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isa-beenme · 2 months ago

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Whispers of Secrets and Starlight

Omg but you will shorten the war this much? Yes

Omg but you will cut all of- Yes

Omg but you will- YES

That's not my focus bbs I don't even know how to write a war sorry 😚🫶🏻

Warnings: Use of Y/N, ACOTAR rewrite, female main character, 2,3% book following look at me, mentions of PTSD, character death (more than 1), lots of trauma, war, blood, bit of gore, Tamlin 🤢, Rhysand 😭

Whispers of Secrets and Starlight - Masterlist

Chapter 12: Six Hundred Strike

The battlefield stretched wide before you, the rolling hills of Spring Court now a war camp. The armies of Prythian had gathered, a sight unlike any seen in centuries, warriors from every court, standing side by side.

The Illyrians stood in disciplined ranks, wings tucked close, siphons gleaming in the overcast light. Peregrines from the Day Court waited alongside them, their lighter armor built for speed, their wings flicking in anticipation. Soldiers from Winter, Summer, Autumn, and even the handful from Spring who had abandoned Tamlin’s failures, all waited in formation. Then came the scouts.

A Peregrine landed first, his wings folding as he strode toward Helion. “Hybern is marching.”

An Illyrian warrior, barely seconds behind, knelt before Cassian. “The King is with them. And he has the Cauldron.”

Even with two pieces missing, it was still a force to be reckoned with. A cold weight settled in your chest.

Rhys squeezed your hand once. “We stick to the plan.” He said in your mind. You nodded.

Cassian’s voice rang out, commanding, clear. “Everyone, move into position!”

The army shifted. Prythian’s forces began their descent, moving toward the open valley ahead. The land sloped downward, just enough to disguise their movements, just enough to let them control the battlefield before Hybern fully realized what was happening.

The valley was the perfect trap. And the first step was yours.

Rhysand turned to you, his violet eyes sharp as he opened his hands, power rippling through him. You mirrored him, feeling the raw magic pulse within you, rising, coiling, eager. Together, you misted the battlefield. Hybern’s barriers, carefully crafted shields meant to keep their forces secure, began to break. Like smoke in the wind, they vanished under your power. Holes spread across their formations, gaps in their defense.

Hybern’s army didn’t even realize what was happening at first. Their march continued, blind to the fact that they were now exposed. Until the second wave of magic came crashing down.

"NOW!" Cassian roared.

Prythian’s forces rushed forward. From above, Illyrians and Peregrines launched themselves into the air. From the ground, warriors from every court surged forward, blades drawn, powers crackling. Hybern barely had time to react.

The battle had begun. The battlefield erupted into chaos. Hybern’s forces barely had time to adjust to the sudden breach in their barriers before Prythian’s armies tore through them.

From above, Illyrians and Peregrines dived like shadows and flame, striking with lethal precision. Blades slashed through armor, arrows found gaps in helmets, and magic rained down like a storm.

On the ground, Winter Court warriors fought with icy grace, their swords glowing with frost as they cut through Hybern’s front lines. Summer Court soldiers wielded water like living serpents, drowning foes where they stood.

You didn’t stop moving. With one hand, you misted an approaching commander, his scream barely beginning before he was gone. With the other, you threw out a wall of black fire, forcing back a group of Hybern soldiers who had nearly flanked Vivianne and her fighters. She met your gaze across the battlefield and nodded once before spinning, slashing her twin blades through the next enemy in her path.

Rhys was a storm in the heart of battle. Wherever his shadows passed, Hybern’s forces fell. A general surged toward him, a massive broadsword raised, Rhys merely vanished into the darkness and reappeared behind him, his blade slipping into the man’s spine before he could react.

Cassian and Azriel fought side by side, a deadly whirlwind of steel and magic. Azriel moved like a ghost, his siphons flaring with cobalt light as he cut down three soldiers before they could even lift their weapons. Cassian was a battering ram, using brute force and sheer skill to send Hybern’s warriors crashing to the dirt. He bellowed commands, rallying Illyrian soldiers, dodging a spear at the last second before slamming his blade through the wielder’s gut.

And Hybern was still marching. More soldiers poured into the valley, their sheer numbers pressing forward despite the trap that had been laid for them.

A pulse of power rippled through the battlefield. Not magic from any High Lord. Not a spell from any warrior. No. It was the Cauldron. And whatever the King of Hybern had just done, it was about to change the tide of this war.

The Cauldron’s power struck the battlefield like a hammer. The first time, the shockwave rippled outward, vaporizing Hybern’s own front lines. Screams of confusion and terror erupted from their ranks as soldiers collapsed, their bodies turning to ash. The second time, another pulse, another wave of death. More of Hybern’s forces fell, confusion turning to panic as their king’s magic devoured them. The third time, the air itself seemed to shudder as the Cauldron’s power gathered once more. It took three trials before the king got one right into Prythian’s forces.

But you were already moving. Magic surged through you as you whispered the words, an ancient, bone-deep summons that curled through the fabric of this world and beyond. A shadow deeper than night unfurled in the distance, something ancient and crawling, something that sent a shiver down every spine on that battlefield.

Then, they appeared. The Weaver, standing at the edge of the battlefield, her blood-red cloak billowing, her smile sharp as a blade. The Bone Carver, small and delicate in the boyish form he introduced himself to you — until he wasn’t, until the shadows peeled away, revealing something made of death and prophecy. And Bryaxis, the thing that lived in nightmares, crawled into the world, a shape of pure, shifting terror.

Rhys winnowed to your side immediately.

“What. The fuck. Is this?” His voice was calm, too calm for the situation, his violet eyes wide as he stared at the creatures of legend now standing at your command.

You merely smiled, tilting your head. “I’ve been making friends.”

Rhys blinked. Once. Twice. Then he turned to face you fully.

“How,” he asked, very carefully, “did you even get the Weaver out of her cottage?”

You shrugged. “You gave Feyre free time. I gave her training.”

Rhys made a choked noise. “You are insane.”

You grinned. “Don't worry, I was there the whole time. In case something went wrong, I had an offer to use in exchange for Feyre. Although, I still used it as a sacrifice for Weaver's participation today.”

The Weaver, as if she listened to you, laughed, the sound low and curling like smoke.

Rhys inhaled sharply as if something had just clicked. “Wait. That means—” He stared at you. “Where the hell did Ianthe go when she disappeared a few days ago?”

You just smiled.

Rhys’s eyes narrowed. “No.”

You said nothing.

“Oh, Mother above.” He dragged a hand down his face. “I’m not asking. I don’t want to know.”

You patted his shoulder. “Smart choice.”

Then you turned back to the battlefield, where the Weaver, the Bone Carver, and Bryaxis had begun to move. And Hybern’s army, already broken and bleeding, had nowhere left to run.

The King of Hybern finally stepped forward onto the battlefield. His army lay in ruins, shredded by Prythian’s forces, the Weaver’s hunger, the Bone Carver’s cold blade, and Bryaxis’s living nightmare. He had nothing left.

And yet, he smiled. Because in his hands, he held two girls. Nesta and Elain. Your stomach dropped. But you had to hold your ground.

“Fuck,” you murmured under your breath. “Damned gossiper motherfucker, Tamlin.”

Rhysand winnowed to your side, his hands clenched into fists as he watched your cousins crying while being held by the enemy. Your mate dripped with regret as he looked at the two humans with nowhere to run. Cassian, Azriel, and Morrigan weren’t far behind, their magic and weapons ready to strike. But the King? He just laughed.

“You all seem so confident,” he drawled. “So sure of your victory. So proud of your… what do you call it? Friendship? Loyalty?” He sneered. “You think that makes you strong? It makes you weak. Because while you fight with swords and claws and magic, I have this.”

He raised a hand. And the Cauldron pulsed. You braced yourself for another strike. For another death-filled shockwave. But something moved behind the King. Amren. You saw it, the flicker of silver in her mercurial eyes. The otherness that had always lurked beneath her skin.

The King kept talking, as every villain does in books. At some point of your life you believed they wouldn't lose their time explaining their objectives and plans. A good distraction while you slaughtered soldiers around you and as Amren moved. You thought she would deactivate the Cauldron, like she said she was planning to, but the betrayal barely hit your guts as she threw herself into the Cauldron.

A sharp crack split the air. A wound in reality itself. Magic tore free, something old, raw, and endless surging from within that iron bowl. And the King of Hybern screamed. Amren’s true form rose from the Cauldron, wreathed in silver fire. No longer bound by the shape of a High Fae, no longer restrained by flesh and bone. She spread her wings. The King barely had time to react before she grasped him, her claws curling around his throat, and flung him like a discarded doll, right into the center of the battlefield.

The impact shook your ground. He still had one last hit from the Cauldron. And as he lay there, broken and struggling, he reached for its power once more. A final, desperate strike before Amren sucked all the energy from it. The Cauldron shuddered, and unleashed one last pulse of death. Prythian’s army screamed. The warriors fell in droves. Shields shattered. Magic flickered and failed.

But as the bolt of pure energy cut through the battlefield, focusing on the Prythian’s army. You saw how fast Eris moved, subtly, deliberately. A simple push was all it took from him. Just enough to send his father straight into the path of that deadly strike. And Beron Vanserra, High Lord of Autumn, was gone with a part of his army. Just like that.

You let out a slow breath, eyes meeting Eris’s across the battlefield. He gave you a polite nod and a knowing smile, running as he slowly felt the trembling sensation of the power of a High Lord filling him.

You arched a brow. “Okay,” you muttered to yourself. “I didn’t see that.”

As the battle raged on, the sky split with screams and steel. Blood soaked the earth, turning the battlefield into a graveyard for those foolish enough to stand against them.

Then you saw it the exact moment you remembered the captive girls the king was keeping. A flicker of movement, too deliberate, too familiar.

At the edge of the battlefield, Hybern’s soldiers dragged the two figures of your cousins forward, probably going to reach back to their King, who was trying to keep his ground while soldiers fought him on the battlefield. Nesta. Elain. Your heart stopped.

You turned immediately. Reaching for the small bond between you and the Inner Circle. "Mor."

Morrigan landed beside you, her golden hair wild from the wind as her braid was undoing itself, her sword slick with blood. "I see them."

"You need to get them out of here." Mor’s lips pressed into a thin line. "I mean it," you insisted. "Hybern has too many eyes on him. If he gets desperate, he could—"

"Kill them," Mor finished.

Her knuckles whitened around the hilt of her sword. Mor could move faster than any of you and was the least watched one between them. She was your best chance.

“Honestly I feel like I could sacrifice Nesta, but I think Feyre would be mad at me so…” You shrugged as you held your sword tighter, "Get in, winnow out. Straight to Velaris. Nuala and Cerridwen can watch over them," she ordered.

Mor hesitated for only a second. Then she nodded. Without another word, she vanished into the battlefield.

Nesta had never felt this helpless before. Not when her family lost everything, not when she had stared into the eyes of hunger and accepted the proposal of a cousin she never heard of to help, not even when Hybern’s soldiers had dragged her from her manor hours ago. Elain was trembling beside her, her hand clutching Nesta’s wrist like it was the only thing grounding her to reality while they were being dragged in that place of horrors and blood.

The King of Hybern was saying something. Shouting commands to his guards. She wasn’t listening. Because the air wasn't reaching her lungs, her blood wasn't getting to her hands, she almost felt like she could faint right there and then.

But suddenly, the air shifted. Even if she was just human, she still felt as power rummaged around her. A second later, golden power exploded through the running hill. Mor. Hybern’s soldiers barely had time to react before the Third in Command of the Night Court tore through them.

Nesta’s breath caught. Because Morrigan was a storm. She was blade and vengeance and deadly grace, cutting down three of Hybern’s guards before they even had time to scream.

"Nesta!" Mor’s voice was sharp. “I work with your cousin, I will take you and your sister to a safe place, please trust me!”

Before she could think, Mor’s arms were around her and Elain, and the world twisted, turning to wind and darkness. And then, sudden silence. No more battle screams, no command shouts, no more gut ripping. Just Elain's quiet crying as they saw the world around them. They felt the change in their skin as cold, crisp air reached it.

A safe city extendeda around them. They had made it. And right around the corner, Nesta held her sister's hand as another figure approached them, the blond one that brought them here nodded to the other female and disappeared — back to the battlefield, probably. The other figure kept getting closer, slowly, probably to not scare them. When she appeared in the light Nesta and Elain couldn't contain the sound of pure shock as they saw her. Feyre.

☆

You kept cutting your way trying to reach the king. You were going to lose the opportunity if you couldn't get close enough of him to cut his head off. After you killed another male from Hybern, you barely had time to catch your breath before a flash of golden hair caught your eye. Tamlin. Standing there, just beyond the chaos, trying to run away from battle. Running, as if he hadn’t caused all of this. Running, as if he hadn’t sold out Prythian to Hybern. Running, like a coward.

Something inside you snapped. Before you could even think, you growled, your power surging like a tidal wave, ready to crush him.

“Go.” Rhysand’s voice slid into your mind. “Go after him. I’ll handle the King.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. Tamlin had already started to run, but you were faster. You winnowed, cutting off his path, appearing in front of him before he could flee like the spineless worm he was. His green eyes widened.

"Don't," he panted. "You don’t understand—"

You punched him so hard in the face that he flew back, crashing into the dirt. "I don't understand?" Your voice was deadly quiet. "I don't understand what, Tamlin? That you sided with the very bastard who commanded the female that kidnapped and tortured Feyre? That you let him march into our lands hoping for a pity future where you would be a puppet High King? That you were too much of a coward to fight back?"

He coughed, spitting blood. Good. You walked toward him, slow, deliberate.

"You could have stopped this," you said, voice laced with ice. "You could have fought for Prythian. You could've told us before. But instead, you let your own ego destroy everything. Because you thought you were entitled to this. Entitled to Feyre. Because you thought your love gave you ownership."

Tamlin snarled, dragging himself up. "I did it for her!"

"For her?" You laughed, dark and cruel. "Then where the fuck were you when she was starving in Under the Mountain? Where were you when she was breaking apart in your manor?"

Tamlin launched himself at you, claws out. But you were faster. You sidestepped and slammed your elbow into his ribs. Hard. Something cracked.

He choked on the impact, stumbling back. You winnowed behind him and gripped his throat. Tamlin gasped. You dug your nails into his skin, watching as his eyes widened in pure terror.

"You don't deserve a quick death," you murmured. You pulled him closer, your lips brushing his ear. "You deserve to suffer," you whispered. "Like all the people you abandoned. Like all the people who begged you for help."

Then you slammed him into the ground. Tamlin howled as you broke his arm, twisting it with a sickening snap. You let him crawl, watching as he clutched his shattered limb, gasping.

"Come on, High Lord," you mocked, circling him like a predator. "Where's all that strength now?"

He tried to winnow. You ripped the air apart, blocking him.

"No," you said, a cold smile curling your lips. "You don't get to run this time."

His breaths came in ragged, panicked gasps. "Please—"

You grabbed him by the jaw, forcing him to look at you.

"Begging, Tamlin?" you mused. "How pathetic."

And then you sank your magic into him. It started as a slow burn. A tendril of power coiling into his veins. Tamlin screamed. You just watched as his muscles locked, as his skin heated, as you let him feel the pure agony of everything he had done.

"Does it hurt?" you asked softly.

He thrashed, trying to fight it, but you only tightened your grip.

"Not enough," you murmured. "Not yet."

You willed the magic to go deeper, to rot him from the inside out. Tamlin convulsed, his body shaking violently, his claws tearing at the dirt. He gasped your name, voice raw, broken. You smiled. With one final push of power, you snapped his spine. Tamlin went limp. His body crumpled into the dirt. You stepped back, breathing even, feeling nothing.

Then, you turned away with no second thought. And left him there to rot. As if he didn't have any importance. And he didn't, not anymore.

☆

Rhysand winnowed through the battlefield, dodging blades and blasts of magic, his only focus on the figure standing at the heart of the chaos. The King of Hybern. The bastard stood tall, watching the battle unfold with calculating indifference, gripping a massive black sword, its blade humming with dark magic — Cauldron-forged. The King noticed Rhys approaching and let out a low, amused chuckle.

"Ah, the infamous High Lord of Night," he drawled, turning to face him fully. "Come to beg for your lands? Your people? Or do you just enjoy groveling at the feet of tyrants?"

Rhys’ lips curled back. "You should know, you’ve been groveling at the feet of a dead female for the past fifty years. Amarantha's sister would be sad to see you lose so badly."

Hybern laughed an ugly sound. "And yet, my commander still broke you."

Rhys’ magic flared in response, sealing off the battlefield, creating a barrier of pure night around them, and trapping the King inside. Hybern’s grin faltered. Rhys stepped forward, voice low, deadly.

"For every comrade, every one of my friends that died in the first war," he said, his power thrumming with rage, "all of whom were slaughtered by your hand… I came to get my revenge."

Hybern lunged, swinging that cursed blade straight for his throat. Rhys sidestepped, moving with trained, practiced ease, and in a flurry of precise movements, he disarmed him. The sword clattered to the ground. Instead of striking, Rhys picked up the King's own weapon, turning it in his hands, feeling the power humming within it.

He pointed it at Hybern’s chest. "You're going to call off that battle."

Hybern sneered, blood-stained teeth flashing. "Or what? You can't kill me with that blade."

Rhysand’s smile was razor-sharp. "Oh, I know."

The King’s eyes widened in realization. "Wait—"

Rhys drove the blade into his side. Hybern screamed. The wound didn’t kill him. But the magic of the Cauldron was incomplete. It no longer made him untouchable. He could still feel pain. And Rhys wasn't done.

He ripped the blade free and slashed again. Hybern staggered, gasping. Rhysand took a slow, deliberate step forward.

"How does it feel to be helpless now?" he murmured, dragging the tip of the blade along Hybern’s chest, watching thin red lines bloom across his skin.

Hybern shuddered, clutching his wounds as they healed just fast enough to keep him alive. Rhysand smiled.

"I watched my friends die in horror many times," he said, slashing across his thigh.

