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averagewriter-inthedark · 4 months ago

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A Dragon Does Now Bow Down 🐉 | HOTD Imagine P.1

GOT/HOTD masterlist | | Part 2

Characters & Pairings: Targaryen/Lannister!OC—Daerra Targaryen x the Greens (platonic) & the Blacks (platonic)

Content Warnings: follows episodes 1-7 of S.1, fluff (between oc and kids) angst, implied character death, blood, violence, dysfunctional family dynamics, eventual B&C, slight canon divergence | female!OC (she/her) | wc: 8k

Premise: The House of the Dragon is an impenetrable force when standing together. Bound by love, duty, and sacrifice. But when sides are drawn between kin, not even the glue that holds them together can withstand.

Note: this is a direct result of an AU idea I had where the children of the Greens had an actual motherly figure who cared for them and was also a neutral party between the Greens & Blacks. So yeah, I’m sorry this will be more angsty and dark in part 2.

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Hand turns loom; spool of green, spool of black; dragons of flesh weaving dragons of thread.

It was believed by the Wise King Jaehaerys I that the only thing that could tear down the house of the dragon was itself. Oh how right he was.

The threat of war loomed over with each passing moon. Bringing unease to his youngest grandchild, Daerra.

Born to his daughter Gael in 95 AC when she was only ten and five. The only legitimate child to her marriage to a lord of House Lannister who shared Targaryen heritage. He died shortly after her birth resulting in Gael returning to the Red Keep where she raised the babe with her siblings and cousins. They took a liking to Daerra--especially the Good Queen Alysanne. Her older cousins; Rhaenys, Viserys, and Daemon were around at times. Mainly at family gatherings since they were all 15+ years older than Daerra.

A Targaryen beauty with signature attributes to Lannisters, Daerra was a sight to behold. Silver hair she often kept short and curly, and piercing green eyes that resemble emeralds. While her father may have been a Lannister, she only ever referred to herself as a Targaryen. Only ever wearing the colors of red and black.

Unfortunately Daerra would know loss again at the age of four, when her mother drowned herself in the Blackwater Bay following the stillbirth of her younger brother. From then on, Daerra was under the care of her cousins Aemma and Viserys, who had their young daughter, Rhaenyra, two years prior to Gael’s death. Raising them like sisters since the couple were not blessed with another child by the Gods.

As children up until adolescence the two were like peas in a pod, though they had their differences. Both enjoyed riding their dragons, though never together. Rhaenyra with her golden queen Syrax, and Daerra with the ferocious Cannibal. Whose eyes were a stunning green as though they were filled with Wildfire. Matching Daerra so closely, it made people wonder if it were the reason the wild beast surrendered to her. Earning her the title, ‘Daerra the Daring,’ when she claimed the mighty dragon on the eve of her tenth nameday at Dragonstone, after stumbling upon his nest when she ventured too far from the castle. Removing red from her wardrobe to only wear black with green trimming in honor of him.

The bond between dragon and rider was something Daerra was taught by her grandmother the Good Queen. A longing feeling she desired to connect with their ancient heritage. Cannibal was a magnificent creature. When not on Dragonstone, Cannibal was free to roam the outskirts of the city away from the Dragonpit.

So as to not cause an issue with his….particular taste for food.

While Rhaenyra had to maintain the statue of a Princess, Daerra had much more freedom during childhood. Which in turn resulted in slight envy from the young heir. Daerra got to go to Dragonstone whenever she pleased so long as the King approved. She got to train under the Rogue Prince himself, Daemon--which fueled Rhaenyra’s jealousy, and learn to fight like a warrior. While Rhaenyra always had a book or quill in her hand, Daerra had a sword or her trusty leather whip. She was his protege. On her fifteenth name day, Lady Daerra was gifted a Valryian steel blade she named Destiny.

Daemon taught her strategy and ways to disarm a man. Not to mention he warned her of snakes in his brother's council.

Speaking of the council, there were mixed reactions when it came to Daerra and the privileges her cousin gave her. Viserys didn’t rush to marry her off when she came of age, much to the displeasure of his Hand, Otto Hightower. The cunning man desperately wanted to rid the Red Keep of her when she grew to be a mini version of his political headache. Even tempted to offer his own son's hand, until whispers spread of young Lords attempting to court the Lady going missing. Fruitless accusations that were enough to ward off prospects.

“Is it true,” Rhaenyra raced after Daerra, dressed in her riding gear as she brushed through the mane of her horse before departing to see her dragon.

“What do you speak of, cousin?”

Rhaenyra gave a pointed look, glancing over her shoulder before leaning closer to whisper, “People are saying you fed those men who tried to win your hand to Cannibal.” The princess received a snicker.

“So that is the rumor I’ve been hearing amongst the court,” her laugh was dry, turning slightly to face her cousin. “Don’t be foolish, Rhaenyra, he only eats his own,” Daerra denied, but her eyes told a different story. One the princess wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

Whatever the truth was, it had the outcome Daerra wanted. And that was to avoid marriage for as long as possible. The main reason being when Viserys named his daughter the heir to the Iron Throne. Daerra was ten and seven, beaming with pride while masking the bubble of anxiety in her chest. Greedy Lords would race to win her hand, and offer up their daughters/sisters to the King now that his wife, Queen Aemma, was with the Gods.

Daerra scoured the court intently. Observing everyone who crossed paths with the King. Particularly Otto Hightower and Corlys Velaryon, who both had young daughters and were ambitious for power.

“Any ladies the object of your attention, dear cousin?” Daerra clasped her hands behind her back, matching Viserys pace along the gardens. He’d appeared solemn, stress making his features age.

“Don’t tell me you dragged me out here to hear of my quarrels with marriage prospects. I thought you better than that, Daerra.” His tone was fond, almost fatherly like. Considering he practically raised her since she was four. The two were semi-close with each other.

The young woman snorted, “Oh, you know I prefer the training yard or the skies. But I worry for you.” She stops, making him do the same. The sun beating down brought heat to their skin as their thick clothing absorbed the rays. Illuminating their emerald and lilac eyes that would have any artist wanting to paint a portrait. “Daemon is off in the stepstones doing Gods knows what. Your council keeps bothering you about a wife--and for Rhaenyra to take a husband. Not to mention they still question your decision to name her your heir. Must be exhausting.”

“It is,” the King agrees with a sigh, looking down at his boots. Wishing nothing more than to return to his model of Old Valyria. “With everything happening, I find myself missing Aemma more than ever.” Daerra’s heart tightened, mirroring his saddened expression. Aemma was like a mother to her, raising her as a surrogate daughter following multiple failed pregnancies.

“I as well. Queen Aemma was the heart of this family,” Daerra glanced up to the heavens, feeling a light breeze drift over them. “Her loss is felt within the Keep. And you should not rush to pledge yourself to another until you feel the time is right. Otherwise you are dooming the both of you.”

Though she did not have experience with love, Daerra witnessed it throughout her life. The love her grandparents had with each other. The way Corlys and Rhaenys were. The devotion Viserys had to Aemma, and the stories of his parents, Baelon and Alyssa. Love matches were rare, but they existed. And if blessed, one may experience more than one in their lifetime.

She had hoped that for Viserys. Unfortunately, her advice was met on deaf ears when he announced not long after his intent to marry Alicent Hightower. The daughter of his Hand, and dear friend to his own daughter.

