#character: arthur dayne

[tethys-the-aquatic-sea-godness]

Age accurate Rebellion Lords:

Arthur Dayne; 23 years old at the time of his death in 283 AC*

Benjen Stark; 16 years old at the end of the Rebellion in 283 AC*

Brandon Stark; 20 years old at the time of his death in 282 AC

Eddard Stark; 20 years old at the end of the Rebellion in 283 AC

Howland Reed; 18 years old at the end of the Rebellion in 283 AC*

Jaime Lannister; 17 years old at the end of the Rebellion in 283 AC

Oberyn Martell; 26 years old at the end of the Rebellion in 283 AC*

Rhaegar Targaryen; 24 years old at the time of his death in 283 AC

Robert Baratheon; 21 years old at the end of the Rebellion in 283 AC

Stannis Baratheon; 19 years old at the end of the Rebellion in 283 AC

*exact date of birth is uncertain

[thetormentita]

the bastard queen - chapter 1

the things we do for love.

Pairing: Original female! Targaryen/Arthur Dayne

A/n: au for Robert’s Rebellion. Enjoy!

Rating: Mature (+16)

The strangling tension can suffocate even the most strong-willed courtier. With the hint of charred corpses still lingering in the air, Arthur Dayne wonders if the king has changed his clothes since the last night, where he delighted himself with the pleading yells of two prisoners as wildfire devoured them and the rest of the people gathered in the Great Hall drowned in horror.

With the reliable Barristan Selmy guarding the meeting with him, his lilac eyes observe the men as they take their seats around the wooden table, only the naïve Qarlton Chelsted and the newly appointed Hand Owen Merryweather to not show grim faces. The tension is palpable, a heavy cloak of discomfort wrapping around each lord present. The king's recent actions have instigated fear and uncertainty, even among the most loyal men.

As matters follow one to another, almost the whole group of men trying to decide what is best for the realm, Arthur’s mind is partly elsewhere, honed by years of duty and vigilance. His gaze, under the guise of passive surveillance, catches every subtle shift and twitch among those gathered. All of them or too cautious or too coward to dare and defy the monster with the crown upon his brow.

“With your permission, Your Grace” lord Merryweather’s voice almost trembles with hesitation, fearful of the reaction of the king. “There is a pressing matter this council has to discuss” Aerys raises a pointy eyebrow towards him, and Arthur can spot the slight curl of the king's lip, an ominous prelude to his temper which could ignite over the most trivial of provocations. “Princess Valaena’s marriage.”

This mention of the Princess Valaena, the beloved jewel of the kingdom, causes a distinct shift in the atmosphere of the room. The council members exchange wary glances as the name of the only daughter of the monarches is put over the table. They all have witnessed during the years the mood swifts and the affronts of Aerys towards his own daughter, branding her as ‘bastard’, ‘dragonspawn’ or worse only because the colour of her hair is darker than the rest of her family, and they have developed various degrees of sympathy towards her. Arthur Dayne himself stiffens when Merryweather dares to speak her name, thinking of him as unfit to even think about his princess.

“We should wait” Rhaegar Targaryen, the Crowned Prince, also shows himself most uncomfortable in his chair with the idea of being separated from his beloved sister. “My lady wife is still recovering and she gladly keeps her company. It would not be wise to rush matters.”

The tension around the table is palpable. A quick glance from Rhaegar to both kingsguards looks more like a plea than he actually wants to.

“Nonsense!” the king screeches, the council apparently having passed over the menacing looks of the loon, with his nails more like claws pointing at his own son and heir and to his master of ships, who dares to agree with the prince. “That girl will be useful to the crown for once in her life.”

“Your majesty” lord Velaryon counterattacks, having properly made his work towards the eyes of the Mad King for quite a time, “with your permission, I would suggest the lady Valaena to get married to me. Houses Velaryon and Targaryen have had a shared history towards the centuries, and Driftmark would prove a safe refuge to our much beloved princess.”

Aerys, his gaze sharp as the blades his ancestors wielded, seems to consider consider Velaryon's proposal with a mixture of intrigue and suspicion. Leaving hopes for a response hanging in the air like a thick fog, he seems to find amusement in the pause, rejoicing himself as he crashes Lucerys Velaryon’s hopes with an acrid cackle.