Hybern cried out.

"And for the past fifty years, I saw innocents dying under Amarantha's reign. Under your command." Another strike, a deep cut along his ribs. "I heard them crying as they were slain," Rhys pressed on, his voice cold, merciless. A cut along Hybern’s arm. "I heard their final moments. Begging for their gods." Another strike. "Look what you turned me into." The King groaned in agony, body trembling. "Look what we've become."

"Enough," Hybern gasped.

Rhysand ignored him, swinging again. "All of the pain that I've been through—"

"Stop!"

A deep wound across his chest. "Haven't we suffered enough?"

"Stop!" Rhysand’s blade bit into his shoulder, slicing through flesh.

"Amarantha didn't stop when I begged her," Rhys said softly, stepping closer, watching as the King swayed, barely standing. "She told me to close my mind and enjoy."

"You—" Hybern choked.

Rhys drove the blade into his stomach. The King howled. "She said the world was a dark place for those who dream too much."

Hybern sputtered blood, wheezing. "Monster—"

Rhysand tilted his head, mockingly. "Weren't you the one who taught her that ruthlessness is mercy upon our kind?"

Hybern's knees buckled. "Alright," he croaked. "Please..."

Rhys paused. The King breathed raggedly, blood coating his mouth, a broken, mocking smile curling his lips.

"After everything you've done," Hybern wheezed, voice shaking. "How will you sleep at night, High Lord?"

Rhysand pretended to consider the question. And then he smiled. "Next to my mate."

The King’s expression cracked. And then Rhysand lifted the blade and, in one swift, brutal motion, he cut off the King’s head.

Silence rippled across the battlefield as the soldiers from Hybern dropped their swords as if waking up from a trance. The remaining Hybern generals saw it. Saw the King’s final promise before dying. And they began to retreat. They saw Tamlin's corpse, broken and discarded in the dirt. The soldiers, panicked, and frantic, fell to their knees. And they begged for mercy.

Rhysand stood at the center of the battlefield, Hybern's blood still fresh on his hands. His chest rose and fell steadily, but there was no relief in his expression. Only finality. He turned to the gathered High Lords, their faces painted with exhaustion and rage, the stench of war still thick in the air.

"The rest of Hybern’s army," Rhysand said, his voice carrying across the ruined land. "Do with them as you wish."

No one from the Night Court stayed to watch. They had no more business there.

☆

The battlefield was far behind them when Rhysand found you. His mate. His brilliant, talented mate.

You stood at the edge of a ravine, watching the horizon, the distant glow of the burning Hybern banners flickering in your eyes. For a long moment, neither of you spoke.

Then, you turned to him. You both knew. The weight of revenge. The emptiness it left behind. So when Rhysand stepped forward and silently took your hand, you let him.

You had won. But at what cost? You have paid more than enough for the past hundreds of years. This time, the debt of the consequences wouldn't be your value to pay.

Cassian was the first to break the silence when you returned to camp.

"The Night Court forces are already in the healers' tents," he said, his wings tucked close in exhaustion. "We suffered losses, but nothing like Hybern. Or a few other Courts." His hazel eyes flicked to Rhysand. "It was a victory."

A hollow one. Mor appeared next, her golden hair wild from battle, blood still streaking her armor. "Feyre’s sisters are safe." Relief washed through them. "They’re already being taken care of," she added, her voice gentler than before.

Rhysand gave a small, tired nod. And then Azriel approached. His face was carefully blank, but something in his shadows twisted, curling inwards.

Rhysand knew before Azriel even spoke. "We lost Amren." A breath. "She's gone."

The silence was deafening.

Mor staggered back a step, shaking her head. "No. No, she’s— she’s probably fine. Amren always makes it out."

But even she wasn't convinced. Rhysand swallowed. She had thrown herself into the Cauldron. Had given them the only chance to end it. Amren had known. And she had gone willingly.

"She knew what she was doing," Rhysand finally said.

None of them responded. Because this war had stolen too much already. And now, it had stolen Amren, too.

“One day after the other,” you said in a whisper, hair sticking to your forehead, blood and sweat mixing on your body “We live one day after the other now.”

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#Spotify #acotar #rhysand x reader #rhys acotar #rhys x reader #rhysand #rhysand acotar #reader insert

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theetherealbloom · 8 months ago

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AS GOOD A REASON - CH. 6 | OBERYN MARTELL

Chapter Six: There's Blood On The Side Of The Mountain

Summary: You, who has made it her life's work to get retribution on those who mistreated and harassed you when you were a child. The scars on your body are a physical reminder of the suffering you endured at the hands of abusers, and they also provide the fuel for your years-long quest for retribution.

Paring: Oberyn Martell x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, MINORS GO AWAY, GoT is full of serious and harmful topics, mentions of SA, Rape (not the reader), Murder, Violence, Gore, War, Poison, Scars, Burns, Scratching, Attempted Su!c!de, Idealization of Su!c!de, AU, Age–Gap Romance, Angst, FLUFF, Eventual SMUT, Swearing, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Crying, Suggestive content, Flirting, Blood, War, Religion References, Nudity, Domestic Abuse, Incest, Prostitution, Weapons, Fire, Horror, Character Deaths, Rewrite Alternate Universe, Sex, Alcohol, Revenge, Panic Attacks, Anxiety Attack,

Word Count: 9.2k (I’m sorry this is so long wtf)

A/N: Istg. Make sure you read ALL the warnings! This chapter is going to be sad by the way. It’s extra sad. Keep your chin up, girl. You got this. Also, yes, ofc the song I chose would be Can’t Catch Me Now by Olivia Rodrigo, it makes sense tehe.

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: Can’t Catch Me Now by Olivia Rodrigo

Previous Chapter → Next Chapter | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

KING’S LANDING, THE BATTLE PIT — DAY

From where you stand, the pit feels like a hollow reflection of King’s Landing itself—a stage for brutality, where bloodshed is applauded and violence wears the crown. Your sneer twists in disdain as you watch Ser Gregor "The Mountain" Clegane slice through a prisoner with disturbing ease, lifting the poor soul high on his greatsword. Blood streams from the prisoner’s mouth, his eyes wide in terror before The Mountain tosses him to the sand like discarded meat. The sound of his body hitting the ground is drowned out by the murmurs of the onlookers, but it echoes in your ears nonetheless.

Cersei watches, her eyes cold and calculating, as a line of prisoners stand chained, awaiting their fate. Each filthy, ragged figure, a nameless body lined up for slaughter. You feel a bitter twist in your gut—this spectacle, this violence—meant to terrify more than entertain.

One of the guards barks orders, shoving the next prisoner forward like livestock.

“Go on, move it,” the guard snaps, his tone indifferent to the man’s terror.

The prisoner stumbles forward, his trembling hands reaching for a meager weapon at his feet. You catch a glimpse of his wide, panicked eyes—he knows his fate. Still, he holds the weapon like it might mean his survival, like it might hold off the inevitable for even a few heartbeats longer. But the outcome is written in the blood that already stains the sand beneath him.

The first prisoner attacks The Mountain with desperation. He lunges, wild and reckless, but The Mountain is faster, his sword cleaving through flesh with a sickening ease. The prisoner’s body folds as he’s disemboweled in one stroke, his life ending in a gruesome heap at the giant’s feet.

The next prisoner, shaking, drops his weapon entirely, sinking to his knees. Tears mix with the dirt on his face as he pleads for mercy.

“Mercy, please. Please, mercy,” the man cries, his voice breaking, filled with the kind of hopelessness that makes your chest tighten.

Cersei watches with an air of indifference, her lips curling ever so slightly as The Mountain delivers a series of savage overhead blows, reducing the prisoner to nothing more than a broken corpse. The sand beneath him darkens with blood, and you force yourself to keep watching, not out of morbid curiosity, but as a reminder. This is the city you’re in. These are the people who rule it.

Cersei steps forward, her gaze fixed on The Mountain. “Ser Gregor,” she says smoothly, her voice cutting through the air like a knife. “Welcome to the capital. Thank you for riding here so quickly.”

You note the lack of warmth in her tone, the way she speaks to him as though she were addressing a weapon, not a man. In truth, that’s exactly what The Mountain is to her—just another tool.

Cersei’s gaze flickers down to the bodies strewn about the pit. “You seem to be in good form.”

The Mountain’s reply is as cold as it is simple. “Who am I fighting?”

Cersei raises a brow, her expression as detached as ever. “Does it matter?”

The Mountain shakes his head. To him, it truly doesn’t. Flesh is flesh, no matter whose body it belongs to.

But you think otherwise.

As you stand there, your eyes narrowing at the towering figure of The Mountain, you wonder how many lives he has ruined, how many people have died in his shadow. A thought sharpens within you—among the things victims have lost, how many things can they ever truly reclaim? You can’t help but wonder if any of these prisoners were thinking the same, if their last thoughts were of the homes they’ll never return to, the families they’ve left behind.

It’s not justice they seek in these final moments. There’s no glory here. The only thing left to reclaim is their honor—what little remains of it. Some might hope for forgiveness, for mercy. But you know better. In King’s Landing, where the powerful feast on the misery of others, revenge is often the only way to regain even a fraction of that lost honor. Only then, in the pursuit of vengeance, can one truly begin again.

You look at Cersei, at The Mountain, and think to yourself, Forgiveness has no place here. Not in this city. Not when men like The Mountain are allowed to walk free, spilling blood for sport, for the amusement of those in power. No, here, revenge is the only way to claim victory, to bring balance to the scales. You keep your thoughts to yourself, but deep down, you know—glory through revenge may be the only true path to the starting point.

There are no second chances.

KING'S LANDING, TYRION'S CELL — EVENING

You knew Bronn was smart enough to fear the Mountain. One misstep, and anyone facing that monstrous man would be dead in an instant. Yet, as you moved quietly through the shadowed halls, following Oberyn down to Tyrion’s cell, an unsettling dread filled you. Oberyn had already made up his mind. His determination was palpable, and it terrified you.

You’d trained yourself to move unseen, your footsteps silent on the cold stone floors of King’s Landing. Perhaps Oberyn knew you were trailing him, but he didn’t seem to care. His confidence radiated from him like the warmth of the torch he carried, unwavering, even as you concealed yourself in the shadows.

Inside the cell, Tyrion sat in the dark, his posture heavy with defeat. The door creaked open, and you pressed yourself against the wall, listening intently.

Oberyn stepped inside, his torch casting flickering light across the damp, narrow space.

"I imagined you'd be back at the brothel at this hour," Tyrion remarked, his voice filled with a bitter, tired amusement.

Oberyn’s tone was smooth, as it always was, with a hint of mischief. "I did spend some time with an absolutely stunning blonde the other day."

Your eyebrows furrowed slightly at the mention, a sharp twinge twisting in your chest. But you kept your eyes on the scene before you, your heart quickening as their exchange continued.

"Do tell," Tyrion replied, managing a slight smirk. "I've got every kind of filth down here except the kind I like."

Oberyn placed his torch down, the flame casting shadows that flickered along the walls as he took a seat beside Tyrion. The light softened his features but couldn’t chase away the gravity in his words.

"Your sister," Oberyn said.

"Oh," Tyrion replied, his expression falling.

You relaxed slightly as the realization settled within you. Oberyn had meant Cersei. The tension in your chest eased, but the conversation soon shifted, becoming darker.

"Cersei approached me. We spoke a great deal about her daughter," Oberyn explained, his voice lowering. "How worried your sister is about her. She was trying very hard to pretend she had not come to sway me against you. I think she may have even believed it herself."

A small smile tugged at your lips. Oberyn was always clever, always able to see through the intricate webs of deception spun by those in King’s Landing. It was a quality you both admired and envied.

"Making honest feelings do dishonest work is one of her many gifts," Tyrion said with a grim chuckle, leaning against the wall.

"It was difficult for her to hide her true intentions," Oberyn continued, his voice calm but full of insight. "It is rare to meet a Lannister who shares my enthusiasm for dead Lannisters. She desperately wants to see you killed."

"She didn't need to bother you," Tyrion responded with a bitter laugh. "It looks as though I've taken care of that myself. The joy she will feel when my head leaves my neck... She’s wanted this for a long time."

Oberyn’s gaze darkened slightly, the firelight reflecting in his eyes. "Yes, I know. We met, you and I, many years ago."

Tyrion blinked, looking puzzled. "I think I would have remembered that."

"Unlikely," Oberyn replied, his tone shifting as he recalled the memory. "You had just been born. Our father brought me and my sister Elia with him on a visit to Casterly Rock. My first time away from Dorne. I didn’t like anything about the Rock. Not the food, not the weather, your accents. Nothing." His voice hardened as he continued. "But the biggest disappointment... was you."

Tyrion’s face fell, his usual armor of sarcasm failing him. "You and my family have more in common than you might admit," he muttered.

You watched closely, frowning as Oberyn recounted his tale. You understood disappointment more than anyone. After all, your own mother had cast you away the moment you were born, sending you to a life of servitude.

Oberyn continued, "The whole way from Dorne, all anyone talked about was the monster that had been born to Tywin Lannister. A head twice the size of his body, a tail between his legs, claws, one red eye, the privates of both a girl and a boy."

Tyrion forced a smile, though it was joyless. "That would have made things so much easier."

"When we met your sister," Oberyn said, leaning forward, "she promised she would show you to us. Every day we would ask. Every day she would say, ‘Soon.’ Then, finally, she and your brother took us to your nursery, and..." He paused, his gaze intense as he spoke the next words. "She unveiled the freak."

Tyrion’s expression remained stoic, though you could see the faint hurt in his eyes. Oberyn continued, his voice cold but full of truth. "Your head was a bit large. Your arms and legs were a bit small. But no claw, no red eye, no tail between your legs. Just a tiny pink cock. We didn’t try to hide our disappointment."

Oberyn’s face hardened as he remembered the moment. "That’s not a monster," I told Cersei. "That’s just a baby."

You swallowed hard, fighting the wave of emotion as you listened. You knew cruelty well—perhaps better than anyone in that room.

"And she said," Oberyn continued, his voice heavy with disgust, "‘He killed my mother.’ Then she pinched your little cock so hard, I thought she might pull it off. Until your brother made her stop. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she told us. ‘Everyone says he will die soon. I hope they are right. He should not have lived this long.’"

You felt a lump in your throat as tears threatened to well up in your eyes. How cruel could Cersei truly be?

Tyrion’s voice cracked slightly, though he tried to keep his tone casual. "Well... sooner or later, Cersei always gets what she wants."

"And what about what I want?" Oberyn’s voice was sharp now, full of purpose. "Justice. For my sister and her children."

Tyrion’s gaze darkened, his voice low. "If you want justice, you’ve come to the wrong place."

"I disagree," Oberyn said, rising to his feet. The flickering torchlight cast deep shadows on his face, highlighting the fierce determination in his eyes. "I’ve come to the perfect place."

You watched him closely, your heart racing. You knew what was coming, but you were powerless to stop it.

"I want to bring those who have wronged me to justice," Oberyn continued, his voice steady, each word a promise. "And all those who have wronged me are right here. I will begin with Ser Gregor Clegane, who killed my sister’s children and then raped her with their blood still on his hands before killing her too."

Oberyn turned to Tyrion, his voice echoing in the dim cell. "I will be your champion."

Your heart plummeted, the weight of his words crushing you. No. You’d seen it—the vision that haunted your every step. Oberyn’s demise. His fate, as cruel and certain as the tides.

As the heavy door creaked open, the flickering torchlight danced across the stone walls, casting deep shadows in Tyrion’s cell. You watched from the darkened corridor, your breath shallow as Oberyn stepped out, the light fading with him as the door slowly shut behind. Darkness swallowed the room once more, the soft click of the latch sealing the quiet tension that hung in the air.

For a few heartbeats, you stood there, your hand pressed against the cool stone wall, the lingering warmth of Oberyn’s presence still felt in the space he had just left. Then, with silent determination, you slipped into the cell.

Tyrion, huddled in the shadows, looked up at the sound of your approach, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. The small torch outside barely cast enough light to illuminate your figure as you slowly pulled back your hood. His tense expression softened with relief.

“I thought you were an assassin sent by Cersei to kill me,” Tyrion murmured, his voice a mix of dry humor and genuine fear.

You tilted your head slightly, a faint, cold smile playing on your lips. “You’re wrong on one of those things.”

Tyrion’s face tensed, the weight of your words unsettling him for a moment. His sharp mind was already working through possibilities, but before panic could fully settle in, you took a step closer.

“I’m not here to kill you,” you said softly, your voice calm but with an edge of bitterness.

Tyrion let out a shaky breath, his shoulders easing slightly as he watched you carefully. You walked across the small cell, the sound of your steps soft on the cold stone. Taking a seat near one of the wooden poles, you leaned back against it, the silence between you both thick with unspoken truths.

“Do you recognize me?” you asked, your voice low, a challenge hidden in the question.

Tyrion furrowed his brow, studying your face. “You’re one of Sansa’s maids,” he finally said, his tone uncertain.

You nodded slowly. “Just a servant, if anything. But yes.” Leaning forward, you began rolling up your sleeves, exposing your arms in the pale sliver of moonlight that crept through the small barred window. The scars, the burns, every mark of torment etched into your skin told a story of survival.

“Do you know the rumors?” you asked, your voice harder now.

Tyrion’s face shifted, a shadow of horror crossing his features as realization dawned on him. “You… you survived…”

Your eyes, cold and lifeless, met his. A small, bitter smile flickered on your lips as your jaw clenched. “Yes,” you said, leaning back against the wall, your arms folding across your chest. “Your reputation becomes rumors, and rumors become your reputation. That’s how it works, doesn’t it?”

Tyrion swallowed, clearly unsettled by the weight of your words. "Did you… did you poison Joffrey?" His voice was quiet, but the question held a note of accusation.

You shook your head, your expression flat. “No. I may have set the plan in motion, but they caused their own ruin.”

Tyrion’s eyes searched yours for deception, but when he found none, he nodded, accepting your words as truth.