Daerra was enraged. Disgusted even. How could her cousin marry a girl the same age as Rhaenyra. Younger than her by three name days. Never did she see the two together during the day, and it took some convincing for the King’s guard to tell her the two had secret meetings during the night.

‘Of course,’ she thought, clutching her fists as the need to break something became too much to bear. If there was one thing Daerra was also known for in the Seven Kingdoms….it was her temper. Rivaling that of Daemon when she finally burst after penting up frustration for days. Earning her another nickname of the Dragon with a Lion’s roar. However, she had to remain composed. This was the King, not just her cousin. And while he allowed her freedom and often glanced the other way when she gave cheek to Lords and Ladies of the Court, the same would not be directed at him.

In the end, Daerra told Viserys, “I hope you know what you’re doing, cousin.” And when he questioned her statement, her reply was simply, “You lack to see the weight this union has put on our House. And I hope you are ready for the pressure that will come the moment you sire more heirs. For yours and Rhaenyra--and even Alicent’s sake,” she paused, narrowing her brows at the man who raised her. “I hope the Gods bless you with only daughters.”

Of course, Viserys believed her to over exaggerate. Even when he caught her stiff expression at his wedding. Standing beside his daughter with her hands clasped behind her back, dressed in black with gold accents. The way she assessed him was almost like a warning. But again, Viserys took it like a grain of salt. In his eyes, Rhaenyra was his heir and the Lords of Westeros pledged to her before him and the Gods. Swearing fealty, which was more valuable than any gold in the country.

He failed to realize they would not be forthcoming once he had a son. When that day came, Daerra felt the shift. As she glanced down at the babe in her arms, having taken him while Alicent rested before Viserys was to present him to the court, Daerra’s usual rough exterior crumbled.

There was such an innocence to babes. Unaware of the harsh realities the world possessed. Small little things who only desired love and attention. “Hello, little one,” she whispered to Aegon. His bright lilac eyes staring up at her in wonder. Silver strands of hair on his head, skin soft and smooth as her finger stroked his cheek. “I’m your cousin, Daerra. Oh how the realm has awaited your arrival,” her gaze softens, a tinge of sadness in her tone. “But I’m sorry for what your life is set to be like. You’re the first born son--named after the Conqueror himself.”

Of course little Aegon had no clue what she was saying. To him the only concern was when he would eat, sleep, and have his nappy changed. Still, he gazed up at her as though he was taking in every word.

Helaena came a year later, with Aemond not long after. As she did with Aegon’s birth, Daerra was present in the Queen’s chamber. Offering support and watching the babes while she rested following the endless hours of labors. Though her and Alicent’s relationship was rather hot and cold, there was a mutual respect. Especially when it came to the children which the Queen greatly appreciated. There were times where Daerra was the only person who could calm them when they fussed.

“You’d be a great mother, Daerra,” Alicent exhaled, waiting for the sleep to take her while watching Aemond in the woman’s arms. “You’re a natural with him. With all of them.” Still in her youth, the young Queen wondered why Daerra never seeked to marry or have children. After Daemon left for the StepStones a lot had changed for Daerra.

Though she still had her reputation.

Daerra only smiled, not taking her eyes on the baby boy, “Everyone’s destiny is different, my Queen. I don’t think mine was to birth the next generation of Targaryen’s. But I do think I was meant to help raise them.”

Lastly a few years later, came the arrival of the last child of the King and Queen. A boy named Daeron. Who the King, with the surprise approval of his wife, named in honor of his cousin.

“Gentle, Aemond,” Daerra brushed away a hair from his face and tucked behind his ear. Kneeling down on the ground so she was eye level with the toddlers, Daerra held a sleeping Daeron in her arms. Six-year-old Aegon had a toy dragon in his hand, while five-year-old Helaena sucked on her thumb. Aemond, the curious three-year-old, kept leaning over her arm to get a look at his baby brother.

“Tiny,” his finger came down on the babe’s head, lilac eyes peering up at the woman in awe. Daerra beamed, a bright smile on her lips.

“Yes, my darling, he’s a tiny thing. Like you were many moons ago,” a giggle left the boy’s mouth upon her poke to his stomach. Helaena leaned onto her shoulder, lightly tracing the leather and texture of Daerra’s outfit. Aegon himself found entertainment twirling the chains attached to her cloak.

“How come all our eyes are purple and yours are green, aunt?”

Daerra felt warmth at the title, like it always did when the children referred to her as such. That they viewed her more as an aunt than a distant cousin.

“Well, my father was a Lannister and said to have bright green eyes,” she explained to the boy.

“Like Cannibal!” Aemond exclaimed, causing Daerra to gently hush him and carefully adjust Daeron who made a sound at the movement. Daerra cooed at him before looking back at Aemond. He’d always been so fascinated by the Dragons in his young age. Especially Cannibal after learning of his reputation. Begging Daerra to one day take him with her flying. She also had a tradition of taking the royal babes to the Dragon, much to the horror of Alicent and Otto, presenting the beast with the new generation of their house.

Daerra chuckled, petting the top of Aemond’s head, “Inside voice, little dragon.” He mumbled an apology. Daerra bopped his nose, “but yes, Cannibal and I have matching eyes. That’s why some say he chose me as his rider.” She turned back to Aegon, “Sometimes certain traits are stronger than others. My father’s mother was a Targaryen, but he inherited his father’s green eyes. You all took on after your father, his grace the King. The spitting image of the blood of Old Valyria.”

“But what about Jace?”

Daerra felt her heart stop, eyes widening a bit at the sudden question by her surrogate nephew. As the years passed with many unions blooming and children born to the royal family, Rhaenyra’s marriage to Laenor Velaryon produced their first son. Jacaerys. Born only a few moons prior to which Viserys ordered the babes share a wet nurse, following rising tensions between the houses in hopes to restore the strained relationship between Queen Alicent and Princess Rhaenyra. The former donning to wear only the color green, representing her house calling their bannerman to war.

An act that had Daerra nearly tapping back into her destructive nature by driving her dagger straight through her heart. She resisted…..with a lot of hard work.

Like most in the Keep, Daerra knew the boy had been sired from the honorable Ser Harwin Strong. Sharing his dark brown hair, eyes, and similar nose. Opposite of the traditional Valyrian features such as silver hair and lilac eyes. A kind man and dutiful knight, Daerra saw the behavior her cousin and her sworn protector shared when they thought no one was looking.

Rhaenyra was currently carrying her second child, and rumors of the potential paternity of Jace and his unborn sibling were spread. Making Daerra’s brows narrow in question.

Gently tugging the boy closer after confirming they were the only ones in the nursery, Daerra whispered, “What is this you speak of, sweetling?” Young and naive to the concern in her tone, Aegon continued to fiddle with her chains.

“He doesn’t have hair like us. I heard mother shouting at the maid that Jace is a ba-ba-bast,” he couldn’t get the word out, and Daerra immediately stopped him with a soft hand on his cheek.

“Jace is your nephew. Your older sister's son,” she told him sternly but also soothing as one would to a child. “You boys will grow up with each other--and there is nothing stronger in the Seven Kingdoms than the bond between kin. You mustn’t utter these words again, sweetling. Regardless of whom you hear them from.”