“Do you think that I would allow my only daughter to be pushed to the margins of my realm, hidden away on Driftmark, while I sit the Iron Throne?” Aerys’s voice rises, filled with annoyance and madness, and it seems that the balls of every member of the council shake on their pedestals over the table “How dare you to even think of putting a hand on her!?”

It seems this time the protective father has taken the place of the abusive parent, and if it weren’t for the space between them both, with Aerys sat at the head of the table and the Lord of the Tides almost at the other side of it, the king would have easily thrown his wine cup to his face, or even worse.

“Your Grace” it is this time Lord Varys’ modulled voice to speak, and the whole bunch of men put their attention upon him, the Master of Whispers. The Spider. “I can think of a much more adequate suitor for the princess’ hand” his eyes dart towards Lucerys Velaryon, who just answers with a half lidded gaze behind his own cup. “Storm’s End.”

He was just a lad when the tragedy of Shipbreaker’s Bay took place, only a mere squire to prince Lewyn before he joined the Kingsguard himself. The death of the beloved Steffon Baratheon and his lady Cassana stroke the Red Keep, with queen Rhaella helplessly weeping for them in the Great Sept of Baelor and the Mad King descending upon madness more quickly even.

“Lord Steffon and lady Cassana died in a mission for the Crown, and the young stags would surely feel again protected by the Crown if their house would join house Targaryen again, like two generations ago with the arrival of princess Rhaelle.”

Both kingsguards exchange glances, almost like searching an explanation or even a support. If the only unsullied member of that wretched family was to be taken away, what could be awaiting around the corner?

“Storm’s End seems the most appropriate place, father” Rhaegar’s measured words leave Arthur and Barristan nonplussed. “Robert Baratheon is a force to be considered, and Valaena can be the most ideal way to make him bend the knee to the Crown’s wishes.” Both knights look at the prince, their expressions a mix of concern and understanding. They knew the politics of the realm as well as any, and the value of strategic marriages could not be underestimated, but Rhaegar giving up his sister, his only confident, the receiver of his hopes and praises, is something none of them can explain. “Besides, it is close to Kingslanding, with a safe passage through the Kingswood now that ser Arthur led the royal offensive and cleaned the road of thieves.”

As soon as the meeting meets its end, quickly Arthur and Barristan make their way towards Rhaegar, whose paces drive him to the Master of Whispers. Both knights carefully take their places behind them as the prince and the Spider talk about trivialities before the conversation takes a sharp turn into more pressing matters. The air around them thickens with tension as Rhaegar's tone becomes earnest, almost urgent.

“Do tell me there is a good reason for having placed that wretched idea on the table.” he grits, trying to look as calm and regal as always, the type of king Westeros deserves instead of Aerys.

“I seem to recall that you and I pursue the same interests, Your Highness. Our primary aim is to ensure the stability and prosperity of the realm,” the Spider responds, his voice smooth and measured, a stark contrast to the prince’s fight to keep his composure.

Barristan Selmy swiftly opens a door, half hidden at mere sight and the three of them end up pushing Varys inside, quickly closing it behind, making sure nobody listens to their clandestine meeting. The room, lit by a single flickering candle, casts long shadows across the faces of the men, adding an air of mystery.

“You have to be kidding, Spider” the Stormlander spits, arms crossed over his chest, clearly disgusted.

“We share a common goal, despite our interests being different” the bald man observes each and every one of them and Arthur finds it hard to not gut that man in that room and let his heart drive his actions. “With the temperamental Robert Baratheon linked to the crown, maybe one day he witnesses one of the King’s fits and surprises us. I find it surprising that none of you have reached that thought…”

“How sure you are that he will risk everything for the princess?”

It is not a question, but almost a growl that escapes his lips. With his wrist resting carelessly over Dawn’s pommel, Arthur’s lilac eyes observe the eunuch’s face with attention, ready to defend Valaena’s honour if he musts.

“She is a complete delight” a cunning smile upon Varys’ thin lips repulses him. “There are lots of young lords who would gladly risk their titles, their lands, even their lives for a chance to stand beside her. All she has to do is charm him, and he will do whatever she wishes, no matter the cost. Power, in its most intoxicating form, wouldn’t you agree, my lord?”