“No one recognized me, not for the longest time,” you continued, your voice quiet, introspective. “Until… Prince Oberyn. Of course, he would. Every bit of information about his sister’s death... he sought it all. His own kind of hell.”

Tyrion remained silent, watching you closely as you spoke.

“I sometimes wonder,” you mused, your eyes distant as you stared at the stone floor. “The solidarity between victims, and the solidarity between perpetrators. Which of them is stronger?”

A bitter laugh escaped your lips, the sound hollow. “I’ve spent years in this place. Pouring wine, slicing pies, fetching, folding. Day after day, step by step. Every moment leading to this point.” You scoffed softly, your frustration evident. “Keeping myself going… it’s exhausting. I’m so tired of it.”

Tyrion exhaled shakily, his eyes filled with a deep understanding of that particular weariness.

“Oberyn… he has been kind to me. He is the only joy in my unfortunate life,” you said, your voice softening at the mention of him. “He has eight daughters waiting for him. Depending on him. I can’t let him throw his life away. Not for this.”

Tyrion’s brow furrowed, confusion and disbelief crossing his features. “So… you plan to kill me yourself, then?” His voice held a strange mix of resignation and curiosity.

You shook your head, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “No.”

Tyrion’s confusion deepened as you met his gaze, your voice steady as you spoke the next words. “I will be your champion instead of Oberyn.”

For a long moment, there was only silence. Tyrion stared at you, incredulous. “Forgive me for saying this, but… Oberyn would never allow a lady such as yourself to fight a beast like the Mountain.”

Your eyes darkened slightly, a flicker of something dangerous flashing across your face. “You of all people should know what it means to be underestimated, Lord Tyrion.” Your voice was cold but not unkind. “It just means I have nothing left to lose.”

Tyrion’s gaze softened as he understood the gravity of your words. This was no grand act of heroism. No selfless gesture. “I’m not fighting for you,” you admitted, your voice low. “This is purely selfish. Oberyn deserves justice, as much as I do, but I can’t let him die. Not when I’ve come this far. I will die on my own terms.”

“He has a chance. How are you so sure that he will—”

“I’m sure. I’ve seen it. Gods, I’ve seen it.”

Tyrion studied you for a moment longer, his face unreadable. “And how, exactly, do you plan to convince Oberyn to take your place?”

You smiled then, a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Leave that to me.”

The door to your quarters closed behind you with a soft thud. You leaned against it, letting out a long sigh. Tomorrow would be the day—victory or defeat, life or death. The weight of it pressed down on your chest, heavy as armor.

You took a step forward, lost in thought, when a figure in the shadows caught your eye. Heart racing, your hand instinctively reached for the dagger hidden beneath your cloak.

“Oberyn?” you breathed, startled.

He emerged from the darkness, leaning casually against the wall with that familiar, mischievous grin. “Relax, little dove. If I wanted to surprise you, I’d have done a better job,” he teased, his voice smooth and playful.

Your breath caught in your throat. The sight of him here, in your private space, unnerved you—but not in the way you expected. “What are you doing in my quarters?” you asked, trying to steady yourself, your pulse still racing.

Oberyn’s smile widened as he pushed away from the wall and stepped closer. “I came to see you. Is that not allowed?”

“I—” you stammered, the shock of his sudden appearance blending with the rising tension in the room. “You scared me.”

He chuckled, his eyes never leaving yours. “Good. You’re far too comfortable sneaking around King’s Landing. It’s time someone made you nervous.” His tone was light, but there was a warmth in his gaze that made your heart ache.

Your momentary fear melted away under his charm, but then your mind shifted, weighed down by the question that had been gnawing at you. You couldn’t ignore it any longer.

“Oberyn,” you began, your voice growing serious, “have you known all along that I… approached you on purpose?”

His teasing expression faded, replaced by something softer, more knowing. “Yes,” he said quietly.

You blinked, thrown by his straightforward answer. “Since when?” you asked, stepping closer, your voice lowering. “How did you find out about the connection between me and your sister?”

Oberyn watched you for a moment, as though weighing how much to reveal. “I knew every detail of when and how she died along with every single rumor,” he said, his voice soft yet deliberate. “And you—” he gave you a small, almost fond smile—“you seem to be around the age that the child who served her would be now. I figured it out the moment I heard your accent.”

His words hit you like a sudden gust of wind. You had been careful, so careful, but of course Oberyn had seen through you.

“I knew from the start you would want to use me,” he continued, his voice like silk, though there was no accusation in it. “The brother of Elia. It made sense. When I put all the pieces together, I realized I was the man you needed. The one who would do your bidding without question.”

You swallowed, his words twisting something deep inside you. “And you were fine with that? Knowing I was using you for my revenge?”

He smiled, a sad, knowing smile. “I told myself I’d be of use to you. That I’d come running whenever you wanted to use me. Wherever it was, whatever it cost.” His dark eyes held yours, no longer teasing. “But I wanted to be there before your guilt caught up with you.”

Your breath hitched, the honesty in his voice cutting through your defenses. You tried to speak, but the words tangled in your throat. Oberyn’s hand brushed lightly against your arm, the touch grounding you.

“When your sister died,” you finally whispered, “I thought I’d find someone to latch on to. So I approached you. Then I realized something—how could I even think of doing such a thing, just because I’m a victim? You’re a victim too.”

Oberyn’s gaze softened, and he let out a slow breath. “For a moment I thought I wasn’t your type,” he said, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “But now… you have no reason to use me anymore. If you refuse me, it’ll be for love. Not for revenge.”

Your chest tightened as his words washed over you. Tears welled in your eyes, the weight of tomorrow’s trial pressing down like an iron hand around your throat. You knew what you had to do, the price you’d pay to save him.

Your voice trembled as the tears slipped down your cheeks. “Then… help me. Until the end.”

Oberyn stepped closer, cupping your face with one hand, his thumb brushing away a tear. His dark eyes held yours, filled with a tenderness you hadn’t allowed yourself to see before. “I will serve you,” he said, his voice a quiet promise, “until the end.”

KING’S LANDING, RED KEEP – EARLY MORNING

The first light of dawn filtered through the narrow window, casting a soft glow over the room. You had half-expected Oberyn to have slipped away in the night, seeking the comfort of Ellaria or losing himself in his vices. But when you woke, he was still there, lying beside you in the small, cramped bed that barely fit you both. His arm draped around your waist, holding you close as though he couldn’t bear to let you go.

The night before had been unexpected—no grand seduction, no teasing beyond his usual wit. Instead, you’d stayed up talking, sharing dreams and desires you thought long buried beneath the weight of revenge. It had been… peaceful, in a way you hadn’t known in years. For once, sleep had come easily, a deep and untroubled rest. But now, the morning was here, and with it came the knowledge of what you had to do.

You shifted carefully, trying to untangle yourself from his embrace without waking him. Oberyn mumbled something in his sleep, his grip tightening briefly before loosening as you gently pulled away. Slipping from the bed, you began dressing quietly, moving with the practiced ease of someone who had learned long ago how to move in the shadows.

As you buckled your tunic, you felt his eyes on you. Turning, you found Oberyn watching you from the bed, his dark eyes half-lidded and full of sleepy mischief. “Leaving me already?” he teased, his voice a husky murmur. “I was just getting comfortable.”

You couldn’t help but smile, though your heart ached with the weight of what you were about to do. “Someone has to get ready for the day,” you replied, forcing a lightness into your tone that you didn’t feel.

He sat up, the blanket falling from his chest as he stretched lazily. “You know, you could stay a little longer… I wouldn’t mind.”

Your throat tightened, but you masked it with a chuckle. “I’m sure you wouldn’t,” you said softly as you crossed the room. The closer you got to him, the harder it became to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm you.

Oberyn reached for you as you approached the bed, his fingers brushing your wrist before you leaned down, capturing his lips in a kiss. It was passionate, raw, as though it carried every unsaid word between you—every regret, every longing. For a moment, you allowed yourself to drown in it, to feel the warmth of his skin, the press of his lips. But you knew you couldn’t stay there.

With a soft gasp, you pulled away, your heart hammering in your chest. His eyes were still clouded with desire, his breath uneven, when you whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Before he could react, you pressed your fingers to a pressure point at the base of his neck. His body stiffened for a heartbeat before his eyes rolled back, and he slumped into unconsciousness. Your hand trembled as you laid him gently on the bed, your chest tight with the enormity of what you’d just done.

Tying him up was harder than you expected. The sheets you wrapped around his wrists felt like chains around your heart, binding you to this moment of betrayal. But it was necessary. He couldn’t stop you, and you couldn’t let him die for you. Not today. Not when he had so much left to live for.

You left a note by his side, your hand shaking as you scrawled the words. You told him the truth—Dorne needed him, his daughters needed him. He had a future. But you… you were already ruined, with no family, no purpose left beyond vengeance. If things had been different, perhaps you would have let yourself love him fully. Perhaps you could have been more than the ghosts of your pasts. But now… now you had to see this through, and he couldn’t follow you into the fire.

When you met Serena in the hall, she was waiting with a worried expression. You pressed a pouch of coins into her hand, whispering instructions she already knew. “Untie him when the trial ends,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "He must live."

Tears welled in her eyes, and she gripped your hands tightly, her voice breaking. “Please… don’t die. Come back.”

The words struck you harder than you expected. For a moment, you stood frozen, unsure of how to respond. She pulled you into a hug, clinging to you as though she could stop you from leaving, from walking into the jaws of death. Slowly, almost hesitantly, you wrapped an arm around her, patting her back awkwardly. “Thank you,” you whispered, the words heavy with finality.

KING’S LANDING, FIGHTING PIT – DAY

The bells tolled in the distance, a grim reminder that the day had arrived. Tyrion shuffled out toward the arena, his chains clinking with every step. The Lannisters watched from their seats, and Ellaria stood nearby, her eyes scanning the crowd for Oberyn.

You stepped into view, the sunlight glinting off your armor. It was simple but well-made—light enough for movement, but sturdy where it mattered. No helmet yet, your hair loose as the breeze tugged at it. A dagger was strapped to your thigh, hidden from view, while your hand rested on the hilt of a long, slender sword—a weapon you had saved for, piece by piece, over the years.

Tyrion’s gaze flicked to you, his brow furrowed with worry. “Look like very light armor,” he commented dryly.

You shrugged. “Not really.”

The Mountain loomed on the other side of the pit, fully armored and wielding a massive sword that seemed to cleave the air as he moved. Ellaria’s eyes widened as she looked between you and the towering figure before her. “You’re going to fight that?” she asked, alarmed.

You let out a sigh, your grip tightening on your sword. “Hopefully, I’m going to kill that.”

Ellaria’s hand shot out, gripping your arm. “Where is Oberyn?”

You met her gaze, your eyes steady. “He’s safe. I swear it.” You paused, glancing at the Mountain and then back at her. “Take care of him.”

Pycelle’s voice rang out across the arena, ancient and raspy. "In the sight of gods and men, we gather to ascertain the guilt or innocence of this… man, Tyrion Lannister. May the Mother grant them mercy. May the Father give them such justice as they deserve. And may the Warrior guide the hand of our champion..."

Tywin, bored and impatient, gestured for the fight to begin. The horns sounded, echoing through the arena.

You met Tyrion’s gaze one last time. He nodded to you, his voice barely audible as he whispered, “Good luck.”

You gave a small nod in return, your hand tightening on your sword hilt as you stepped into the pit. The Mountain loomed ahead, but this wasn’t about fear anymore. This was about survival, vengeance, and the weight of every choice you had ever made.

Today, you would fight. And one way or another, everything would change.

MAIDENVAULT, GUEST CHAMBERS

KING’S LANDING, RED KEEP — DAY

Oberyn awoke slowly, blinking against the morning light that filtered through the window. A dull ache settled in his neck, and when he tried to move, he found his arms pinned, bound to the bed with sheets tightly knotted around his wrists. His mind raced for answers, and then it hit him—you. He had kissed you, and then… darkness.

The sound of soft footsteps drew his attention. A young woman stood by the door, wringing her hands nervously. She was small, her eyes wide with a mix of guilt and fear. Oberyn narrowed his gaze, his voice hoarse. "Who are you?"

"I—I'm Serena," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. "I’m… a maid. She—she told me to wait until after the battle. I promised."

Oberyn’s heart pounded, realization dawning on him. “Untie me,” he demanded, his voice steady but urgent. “Now.”

Serena shook her head, biting her lip, tears welling up in her eyes. “I can’t. I swore I wouldn’t, not until it was over. She made me promise. I—I’m sorry.”

Oberyn tugged against the bindings, frustration growing with each passing moment. His eyes scanned the bedside table, where a crumpled piece of parchment lay. His heart clenched. “What is that?” he asked, his voice barely a breath.

Serena hesitated, then stepped forward, placing the note in his hand.

Oberyn quickly unfolded the paper, recognizing your hurried scrawl. His eyes moved over the words, and with each line, the pit in his stomach deepened.

Oberyn,

By the time you read this, I’ll be gone. I couldn’t let you fight, not when so much depends on you. Dorne needs you, your daughters need you. You have a future, Oberyn. I can’t let you throw it all away for my revenge.

This is my fight, not yours. I’ve been ruined long before we met, and there’s nothing left for me but this. No family, no husband, no purpose beyond this one thing.

If things had been different, maybe we could have found a better life together. But now, all I can do is ask for your forgiveness. You were the one good thing that happened to me, and for that, I thank you.

Serena will untie you when the trial ends. Don’t come after me. Please. Live, for Dorne, for your daughters. For the future you still have.

Goodbye, Oberyn.

The note trembled in his hands as Oberyn read it, his heart shattering with every word. His chest tightened, breath coming short as if the air had been stolen from him. "No," he muttered, shaking his head. "No, no, no!"

He turned to Serena, his voice breaking. “Untie me. I beg you. I have to stop her.”

Serena’s eyes filled with tears, her lip trembling as she clutched the hem of her dress. “She—she made me promise. I’m supposed to wait until—”

“Damn the promise!” Oberyn roared, his desperation clawing at the edges of his voice. “She’s going to die, Serena! Do you understand that? She’s going to die, and I can’t let that happen. Please. Please, untie me. I can save her.”

Serena’s hands shook violently, her resolve crumbling. She looked at him, at the raw pain in his eyes, the pleading in his voice. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she struggled with the weight of your last request. “She said Dorne needs you,” Serena whispered. “She said you have so much to lose. I—I can’t...”

Oberyn’s voice cracked, softer now, filled with a grief that was almost unbearable. “I’ll lose her. Don’t you see? If you wait… it’ll be too late. I’ll lose her forever. She’s… everything. Please… untie me.”

Serena’s hands moved to the bindings, her fingers trembling as she hesitated one last time. “Promise me… promise me you’ll save her,” she whispered, choking on her sobs.

“I swear it,” Oberyn said, his voice raw with emotion. “I swear on my life. I will save her.”

With a deep breath, Serena finally gave in, loosening the knots and setting him free. As the sheets fell away, Oberyn leapt from the bed, his heart racing as he grabbed his cloak, his mind already on the trial and the bloodshed to come.

Serena watched him go, her hands trembling, knowing that she might have just sent him to his death.

KING’S LANDING, FIGHTING PIT — DAY

The sun beat down on the fighting pit, the crowd's chatter falling into murmurs as you stepped into the arena. Eyes followed you, curious, some confused. You were no one to them, just another faceless fighter stepping up to die. But you felt the weight of their stares, especially the piercing gaze of the Lannisters, high above on their platform, surveying the pit like vultures. They didn’t know who you were, not yet.

Your eyes found the Mountain, hulking and monstrous, towering over you with cold indifference. You raised your voice, cutting through the air, “Do you know who I am?”

Gregor Clegane’s laugh was deep and cruel. “Pity,” he spat, his voice loud enough to carry across the pit. “Some dead whore.”

He lunged. His sheer size made the earth quake beneath your feet, but you were ready. You dodged, his sword cleaving through the space you had been a heartbeat before. He was fast, impossibly fast for someone of his size, but you had spent years preparing for this moment. All those nights spent training, fighting men four times your size, all of it led to this.

As you spun out of his reach, you screamed out to the crowd, “I was the maid of Princess Elia Martell!”

A ripple of whispers spread through the spectators. The name Elia Martell always had that effect, even here in King’s Landing. The Mountain charged again, his blade whistling through the air. You blocked his strike, feeling the force of it reverberate through your arms, but you pushed back, slashing at the vulnerable joints in his armor. The soft spots.

Gregor stumbled but recovered quickly. He came at you again, enraged. “I'm going to hear you confess to all these people before you die,” you spat, circling him. “Tell them how you raped her. How you murdered her. How you killed her children.”

His next attack was brutal, a wild swing that glanced off your arm, leaving a burning line of pain. You gritted your teeth, ignoring the blood soaking into your sleeve. You were faster, smaller. You had to be smarter. And so, you fought, with the fury of someone who had waited their entire life for this moment.

“You raped her!” you screamed again, your voice ragged with rage and pain. “You murdered her! You killed her children!”

You moved in, quick as a viper, stabbing him deep in the gut. He faltered, his massive body reeling from the blow. But you knew better than to get close to a wounded beast. He caught you off guard, his enormous hand closing around your throat. You gasped, your sword clattering to the ground as you struggled in his grip. The world narrowed, the crowd’s roar fading into a dull hum as your vision blurred.

But then, with a final burst of strength, you reached for the daggers hidden at your thigh. In one swift movement, you sliced through the ligaments in his knees, then his ankles, his elbows, his shoulders—every joint you could reach. The Mountain dropped to his knees, immobilized, his weapon far from his reach.

The crowd gasped. You kicked his sword aside, watching as he floundered, his monstrous frame now reduced to helplessness. You sliced off his right hand, the brutal act met with stunned silence from the spectators.

Your boot pressed down hard against his throat, your voice raw with fury. “Confess!” you shouted, eyes blazing as the crowd murmured in shock. Leaning in closer, your voice dropped to a venomous whisper. “You may have forgotten but these people haven’t.”