Aegon only nodded, saying something along the lines of, “I won’t,” but Daerra already feared what was to come for the future of her family. Alicent already showed disdain for her Rhaenyra after her father Otto was released as Hand. Now with her voicing the questionable parentage of the Princess’ son, there was little to no hope of reconciliation.

The rumors only got worse with the arrival of a second son, Lucerys. A spitting image of his older brother. Like Alicent’s children, Daerra was close to Rhaenyra’s sons. Making her often feel in the middle of the feud between the two. Thankfully when it came to the children, both were respectful and grateful for Daerra’s assistance.

“Come here, my dreamer,” Helaena grasped Daerra’s outstretched hand, not clutching Luke to her chest, to help the princess step out of the carriage. The Lady turned to the knights, “You are to remain here. We’ll only be a moment.” The man’s face consorted to worry, eyes peering into the woods where he swore he heard the rumble of the beast lying ahead.

“My Lady, the Queen and Princess ordered that you must be in sight with the young prince and princess. You’re not to be alone with them and your dragon--for precaution as you can understand.”

Having dealt with this a number of times already, Daerra’s face stayed neutral, “I appreciate your concern, and honor of maintaining order, good Ser. But you must know my Cannibal does not take kindly to strangers.” Her tone went cold, as did her eyes sending a shudder up the man’s spine. He visibly paled. “He will see you as food. So,” her head tilted in defiance, “do you still wish to join us? Or will you be smart and do as you’re told.”

“I-I-I shall await your return, my Lady,” he nodded, wishing nothing more than to wipe the sweat from his head. Or throw up from the anxiety he felt.

Daerra smirked, nodding back and holding Helaena’s hand while cradling Luke in her other arm. Guiding the girl through the woods until they reached Cannibal’s nest. Once in front of the clearing, Daerra bows, “Rytsas, uēpa raquiros.” Hello old friend.

A low rumble filled their ears, followed by the rustling of leaves. The clearing between the trees filling as Cannibal shook the twigs from his back, wildfire eyes focusing on the group. Daerra heard him sniff, letting go of Helaena’s hand to approach. The girl stayed put, gaze glued on the dragon with awe. She’d never seen him up close before, the only time Helaena had made his acquaintance was when Daerra presented her to him as a babe. Then when Daeron and Jace were born, she took Aegon with her.

Daerra approached with caution. Glancing down at Lucerys while she untucked the blanket to show his face.

“Nyke’ve maghatan ao nykeā irudy. Nykeā Targārien naejot kustikagon īlva ānogar. Rhaenagon prince Lucerys, tresy hen Rhaenrya se ser Laenor Velaryon.” I’ve brought you a gift. A Targaryen to strengthen our blood. Meet Prince Lucerys, son of Rhaenyra and Ser Laenor Velaryon.

Cannibal leaned down, bringing his snout level with Daerra, who gently extended her arms. Holding Lucerys out as though she was offering him up to the dragon, making Helaena gasp lightly. Slight fear at what might happen despite finding the sight mesmerizing.

Emerald eyes met wildfire. Dragon and his rider. Daerra kept her stare as Cannibal’s snout came only a mere inches from the babe. Feeling the heat radiate off him, the fire seeping through his veins. Cannibal sniffed again, Lucerys moving in Daerra’s hands though she kept a grip on him while never taking her eyes off her dragon. Watching him smell his Targaryen blood, the blood of Old Valyria.

A sound of approval left Cannibal, his body raising to his true height. A stunning sight for anyone who dared graced the wild dragon with their presence. It made Daerra smirk, bringing Lucerys back to her chest when he began whimpering. She cooed softly, stepping back to where Helaena stood. Crouching down, Daerra said, “The dreams you have are not mere illusions or fantasies, Helaena. It is a rare thing for a Targaryen to dream the way you do--but it is in our blood. They are a window into the future--or what the future may bring. I know it’s hard for you to explain when they happen, but you must not be frightened. For you are a dragon,” the girl met her gaze, a mini Rhaenyra staring back at her. “And a dragon does not bow down to fear.”

Alicent’s distant nature for her children was observed early on. As well as the neglectfulness of his Grace the King. So it came as no surprise to servants and guards in the Keep when the children of the King and Queen often sought council and companionship from Lady Daerra and Ser Criston Cole. The two hardly acknowledged each other, only when the time called for it. She disliked his insults of Rhaenyra, and he despised her closeness to the Princess and her sons.

But when it came to Aegon, Helaena, and Aemond, the two were a force to be reckoned with. Daeron had been sent to Oldtown once he learned to walk. A decision that put a small hole in Daerra’s heart, for she felt she lost a son, although the decision was a wise one. Alicent continued to drive hate into her children while Daerra fought to prevent it. And having Daeron away meant he had a chance to not sour like the rest of the Hightowers in the Keep. Helaena remained a sweet girl. The only solace as Aegon began drowning himself in wine and Aemond grew restless at not having a dragon.

Like today as a matter of fact.

Daerra made her way to Rhaenyra’s apartments, passing Laenor and the boys as he escorted them to the Dragonpit. “Aunt Daerra!” Jace bounded to her, excitement coating his entire being. “We’ve got a brother! His name is Joffrey.”

“So I’ve heard,” she ruffles his hair, then leans down to scoop up Luke who had latched to her leg. “Are you excited to be a big brother, my prince? You’re not the youngest anymore and have to step up to the role Jace has had.” He nods frantically. Ready to prove himself to his family.

“I can’t wait to go dragon riding with him,” he smiles but then pouts, “but that won’t be till Arrax gets bigger and his egg hatches.” Daerra lightly pinches his cheek, making him squeal.

“Fair not, little dragon, the time will come. Until then--,” she sets him down, bidding a nod to Laenor who returned a nod in respect. Silently thanking her for all the times she was there for the boys and not audibly questioning their lineage. “You gotta grow your bond with Arrax. And we shall pray to the Gods they bless Joffrey with his dragon. Now, I shall leave you to it. I have a new nephew to meet.”

With a kiss to each of their heads, the woman departs as they wave goodbye, continuing on until she reaches Rhaenyra’s chamber. The Whitecloak nods, moving to open the door and announces her arrival, “The Lady Daerra Targaryen, Princess.”

“Thank you, Ser.” Rhaenyra sits up, grinning up at her cousin, who exchanges courtesies with Harwin. “Good morrow, cousin.”

“Good morrow it is, my Princess,” Daerra clasps her hands behind her back. Slowly walking forward until she’s directly in front of the woman. Noting the evident exhaustion in her face. “My congratulations to you and Ser Leanor on the healthy birth of another son.” Her head gestures to the babe, cradled in the knight’s arms. “I hear his name is Joffrey.” At her silent reaction, Rhaenyra softly chuckles, giving a knowing look.

“Laenor chose it. I believe it is a name dear to him--I recall him wanting to name Jace, and then Luke, it when they were born,” her smile was small, lingering with sadness at the memory of Laenor’s lover that’d been killed the night of their wedding. Knowing it was the reason behind the name. “But his father had a hand in naming the boys. Making sure their names were fit for Velaryons.” Daerra didn’t miss the way her cousin’s eyes flickered to Harwin. Or how he looked up from the babe to meet the Princess’ gaze.