Arthur’s grip on Dawn tightens with the mere thought of his princess used as a mere tool in the dangerous games of court. The idea of Valaena, with her vibrant laugh and kind heart, being manipulated by those who see her as nothing more than a pawn in their quests for power fills him with a cold, seething anger. Yet, amidst this storm of emotions, a steadfast resolve takes root within him. He knows the challenges that lay ahead are daunting, but the thought of Valaena facing these alone is something he cannot, and will not, entertain. The fire in his heart, fueled by his love and unwavering determination, ignites a clear path forward. He vows to himself to keep her away from any harm, to guard her as long as he breathes, to stand by her side against the shadows that seek to engulf her.

Only when Rhaegar dismisses the Master of Whispers he allows himself to show the true depth of his concern.

“What happened to the vision, Rhaegar?” his voice, bitter, reflects the turmoil swirling within him. “We were supposed to protect her, to ensure her safety above all else. Have we lost ourselves that badly in the webs of the spider that we are unable to see the light with our own eyes?”

The vision. How hard it had been to handle the burden of such a prophecy, one who sealed the fate of the young princess to a loveless marriage, to the hopes of bearing a saviour, the future of house Targaryen depending on her fragile shoulders… At least she has Elia by her side. For a short while.

[elcoffin]

got version of Arthur Dayne commissioned by lovely @aegonx 🤲❤️‍🔥

[wokedragon]

I feel like Rhaegar’s character would be waaay less hated if it weren’t for his fans. They see him as this perfect Targaryen male who did all he could to save the world and was gravely misunderstood by his time and everyone who thinks differently is wrong. When in reality he kind of sucks and had the biggest known flop in Planetos. Really, his actions directly distabilized the realm and caused the death and rape of Elia Martell, the death of their children, Lyanna’s and a lot of other people’s 😬. But that’s not very heroic is it? That’s why it had to be a great love story between him and Lyanna and Elia had to be in on all of it because if Rhaegar isn’t the perfect misunderstood hero then he’s just some crazy Targaryen blinded by his trauma and self like that caused thousands of deaths like the rest of them. I feel like the actual Rhaegar, you know the one that doesn’t sound like he was directly pulled from a YA authors debut novel, the one who has a complex relationship with his parents, with the crown, with himself….the one who can’t make a mistake, the one who cannot look back or else… is more interesting. Grey characters are in general more interesting and that’s probably why grrm writes a lot of them. He would be less hated if his fans held him accountable for all the awful things he has done and caused but oh well…

[velvetcastel]

Oc " Aleera Dayne"☆~~

She is quite cheerful but gets bored quickly, her mother is a Lannister and her father is a Dayne.

Aleraa is just a woman who likes cakes and gossip, a quiet life as much as possible in her home in Starfall and maybe practicing strange magic

[throwawayasoiafaccount]

god tywin lannister deserved worse

just remembering elias death and i wanna puke and the way tywin talks about elia and what happened is so damn gross

but rip tommen and myrcella we all know what’s about to happen in the next book :/

the cycle of violence just keeps spinning and damn you tywin for beginning it

(i got a bit crazy in the tags 💀)

[toilandtroubled]

— 𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭’𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐮

story collab with my babe @babyroblns

[threewaywithdelusion]

Currently spelling the name “Jamie” wrong 95% of the time because I’m trying to talk about both Jaime Lannister and Jamie Tartt and they don’t spell their names the same way.

[kolumnist-art]

Redraw 🧑🏻‍🎨 Lyanna Stark / Arthur Dayne + baby Jon Snow - 🐺💫🐲 Essos AU where they survived, living away from the mess of Westeros and raising a little rightful King Jon 👑 he is grumpy even as a baby 😅

[xxpeppermintxx109]

“a princess she was, but a girl all the same; and was it truly so terrible for a girl to simply be just a girl? why couldn’t she have a childhood like all the rest? why couldn’t she read stories and dream of knights and love whomever she wished? why couldn’t she be happy too?”

- rhaenyra, act ii, tdod

ser arthur dayne may have sworn his sword and life to his king, but it was the sweet princess he swore his heart to. some whispered not even the stranger themself could break such a promise. how cruel the gods can be.

always a melancholic prince, rhaegar seemed to create grief itself when none could find the silver princess. his sister. his twin. he loved her, and she swore she loved him. and yet, gone. dead, he thought she must be. and madness would follow.

appointed by the mad king himself, jaime lannister was her guard, if only to ensure she never left the red keep again. the last time any had seen the dragon princess and the young lion together, there was no love lost between them. what reason could the king ever have to worry? young jaime shadowed rhaenyra’s every step, but he was just a knight of the kingsguard, and she was just a lone princess.