The Mountain coughed, blood splattering from his lips, but still, he refused. So you pressed harder, forcing the confession from his broken body. “Confess!” you screamed, your voice cutting through the stillness.

“Elia Martell,” he rasped, his voice thick with blood. “I killed her children. Then I raped her.”

Your chest heaved, your body shaking as you stood over him, your heart pounding in your ears. “Do you remember me now?” you asked, seething, your voice a low, dangerous whisper.

Gregor’s eyes flickered with the faintest recognition, and then he growled, his voice thick with venom. “You’re the bitch I burned. I burned you, and I enjoyed every moment of it.”

The words hit you like a slap, a fresh wave of rage rolling over you. But this time, it wasn’t uncontrollable. It was cold, calculating. “That’s right,” you muttered, your eyes narrowing as you stared down at the man who had haunted your nightmares for so long.

Gregor Clegane, the monster you had spent your life waiting to kill, was bleeding out before you. The crowd was silent, frozen in shock, their disbelief palpable. You could feel their eyes on you, but you didn’t care. This wasn’t for them.

“Ser Gregor,” you sneered, “death is too kind of a punishment for an animal like you. I’m not a good person—I plan on becoming worse every day. But today, I will be kind.”

With that, you raised your longsword high and brought it down, severing his head with a clean, decisive stroke. Blood splattered across your face and armor, but you didn’t flinch. You stood there, breathing heavily, caked in dirt and blood, staring down at the lifeless body of the Mountain.

The crowd erupted into chaos, screams and cheers echoing around the pit. But you barely heard them. You turned slowly, your gaze drifting to the platform where Lord Tywin and Cersei stood, their faces pale with shock. They hadn’t expected this. No one had.

As you began to strip off your armor, the crowd’s cheers faded into a stunned hush. Piece by piece, you removed the heavy metal, letting it fall to the ground until you stood in the pit, exposed. Your skin, marred and scarred, told the story of your past, of the torment you had endured. The crowd gasped, some weeping at the sight of you. But your eyes—your eyes were empty, a void where once there had been pain. Now, there was nothing but calm.

Oberyn pushed through the throngs of people, heart pounding, eyes wild with panic as he scanned the crowd. The moment he stepped into the pit’s edge, his breath caught in his throat. His world stopped. You were there, in the middle of it all, a figure painted in blood and dust, screaming out for justice with a voice that could tear the heavens apart.

His heart clenched painfully at the sight of you, fury blazing in your eyes as you danced around the Mountain’s monstrous frame, every strike of your sword precise, every movement a testament to the fire that burned within you. You had trained for this. You were prepared. But watching you battle the creature who had haunted his nightmares, who had torn apart his sister and everything Oberyn held dear—it was more than he could bear.

His body surged forward on instinct, but Ellaria’s grip tightened around his arm, her fingers digging into his skin. “No,” she whispered, her voice trembling with fear and anguish. “She’s chosen this.”

Oberyn’s breath hitched, his mind warring with itself. How could he stand here, watching the woman he cared for, the one person who seemed to understand his pain, fight alone? His every instinct screamed at him to run to you, to stop this madness, to be the one to end it for you. But Ellaria was right—this was your choice. You were fighting not just for Elia, but for yourself.

His prayers, silent and desperate, echoed in his mind. Keep her safe. Please, gods, let her live.

And then, just as the Mountain loomed over you one last time, bloodied but still alive, you moved like lightning. One moment, you were in his grip, your life hanging by a thread, and the next, you were free, your daggers flashing like vengeful stars as you cut him down, piece by piece, until the Mountain—the monster who had destroyed so many lives—fell to his knees, defeated.

Oberyn blinked, his heart in his throat, as the Mountain’s confession rang out across the arena. “Elia Martell. I killed her children. Then I raped her.”

A sickening wave of relief and horror washed over him. It was done. The Mountain had confessed. But you—gods, you were still standing, barely. Covered in blood and dirt, your scarred arms laid bare for the world to see, the evidence of the hell you had endured etched into your skin.

Tyrion, still chained but now free of the weight of death, was weeping with joy, unable to believe the miracle before him. You had won. The gods had chosen justice—your justice.

But Oberyn’s eyes flickered to the Lannisters. Lord Tywin, sitting stone-faced on his perch, his knuckles white as he gripped the armrest of his chair. Cersei, beside him, her face a twisted mask of rage and disbelief. Their plans had crumbled before their eyes, and there was nothing they could do.

“The gods have made their will known,” Tywin said at last, his voice cold and measured. “Tyrion Lannister, in the name of King Tommen of the House Baratheon, First of His Name, you are hereby granted mercy.”

The words dripped with bitterness, but Tywin could do nothing to change the outcome. His gaze shifted to you, and the venom in his eyes was palpable. He stared at you as if he could will you dead on the spot, but you, bloodied and exhausted, raised your chin defiantly. Your shoulders straightened, and despite the pain, you walked with purpose, never looking back at the crowd.

Oberyn could see the weight of the battle on you, the way your steps faltered slightly as you moved toward the edge of the arena. But before you could collapse, before your body gave in, you found him.

“Oberyn,” you breathed out, a ghost of a smile on your lips, just as your vision blurred, the world spinning out of focus. You reached for him, and he ran toward you, catching you before you fell.

“My beloved,” he whispered, cradling your head in his arms, panic flooding his veins. He pressed his forehead against yours, his voice thick with emotion. “Stay with me. You’ve won. You’ve won.”

But your vision darkened, his face fading into shadows as you whispered, barely audible, “I’m sorry. For all of it. I’m sorry.”

Then everything went black.

Oberyn held you tighter, his heart racing as he carried you away from the pit, the cheers of the crowd fading into a distant roar. Ellaria trailed behind him, her face streaked with silent tears. And as the sun began to set over King’s Landing, Oberyn prayed once more, but this time, it was not for vengeance.

It was for you.

A FEW DAYS LATER...

KING'S LANDING, RED KEEP — DAY

You inhale slowly, your eyelids fluttering open as a heavy fog of disorientation lingers. The cushion beneath you feels impossibly soft, too luxurious to be real, and the silk sheets that drape over your body are unfamiliar against your skin. For a moment, you wonder if you're still dreaming. Blinking against the blurriness, you take in the room—this isn't your quarters. It’s far too grand, too opulent. The deep burgundy tapestries hang from the walls, trimmed with gold, casting the space in a warm, regal glow.

Your confusion deepens as your gaze drifts around the room, eventually landing on the man seated beside you, his presence both grounding and comforting. Oberyn. His dark eyes are focused entirely on you, a mixture of concern and anger etched into the lines of his face. He’s holding your hand tightly, as if letting go might mean losing you.

When he notices your eyes fluttering open, his grip tightens, his thumb brushing over your knuckles with a kind of desperation that makes your heart clench.

“You scared me,” he murmurs, his voice low and hoarse, strained by emotions he usually keeps in check. The frustration bleeds into his words, but there’s an overwhelming sense of relief as well. His brow is furrowed, and for a second, it seems like he doesn’t know whether to scold you or hold you closer.

He leans in without hesitation, pressing his lips against yours in a kiss that is both gentle and fierce. His hand cups your cheek as though he’s afraid you might disappear if he doesn't hold on. There’s a warmth in the kiss, but you can feel the anger there, too—the worry that he almost lost you, the unspoken terror that gripped him during your absence.

As you pull back from the kiss, your head still spinning, you can’t help but think of Ellaria. The question tumbles from your lips before you can stop it. “Wait… Ellaria…”

Oberyn sighs, his thumb still grazing the back of your hand as if to soothe away your concerns. “No…” he begins softly, his voice gentler now, though the tension in his posture remains. “We—both of us—have things to discuss.”

You shift beneath the covers, the comfort of the sheets doing little to ease the guilt that's settled in your chest. "I didn’t mean to cause problems,” you whisper, your voice small, barely above a murmur.

His eyes soften as he watches you, his grip tightening for a moment before loosening again. “It wasn’t you,” he reassures you, his tone filled with a sincerity that makes your heart ache. “None of this was your fault.”

But still, the weight of it all lingers. You can’t shake the feeling that you've upset the delicate balance between them, between you, and the heavy silence presses down on you. "It kind of feels like it," you admit, your gaze dropping to the silk sheets beneath your fingers as if avoiding his eyes will make it easier.

Oberyn studies you for a moment, his intense gaze never wavering. When he speaks, his voice is soft, coaxing, but there’s a thread of steel underneath, as though he won’t let you hide from this. “What is it? Tell me.”

You hesitate, the words thick and difficult to force out. It feels vulnerable, admitting this to him. But you’ve never been one to shy away from the truth, and Oberyn deserves that, at least. You take a shaky breath. “I don’t like to share,” you confess, your voice barely a whisper as you look up at him, afraid of what you might see in his eyes.

For a moment, there's silence. Then, a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips—not mocking, but understanding. “Ah,” he says softly, a faint chuckle escaping him, though it holds no malice. His fingers lace through yours more tightly, and he raises your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “You don't need to worry about that right now.”

His tone is light, almost teasing, but there’s something deeper in the way he looks at you. Something reassuring. “We’ll figure it out,” he adds, his voice calm, steady, as if this problem is not insurmountable, as if you and he could face anything together.

You can’t help the way your heart warms at his words, at the way he so effortlessly defuses your fears with that simple, quiet confidence of his. You offer him a tentative smile, still feeling a little raw, a little unsure, but his presence, as always, is enough to make the world seem just a little bit easier to face.

For now, in this moment, the tension fades. It’s just the two of you, hands intertwined, the weight of your worries shared between you. And somehow, that’s enough.

Everything seemed to be falling back into place, except for one thing—you couldn’t stay. You had already resigned from your position as a servant to the Lannisters, knowing it was only a matter of time before they dismissed you.

That morning, after bidding farewell to your duties, you left a good sum of gold for Serena, thanking her for all she had done. It wasn’t nearly enough to repay her, but it was all you had. She had been your silent ally, and you owed her your life.

You had recovered well enough, and when the time came, you scribbled a note and left it on Oberyn’s desk. Just a few words, playful but loaded with meaning:

“Do you want to come see the ocean with me?”

The sun was sinking into the horizon, casting the sky in soft shades of gold and lavender as you and Oberyn strolled along the coast. The sea breeze brushed against your skin, cool and salty, but comforting. It tousled your hair, lifting the loose strands in gentle waves. Beside you, Oberyn’s hand was warm, his fingers entwined with yours as he led you along the shore. His voice, rich and smooth like velvet, floated through the air, serenading you with a Dornish love song. His words, though foreign, melted into the air, wrapping around you like a familiar embrace.

You looked up at him, his face glowing in the fading light, his eyes reflecting the endless ocean beside you. In his presence, the world seemed smaller, quieter. The chaotic din of King's Landing, the bloodshed, and the weight of everything that had come before—it all faded into the background. Here, it was just the two of you, walking along the edge of the world.

Oberyn’s arm slid around your waist, pulling you closer as he leaned down to kiss your temple. “You look peaceful,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated against your skin.

You smiled, feeling the warmth of his affection settle deep in your chest. "I feel peaceful. For once," you whispered, your eyes meeting his, drinking in the tenderness you saw there.

As the two of you made your way to a small dock, you found an old crate to sit on, the wood weathered and worn by years of salt and sea. You sat side by side, legs dangling off the edge, sharing a bottle of Dornish red wine. The world around you felt infinite—expansive ocean stretching out before you, stars beginning to shimmer in the twilight sky, the rhythmic lull of the waves breaking against the shore.

The wine was sweet, its taste lingering on your lips as you passed the bottle between you, laughing between sips, sharing stolen kisses in between stories. Oberyn’s hand slid along your back, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. He was so close, and yet, for the first time, you felt the distance growing.

There was a part of you that ached, knowing how this perfect moment would end.

You leaned into him, resting your head against his shoulder. “Oberyn,” you murmured, your voice quiet, barely louder than the waves.

“Hmm?” He turned his head slightly, pressing a kiss into your hair.

You closed your eyes, inhaling his scent—the mix of sun and leather, and something uniquely him. For a moment, you just listened to the sound of his heartbeat, steady and sure. You wanted to bottle this moment, to keep it forever, but you knew that was impossible.

“I love this,” you whispered. “I love… you.”

Oberyn smiled against your hair, his lips brushing your skin. “And I you.”

You stayed like that for a long time, the two of you wrapped in the silence, the kind that didn’t need words. The sky above grew darker, stars spilling across the night like scattered diamonds. Everything felt right in that instant, perfect even. But you knew better than to believe in perfect endings.

When Oberyn stood to fetch more wine, you watched him walk away, your heart already breaking with every step he took. He looked back, flashing you a teasing grin, unaware of the storm brewing inside you. You held on to that image of him—happy, carefree, the man who had brought light into your world.

You waited until he disappeared into the distance before you moved. You pulled the small seashell from your pocket, the one you'd found on the shore earlier. You placed it carefully beside the note you had written earlier, your hand trembling as you set it on the crate where you had shared so many stolen moments with Oberyn.

Your breath caught in your throat as you re-read the words you had scrawled:

“We’re at the final destination. This is the end. Goodbye.”

The weight of it all settled over you as you stood there for a moment, staring out at the endless sea. Your heart ached in a way you couldn’t describe, torn between love and the inevitability of your decision. You closed your eyes, letting the wind caress your face one last time before you turned and walked away, leaving only the note and seashell behind.

By the time Oberyn returned, laughing with another bottle of wine in hand, you were already gone.

He looked around, the smile slipping from his face as he called your name. Panic crept into his voice as he scanned the dock, eyes landing on the seashell and the note. His hand trembled as he picked it up, his heart hammering in his chest as he read the words.

The bottle of wine slipped from his grasp, shattering on the ground, just like his heart.

ATOP THE CLIFFS — EVENING

The wind howled as you stood at the edge of the cliffs, looking down at the jagged rocks and the sea below. You had built a small fire, watching as the flames consumed the journal you had written in for years—pages full of unsent letters, regrets, and broken dreams. The smoke curled into the twilight sky, taking with it the pieces of you no one had ever seen.

Tears streamed down your face as you whispered into the wind, "I hope that in the end, whether I’m in the world or not, your world will be full of me. I want you to resent every moment of your life so much that you feel it deep in your bones. Let me do that. I’ll be the one who kills me."

The ocean roared beneath you, the cliffs standing as silent witnesses to your final moment. You stepped closer to the edge, the weight of the world lifting as you prepared to let go.

But then—

“Help! Please help! Save him!”

You turned slowly, tears still blurring your vision. Standing at a distance was Ellaria Sand, her face stricken with panic. Her voice trembled as she called out, “If this is the end you were preparing for, then you should already know. What if… Oberyn chooses this end too?”

You stood frozen, silent, tears streaming down your face as Ellaria took a cautious step toward you. Her voice was thick with emotion as she continued, “I met with Serena. She told me about you. She told me everything—about where you came from, how you ended up here.”

Ellaria’s voice cracked as she pleaded with you. “This isn’t the way things should end. When Oberyn told me he wanted to help you get revenge, I gave him my permission. So please… give me your permission to save your life today.”

You could barely breathe, your chest tight with grief and confusion.

Ellaria’s eyes were wet with tears as she took another step forward. “Whether I have to hang on to you or jump with you, I will save you. I need you to help him—help Oberyn escape his hell so that he can choose to live.”

You stared at her, your tears flowing freely now, and your gaze drifted back to the ocean, where the sun had almost dipped below the horizon. Stars began to streak across the sky, as if the gods themselves were watching, waiting for your decision.

End Notes:

Okay OKAY LISTEN LISTEN, I know it doesn’t make sense that Ellaria shows up there. It’s all fantasy. But if we assume that there were tiny bits of divine intervention here and there, she could appear on those cliffs because she wanted to save you.

TAGLIST:

@greenwitchfromthewoods @shessweetsour @christinamadsen

#oberyn martel x reader #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell fanfiction #prince oberyn #oberyn nymeros martell #oberyn martell x you #oberyn martell fic #oberyn martell smut #oberyn martell #oberyn x reader #oberyn x you #got #got rewrite #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic

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evadne01 · 7 months ago

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The Hobbit/ Lord of the Rings Masterlist

Favorite snacks

Bilbo stays at Erebor and then shares a elevenses with his king

His hobbit

5 times Thorin doesn't speak his feelings for Bilbo +1 in which he does

Dreaming the Future

Beorn's cottage was peaceful, warm, and safe.

Thorin knew that the dwarves were enjoying the break from the orcs in the shape-shifter's house, and he was sure that Oin was grateful to be able to give Thorin and his wounds a proper rest before they had to continue their journey.

Of all the members of the Company, the one who seemed truly happy to be in Beorn's house was Bilbo.

My fondest memory

If someone had asked Bilbo Baggins what was his happiest memory of Bag End, Bilbo would have said the faces of his parents when they looked at each other in their smial, the loving smile of his mother and the devoted look of his father.

In his twenty years of life, nothing had been as special as the precious moments between his parents, their pure love that made him determined to find his soulmate in this world, the one their Valar, Yavanna, had gifted them.

And, their memories, had been Bilbo's happiness until he was fifty.

How to get the favor of a hobbit

“Just to be clear, hobbits are Lady Yavanna’s gift?” Bilbo asked, frowning.

“Exactly.” Ori nodded.

“And the gifts I’m receiving are because men, elves, and dwarves love hobbits?” Bilbo asked, tilting his head.

“Yes.” Ori confirmed.

Tales of the Shire

Our history is not about great kings, warriors. It doesn't involve amazing battles or even great heroes.

Our history has no great enemies or darkness, it does not speak of impossible undertakings and insurmountable quests, of bitter enemies or unlikely allies.

Our story, however, talks about the little things, the gestures of everyday life.

Our story is about the life of a small child, born in the North-West of Middle-earth, in Eriador, in the realm of Arnor.

Lady Yavanna's Gift

Thorin huffed. “Gifts. Dwarrows, Elves, and Men were created, as were the Ents, the Maiar, and other creatures of Middle-earth. Not hobbits. Lady Yavanna gifted hobbits to the Mortal Land.”

