a bastard, ie Rhaegar and Lyanna were never married and Rhaegar for some reason never *acknowledged* Jon as a potential heir, because then the next gen of Targaryens would end up mirroring the Blackfyre rebellions with the two most likely candidates being the supposedly trueborn heir Aegon and Daenerys who’s another trueborn vs the supposedly bastard son Jon

at least for Dany vs Jon, I don’t ever see them as being truly antagonistic towards each other because their stories parallel so much. but I wonder if there will ever be a battle between Aegon and (resurrected) Jon future books