Clearing her throat, the woman once again turned her attention to the babe. “Well they are certainly happy to be older brothers. Already planning to take him and their dragons out for their first flight.” Together they all shared a laugh. Daerra made the motion to Joffrey, “Might I?”

“Of course,” Harwin passed the babe, carefully placing her into her arms and lingering when he believed she had him settled. Daerra stayed silent, not wishing to make him uncomfortable by commenting how she'd held all the royal children as babes.

Harwin took his leave, bowing to Rhaenyra and Daerra as he did so. Leaving the two women and Joffrey alone. That’s when Rhaenyra finally let out the breath she’d been holding, closing her eyes to soothe the tiredness consuming her. Daerra sat on the opposite chair, shaking head with a frown.

“I’d hoped the maids were speaking nonsense when I heard what took place after the birth.” Daerra took in her cousin, taking her eyes off Joffrey, who fell into a soundless sleep. Rhaenyra opened her eyes, the small smile turning into a frown.

“I fear it will continue, so long as I produce heirs.”

Daerra sighed, face consorted with concern. “I admit I have some sympathies toward the Queen for her situation. Only a girl herself when she married your father and had the children. Still,” her face turned strained, indicating she was not defending Alicent. “That does not excuse her behavior toward you. And your boys.”

Rhaenyra looked down, muttering a ‘thank you’ to which the woman simply nodded. They stayed that way for a few minutes, Daerra requesting permission to take the babe to meet Cannibal after the two had rested. Once received, Daerra handed the Joffrey to the maid, gave a comforting squeeze to Rhaenyra’s shoulder, and left the Princess.

As she migrated through the halls, she heard sniffles in a nearby room, the one belonging to Aemond. Once again the guard acknowledged her with a nod, moving to allow her to pass.

Her heart broke at the sight of Aemond sitting on his bed, head tucked between his knees. Dust and soot covering his usually clean silver hair and green attire. An indicator he’d been in the Dragonpit. Alone, in an attempt to claim his mount he desperately wanted. After the many years of teasing from his brother and nephews.

Who only did it when Daerra wasn’t present. Fearing her wrath as she did not tolerate bullying in her presence. The one time they did it left them all crying. Mostly out of embarrassment and shame at disappointing her.

His soft cries echoing in the silent room, until her footsteps entered as she strolled up to him. Daerra takes the spot on the bed beside him. “Aemond.”

“I do not wish for a lecture, Aunt Daerra,” he rubbed his nose, turning the other way to shy away his reddened eyes. He knew she already figured out his adventure in the pit. “Mother already gave me one.”

“I’m not here to lecture. I’m here to ask if you’re alright.”

Aemond turned back to face her, eyes glossy with tears and bottom lip beginning to quiver, “They gave me a pig.” Daerra tilted her head, confused at the statement.

“A pig?”

A tear escaped as he nodded, Daerra wiping it away with her thumb. “Aegon. Him, Jace, and Luke told me they had a dragon for me to claim. That it was finally my time to join them as riders.” His head frantically shook, leaning onto her side to which she opened her arm to embrace him. “But-but really it was a pig they dressed up and called it the pink dread.”

Daerra listened silently, comforting the boy as he began to cry once more. Her fingers raked through his silver locks, as a mother would her child. A gesture he loved, considering his mother hardly showed affection. Unlike his older half-sister did with her children.

“Why don’t we take a walk?” she suggested, pulling away from Aemond to stand. She held out her hand, “There’s something I want to show you.” Putting himself together, Aemond hopped off the bed and took her hand, letting Daerra lead him out of his room. They reached Rhaenyra’s chamber, where the lady told him to wait while she went inside. A moment later, she returned with Joffrey in her arms.

“What are you doing?” Aemond’s eyes widened, standing on his tippy toes to see his nephew. Noting the babe was still asleep.

Daerra smirked, “It’s been some time since a Targaryen babe has been born. Lucerys being the last,” she began to walk, Aemond trailing behind her with an eager pace. “And I’m not one to stray from tradition. Cannibal will be pleased to meet the newest member of the family.” Immediately Aemond lit up. Realizing what Daerra was referring to.

It was his turn to join her as she introduced a Targaryen baby to her dragon. He’d been four when Luke was born, and Helaena was who she brought with her. Which had Aemond pouting as he wanted to go but Daerra refused. Now he was getting his chance.

The first stop was to see his mother. Alicent’s already dampened mood increased when the two arrived at the Kings’ chambers. Alicent saw Joffrey and instantly knew what was about to be asked.

“Is this really necessary, Lady Daerra?” she argued, trying to ignore the pleading eyes Aemond was giving her. Focusing only on Daerra, who did not break under her stare. “The babe was born mere hours ago. And I’m sure the Princess--.”

“Already gave her consent,” Daerra interrupted, keeping her expression neutral.

From the side, Viserys let out a pained groan, catching their attention. “Let the boy go with her Alicent. All the children have met Cannibal when they were born, and Daerra has proven he will not do harm. Both Aegon and Helaena have joined her with the births of their brother and nephews. Aemond shall go with her to introduce Joffrey.”

Alicent attempted to put up another argument, but with a 3v1 against her, she ultimately relented. Ordering that a guard must be present at all times and they are to return before the hour is up.

“Of course, your Grace,” Daerra bowed. “We shall make haste so that Aemond is not late to the training yard.”

“You will be joining them, yes?” Alicent had a tight smile. She had mixed feelings of Daerra assisting Criston Cole and Harwin Strong in training the boys. For one, she admired the woman for being able to do things most women were frowned upon doing. She too, found herself mesmerized as a young girl watching Daerra train with Daemon Targaryen. She was a beauty to behold with her whip and sword.

But Alicent also resented Daerra for it. Mostly due to envy she spent more time with her sons than she did.

And that they preferred her company.

Daerra’s chuckle brought her out of her thoughts, “Someone has to put these princes in line. They forget themselves when a Lady is not present.” Both women drew their gaze to Aemond, the residue of the dragonpit still on him. Pink tinged his cheeks as he looked away.

“As I agree,” Alicent’s jaw tightened, but she quickly masked her disdain with a tight smile. Shaking her head while looking back at Daerra, “Very well. I shall leave you then.”

Daerra curtsied again, “Your Grace,” then she turned to Viserys. “My King.”

“Thank you, mother,” Aemond bowed, before doing the same to his father. Both wearing small smiles, though only Viserys’ reached his eyes.

When they finally reached Cannibal’s nest, Aemond was buzzing with nerves and excitement. Heart pounding against his chest. For it would be the first time being so close to his beloved Aunt’s dragon. A moment he’d been waiting years for.

He remembered Daerra telling him many moons prior that she brought him as a baby to the beast, where the dragon spit his wild green fire into the sky in celebration of the birth of a Targaryen prince. Then Aemond often watched from the Godswood as Daerra flew him around Kings Landing. His shiny black scales bouncing off the sun’s rays. Shouts of the small folk reacting to his massive form. Aemond was always in awe.

Sitting down on the grass after Daerra presented Cannibal with Joffrey, they watched him find a comfortable spot in his nest to return to his nap. Daerra beamed at the sight, switching Joffrey in her arms when they started to ache.

“I know you wish nothing more than to claim your dragon, Aemond. I too was upset with each nameday passing and not having one,” Peering down, Daerra saw the way his face shifted to sadness. “I was the age Jace is now when Cannibal chose me.”