Gandalf nodded proudly. “Exactly my point, Thorin.”

Thorin bit into the sandwich before turning his gaze to Gandalf. “And you assure me this hobbit has agreed to join my company, Gandalf? Have you explained the dangers to him in the appropriate way?” Skeptical, Thorin added, “I can hardly believe there’s a hobbit who would willingly seek an adventure far from the comforts of the Shire.”

“This hobbit is very different, Thorin, I can assure you!” Gandalf smiled. “I’ve known him since birth, and there’s no one better suited for the role.”

The Hobbit rewrite with hobbits as everyone's favourite

We could have it all ~ who said we couldn’t

Thorin hasn't been himself for a while. Bilbo gets his confirmation when he sees how Thorin reacts to the arrival of the survivors from Lake Town and how he goes back on his word and honour.

Are you not hungry?

After the Battle of the Five Armies, Bilbo is helping the king. But he has some personal struggles.

Winners Take it all

Thorin is in a coma. Bilbo is involved in the negotiations with Thranduil, Dáin, and Bard.

sequel of: we could have it all ~ who said we couldn't

It’s a Matter of Hair

Hobbit hair is an extremely personal matter.

The elves know this and long to touch the soft curls of hobbit hair.

Yet, it is the dwarrows who are allowed to do so.

sequel of: Winners Take it all

Bilbo Baggins' guide: how to survive a dragon

How Bilbo Baggins finds himself with a dragon pet

Chance to meet you

Thorin doesn’t want to marry a hobbit. Bilbo doesn’t want to marry a dwarf. The two meet, talk, and then realise they’ve been insulting each other all evening.

It’s not an awkward first meeting at all. (Interestingly enough, they’ve both had worse.)

The things I never thought I would have done

Bilbo was a hobbit, a creature that had nothing to do with battles and crowns. And yet, when his eyes met Thorin’s, he saw something that made him push aside every hesitation. His decision might have seemed sudden to the dwarrows, senseless compared to his firm refusal the night before, but… that voice could only have been a gift from Lady Yavanna, a way to set Bilbo on the right path, the one his Valar had intended for him.

You make me a fool

Thorin knew he was pathetic.

He knew because Dwalin had told him, of course, but also because there was absolutely no reason for him to be this upset.

It's all yours

Thorin finds out that hobbits have tails and purrs when cuddled. Also, he is very possessive of his hobbit. Also, Thorin discovers some differences between hobbits and dwarrows

Being enough

Bilbo is beauty standard for dwarrows (and also hobbits). Thorin is ugly for dwarrows

Return to the General Masterlist

#the hobbit #bilbo baggins #thorin oakenshield #gold sickness #fluff #battle of the five armies fix it #Bilbo stays at erebor #bagginshield #fanfiction #hadrianpeverellblack #ao3 fanfic #fanfic

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edennill-archived · 1 year ago

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During his lifetime, Isildur had always been hailed as a hero. It started very early, that, with the theft of the sapling, and this was never forgotten. And later, after his death, legend added to legend; his prowess in battle, the bravery of his youth, the kingship he wielded, merging into one foundational myth. The Isildur who had once lived might have been glad rather than embarrassed at the statues and songs, but he might have wondered at the long lasting of legend. He might have felt unease at how his failures were all but forgotten. But the dead do not worry about their legacies, though they might know of them.

Near the end of the Third Age, one of his failures was brought out from the depths of history, and suddenly, learned men begun to wonder and rewrite their histories. They did not forget the White Tree, they did not forget the Dagorlad, but the tale they now told became a cautionary tragedy of pride. Not merciless, pitying rather, in most of their mouths, but with the center of weight firmly fixed on that one decision no mortal man could have avoided.

They never painted Isildur as he was, child of the land of mortal dreams that turned to nightmares before his eyes, almost rashly daring youth, leader and king in exile, and all the same man. One who could be obnoxiously proud, but who would have overcome this fault had he not had the misfortune to find the Ring; one who sought to amend this at last -- and who would not have, likely, succeeded in giving the Ring up, but who died with the wish to do so. One who, unlike other characters of legend, regretted the dragging of his own into his mistakes; one who had a lucky end and died terribly, and ignobly, and well. But a king must resign himself to becoming a legend, and he was a king who was a man.

#my post #my fanfic #Tolkien #Silmarillion #lotr #tolkien fanfic #silm fanfic #Isildur #númenor

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blackcat419 · 7 months ago

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Rewriting HotD: Plot breakdown of Fire and Blood the Dance of the Dragons

Part 3: 130 A.C. Fall of Kings Landing to 130 A.C.

Part 1 Here

Part 2 Here

The following is an in depth plot breakdown of F&B where character moments, plot beats, difference in sources, and missing details will all be analyzed and possible solutions proposed. The timeline will start in 101 A.C. with the first great council as where the seeds of the dance were thoroughly sowed and watered to the death of Jaehaera in 133 A.C.

This is the first part of my rewriting HotD series. The next part will talk more about character arcs and expanding on them using the enneagram as a jumping off point.

Page numbers will be cited from my copy of fire and blood the 2022 Trade Paperback Tie-in Edition.

Legend

Bold for the year

Italic for character moments

Blue for Orwyle’s account

Purple for Munkun’s A True Telling

Green for Septon Eustace’s The Reign of King Viserys

Red for Mushroom’s The Testimony of Mushroom

Orange for rumors that have no source

Pink for minor sources where their credibility and bias will be discussed when they come up

(Parenthesis) will be used when I deem it necessary to comment on the story either about the plot or how the fandom views the story.

[brackets] will be used for when I want to add real world historical context.

Where Gyldayn does not identify which source he is using or which sources disagree with eachother, it will be assumed that all sources agree with each other.

Source Bias is discussed in Part 1

Because the war is barely three years, months and other year dividers will be used when mentioned and most divisions will be by location.

Acorn Hill

Riverlanders first hold back the Westermen but fall back after Lord Piper's death. Mushroom says Lord Piper died after seeing his favorite grandson's head on a spear. Pg 460

3 Days Later Acorn Hill

The Riverlanders group under the hedge knight called Ser Harry Penny. Ser Penny kills Adrian Tarbeck but dies soon after. Pg 460

The Westermen win the battle and are now led by Lord Humfry Lefford. Pg 460

The Twins

The Winter Wolves are greeted by Sabitha Frey at the Twins. Pg 460-1

Harrenhal

Aemond's march is delayed by bad weather. He finds Harrenhal empty and believes Daemon has fled rather than face him. He parties then challenges Simon Strong to a trial by combat and feeds his corpse to Vhagar. Pg 461

After finding out about the fall of King's Landing, Aemond executes all the Strongs, true born and bastard, but takes Alys Rivers as his mistress. Pg 462

---

Aemond: First delighted when he thinks Daemon fled rather than face him but is angered when he learns about the fall of King's Landing. Doesn't execute Alys for some reason.

Alys Rivers: Somehow keeps herself alive during the Strong massacre. Did she turn on her kin for Aemond?

Fish Feed

Lord Humfrey Lefford has his army camp with The Lake of the God's eye behind them for protection rather than face either army. Lord Lefford tries to send for help to Aemond but all his ravens are shot down by Red Robb Rivers. The Lannister soldiers are attacked and either die in the fighting or drown in the lake. Pg 462-3 (Reference to Lake Trasimene?)

The Northmen suffer the most deaths. Pg 463

---

Benjicott Blackwood: Weeps when he sees the dead.

Other Battles

Daeron and Lord Hightower put the other enemy Reach lords into submission. Pg 463

Borros Baratheon Marches south into the Dornish marches to presumably protect against the Dornish. Pg 463

Fair Isle is attacked by the Greyjoys. Pg 463

Holding Harrenhal

Aemond and Criston's forces die of starvation and sickness. Foraging parties go missing. Pg 465

Mushroom says Aemond and Criston became rivals for Alys Rivers while Eustace says Aemond was the only one who wanted her. Pg 465

Criston leaves to join Daeron and Oremond Hightower while Aemond stays to wage war in the Riverlands. Pg 465-6

---

Aemond: refuses to retreat saying 'only a craven runs from traitors'. After hearing about Fishfeed, he almost strangles the messenger to death and is only stopped by Alys Rivers. Says Rhaenyra won't risk the lives of her sons, a mother's fears. (perhaps dig at Helaena and Alicent?)

Alys Rivers: Stops Aemond from strangling the messenger, showing her influence over him.

Crison Cole: Leaves Aemond to rejoin Daeron to hopefully retake Kingslanding.

The Red Keep

Rhaenyra frees the imprisoned Black loyalists, imprisons the Green loyalists, beheads Otto Hightower and Jasper 'Iron Rod' Wylde, and tortures Tyland Lannister for info on where the treasury is. Pg 466

Alicent is spared and placed in golden chains. Pg 466

Rhaenyra removes the tongues of Lord Rosby and Lord Stokeworth before executing them for initially turning to the greens. Pg 466-7

Daemon suggests marrying the eldest daughters of Lord Rosby and Stokeworth to Hugh and Ulf to secure the lands and reward the two. Corlys argues against Daemon's plan saying they can't disinherit the younger sons in favor of the daughters and that Rhaenyra was a special case because she was named heir by her father. Munkun says Rhaenyra sided with Corlys in fear of losing her lords' support. Pg 467

Hugh Hammer beats a household knight to death over a sex worker and Ulf rides naked and drunk through the city. Pg 467

Celtigar becomes the master of coin and implements unpopular taxes that mainly affect merchants and traders. Executions were commercialized and bodies were fed to dragons as feed. Pg 467-8

The commoners start calling Rhaenyra "Maegor's Teats" or "King Maegor with teats" Pg 469

Rhaenyra has Aegon the Younger and Jeoffrey come to court. She makes Aegon her cupbearer and celebrates Jeoffrey becoming the Prince of Dragonstone. Pg 469

Mysaria becomes the unofficial Master of Whispers and spends the nights with Daemon. Pg 469

Each time Rhaenyra sits the Iron Throne, she is cut by it. Pg. 469

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Daemon: Seeks comfort in Mysaria after Rhaenyra rejects his plan for Stokeworth and Rosby (Again the hand is favored over him)

Corlys: Focuses on Rhaenyra being a special case and not upsetting the other lords (Despite him passing over legitimate granddaughters for his bastard sons.)

Rhaenyra: Has Stokeworth and Rosby killed for switching sides. Sides with Corlys to not upset her lords.

Bartimos Celtigar: Staunch and unwavering support of Rhaenyra. Unrelenting, incorruptible, and ingenious.

Bitterbridge

Bitterbridge is crowded with refugees from Longtable. Lady Caswell closed her gates to them. Pg 470

Rikard Thorne goes to the Hog's Head with Maelor disguised as father and son. A stable boy named Sly tries to steal from Rickard and finds Maelor's dragon egg. Richard Thorne Kills the inn keep Ben Buttercakes, and then flees on a horse with Maelor. The bridge guards try to stop Richard and he fights them till a crossbow bolt takes him down. Pg. 470-2

The crowd fights over Maelor and pulls him to pieces. Pg 474

Mushroom says Willow Poundstone squeezed Maelor to death. Eustace says Maelor was chopped into pieces by a butcher. Munkun says Maelor was torn apart by the mob. Pg 474

Lady Caswelll has the stableboy Sly, Willow Poundstone, and the man who owned the horse Richard fled on hanged. She sent Throne's body and Maelor's head to King's landing and Maelor's dragon egg to the Hightowers to try and appease both sides. Pg 474

The Red Keep

Mushroom says Rhaenyra wept when seeing the head while Eustace says she smiled and had the head burned. No announcement was made but rumor spread that Rhaenyra sent Maelor's head to Helaena. Pg 474

Realm Overview

Dalton Greyjoy abducts five of Lord Farman's daughters. Pg 474

Lady Merryweather surrenders to the Hightowers and her castle is stripped to feed the army. Pg 475

Battle of Bitterbridge

Lady Caswell asks for the same terms given to Lady Merryweather but Daeron says 'You shall receive the same terms you gace my nephew Maelor.' The city is asked withe everything burned and everyone killed.

Lady Caswell pleads for her children's lives before hanging herself. Her kids are sent to Oldtown in chains.

---

Daeron: Decides that Bitterbridge will be sacked for the murder of Maelor.

Harrenhal

3 days after Aemond leaves Harrenhal, Sabitha Frey takes it and finds Alys Rivers claiming she is pregnant with 'The Dragon's Bastard' Pg 475-6

Riverlands

Aemond burns the Riverlands starting with House Darry. Lord Darry and his heir are burned alive while his wife and younger children survive in the cellar. Pg 476

Butcher's Ball

4 days (Presumably 1 day after Sabitha takes Harrenhal) out of Harrenhal, Ser Cole faces guerilla-style attacks from the Northern army. Criston tries to surrender to save his men and then offers to fight a 3 v. 1. Criston is shot dead by Red Robb Rivers. Pg 476-7

The Winterwolves slaughter Criston's fleeing men. Pg 478

---

Criston: Tries to sacrifice himself to save his men but is murdered for his bravery.

The Mirror Shield

Ser Byron Swann wants to kill a dragon like Serwyn of the Mirror Shielf did (Reference to Medusa and Persius). Munkun says he wanted to kill Vhagar to end Aemond'ds raids, Mushroom says it was Syrax he meant to kill, and Eustace in a letter suggests it was Sungrye though his where about were unknown at the time. Pg 478

Ser Byron Swann died screaming, roasted alive. Pg 479

Maiden's Day

The Maester releases ravens to announce the coming of winter. Pg 479

The Triarchy is falling apart, Vaelyrons control the sea, Jeyne Arryn and Lord Manderly send men by sea to Rhaenyra. Pg 479

Aemond burns Harrenhal again, taking Alys Rivers and forcing Sabritha to flee back to the Twins. Pg 479

The Riverlands ask Rhaenyra for dragons to defend against Aemond. Pg 480

The Hightower Force with Daeron marched on King's Landing and forced their surrendered enemies to join them. Pg 480

Corlys advice Rhaenyra to offer pardons to Baratheon, Hightower, and Lannister, send her half brothers to the wall, give Alicent and Helaena to the faith, and let Corlys foster Jaehaera and then marry Aegon the Younger. Pg 480

Daemon suggests killing all the traitors and giving Storm's End to Ulf and Casterly Rock to Hugh. Pg 481 (The others to Hugh and Ulf keep increasing and keep being taken away)

Rhaenyra decides to focus on killing her half-brothers and then forcing the Green Lords to surrender. Pg 481

Rhaneyra, Jeoffrey, and Addam stay in Kingslanding, Daemon and Nettles leave for the Riverlands, and Ulf and Hugh fly to Tumbleton. Pg 481

Alicent begs for her sons' lives and offers to split the realm but Rhaenyra denies her. Rhaenyra says that her half-brothers could have had places of honor at her court if they had not betrayed her and that her sons' blood is on their hands. Alicent says 'Bastard blood shed at war' and that her grandsons were the only innocents. Pg 482-3

Munkun and Eustace say Rhaenyra threatened to have Alicent's tongue ripped out for calling her sons bastards. Mushroom says Mysaria stayed the queen's hand and suggested that they sell Alicent and Helaena at brothels till they both have a bastard. Pg 483

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Corlys: Focus on diplomacy to end the war and offer pardons.

Daemon: Focus on removing all threats to Rhaenyra.

Rhaenyra: Focuses on removing her half brother and their claims to the throne.

Mysaria: cruelty by suggesting women be sexually assaulted.

Alicent: Bargins for Rhaenyra and Aegon both to be monarchs and still holds firm in her spite towards Rhaenyra.

Treason of Tumbleton

Munkun says Rhaenyra's force of 9 thousand was outnumbered by Ormund Hightower. Pg 484

Ulf and Hugh switch to the Hightower side. Mushroom says it was because they were craven. Others, not specified who, say the two wanted wealth and lordship and thought Hightower would give it when Rhaenyra had not. Pg 484-5

The Winterwolves push into the Hightower forces where Lord Roderick Dustin kills Ser Bryden Hightower and Lord Oremend Hightower before dying. Pg 485-6

Ulf and Hugh join Daeron in burning the city. Ser Roger Corne and his men turn and attack the men in Tumbleton. Lord Owain Bourney also turns for the Greens and kills Ser Merrell the Bold. Pg 486

Tumbleton is burned and no mercy is given to the survivors or the ones who surrender. Pg 486

Riverlands

Daemon and Nettles base themselves in Maidenpool. Pg 487

Vhagar attacks multiple towns and survivors can never agree on where she goes afterwards. Pg 487

Daemon and Nettles fly over the Riverlands each day in search of Vhagar. Chronicles of Maidenpool say Lord Mooton suggests they split up when searching but Daemon refuses. Pg 488

Mushroom says Daemon took Nettles as a lover. Pg 488

Chronicles of Maidenpool say Daemon ate with her, bathed with her, and instructed her in courtly courtesies. Pg 489

---

Daemon: Refuses to search separately from Nettles. Perhaps for strategy or personal reasons

Nettles: No older than 17, grew up homeless in Spicetown. Probably had to sell her maidenhead when young to eat. Mushroom calls her 'a skinny brown girl with a skinny brown dragon'. Eustace says she had crooked teeth and a nose cut across for stealing. Pg 488-9

Blackwater Bay

The crew on the ship Nessaria see two dragons fighting and the tale spreads till everyone on Dragonstone has heard it. Pg 489

Local fishermen find the dead dragon Grey Ghost, partially devoured. Pg 490

Ser Robert Quince declares the Cannibal the killer and forbids fishing near his lair. Pg 490

Baela spends many of her days patrolling the waters around Dragonstone and Driftmark. She wanted to investigate Grey Ghost's death but was caught before she could leave and was confined to her chambers. Pg 490-1

Tom Tanglebeard and his son Tom Tangletounge bring their two 'cousins' to the lair of the Cannibal Pg 491 (Aegon and who is revealed to be a bastard knight named Ser Marston Pg 544)

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Ser Robert Quince: Amiable and obese knight named Castellan of Dragonstone after Rhaenyra leaves. Not investigative perhaps due to overconfidence or he was an ally to Aegon?