[eruscreaminginthedistance]

Sometimes I sit and seethe about the lost opportunities by Game of Thrones not having an hour-long weirwood flashback Tourney of Harrenhal beach episode

[theyhope]

@nymxros​ sent: [ FAREWELL ]: a letter written to say goodbye to the recipient, where the writer knows there’s an extremely high chance that they’ll never see each other again. (Arthur)

 𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒. | ACCEPTING

*a hastily scribbled note on the back of the envelope in handwriting different than his own reads: BURN AFTER READING.*

My darling Elia, 

Though I reside in the most unfavorable of places, not even the dismal and dank walls of this cell can convince me to regret what we shared together. King Aerys has branded me a traitor to the realm and demands my head. I am forsaken, for Rhaegar is powerless to aid me now. Though I doubt he is pleased to have learned of our liaison, I know he does not wish to see me dead for it. Do not blame him for this, for he takes great risk in relaying this letter to you and is the only one that will be able to shield you from the Mad King’s wrath.

Which brings me to my imperative plea...

I beg of you, my love, tell the king that I forced you into my bed, that I relentlessly desired you and you were powerless to spurn my advances and terrified to speak of it to anyone. I care not if the world believes me to be a monster, that they will call me a scoundrel and a wicked brute. History can say what it likes of me. All that matters is your life and the lives of the children. Think of them, Elia, I implore you to slander me for their sake. 

In the morn, I will be led to the scaffold where the chopping block awaits. I pray you will not be forced to witness my confession and death (Rhaegar pleads with his father on your behalf), but please, my darling, despair not, for I shall go happily. I would rather die than have gone a moment without knowing your heart, for you always have and always will have mine. 

Tell the children that they have a proud father and he loves them very much. Farewell, my beloved.

Eternally yours, 

Ser Arthur Dayne 

[telvannibugmusk]

I love the asoiaf fandom obsession with powerscaling arguments it feels like we're playing with action figures

[viperofsand]

#prev tags >#even the most snatched bodybuilder in LA would lose to the weakest crazy florida man#< pretty much lol. i pretty much think he just shot him#uh. not with a gun. with a poison blow dart (via nobodysuspectsthebutterfly)

why does everyone assume howland reed killed arthur dayne using some form of trickery or trap-setting or backstabbing or valyrian steel sawed-off. it’s entirely possible that someone trained specifically in the art of fancy knightfighting for their entire life just could not handle howland’s swamp tactics and straight up died idk

[aeriondripflame]

Oo if you’re still doing top 5s - top 5 non-POV characters!

not going 2 lie i forgot about these (im sorry!) but:

1. not sure if he counts because of the forsaken but aeron greyjoy

2. viserys iii

3. mance rayder

4. robb stark

5. the hound

[toilandtroubled]

— 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞’𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐞

     "Have you no words, Arthur?" Silvia murmured, gazing up at him through a thick veil of lashes. She'd been weeping when he'd found her, and it had left her looking unbearably tender. "Will you not console me, not even with lies?"

     But words rested just out of reach. How could he comfort her? His words would only worsen matters. And should she insist – insist to know them – what would they even be? That that man she'd shackled herself to was a craven and a madman? That he yearned for her touch in a way that would drive the best of man to beastly fits. That she was all that was sweet and beautiful and good of earthly things? It is as though, like my sigil, I am a star, he thought ruefully into himself. And she, the great force which flung me from divinity. And I find I do not stop falling.

He was falling now. She seized his face in her hands and pulled – herself upward and him down – until her lips hovered just before his own. "Please do lie to me," she begged. "Lie and tell me I am not all those things they say I am. Tell me I have not deserved this. Tell me anything, Arthur, please," her words quivered past her lips, and echoed over his own.

"You don't deserve this," he answered at last.

Her voice was a wisp across his skin. "Will you kiss me, then, Arthur? If I am not so tainted, will you kiss me?" His eyes fluttered shut, his own body awaiting his reply. "Like you did before."

Yes, his mind vowed, all too eager to obey. Obedience had never come so easily to him. "I thought kisses do not heal, my lady."

And she uttered, light as air, "Scar me, then."

And he did.