“He chose you?” He repeated, now displaying confusion.

Daerra raised a brow, “To believe we have the power to control a dragon is a myth. They are who really chose us. It is why when you attempt to claim one, you must accept death as an answer.” Aemond processed her words, fiddling with his fingers that were clasped in his lap.

“So I have to wait for a dragon to deem me worthy.” The dejection in voice pulled at her heartstrings. His shoulders dropped in defeat.

Taking his hand in hers not holding Joffrey, Daerra signed and stroked his knuckles. “What your brother and nephews did was cruel. And I’m sorry you had to endure that, Aemond. But remember this, my darling,” Tucking her finger under his chin, she pulled his gaze to hers. Green eyes meeting lilac, “You are a Targaryen. Made of fire and blood, whose ancestors conquered Westeros with the dragons we hold dear to our house. Your time will come. And when the opportunity presents itself, you will know.” Her eyes turn serious, filling Aemond with hope. “And the dragon will choose you.”

Disaster struck an hour later. One that no one, even Daerra, could have anticipated. When Criston Cole decided to instigate a spar between Jace and Aegon. Leading him to antagonize Harwin Strong.

It all started when all four boys took turns switching off against the four dummies. But not before they were lectured by the woman on their mistreatment of Aemond that morning. All their heads bowed, not able to face her which brought a bit of joy to the prince. Once finished, they took their spots in the yard. Daerra stood on one side while Cole took the other. Observing the four closely as they met their targets. The knight was not pleased or offered technique advice whenever Jace and Luke were by him. Whereas Daerra was equal. Pointing out mistakes for each boy.

When they switched off again, Jace bumped shoulders with Aemond. An action he did on purpose which received a scolding look from Daerra. She didn’t say anything, her face alone brought a blush to Jace’s cheeks. The boy mumbled a ‘sorry’, embarrassed to have been caught and looking away to not meet her eyes. Daerra moved closer to him, right next to the dummy.

“This is practice, not the battlefield. I expect better from you.” The red on his cheeks got brighter, nodding his head in silent promise to not do it again. Once satisfied, Daerra commanded. “Feet light, Jace.” Bringing his wooden sword up, he struck the dummy one, two, three times before pivoting on to attack from behind. A sound of approval left her, “Good.”

Briefly lifting her focus, she caught her cousin and his Hand, Ser Lyonel Strong watching the scene below from the top of the Keep. Surrounded by his Kingsguard. The king raised a hand to wave, a smile on his face and pleased to see his sons and grandsons training together. He received a firm nod from his cousin before turning to speak with Lyonel.

When she returned her attention to Jace, he had stuck his sword in the dummy, only for it to be smacked down by Aemond.

“Don’t stand too upright, My Prince,” Cole lectured, tone laced with mocking. “You’ll get knocked down.” The glare from Daerra was ignored, moving his attention to Aegon, who got distracted by passing servants.

Daerra’s disproving eyes went to Aemond, now facing the dummy Jace had left. “I understand what transpired this morning has made you upset. But to add fire will only make it worse. You are better than that, Aemond.”

His brows narrowed, “It’s not fair. Everyone tells me to deal with it--why should I? Why does no one--apart from you--say anything!” he whisperer-shouted the last sentence, not wanting to draw attention to them. Daerra didn’t blame Aemond for his outburst. After years of teasing it was bound to take a toll. And part of her blamed his parents lack of involvement for letting it slide for so long.

“Your anger is justified,” she affirmed, leaning down to lower her voice so only he could hear. “And judgment will come when the Gods deem it so. For now, display your frustration on the dummies. Not your kin. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Aunt Daerra,” came his mumble. Daerra straightened up when she heard Cole suggest a challenge between him against Aemond and Aegon. Her brows furrowed in suspicion, but made no move to stop the knight. Instead she backed up to stand between Jace and Luke.

Their spar lasted roughly thirty seconds. Both Targaryen’s put their best efforts to disarm Cole. But the knight was faster.

“Ah,” the sound of Harwin Strong came from her right. Daerra stiffening when the boys turned to him. Which did not go unnoticed by Cole. “Weapons up, boys. Give your enemies no quarter.”

“Thank you for your input, Ser Harwin,” Daerra gave a curt nod. Motioning for the two to approach the dummies, and much to her displeasure, Harwin turned to address Cole.

“It seems the younger boys could do better with a bit of your attention, Ser Criston.”

Daerra cursed under her breath, panning to Cole who did not take lightly to the Lord Commander's words.

“Do you question my method of instructions, Ser? Or that of the Lady Daerra?”

“Ser Criston,” Daerra warned, then sent a look to Harwin. Pleading to not say anything. Of course, it went to no avail.

“I merely suggest that method be applied to all your pupils.” It didn’t help that Aegon shoved little Luke to the side, the boy bumping into Daerra who had to stop him from hitting the ground.

“Aegon.”

Cole’s animosity breached his expression, “Very well.” Harwin’s face changed as the knight stunted forward. Daerra tensing where she stood. “Jacaerys,” his hand reached out and yanked the boy. “You spar with Aegon.” The silver-hair boys laughed as Cole dragged Jace to the other side. “Eldest son against eldest son.”

Daerra voiced disapproval, “Mayhaps we should continue as we were, Ser Criston.”

Harwin appeared to agree, “It’s hardly a fair match.” Aegon patted Jace’s back as he passed him. An eager smile painted his lips while the younger became nervous.

“I know you’ve never seen true battle, ser, but when steel is drawn a fair match isn’t something anyone should expect.”

Daerra hated that Cole had a point. When battle came there was no such thing as fairness. But still, this was training for the young princes. Not a duel between steel.

She could intervene. Harwin and Jace’s faces were filled with worry. Silently pleading for her to reprimand Cole. Daerra knew better though. This was his element and had all the power. She was only to supervise and offer assistance when needed. But she did say one thing, voice stern as she looked all three--Cole, Jace, and Aegon--in the eyes, “Keep it clean. No blood or this ends as quick as it starts.”

Cole tightened his lips, “Well said, my Lady.” Their glares on each other lingered, Cole breaking it first when he motioned at the boys. “Blades up.” They awaited the command. “Engage.”

Aegon charged with a cry, Jace using all his might to counter his attacks. He was brought to the ground with a shove, sword still in his hands. The older boy laughed menacingly, retaking his spot in front of Cole. The smirk, however, left his lips when he caught Daerra’s cold stare. Then Jace came running at him with a shout.

“Ahhhhh!”

They danced across the yard, the spar pausing when Aegon tried to push a dummy onto Jace. Resulting in Harwin to step in, “Foul play!”

“I’ll deal with him,” Cole announced, both men stepping toward their respected princes. Daerra stiffened, peering up to see her cousin looking awfully confused. The rigid posture of his Lord Hand was a telling sign they too felt unease.

“You!” Aegon yelled, startling Jace who quickly met his oncoming attack.

“Close with him,” Cole ordered, all three adults following behind the boys. Daerra pointing at Aemond and Luke to stay put. “Push him backward!”

“Light feet, Jacaerys!” Daerra matched Cole’s tone. The brunette boy’s face painted red and stumbling with each step. Aegon was relentless, coming at him like a wild animal.

“Use your feet!” A harsh kick met Jace’s armored chest, plowing him down. “Don’t let him get up!” Aegon brought the sword down, Jace barely able to counter. He was losing his breath, running out of energy.