Baela: Wild and willful. Played kissing games with squires and let a kitchen boy grope her and then pleaded for his hand to not be removed when found out. Loves boys and flying.

The Red Keep

After hearing about Tumblton, Rhaenyra orders the city gates to be barred to keep out any traitors. Pg 491

The black council argues over what to do with Addam and Nettles. Bartimos Celtigar argues that bastards are treacherous by nature, Ser Luthor Largent, Ser Lorent Marbrand, and the Mandarly men agree with him. Only Lord Corlys and Master Gerargys argue against killing them. Pg 492-3

Eustace says Rhaenyra had been betrayed so often that she expected it. Pg 493

Rhaenyra calls on Mysaria who tells her Nettles is sleeping with Daemon. Eustace says she grows wroth and orders Addam to be tortured to find out if he's a traitor and for Nettles to be killed. Pg 493

Addam flees before Ser Luthor can arrest him. Ser Luthor bounds, beats, and imprisons Corlys believing he told Addam to flee. Pg 494

Rhaenyra dismisses Geradrys as Grand Maester, no longer able to trust him because he urged caution. Pg 494

The people of Kings Landing turn to a man called the 'Shepherd', the dead shepherd according to Mushroom. Munkun says he was a poor fellow. Pg 495

The Shepherd preaches that dragons are unnatural and gains a large following that the gold cloaks can't break up. Pg 496

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Alicent: 'All they have sowed, now they shall they reap' after hearing about Tumbleton, very vengeful. Pg 491

Rhaenyra: Grows pale after hearing of Tumbleton and the betrayal. Sees betrays all around her. Dismisses Gerardy believing his caution means he is a traitor.

Joffrey: wants to fight and avenge his brothers. Excited for the battle to come.

Corlys: Warns Addam before he is attacked and stands his ground against Ser Luthor, not admitting to anything.

Tumbleton

The army becomes unruly and cruelly keeps sacking Tumbleton. The commanders begin fighting amongst themselves. The eldest Hightower, Ser Hobert, is a weak leader who was only intrusted with the baggage train before. Daeron is too young and inexperienced. Lord Unwin Peake, Ser Jon Roxton, and Lord Owain Bourney argue for leadership. Roxton kills the lord of Tumbleton to take his wife as his war prize. Peak and Bourney get into an argument and Peak kills Bourney, saying once a traitor, always a traitor. Pg 496-8

Eustace and Munkun assert that Daeron was horrified by the violence. Pg 497

Ulf declares he wants Highgarden and Hugh says he wants to be a king. A new prophecy about a hammer falling upon a dragon and a new king arriving. Pg. 498 {Refrence to Ceaser using a made-up prophecy to justify his own rule}

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Daeron: Unable to take control despite being horrified and having a dragon.

MaidenPool 8th day of the 5th Moon 130 A.C.

Maester Norren in the 'Chronicles of MaidenPool' says the Lord Mooton needed three cups of wine after reading Rhaenyra's letter demanding Nettles' head. Pg 499

Lord Mooton's brother and the captain of his guard, Florian Greysteel, argue on how to subdue Daemon to kill Nettles. Florian says the old king would never ask for this (whether this is referring to Jaehaerys or Viserys is unclear) Pg 499

Lord Mooton elements that he is either a traitor or breaks guests right. Pg 500

Maester Norren pretends that the lord never saw the letter and delivers it to Daemon. Pg 500

Nettles feeds Sheepstealer a black ram, Daemon helps her mount him, and she flies off in the direction of the bay of crabs. Daemon leaves for Harrenhal. Maidenpool turns to Aegon II. Pg 500-1

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Daemon: says 'a queen's words, a whores work' after reading the letter, probably referring to Mysaria.

Nettles: tear streaked face when she has to leave.

Harrenhal 8th-22nd day of the 5th Moon 130 A.C.

Daemon stays at Harrenhall for 14 days, slashing the weirwood to mark the passage of time. Pg 501

HarrenHal 22nd day of the 5th Moon 130 A.C.

Aemond arrives with Alys. Daemon and Aemond fight on dragon back. Pg 502

Caraxes slams into Vhagar and Daemon jumps off Caraxes and pierces Aemond through the eye. Pg 504

Historians record that Aemond, Daemon, and their dragons died that day. The singers say Daemon survived and returned to Nettles. Pg 504

---

Aemond: He Brought Alys with him and was confident he'd win.

Daemon: Seems to have accepted his death and just wants to take Aemond down with him.

Kings Landing

Mysaria says Addam fleeing proved his guild. Pg 506

Lord Celtigar suggests a tax on bastards. Pg 506

Soldiers sworn to house Velaryon start abandoning Rhaenyra with Corlys in prison. Some go home and others join the Shepherd. Pg 506

Corlys' personal guards Ser Denys Woodwright and Ser Thoron True try to free Corlys and are executed for it. Pg 506-7

Helaena jumps to her death from Maegor's holdfast. Mushroom says she killed herself because she was pregnant after being sold as a prostitute. Munkun says the horror of seeing Ser Denys and Ser Thoron dead drove her to her death. Eustace says Mysaria told her how Maelor died out of malice or some unknown reason. Pg. 507 (George's comments suggest that Eustace's story is the right one.)

Rumors spread that Rhaenyra had Ser Luthor Largent Kill Helaena so she could not revel in Rhaenyra's downfall. Pg 507

Munkun says the Shepherd spread the rumor. Mushroom says the Shepherd only repeated the rumor Larys Strong started. Pg 507-8

Dreamfyre breaks two of her chains and roars loud enough to shake the dragon pit when Helaena dies. Pg 508

Alicent rips her garments apart when she hears of Helaena's death and curses her rival. Pg 508

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Mysaria: Continued focus on removing support and a sense of safety from Rhaenyra.

Helaena: Was driven to suicide by something (most likely the details of Maelor's death).

Alicent: Curses her rivals when she learns of Helaena's death.

Kings Landing The Riots

Kings Landing raises in riots that night over Helaena and her sons. The riots started in flea bottom with rioters looting, beating up gold cloaks, and attacking Lords and Knights. Lady Darla Debbings' brother Davos was killed defending her from being raped. Sailors attack the river gate and fight the city watch. Pg 508-9

The rioters attack Lord Bartimos Celtigar. His guards flee or join the rioters. Arthur Celtigar tries to fight off the rioters but a serving girl lets the rioters in and he is killed. Bartimos tries to flee but is captured and tortured to reveal where his wealth is. Pg 509

The Shepherd preaches against Rhaenyra and proclaims the stranger has come. Pg 509

According to Mushroom, Ser Luthor Largent led 5 thousand men of the city watch to try and disperse the rioters to take away the Shepherd but the mob held firm and the Shepherd was bundled away. The mob throws stuff at the watch and an archer loses bolts on the crowd. Pg 510 (Reference to the Boston massacre?)

Despite the watches training, the crowd outnumbers them and slaughters them Pg 512

The Shepherd holds sway over the city. Hundreds gather around Wat the Tanner who killed Lord Celtigar and declared an end to taxes. The sex workers declare a 4-year-old boy, Daemon Pale Hair, the rightful king and bastard of Aegon II. Hedge knight Ser Perkin names his squire Trystane, a boy of 16, the natural son of King Viserys. He dubbed any sellsword, thief, or butcher's boy a knight if they swore to Trystane. Pg 513

The Gold Cloaks under Ser Balon Byrch and Ser Garth the Harelip restore order to the streets North and East of Rhaeny's Hill. Ser Medrick Manderly and his white Harbor Men restore order northeast of Aegon's High Hill to the Iron Gate. Pg 513

Ser Torrhen and his Northmen to the River Gate and find the garrison killed by Ser Perkin's men and the garrison turns over to him. Ser Toffhen loses a quarter of his men fighting back. Pg 513

Ser Lorent Marbrand, Lord Commander of the Queen's guard died in flea bottom. Ser Glendon Goode rescues his body. Pg 513

By evenfall, Rhaenyra is beset on all sides. Mushroom says Rhaenyra wept at Ser Lorent's death, raged at Maidenpool turning, Nettles escaping, and Daemon's betrayal, and trembled when Mysaria said the next night would be worse. Mushroom says the men attending her slowly left or were dismissed until only Mushroom and Rhaenyra's sons remained. She calls Mushroom loyal and he says he rather be her consort which makes her laugh. Pg 513

Munkun says Rhaenyra swung from rage to despair and back, cutting herself on the Iron Throne. Pg 513

Rhaenyra names Ser Balon Byrch commander of the goldcloaks, sends ravens to Winterfell and the Eyrie to ask for aid, orders a detaining order on the Mootons, and names Ser Glendon Goode Lord Commander of the Queensguard. Pg 514

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Rhaenyra: swings between rage and tears but is able to order new appointments and next steps.

Kings Landing the Last Day

Eustace and Munkun say that on the Last Day, Aegon the Younger stays at his mother's side and Jeoffrey wishes to fight on his dragon. Pg 514

The sex workers bestow their favor on any man who swears his sword to Gaemon Palehair. Ser Perkin has his knights feast on stolen food and then march along the riverfront. Wat the Tanner leads his mob against the Gate of the Gods and breaks through and towards an unknown direction under Bartimos Celtigar's rotting head. Pg 514

The Kings Gate garrison flees and the Lion Gates garrison joins the mobs, leaving three of the seven gates open to Kings Landing. Pg 514-5

The Shepherd reemerged and continued preaching against Rhaenyra. Eustace says the crowd was twice as large and thrice as fearful as the night before. The Shepherd rallied the crowd against the dragons and marched on the Dragon Pit. When the mob reaches the dragon pit, they are 20 thousand strong. Pg 514-6

Mushroom watches the attack unfold alongside Rhaenyra, Aegon the younger, and Joffrey. Rhaenyra sends riders to Ser Balon at the Old Gate and Ser Garth at the Dragon Gate to stop the Shepherd and defend the dragons but only the messenger to the Dragon Gate arrives. Jeoffrey pleads to go leave and defend the dragons which Rhaenyra forbids. Mushroom says something siding with Joffrey and is told to hold his tongue by Rhaenyra leading to Mushroom not saying anything when Jeoffrey sneaks out. Pg 516

Joffrey takes off on Syrax for the dragon pit without a saddle or whip. Rhaenyra commands men to ride after him. Munkun says these were men of honor, Eustace says they were moved by Rhaenyra's love for her son, and Mushroom says they were idiots looking for a reward and not caring if they died. Pg 516-7

The Seven Who Rode: Ser Medrick Manderly heir to white harbor, Ser Loreth Landsdale and Ser Harrold Darke of the Queensguard, Ser Harmon 'Iron-Banger' of the Reeds, Ser Gyles Yronwood exiled knight from Dorne, Ser Willam Royce, and Ser Glendon Goode Lord Commander of the Queensguard. Pg 517

Syrax throws Jeoffrey off her back and he falls. Rumors say that Jeoffrey died in the arms of a girl named Robin, a candlemaker's daughter. The mob quickly strips Jeoffrey of all possessions and tears his body apart. The seven who rode fight with the mob over Joffrey's body. The seven protect his body but Willam Royce, Gyles Yronwood, and Glendon Goode die. Pg 517-9

Dragon Gate gold cloaks retreat from the mob. The Dragonkeepers try to hold off the mob but are slaughtered. Shrykos is slain by Hobb the Hewer. Morghul was killed by the Burning Knight. Tyraxes tried to retreat into his layer but the Shepherd directs the mob through the back to kill him. Dreamfyre fights and breaks the Dragon pit dome, killing her and the multiple dragonslayers. Pg 520-522

The Shepherd next directs the mob to kill Syrax who lands to feats on the burned corpses. Munkun says Hobb the Hewer killed her, but the book says this is most likely a mix-up with Shrykos' death. Some says a blood-soaked giant leapt from the broken dome. Others say a knight named Ser Warrick Wheaton slashed off Syrax's wing with a Valyrian steel sword, most likely Lamentations taken from Willam Royce. A crossbowman named Bean claims to have landed the killing blow. The most common which Eustace and the singers tell is that the Shepherd killed Syrax. Pg 522-525

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Aegon: Seldom speaks and is always at his mother's side.

Joffrey: Wishes to fight for his mother on dragon's back like his brothers did. Goes against his mother's wishes and takes off on Syrax, leading to his death. His last words are 'Mother forgive me' though praying to his own mother or the Mother is unknown.

Rhaenyra: forbids Jeoffrey from fighting after the death of Jace and Luke. Holds Aegon the Younger close, refusing to let go after Joffrey's death.

Mushroom: very petty as he does not warn Rhaenyra of Joffrey sneaking off after she told him to shut up.

Kings Landing The Day after The Last Day

Rhaenyra flees the city at dawn through the Dragon Gate (This might be a mistake as the Iron Gate is closer and had order restored by Medrick Manderly). planning to move up the coast to Duskendale. She leaves with the Manderly brothers, four surviving Queensguards, Ser Balon Byrch and twenty gold cloaks, four of her handmaidens, and her last son Aegon. Pg 525

Garth the Harlip is given guard over the Dragon Gate to protect the city. He turns it over to Ser Perkin the Flea in hopes of mercy only to be executed along with twenty other knights, Ser Harmon of the Reeds amongst them. Lady Mysaria is whipped through the city from the Red Keep to the Gate of the Gods, dying halfway through the march. Pg 525-6

Eustace is spared as Perkin did not wish to anger the faith. He also frees all the prisoners in the cells including Grand Maester Orwyle, Lord Corlys Velaryon, and Tyland Lannister who was left blinded, without his fingernails and toenails, no ears, and without his manhood by Rhaenyra's torturers. The three along with Alicent Hightower watch as Ser Trystane takes the iron throne. Larys Strong emerges and is treated warmly by Perkin and takes a seat next to Trystane. Pg 526

Munkun says that the Moon of the Three Kings was a time of chaos. though the shepherd never claimed kingship. The Shepherd preached against the highborn and wealthy, saying only the poor and humble were safe, the crowd grew smaller each night. Gaemon Palehair rules fromVisenya's Hill and issues progressive reforms. Mushroom says these come from the Dornish sex worker named Sylvenna Sand who was the paramour of Gaemon's mother Essie. Trystane repeals unpopular taxes and opens up the Kingswood to the hungry. Ser Perkin says over the Goldcloaks to control four of the seven gates. Pg 526-8

The smallfolk slowly turn away from the Shepherd and look towards Trystane Truefyre for leadership. Pg 528

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Rhaenyra: Is ashen and inconsolable after the death of Joffrey and Syrax.

Larys Strong: friendly with Ser Perkin, showing he might have planned Trystane's rise.

Tumbleton

The young lords are anxious to take Kings Landing including Ser Jon Roxton, Ser Roger Corne, and Lord Unwin Peake while Ser Hobert Hightower urges caution. Pg 528

The question of who is now king is raised with Aemond dead and Aegon missing. Daeron stood in line as either King of Prince of Dragonstone but Hugh Hammer wished to be king. Ser Roger Corne knocks a crown off Hugh's head and is killed by Hugh hammering three horseshoes into his skull. Three men died and a dozen were wounded when knives were drawn between Hugh's men and Corne's friends. Pg 528-9

Lord Unwin Peake and Hobert Hightower met with eleven other lords and knights to discuss what to do about Ulf and Hugh in the cellar of a Tumbleton inn. The conspirators decide to kill Hugh first then Ulf and have the bravest men claim their dragons. The Caltrops have Lord Owen Fossoway fetch Daeron who approves of the plot with his seal. Pg 530 (reference to the conspirators against Julius Ceasar? arguments over honor and what will be done with armies/dragons)

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Daeron: Once gentle prince eagerly affixes his seal to Hugh and Ulf's execution warrants.

Second Battle of Tumbleton 2 days later

Addam attacks Tumbleton on Seasmoke. The singers say he took council on the Isle of Faces from the Greenmen. Other sources say he gathered an army from castles still loyal to Rhaenyra in the Riverlands. Most likely threatened lords by making their keep another Tumbleton to get an army of around four thousand. Pg 531

Addam gets Elmo Tully to join the war. He fathers Sabithat Frey, Hous Vypren, Lords Stanton Piper, Joseth Smallwood, Derrick Darry, Lyonel Debbings, and Hugo Vance with Black Trombo. Pg 531

Addam attacks at night, his men cutting down the Green soldiers. Any building spared after the first battle is burned. Ulf was in a drunken sleep in a tavern. Hugh tried to mount Vermithor to fight but was cut down by Jon Roxton only for Hugh's men to kill him. The best-known claim of Prince Daeron's death is that he was killed by a Myrish sellsword smashing his face in with a morningstar. Another claim is that he was killed by a man at arms with a sword. Munkun says he died in his burning pavilion. Pg 532-3

Tessarion and Seasmoke fight in what is described as both a mating dance and battle. Vermithor rises to fight but is slammed into by Seasmoke and Tessarion joins in the fight, although it is not clear on which side. Vermithor rips SeaSmoke's head off and tried to take off but his wings were too damaged and he collapsed and died. Tessarion survives till dawn when Benjicot orders a longbowman, known as Billy Burley, to put her out of her misery. Pg 534- 536

The rivermen are unable to take Tumbleton and retreat back into the hills, bringing Addam Velaryon's dead body with them. Pg 536

---

Addam of Hull: Relentless and determined and glib of tongue.

Tumbleton The Day After the Battle

Silverwing is the only dragon to survive, flying over the battlefield. The singers say thrice she tried to lift Vermithor to get him to fly. Pg 536-8

Eight of the thirteen Caltrops are dead. When Ulf wakes, he says he's the only dragon rider left and will take the throne. Pg 538

Hobert Hightower invites Ulf for drinks to discuss the upcoming plans. He planned to drink Dornish red and have Ulf drink Arbor gold only for Ulf to realize his deception and insist they both drink the Arbor gold. Hobert Hightower instead of betraying his fellow Caltrops, drank the wine and asked for more. Ulf drank the poisoned wine and fell asleep never to wake. Hobert tried to throw up the wine but his heart stopped. (princes and the bride reference? Is only Hobert micro dosed poison) Pg 538-9

Unwin offers a thousand gold dragons to whoever can mount Silverwing. Two men die and the third backs down. Unwin Peake calls a retreat. Pg 539

---

Ulf the White: Decides he'll take the throne now. Is smart enough to notice Hobert's nervousness but is true to his word or too drunk to care.

The Crownland Coast

Rhaenyra faces hardship on her way to Duskendale. At Rosby, the young Rosby woman whose claim was passed over was denied entrance to her. At Stokeworth, the Castellan granted hospitality but only for one night. On the road, they are attacked by broken men where Ser Balon Byrch is killed and Ser Lyonel Bently is mortally injured and dies the next day. Pg 539

The widow of Lord Gunthor Darklyn, Lady Meredyth, was not pleased to see Rhaenyra after the death of her husband and his uncle in her service. Ser Harrold Darke persuades her to let the queen in only if she does not stay long. Pg 539-40

Rhaenyra sends three ravens to Gerardys on Dragonstone but does not hear back, making her question his loyalty again. Cregan Stark and Jeyne Arryn promise to send support but each has reasons their forces are delayed. Pg 540

Rhaenyra sells her crown for passage on a Braavosi merchant ship to Dragonstone. Her allies try to persuade her to go to the Eyrie or White Harbor but she insists on Dragonstone to get another dragon. Pg 540-1

Rhaenyra avoids Corly's Velaryon's warships. Pg 541

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Rhaenyra: walks the castle battlements of Dun Fort, falling deeper into despair. She keeps Aegon the Younger with her at all times.

Dragonstone 22nd day 10th moon 130th year

Rhaenyra docks at Dragonstone and is met by an escort commanded by Ser Alfred Broome and forty men. Rhaenyra asks where Ser Robert Quince, the Castellan, was only for Alfred to say they'd see him soon. They find Robert's charred corpse hanging from the battlements of the gatehouse along with the bodies of the steward, captain of the guard, master at arms, and the head and upper torso of Grand Maester Gerardys. Pg 541-2

Broome's men seize Rhaenyra, Aegon, and her ladies, killing the last of her guards. They were marched to the castle ward where they came face to face with Aegon II and Sunfyre. Pg 542

Munkun, based largely on Grand Maester Orwyle's account, says the Larys Strong spirited the king and his children out of the city through secret passages of Maegor the Cruel. He had a bastard knight take Aegon to Dragonstone on a skiff. Sunfyre was drawn to Dragonstone, Eustace suggests that he sensed Aegon's desperate need. Tom Tangletounge plied the Volantenes sailors to discern that it was Sunfyre and not the Cannibal who killed Greyghost. He then delivered Aegon and Ser Marston to Sunfyre's lair. Aegon took flight each morning while the two Toms and Marston found allies on Dragon Stone. Pg 542-4

The Fall of Dragon Stone took less than an hour with Broome leading men to open the gates to allow the two Toms and Marston to slip in. They kill Gerardys, and Robert, seize the master at arms and guardsmen, and seize the armory. They try to seize Baela but she slips out and saddles up Moondancer. Pg 545

When Aegon II comes to land, Baela attacks him and Sunfyre on Moondancer. The two latch onto each other and fall to the ground where Moondancer dies and Sunfyre tries to fly but fails. Aegon jumped from Sunfyre's saddle, shattering his legs. Baela stayed on Moondancer till she hit the ground and pulled herself away, burned and battered. Alfred Broome moves to slay Baela but is stopped by Marston Waters and Baela is brought to the maesters by Tom Tangleton. Pg 545-8

According to Eustace, Rhaenyra laughed when she saw Sunfyre and sought to reward who did it. Mushroom says she only asked 'How has it come to this' Pg 548

Aegon has Rhaenyra killed by Sunfyre. Alfred Broome has to cut her breast to get Sunfyre to kill her. Eustace says it only took six bites, leaving only her left leg. Elinda Massey supposedly gouged out her own eyes at the sight. Pg 550

Alfred Broome argues for killing Prince Aegon but King Aegon forbids it, deciding to use him as a hostage. Prince Aegon is shackled and held in the prisons under Dragonstone. Rhaenyra's ladies-in-waiting are held in cells in Sea Dragon Tower. Pg 550-1

Aegon sends ravens declaring that the pretender is dead and that he is coming home to reclaim his father's seat. Pg 551

---

Baela: As fearless as her father, attacking Aegon straight on despite never fighting before this.

Aegon: refuses to take milk of the poppy from Maester Gerardys, not trusting him and not wanting to 'walk that path again.'

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happyk44 · 1 year ago

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Thoughts on poseidon children with siren powers?

I actually wrote a post featuring that! I think I may have mentioned it a couple other times? But, lol, that may have just been in my head.

But ultimately, yeah!! I think it would be really cool if the Big Three kids all had manipulating people's minds powers - partly to represent the fact that their dads are kings, and have a bunch of people/creatures tied to them/at their disposal and son. And also because I think it just makes them more OP. And also because I have endless ideas of many things and it's fun to fantasize.

With Hades's children, the ability to manipulate someone lies in the soul. Compared to Charmspeak, it irreversibly changes a person because it's not just a "suggestion" that people follow through on. It's literally taking their soul and changing it. There's no waking up and thinking "why did I do that?"

I actually came up with this concept years ago (like. over a decade. christ. the passage of time). It happened in a. Very convoluted daydream I've been writing and rewriting in my head since I was 12 - essentially one of Nico's older siblings from the wayback times protects him from an enemy by telling them, "You want to walk into the ocean and not stop."

And they do. They stop and walk away. This is their soul's greatest wish. So they walk into the ocean, they drown, and at no point, not as they walk across sand, not as they inhale water, not as they land in the waiting room of the Underworld, does that want change.

However, children of Hades typically do not like using this power because a) free will, b) they disagree with the idea of changing a formed soul, it would be different if they were desiccated/severely splintered and faded, and lacked any sense of consciousness, but forcibly editing someone's living soul is essentially rewriting someone's story and it fucks up their history, and personhood, and so on, and etc, and c) living souls are gross and they don't really like touching them if they don't have to.

I've written a couple things on it before - just flick through my PJO tag and I'm sure they'll pop up eventually 😂

With Zeus's children, the ability to manipulate someone lies in the concept that Zeus is a) king of Olympus, and b) the god of law and order, and justice. It works best in battle - giving orders to enemies to make them turn on their friends, forcing comrades at arms to become more efficient, to follow through instead of veering off course.

In casual, everyday stuff, it's more influential - sort of forcing their beliefs, their rules, their "law" on other people. Jason believes wholeheartedly in the laws of New Rome, and when he sees someone who isn't following a law to the letter, he can just be like, "Don't you think following your assigned patrol route is really great?" and other people will be like "yeah! it is great" and bing bang boom, suddenly they're following the patrol rouote and refusing to deviate no matter how much others may try to convince them to.

People who are more suggestible are more likely to fall under it faster. They may even by their internal rules completely rearranged by it, thereby unable to wake up/snap out of the control. I think this depends on intensity as well and it's probably far more exhausting to really force a permanent change, whether the person in question is super susceptible to suggestion. People who embody chaos are harder to control and more likely to snap out of it when they do fall under. I like to think children of Poseidon fall under that type because the ocean is chaotic. Dionysus's kids are likely the same way 😂

(Lol, imagine Zeus giving all his kids different orders and Dionysus just squints at him, fully "Father, I cannot express how hungover I am. Also I have this cocaine party I need to attend, so sorry, here's some bitching wine to make up for it" and Zeus is just pinching the bridge of his nose and counting to ten slowly because he does not have the energy for this rn)

The kids can also push their idea of justice on other people. Jason, aware that someone else in the cohort won't do execute the correct punishment, can simply harness that belief that this punishment is the correct thing to do (according to New Rome's laws, or even Jason's own beliefs), and say, "Cut off his hand", and that person will comply. They may awaken from it afterwards and be horrified, or, if they're not as suggestible, may even be aware that they're under Jason's control, but in the moment (even if they're aware), all they'll think is "this is the right thing to do".

Also, for me anyway, children of Hades and Thanatos are basically immune to it because laws and justice differ between life and death. This is something I adapted into my OG story, so ofc I'm happy to keep it in line w/ my PJO headcanons - but everyone else can play with these concepts as they want, don't worry.

I have also talked about this before - again, flick through the PJO tag and you will likely fall across something eventually

Now! Children of Poseidon, my beloved ocean, the clingiest bastard in the world, lol, (ofc including non-clingy Neptune in this as well, all of this is equivalent to the Romans). I think siren powers only work when they're in water. Typically they need some kind of body of water: river; lake; ocean; puddle if they're desperate, but it probably won't be as effective

The more skilled kids can utilize the water in the air to use this power, but most of them can't, and need something far more concrete, something they can plant their feet in, something they can feel.

The most basic and common use of the power, ofc, is the siren song - a melody, humming, singing actually lyrics to lure or distract the people in range. Most use this in order to distract enemies away from their friends, or to lull them into a stupor for an easier kill.

Other uses of the power: mind-control (similar to Charmspeak, the more suggestible the person, the longer it lasts after the user has left the body of water), empathic manipulation (being able to manipulate someone's feelings through the use of your voice), sonic scream (Zeus's kids can probably do this too, but it's not part of their version of a manipulation power). There are probably other uses but I'm blanking rn. All I can think of is the fourth PotC movie with the mermaids and how nice that song was 😊 🎶 "my jolly sailor bold" 🎶

I think kids, like Percy, who are naturally tone deaf tend to have a far harder time using this power, much less mastering this. Daughters have an easier time mastering it (since sirens are typically depicted as woman - there were male sirens according to Wikipedia, but they faded out of art around 5BC).

And yeah! I think that's it. Oh, actually, I wrote something a long while ago (you will have to scroll quite a bit to find it, or check out my blog's archive? It's probably in 2021 or 2020?), where Nico does a similar thing, singing softly to entice souls that have fallen to the ocean to come to him. In the story, it's implied that the intensity of his song hits Percy's living soul, causing him to want to go with Nico. I think this is something for all the Hades's kids, Nico is just best at it because - in my headcanons anyway - he is most attuned to souls.

Emerged from the idea of Hades walking through a forest in the early days after the war, singing the lullabies he used to sing to his younger siblings, and souls emerging from wherever they've hidden themselves - in the dirt, in caves, in the trees, behind bushes, refusing death - to take his hand and let him walk them home.

Aaaaaaand that should be it! :) Thanks for the ask! This was fun to ramble about 😂

#happy talks pjo #percy jackson #hades (pjo)#nico di angelo #jason grace #poseidon (pjo)#zeus (pjo)#happy's asks #chiefkideclipselamp

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circlejourney · 24 hours ago

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Owl House thoughts up to season 1 episode 13 (be warned that the front half is mostly negative):

OK, the episodic format has gone from just bearable to testing belief in some recent episodes. I've never been a huge fan of the episodic format because the constraints of wrapping up an entire 3 act plotline every episode can force some bizarrely rapid turns in the plot that then fail to have any immediate impact on the characters' relationships with the world. like. King writing a novel in a day, landing a book deal and shipping the book to stores the next day, hammering out a second book that same day, being told to rewrite it, and then Luz writing a whole book by the next day? And then it all gets cleaned up by the end? Even with magic, I Cannot stretch my willing suspension of disbelief into any configuration that will accept this as consistent with any reality, so I have chosen to pretend that that episode did not happen, other than the concurrent side plot about Lilith and Eda.

Related: the fact that a long-upheld rule that every student in Hexside is allowed just one magic track, a by-product of conforming with regulations in the name of funding, the rule that the show got us invested in as a structural challenge in an earlier episode, simply...vanished after one (1) battle. It's not that I like the rule (I don't) but that its removal was so easy that I have to wonder what having it there even did for the story in the first place. It's a cheap source of tension if it is only relevant in 2 episodes and then vanishes the third time it's mentioned. I get it, it was catalysed by a genuinely life-threatening situation. But in terms of pacing, it took. One Episode. another coin in a "YA shows shouldn't be held to the episodic standards of children's series" jar and also I hope they at least go into depth about the repercussions of the principal just. getting rid of the rule after a group of students did 1 badass thing.

Anyway had to get that out of my system first. I am of course delighted that there is more Amity, and it looks like my vibes about her were spot on. She clearly has something to prove and doesn't think just doing well is enough; her sense of worth / skill is reliant on her being uplifted above others around her and this seems tied to the unrelenting standards of her siblings (whom I Really dislike by the way, because they remind me of people I knew when I was younger). It brings me great joy to see a character who was previously hostile to another character gradually warm up to them while still holding onto some reservations or having that change of heart tested

God I love that Amity makes dorky doodles of herself as a self insert in stories she likes. and other assorted indulgences. the way that Amity's onscreen presence is contrasted with these written/drawn windows in her psyche are one of my favourite storytelling things about the series so far. that said I really hope Luz stops taking Amity's stuff and peeking at her books without asking

So, it is confirmed that magic skill: is to some degree innate and reliant on the body of the caster (i.e. the magic sac thing wasn't just something Eda 100% made up even if I'm still doubting it purely on topological grounds), can be honed to be stronger and/or more finely controlled, and can be boosted by casting aids (which absolutely love as a worldbuilding element). Feels like learning to ride a bike.

Luz's way of doing magic is inherently very appealing and I like that the show recently made the connection that these sigils are inherent to the primordial form of magic, and that reproducing the symbols also channels the same power. this idea that there are "true symbols" reminds me of the true names in Earthsea by which one can gain power over the thing being named.

so then...how was this form of casting lost? I have to believe that the symbol that Luz sees in the snowflake is not actually quite so prominent and obvious, nor do they last quite that long (i.e. it is a concession to clarity in the animation) and it takes careful observation and patience to elucidate them. which Luz needs to hone. IS THIS GOING TO BECOME THEMATIC TO HER CHARACTER ARC I hope it does.

giant dead creatures plot relevant confirmed ?? I want to know if some of these things are related: lots of giants dying in this area, bat queen being separated from her giant's staff, the fact that humans haven't been in this world for thousands of years (to the point where it's seemingly become a quasi-archaeological thing), the fact that magic casting via symbols has not been regularly performed in thousands of years...I think artistically speaking this is my favourite thing about the show so far - the sense of history brewing beneath everything - and this is why the episodic throwaway plots bother me so much

The emperor is obsessed with things that make him younger / extend life? how old is the emperor actually, surely the fact that he was seeking a flower of immortality wasn't just some throwaway detail...

I am so here for Hooty and King's friendship. thank goodness for Hooty

#toh #toh liveblog

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foxyanon · 10 months ago

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The Targaryen Family Tree & their Dragons

This has been a pet project of mine for the last couple weeks, but I have successfully completed a family tree for Rhaenerys & Sihtric’s children along with Jaehaerys & Alysanne’s children.

Because I had no desire to rewrite the entire family tree, the Dance still happens and Rhaenerys’ line ends up extinct. Any additional dragons that were alive, either die in battles or in the Storming of the Pit. While Summerhall was built during the reign of Daeron I in canon, I have it built earlier for reasons. Also, I fully believe Aerea and Rhaella swapped places in Oldtown, so that is reflected here.

Many thanks to @zaldritzosrose for most of the art and @izfrogzy for her dragon ai image for Kartaxes.

The tree reads…

King Maegor ruled until his death in 58 AC, when his only daughter succeeded him. Queen Rhaenerys I was the first woman to sit the Iron Throne, though none dared challenge her claim. While some secretly supported Prince Jaehaerys, his cousin had gifted him the newly built castle of Summerhall, a place she had built specifically for him. She also had him and his sister-wife, Alysanne, sit on her council. Together, they ushered in an era of peace and prosperity for Westeros. They established the Targaryen Law of Exceptionalism, allowing their family to continue to practice Valyrian customs such as incest, with the caveat that the sitting royals would marry any younger children off to other houses and they would no longer practice polygamy.

In 83AC, after the Third Dornish War, Queen Rhaenerys held a peace summit with the newly crowned Princess Mara Martell of Dorne. In an effort to unite their lands fully and end the conflict, the Queen arranged for her son, Prince Agnar, to marry Princess Mara, thus bringing Dorne into the fold of the Seven Kingdoms, albeit temporarily as Dorne and Westeros would come to blows again years later in 110AC.

The age of peace would however come to an end in 129AC after the death of King Viserys I, when Lord Aemond Targaryen declared Queen Rhaenerys II a bastard on account of the late Prince Consort Sihtric Kjartansson being a bastard himself. Though his evidence was circumstantial at best, as the Maesters said that following Dane naming customs, Sihtric was claimed by his father since he had his name, it was enough to incite Houses Hightower, Lannister and Baratheon to form the Green Targaryens and start a rebellion against the faction known as the Dane Targaryens.

King Aegon II was crowned in Oldtown after his brother, Aemond, had stolen the crown of The Conqueror from King’s Landing during a visit to the palace. While it was never confirmed, there were rumors that Lord Aemond had attempted to woo Rhaenerys but she turned him down as she was already married to her uncle-husband, Prince Aerion. The war started in full in mid 129AC, when Aemond killed his nephew, Lord Lucerys Strong above Shipbreaker Bay while the young lord was on a diplomatic mission from Queen Rhaenerys II. The following civil war was brutal and was only ended when Lady Rhaenyra’s son, now King Aegon III was married to the now Queen Jaehaera. The Dane Targaryens were effectively eradicated, thus their line is extinct in Westeros.

Despite having been crowned in 129AC, King Aegon II’s reign is disputed by the maesters. Some say he was the only rightful king as Rhaenerys was not a true born Targaryen while many others say he only technically ruled from 130AC-131AC, after the death of Queen Rhaenerys II and her children.

The current Targaryen line follows the children of Rhaenyra, Aegon III and Viserys II.