Harwin was losing his patience. As was Daerra, “Ser Criston, that is enough--.”

“Stay on the attack!”

Aegon raised his sword, ready to charge it onto the already weakened Jace, but was stopped when Harwin grabbed it and pulled him away. “Enough!” With a single movement, Aegon was spun around and thrown to the side.

“You dare put your hands on me!?”

Daerra cut in front of the heated prince as he hastily pushed up from the ground to challenge Harwin. “Calm down, now.” Her pointed finger while free hand hovering over her whip was enough to draw him back. His offensive stance shrinking down, mumbling curses more out of annoyance.

“Aegon!” the King shouted, mirroring his cousin’s tone. Finding his son to be overdramatic by his choice of words.

“You forget yourself, Strong, that is the prince,” Cole snarled.

“This is what you teach, Cole?” came the response. Harwin picked up the disposed swords, spitting “Cruelty. To the weaker opponent.”

“Your interest in the Princes’ training is quite unusual, Commander. Most men would only have that kind of devotion toward a cousin.”

Oh no.

Harwin stilled, picking up the last sword as Cole turned to face him with a cunning smirk. Daerra narrowed her eyes. Not blind to his indirect accusation, but vexed he would openly announce it in the yard. In front of onlookers. In front of the boys.

“Or a brother.”

Harwin stood, Daerra unable to see his face to tell what he was thinking. Instinctively she motioned for Jace and Luke to get behind her. While throwing pointed gazes at Aemond and Aegon who were watching with amused expression.

“Ser Criston, mind your tongue.”

Her warning was left to the wind. Cole let out the final blow, “Or a son.” Faster than they could blink, the Commander of the Night’s watch spun, fist raised to impact Cole’s cheek. Sending him sprawling to the ground as he landed another one. Straddling his chest to continue unleashing deadly hits causing Cole’s face to bleed in various areas.

It came to an end when the man they called Breakbones was yanked off of Cole by the power of Daerra’s whip. The leather wrapping itself around his neck, the woman jerking it with all her might, letting out a cry until Harwin fell to the ground. A sight that shocked her nephews, all standing wide eyed with their mouths agape.

They didn’t call her the Daring for nothing.

That was when the Whitecloaks seized him, taking four of them to drag the knight away from Cole. “Say it again!” He seethed, spit flying from his mouth. “Say it again!” Daerra marched up to Cole, surprising him with her strength as she hauled him to his feet. Dizziness filling his vision.

“How dare you speak freely and make that suggestion in front of them,” By her tone, Cole feared he was about to get a second beating. “Go to the maester, you fucking imbecile,” she didn’t care if he was concussed, thrusting him in the opposite direction, making him stumble. And seeing he was in no mood to argue, Cole obeyed, heading to the maester and left Daerra to clean up his mess.

Turning to where Harwin struggled in the arms of the guards, she bit the inside of her cheek. “Release him.” Once unhanded, Daerra stepped up to the knight, voice low. “Commander, I do not fault you for the rage you just displayed, but It is disappointing you let yourself go so easily--allowing the Princes to be exposed.” Sharply inhaling, she drew her gaze around the yard, displeased to find most in hushed conversation. Not hiding the way they watched the two and eyed the boys.

Daerra motioned to where his father stood, pale face with fear at what this meant for his house. “You are dismissed.” Turning on her heel, she picked up the discarded swords and threw them onto the rack. “That is it for today,” she called to the boys, who stood like lost sheep waiting to be herded. Jace more so than the others, holding back tears as he was old enough to understand the implication Cole had revealed. “To your chambers--or wherever your Lady mothers need you. Go.”

To say everything changed that day would be an understatement. Harwin was relieved of his position, and ordered to return to Harrenhal, leaving the boys heartbroken. Daerra, exhausted from the events of the day, found herself using the hours before dusk to ride Cannibal. Sensing her distress, the dragon flew for miles, passing Driftmark and circling Dragonstone.

Caressing the scales of her beloved friend, Daerra succumbed to her thoughts. Letting her anxiety and fears come to the surface instead of masking them. The only witness being the dragon who’d never judge her. Only share her feelings.

“Nyke gīmigon, issa raquiros, nyke gīmigon.” She stroked Cannibal’s rough scales. I know, my friend, I know. A grumble filled her ears, Daerra’s slightly curled up then dropped to a frown. “Nyke feel ziry tolī.”

I feel it too.

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lightdancer1 · 1 year ago

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I haven't gone into it as much yet:

But one bit that I actually like to explore is that as unpleasant a tragedy as it is, the existence of Daniel Dream ends up actually being somewhat healthier at least for him and the Endless that he's close to. I elect to disregard any canon not written by Neil himself featuring Daniel, and with Daniel Dream and Death it stems from a simple thing that the two have in common that she did not with Morpheus, while replacing what he and she both had in common (namely a deep blend of depression and discontent with life buried in two equally toxic ways behind a chasm of poor communication).

Daniel Dream does not put Death on the pedestal that Morpheus did, so they have actual communication, not assumptions in the 'make an ass out of u and me' aspect, and the two are both the most human and the most humanized of the Endless. And ironically because of this Daniel more than any other can see through the various masks Death makes, creating an irony for a while where some of the dynamics invert.

Daniel becomes kind of a return of the earlier days of Dream as an artisan-king content to create and less obsessed with the realities of rule, Death seeks to hide her feelings and her problems and it doesn't work and she's not accustomed to dealing with that or someone who both cares and due to that greater humanity refuses to leave her alone to (not) deal with things the way Morpheus did.

The flip side is that Daniel Dream ends up with ultimately a harsher relationship with Desire when he figures out Desire's role in the death of his previous aspect, amplified by the reality that Desire finally really did kill him and thus it becomes a mirror of Death and Despair in that the two interact at times in family meetings and seldom since, with Desire getting what they wanted in monkey's paw fashion. They won the prank war, essentially, and Dream acknowledges that.....and they have even less time with their sibling than they did before and no-one to blame but themself.

It also hinges, too, on the ideas that Dream was changing anyway with or without the fishbowl, and that a Dream who changes without dying incorporates some of the best aspects of Daniel Dream while retaining the aesthetics of Morpheus. *But* if he remains Morpheus he also retains the flaw that his older sister is this perfect ideal being on a pedestal when the real Death is never anything close to this, and where her own problems remain locked behind barriers he never sees nor acts upon.

The Death and Dream sibling relationship in its Morpheus and Death incarnation is anything but healthy, and in the beginning as I write it, at least, their dynamics switched and it ultimately boils down to Death being that brittle and aloof figure and Dream (and Destruction, who was always there at work but never really as a brother and it takes the two far too long to realize that and too late) is the only one who actively tries to reach out to her.

Delirium/Delight does, too, but in the end Death in her sorrow and then her aloofness is too withdrawn and she very much is still parentified with Delirium which creates most of their friction.

Pretty much all of my Sandman stories hinge around Death as the protagonist (though I like to do a trick where key moments in one POV are seen in the eyes of others because the story will loop back around to that POV and that moment and in that particular instance it gives away too much to have it there). The Endless as siblings and their blend of eldritch entities and people are all dysfunctional and the dysfunction all works vastly differently.