#rhaenerys Targaryen family tree #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #family tree #dragons

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deiarchiescott · 4 months ago

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HOTD Rewrite Project: Episode 2x02 excerpt

Link to full project on ao3:

You can read the full rewrite project on AO3:

I wanted to try my hand at rewriting season 2 of House of the Dragon. I've already rewritten the first 4 episodes, and this is my attempt on episode 5, one of my least favourite episodes of the show. My rewrite changes a lot of things about the show (first off, a 10 episode season instead of an 8 episode one) and includes cut characters like Nettles, Black Aly, Sabitha Frey, Daeron, etc. Also includes battles that we haven't gotten to see (or didn't see onscreen) like the Burning Mill, Bitterbridge, the Honeywine, etc. Also Jace spends most of the season flying round the realm — first in the Eyrie, then White Harbour, then at Winterfell with Cregan and Sara.

The challenge for this rewrite is that I have to approach it the way the actual writers of S2 would have — with all of S1 as canon. So no changes are made regarding the first season, and I only continued on from 2x01. Also feel like a big thing missing from the second season were character interactions (Rhaena and Jace never interact, Jeyne Arryn was a nonentity, Helaena and Aemond say one line to each other before episode 8 ...) and I sought to rectify that. Blood and Cheese, Rook's Rest and most other events are completely changed.

✅️ 2x01: Blood & Cheese

✅️ 2x02: The Cargyll duel

✅️ 2x03: The Burning Mill (full battle + Black Aly, the Brackens, etc)

✅️ 2x04: Rook's Rest (no anime villain Aemond)

✅️ 2x05: Cooldown after Rook's Rest, Alicent and Aemond's factions scheme to secure the regency

2x06: The Red Sowing (the sowing is the entire episode, not just the last 10 mins), also a battle at the end (Silverwing, Vermithor, Syrax & Seasmoke vs Vhagar and Dreamfyre)

2x07: Honeywine, Baela in Bitterbridge, etc

2x08: The Gullet

2x09: Battle of Bitterbridge (Baela vs Daeron) and the Fall of King's Landing

2x10: Aftermath of the Fall

Big thanks to anyone who decides to read!

#hotd #hotd fanfic #helaena targaryen #alicent hightower #aegon ii #aemond fanfic #hotd fanfiction #house of the dragon #game of thrones #asoiaf #westeros #daemon x rhaenyra #ao3 #writeblr #script #screenwriting #scriptwriting #rhaenyra targaryen #daenerys

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drinkintrashjuice · 1 year ago

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I’m gonna rewrite MID

I’ve always loved this series and the potential it had but it’s kinda…yknow…badly written. I’m not saying my version is gonna be any better, but I just want to write this in a way where I’d love it even more. I’d love any criticism to see if I can make the possible second episode so please enjoy! (Also some characters are renamed or added so I hope you don’t mind) (also also the names might be dumb I’m sorry for that as well)

Episode 1: Your life is on the line

The world of daemos, divided into 5 kingdoms, all of which contribute to the flow of resources and stability. These kingdoms consist of Umnotho, Noimosýni, Mir, Tohe, and Chikara. The rulers of these kingdoms all attend their yearly meeting, to discuss the blatant immaturity of Chikara

“Do you know what this could do to our land!?” Yells the Queen of Umnotho, Mothando.

“Not only does this put our people at risk, but this puts your status as king of Chikara at risk.”

Yakedo, the king of Chikara, scoffs at this threat “you’re implying that you and your army can take me down?” He sits back in his chair “Please keep talking! It’s a very good laugh!”

The king of Mir, Garmon, interjects. “If I may put advice on to the table Yakedo, doing this has no benefit to you…” As Garmon sees the look on Yakedo’s face, he quickly feels smaller

“I can think of a thousand reasons this can benefit me! My people are hungry! Losing hope! Our magic is deteriorating!” Yakedo stands up, putting everyone on edge “I need to do this…because none of you are willing to help us in our time of need”

“How dare you say such a lie!?” Mothando yells “You know all of us have been having the same problems with our kingdoms!”

“But the difference between you and me…“ Yakedo and his guards start to leave the room “Is that I’m willing to do anything for my kingdom…to keep our status of power.”

The room is silent all looking at Mothando for any type of response, but her face is nothing but pure hatred for Yakedo.

“I’ll stop momentarily, as I have a plan to bring magic back to our lands.” Yakedo looks back at Mothando, piercing her with his glare “But if this plan proves unsuccessful…have your most powerful men protecting your kingdoms.” Yakedo leaves, the room is silent.

“Plan? What does he mean by this?” The queen of Tohe, Wai, inquires.

“I…I do not know…” Mothando answers, her voice shaky

“But we must train our men and women, for we do not know how exactly long or short this plan will be.” The rest of the royalty in the room nod in unison, officially ending the meeting

(Wooo text divider woooo)

“C’mon Asch! I don’t wanna beat you this badly!” The boy saying this is standing over another. The boy on the ground, Asch has burns that could only be fixed by the greatest of medics

“I…Hitoma …my legs I can’t…” Asch weakly spits out.

Hitoma scoffs “I’m not even gonna bother to carry you.” He starts to walk away “just wait till father sees you like this…to be honest…I’d hide”

Asch can’t do anything but watch as Hitoma walks away and be scared for his life. Their father has been pressuring them to be stronger, to fight for their right as king. But no matter how hard he tries, Asch just can’t beat Hitoma. This specific battle has left Asch criticality hurt. His legs have been burnt to the bone, and certain parts of it charred. His torso has been reduced to nothing but cuts and bruises, and his right arm has been burnt till nothing but flesh shows. As weak as this thought is, Asch can’t help but think on whether of this is really what brothers should do. Why would father have two children if only one can be king? He doesn’t think on this for long, as someone who seems to be way taller than him kneels down and inspects him.

“No…father…I can explain…” Asch’s heart feels as if it’s trying to break out of his body, so he could be dead before he’d have to deal with any punishment his father would have for him.

This figure doesn’t kick him in the stomach and yells at him to get up though. Instead it gently picks him up bridal style and carries him towards the castle. It said something along the lines of “Don’t worry you’ll be safe” but Asch couldn’t be sure, as he was in a complete daze. He later passes out in the figure’s arms, and he prays this doesn’t prove to be a horrible decision.

Asch later wakes up in his room. He wasn’t sure how he got there, but he did know that everything on his body hurt like hell. His arms and legs were completely wrapped up in bandages, and were completely cold. He looks around the room and sees the figure that may have brought him here slowly cooling down his burns with its ice magic. This figure is actually Rhys, his advisor.

“Rhys…? D-Did you take me here..?” He starts to move but immediately hisses in pain and lays back down.

“Please be mindful of your injuries my prince.” Scolds Rhys, though in a way where it’s meant with no harm.

“Damn…I really got my ass kicked didn’t I? Haha…” Asch remarks, with deep pain in his voice.

“I simply don’t see why your father allows your brother to injure you this badly,” Rhys says quickly, “both you and your brothers lives are important for this kingdom”

“Maybe it’s ‘cause I’m really fucking pathetic…” Asch says, tears threatening to take away the little pride in his voice he has. Rhys eyes widen, and he starts to say something but Asch cuts him off.

“I can tell you don’t really wanna have this job…being my advisor I mean” tears start to well in Asch’s eyes, making his throat raw.

“I mean…I wouldn’t want to either…what’s the point if the person I’m working for is just gonna end up dead…” Asch looks up at Rhys “I’m sorry for appointing you for this stupid thing…my brother was thinking on appointing you as an advisor so I kinda did it so he couldn’t” Rhys looks at him worryingly

“You’re really smart I thought at least some of that could rub on me y’know?” Asch sighs “it’s my fault for thinking you could fix someone this…stupid…fucking pathetic…I can’t do anything right”

Asch gave up on trying to stop himself from crying and let all his tears out. Rhys didn’t know what to do, he wasn’t used to Asch being this open. He’s not the best at multitasking, but he’ll try to heal Asch both physically and mentally.

“My prince I think you’re perfectly capable of everything you set your mind to!” He started to rub Asch’s face with his thumb “and I’m not just saying this to save face with you, you’re a great fighter when you’re focused, you care for this kingdom, not to mention you’re rather good looking.” Asch blushed deeply with his eyes wide, but Rhys didn’t seem to take notice.

“I think that anyone who thinks you’re weak is well…a damned fool!” Asch was surprised, Rhys never really cursed, so he had to mean what he said, even if it’s a light one. He couldn’t help but laugh though.

It was a hardy one too, he laughed so hard his stomach started to hurt.

“Sorry for uh…ha! My bad Rhys it’s just…you’re not serious hahaha!” Rhys was confused because, well he genuinely did mean it. At least Asch was better, even if it was just slightly.

All the atmosphere in the room became dark as Asch’s father, Yakedo entered the room rather suddenly.

“Rhys? What in the gods name are you doing here?” Yakedo quickly walked towards Rhys and Asch, getting right in Rhys’ face.

“My king I’m deeply sorry…I was tending to Asch’s wounds.” Rhys backed away from Asch and came into a salute.

“I don’t think I asked you to do this.” Yakedo gritted his teeth.

“Y-You didn’t but I thought you may have appreciated the gesture? I…” Rhys started to increasingly get more nervous and even more stressed out

“Why’d you say that like you’re not sure? Get out. Now.” Yakedo demanded

“Y-Yes sir I’m so sorry” Rhys speed walked out of the room and carefully closed the door to not slam it.

“Son, can you explain to me why your brother told me that you lost? Again?” Yakedo grabbed Asch’s arm and pulled him up, sending Asch into a slightly dizzied haze.

“Father I’m sorry I couldn’t-“ Yakedo cut him off “Nevermind that, I have a mission for you that you might be able to do, and if not…” Yakedo glared at him “…you will be executed”

“S-Sir did I mishear?” Asch’s eyes were painted with disbelief Yakedo ignored him and told Asch to follow him, he did as he was told.

They walked down the absolute maze that was the castle, with many twists and turns in both the hallways and the stairs. They eventually found the castle’s library, where Lady Grandma resided. Yakedo practically bursted through the doors.

“Oh! My king! Haha! You half scared me to death!” Lady grandma said playfully, while finishing organizing the last of the books she had beside her. Lady Grandma was one of the only people that could talk to Yakedo this casually. Asch slightly envied her.

“Lady Grandma, if you don’t mind, please tell my son about the mission while I get the rest of the entrants. Lady Grandma nodded and Yakedo walked out of the library.

“Asch its been a bit since I last saw you! How have you been?” Lady Grandma gestured Asch to follow her and he did

“I’ve been pretty good” Asch lied “but this mission…what is it?”

“Ah yes!” Lady Grandma got serious “as I’m sure you know our worlds magic has slowly been declining.”

Lady Grandma took out a book from one of the shelves and quickly flipped through its pages. She then found what she was looking for and showed Asch. It was a picture of the rhinestones of power.

“You do know what those are right?” Lady Grandma asked

“Yeah, these things are our main source of power for each kingdom” answered Asch “there’s one for each kingdom and if they’re taken out of their podiums, the people of that kingdom will suffer some type of illness that’ll wipe it out entirely”

Lady Grandma looked at him surprisingly.“I guess you’ve done your homework! Yes, they’re important for our wellbeing” Asch tried to play it off like Rhys didn’t try to hammer it in his head when they were younger.

“These rhinestones are fueled by the blood of someone who embodies a sin they represent” Asch only kinda remembered that part “it only needs to be replenished every 1000 years, and usually the ruler of that kingdom would sacrifice themselves for this.” Asch thought for a bit. Was that why they had their yearly meeting a bit earlier?

“Of course your father did not want to die only for this, and because of that the rest of the kingdoms rulers have decided not to sacrifice their lives either, as they think your father may do something malicious as soon as they’re dead.” Lady Grandma grabbed more books off of other shelves.

“So…how else are we supposed to refill the rhinestones” Asch asked Lady Grandma.

“Don’t worry! I’m getting to that!” Assured Lady Grandma.

“Your father had devised a plan to get the blood necessary for the rhinestones, and it involves going to a whole other world”

Asch was nothing short of surprised. He shouldn’t be asked to do this, and he desperately wanted some type of out. Yet if he failed his father, he’ll be executed. He’s basically forced to do this and he’s not sure how to handle this fact.

“Oh! Here comes the rest of the participants!” Lady Grandma pointed out.

Asch looked behind at the entrance. He luckily saw Rhys but the rest of the other three he didn’t know as well, but he did know their names and their reputation from how his father talked about him. In fact he talked about them more proudly than he did for him or Hitoma. He envies them a bit now.

The one with pure white hair and green horns was named Leif. He looked as if he was from Noimosýni and he was apparently the kingdoms greatest assassin. Asch has never seen them in action but he has a bit of hope he lives up to his father’s praises.

The ginger one with orange horns was Noi. He was rather pale and baby faced, and looked like he was Mir and despite him being apparently the “weakest” his father still praised him for having potential. Though even Asch couldn’t deny he was a great medic, with him healing those who were thought to have injuries that would leave them demobilized.

The tallest one with insanely dark brown hair and light blue horns was named pierce. He looked more Tohe than anything, but he’s the kingdoms greatest warrior. Asch has seen him fight, and he can definitely say that his father isn’t lying about that. His father said he once cleared an entire army of Tohe’s men but he kinda denies that.

Then finally there’s Rhys. He had dark blue-ish purple-ish horns and was a mix between Chikara and Umnotho. His father gave him his flowers when it comes to studying what was thought to be a dead art, being a mage that is. But he is extremely skilled and Asch has seen him in action a numerous amount of times. Though he could tell his father didn’t like him as much as his mother was Umnotho, and he’s always had lots of issues with their ruler.

“My son, these four powerful warriors will accompany you on your mission. Lady Grandma, have you told him where exactly they’re heading, I was saving that for last with these four.” Yakedo went to stand by Lady Grandma as she relayed some details Yakedo might’ve forgotten.

“You five shall go to a dangerous planet called E-urth. It’s thought to have people who can fill in any of the rhinestones and it’s our only hope.” Lady Grandma handed Rhys the scroll.

“Rhys, I’ve taught you well enough to be able to use things like this and how to contact between worlds right?” Rhys looked as if he wasn’t fazed by the job he just had dumped onto him.

“Of course Lady Grandma, I won’t disappoint.” He opened up the scroll and started to recite the words written on it.

“Dear gods of old, let me peer into this world. Let me have the honor of being able to reveal the beauty it beholds, and I give my life to all of you forevermore.”

The scroll erupted into light, and it flew out of Rhys’ hands. It formed a portal right before their very eyes.

“We wish all of you the best of luck” announced Lady Grandma “we’ll pray the gods do too.”

With that, all five of the chosen daemons walked into the portal, not knowing what awaits them.

(wooo text divider wooo)

“Goddangit! I’m gonna be fricken late again! Ugh!” A girl quickly ran out her apartment door clearly distressed

“C’mon you stupid elevator! Open up!” She shifted her weight between her feet impatiently. As soon as the door opened she practically flew in, and obstructed the conversation two people in there had.

“Sorry!” She quickly states as she hurriedly presses the button to the lobby. When she gets there, she sprints out the door and goes the quickest route to her work.

“Man…I shouldn’t have listened to Lorelei! I should’ve went to sleep! But noooo I just had to ‘life my best life!’ ‘Cause ‘it’s Memorial Day tomorrow! They won’t make you work!’ Well Lorelei they did!” The girl rants to herself, while ignoring everything around her.

(Psst guess what? Text divider)

The five daemons step out of the portal and scan the area around them. Loud is the best way to describe E-urth. Weird machines honking, possible portals displaying a weird looking human pointing at a picture of a cloud and the sun, the hot sun. Oh gods that sun. It felt as if it was trying to kill them. Maybe it was, for all they could know, everything on E-urth could be sentient.

“What the hell? Why is everything so hot!? It feels like we’re standing in fire!” Exclaims Leif, clearly not happy with the atmosphere.

“D-Don’t worry everyone! Surely we can just find the offerings so we can quickly get out of here.” Rhys tries to keep everyone in good enough spirits, but his attempts are interrupted by a human practically yelling into the sky.

“Dammit! I’m stupid! Nah, that’s not right…everyone’s fuckin’ stupid! Yeah! That’s right! Maybe not? Ugh!” The human looks rather angry but something about it seems as though it’s royalty of some kind

The way it speed walks and has no regard for the other humans around it has royal qualities. It reminded Asch of a younger version of his father. He quickly started to hate it.

“We should ask that thing whether it rules here or not” said Pierce “perhaps we could start negotiating on what humans would be willing to come to our world” all five of the daemons walk towards the human

The human bumps into Noi “Gah! Watch where you’re…going?” The human looks up at the five daemons, clearly confused.

“Excuse me” Rhys says, unofficially given the job of negotiator “do you happen to rule here? We’d like to have some type of discussion regarding our world.”

The human stammers, as if she didn’t rule here, but if not then why would she be acting like that?

“A-And what if I did? I mean…what would happen?” Said the human. This was a pretty good excuse to not go to work today. Besides, she didn’t wanna hear the same talk she’s had time and time again with her manager.

“Well we’d humbly ask to be taken to your quarters.” Said Rhys.

Quarters? Like…her apartment? Nah this ain’t worth it she thought

“Sorry but uh…can’t help ya! Bye!” She tries to run off but Pierce grabs her by the hair and holds her up.

“What the!? Put me down! That hurts!” The human whines and screams at Pierce but he doesn’t let go.

“Tell us where you live and we’ll discuss, this isn’t a matter you and your people should ignore.” Pierce says blankly.

The five daemons and the human then walk down the sidewalk, as the human starts to give up and give them directions.

Dangit…why did I lie…? Maybe I am stupid thought the human.

She’ll definitely have to have a talk with her manager after she deals with these psychos, but for now she’s gonna have to act like the queen of the world, queen Ava. It kinda has a ring to it.

If there’s any errors I’m sorry ;-; please tell me what you think! If it’s complete ass pls tell me don’t be afraid lol.

#aphmau my inner demons #my inner demons

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