Death is not Dream, and her sibling relationships are not those of Dream. Nor is her relationship to the idea of being an Endless the same, as I've gone into before. She can and does give up her power for 24 hours and truly dies, and is the Endless accordingly who has truly died most. Dream copes with his problems in dramatic and flamboyant ways, Death digs in in denial and in letting the pressure cooker draw nearer to the explosion and then finally erupting when it never really had to do that in the first place.

The differences in that (and the similarities) inform much of how she interacts with Morpheus and Delirium, the two of her siblings she spends the most time with, and everything with her and Destruction.

#death of the endless #dream of the endless #daniel hall #sandman fanfic #sandman meta #delirium of the endless

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darlingkirstein · 6 months ago

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Fuck I’m sorry I meant king Viserys from house of the dragon, not GOT’s Viserys

no don't be sorry!!! there's so many repeat names in the targaryens so not your fault at all!!

1. Why do you like or dislike this character?

viserys is really complicated for me. i want to like him because he has good intentions and seems like a good individual — and a decent king — but his indecisions and less-than-ideal fatherly affections with his children with alicent are difficult to ignore, because these are the traits that fuel the dance of the dragons. he almost pretends his other children don't exist — all his attention is on rhaenyra (who, i adore, but his other children deserved a father, too).

2. Favorite canon thing about this character?

he tries to avoid conflict. he wants everyone to be happy, to get along and be a proper family. even if he's unsuccessful mostly, i appreciate that he wanted the family to co-exist happily.

3. Least favorite canon thing about this character?

him choosing to kill aemma for the sake of birthing baelon really disturbed me. i cannot forgive the way she was screaming in agony as they cut into her, giving her zero agency.

4. If you could put this character in any other media, be it a book, a movie, anything, what would you put them in?

succession. just to see how he handles an even more dysfunctional family dynamic than his own. i feel like he reminds me of connor 😭😭

5. What's the first song that comes to mind when you think about them?

this is tough for me?? lyrically at least. i'll take the easy way out and go with the score for when he enters the throne room to defend rhaenyra!! such a sweet scene it makes me tear up 😿😿

18. How about a relationship they have in canon with another character that you admire?

daemon!! their relationship is so interesting to me — its contentious but when it matters, they are there, sticking their necks out for each other.

19. How about a relationship they have in canon that you don't like?

him and his children other than rhae 😭 he just truly could not care about them, or doesn't make an effort to be a great father for them. i think if he was, the dance would've been much less likely, with less resentment toward viserys and a warmer relationship between rhaenyra and all her younger siblings.

20. Which other character is the ideal best friend for this character, the amount of screentime they share doesn't matter?

maybe corlys? OR RHAENYS. i love cousin relationships and i think rhaenys has a little more backbone than him which he probably needs, tho she would be angry because he's the reason that she isn't the queen of westeros.

#darlingkirstein asks #ask game #house targaryen #house of the dragon

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shinygemstone · 7 months ago

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sorry that you got threats!!

anyways uhhh ramble about your wip. i know you're writing something 👀

Bet.

So, I've been working on this thing for a while now. It's about a dysfunctional family (the mom is a terf and one of the kids is transmasc, which is the quickest summary of one of the ways they're all dysfunctional) and there's this fantasy world that serves as a metaphor for escapism, except I'm beginning to wonder if it's really the best way to go about it.

The central character, Tresta, is the youngest of the four, and is definitely in denial about her family. She's thirteen in the current wip, and thinks everything is normal. She complains about her parents to her friends, but her friends complain about their parents too, so she assumes everyone has trouble with their parents. The middle two siblings, Kassie and Luca (tboy) have fully accepted everything, and Luca wants to go no contact asap while Kassie wants to keep communication channels open with the dad because while he sucks and is a massive enabler and is actively cheating on his wife with her first love, he's not as bad as the mom.

Now, if I changed things, one key thing would be altered. The oldest sibling, Aria, would not have anyone think she's dead. Aria is the golden child, and would probably join an mlm, a cult, or become a tradwife because her mother unintentionally groomed her to be very susceptible to that sort of thing. Aria is very naive, even moreso than Tresta, who is eleven years younger than her. In the current wip, she found a portal to a fantasy world and got groomed by the king of one of the countries in that fantasy world, marrying him shortly after turning 18. Fun stuff. Aria is very silly because she's a victim, but she's not fully innocent. Aria pushed Luca into his role as the scapegoat and Tresta into her role as the forgotten child.

That, of course, leaves out Kassie. Kassie doesn't fit squarely into one of the three categories - her mother flips between neglecting her and getting mad at her for little stuff when she knows Aria is alive, and between doting on her Successful Little Girl and getting mad at her for little stuff when she doesn't. Kassie is also her father's favorite - he reasonably keeps his distance from Aria, is disappointed in Luca, and resents Tresta. Kassie is very aware of these dynamics. She loves her family and gets that they're all flawed human beings, and does her best to make sure things end well for them as much as possible, and is kind of Luca's lifeline.

Luca is so silly and transgender and mentally ill. He's meant to parallel Aria in certain ways. Luca was shielded from the world like Aria was until he came out, when he was branded as sick and delusional by his mother. Thankfully, the rest of the family was supportive and basically forced her to play nice. Still fucked him up though, especially since he lost his dad's support once he decided not to go to college. At this point in his life, he could either give up and go to college and rack up immense amounts of debt to please his dad or detransition to please his mom. Luca isn't a pushover, so he's doing neither, but it's hard to save money to leave when he's expected to do the lion's share of taking care of Tresta, as well as paying rent and buying his own gas and personal items. Man is also depressed, and his parents brush him off. Kassie tries to help, but she's a broke ass college kid, and Tresta is thirteen.

Speaking of Tresta, I never mentioned the fact that her conception nearly destroyed her parents' marriage. For context, the agreement when Ken (dad) married Penelope (mom) was three kids. Well, after Luca's birth, the two drifted apart, and when Luca was 4-5 they started trying to get closer and fucked more. Well, one day, they accidentally conceived another child. Ken wanted to abort Tresta. Penelope lost her shit. This wasn't the first bit of conflict between the two, but it was the one that ended up defining their marriage.

Point is I love these silly mentally ill bitches and will have lots of fun with whatever I decide to do with them <3

#ocs #original characters

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college-girl199328 · 2 years ago

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Prince Harry’s memoir has officially hit bookstores in the United Kingdom and elsewhere around the globe. Here in London, several retail chains opened their doors at midnight to allow eager readers to grab their copies before sunrise.

There have been plenty of revelations from leaks in the run-up to the chaotic launch of the past week, sometimes inflammatory, but they lacked the context of what’s now clear: Harry’s years-long frustration at playing second fiddle to his brother. His memoir reveals the full extent of his despair at playing the royal understudy to William and his treatment by certain family members and the wider institution.

Of events is an eye-opening account of a royal experience that, while perceived externally as luxurious and privileged, has also been traumatic and heartbreaking. Publisher Penguin Random House had promised “raw, unflinching honesty.” There was, and more besides.

The Duke of Sussex holds almost nothing back as he dismantles the public’s perception of him as the fun-loving, carefree party prince, delving into the devastating impact of his mother’s death, experimenting with drugs as a method of coping with grief, and his struggles at finding love.

It is scathing and hypercritical toward several family members, who are not defending themselves as the palace is not responding to the claims, despite Harry’s previous railing against the media for invasions of privacy.

The royal establishment, which may be internally aghast at Harry’s decision to air the family’s dirty laundry to the world, has been a wall of silence, with both Buckingham Palace and Kensington Palace repeatedly declining to comment.

The 410-page tome isn’t just scandalous bombshells about toxic family dynamics, though. Princess Diana is a looming presence throughout the book. We wonder what she would have thought, how she might have handled a situation, or the repercussions of her death on the boys.

Another theme is the lifelong sibling rivalry between Harry and William and how their positions as siblings have pulled them apart. Parts of the book feel like a hit job on William, but Harry has claimed that’s not his intention. He appears to be trying to show that his brother is partially a product of the dysfunctional distrust and competition that have been baked into the culture. He can recount instances where things have gotten heated and physical, but he also comes to his siblings for help.

Harry recalls how the papers were awash with stories about Willy, whom he characterizes as “obscene” and “grossly unfair.” William was not only “busy having children and raising a family,” Harry writes, but he was “still beholden to Pa (as King Charles is referred to throughout the book).”

The Duke of Sussex’s hatred of the tabloid press is evident throughout the book. He frequently details the invasive methods used by the paparazzi before dramatically claiming some of “the firm” fed negative stories to the media in efforts to curry favour with journalists for their own favourable coverage. He specifically calls out his stepmother Camilla as one believed to have engaged in such practices.

Some commentators are picking up on a few notable omissions in the book, particularly the furor that emerged after Harry and Meghan told Oprah there had been “concern” from within the family over the colour of their child Archie’s skin.

When asked by Anderson Cooper why it was in the book, Harry said the remarks had been misconstrued by the British media and that we believed that that comment, that experience, or that opinion was based on those responses. The key word was concern as opposed to how that press handled it; what they turned it into was not what it was. He and Cooper then discussed how he’d also said he would not discuss it further, and they moved on.

Harry may not want to expand on this issue, including the duke's failure to set the record when he has slammed his own family for not correcting inaccurate headlines in the tabloid press.

Some may say they aren’t interested in the British royal family drama or are growing tired of it, but “Spare” shot to the top of Amazon’s best sellers list upon its release. There wasn’t a rush at bookstores. Tuesday morning, CNN had piles of pre-orders ready to ship out. By Tuesday afternoon, its publishers claimed it was the fastest-selling non-fiction book ever, with 400,000 copies snapped up in hardback, ebook, and audio formats, Britain’s PA Media reported.

One thing is clear: the Sussexes are becoming increasingly divisive characters, and each new release or interview has reinforced critics.

Broadly speaking, here in the UK, there has been some incredulity over Harry’s stated desire to mend fences and that “none of anything I’ve written or anything I’ve included is ever intended to hurt my family,” as he told Cooper in a pre-release interview, while simultaneously releasing a book that both criticizes them and puts the monarchy in a very unflattering light.

Brits polled by Savanta on the eve of the book release did not trust Harry's depiction of his experience in the royal family; they did not trust Harry to do so in his book, while 39% said they did trust him.

Younger people (18-34-year-olds), those who said they voted for Labour, the liberal opposition party, in the last election, and those who described themselves as republicans rather than monarchists were those who said they trusted Harry.

CNN royal historian Kate Williams says Harry’s account tarnishes the monarchy and raises questions about its structure.

The family rift also threatens to overshadow the biggest royal event of the year: King Charles III’s coronation in May. In an interview promoting his book, Harry was noncommittal about whether he and Meghan would attend.

Planning for the event should be well underway, with the big day fast approaching. It would go against the spirit of the occasion to exclude anyone, especially family members like the Sussexes or Prince Andrew, who was forced to step down from royal duties amid a sexual abuse scandal last year.

She adds that he should be there, and Charles would want Meghan to be there, and she recalls that many were thrilled to see the couple return for the Queen’s Platinum Jubilee last summer.

No one from the palace has said the Sussexes are not invited, so it is assumed that for now they remain on the guest list. The decision to come and celebrate with the new sovereign is then theirs.

Hardman, one of Britain’s most acclaimed royal biographers, distills the Queen’s life into a study of dynastic survival and renewal as she guided the monarchy into the modern age.

Kelly worked for the Queen for 25 years, first as Her Majesty’s senior dresser and then as her personal adviser. In this book, replete with photographs and charming anecdotes, Elizabeth gave Kelly her blessing to share their bond with the world.

Dimbleby, the veteran British broadcaster, and Charles wrote their biographies of the future king in the early nineties. It details how Charles was preparing for his separation from Diana and his future vision of the monarchy.

Diana was one of the first members of the family to speak candidly about life inside the institution. When it was first published, this biography rocketed to the top of bestseller lists, forever altering the British monarchy.

Harry’s is not the only memoir of a “spare” heir. Princess Margaret, the Queen’s sister, was one of the most controversial royal figures.

In this autobiography, the Queen’s cousin details her life in the Scottish aristocracy. Born into a Downton Abbey-style household, Rhodes later served as lady-in-waiting to the Queen Mother and was at her bedside when she died.

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veliseraptor · 2 years ago

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Top 5 fictional siblings!

oh boy oh man. I feel like I've probably answered this one previously but I don't feel like going digging for it right now so you get to read me talking about at least some of the same relationships again

1. Yunmeng Siblings. God! What a mess! Truly a deeply codependent trio with intertwining and sometimes clashing issues and communication problems! I love them. Like...god, no joke, I'm pretty sure it was the Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian relationship specifically that actively hooked me emotionally and that kinda continued to be true (and is definitely true now as one of my major points of emotional connection), but then Jiang Yanli in there and the dynamic with her added? The role she plays in mediating, her self-effacing-ness, the way she is, I think, trying to make herself small in part to offset the drama swirling around the other two and also just generally to avoid conflict? The "older sister taking on vaguely parental role" vibes? I just...love them. And all their fucked up mess.

2. Shi Wudu & Shi QIngxuan. I feel like I was less attached to this as a dynamic on my first read and got more into it on reread because again - say it with me - it's a mess. Shi Wudu's overprotective, somewhat controlling relationship to Shi Qingxuan born clearly out early fear and anxiety about her doomed status but now manifesting in disapproval and judgment, and the tension between Shi Qingxuan's freewheeling, carefree nature and her desire to please her brother...and maybe most of all the way that the fact that they love each other too much ultimately condemns both of them. Shi Wudu refuses to make a decision that will hurt Shi Qingxuan. Shi Qingxuan again and again refuses to turn away from her brother even after she knows what he's done. I'm suffering about it.

3. Felix & Mildmay. Remember when I was 13 and read Melusine and possibly was a little young for it but latched onto it so hard and got really, really invested in the relationship between Felix and Mildmay in all its fucked up codependent messy glory? Yeah, that was a thing and it hasn't changed. Beautiful disasters. and like...I feel like in some ways Mildmay's love and devotion to Felix goes without saying (it's not always good for him!) but I was just looking back through my blog and found the part where Felix answers someone judging his relationship with Mildmay at the end of the first book by saying that he is "down in the gutter. With him." and boy!!! for a character who so ruthlessly distances himself from his gutter history in every possible way...that's a lot.

4. Richard & Lymond. Feel like this whole post could be titled "what a mess! they love each other very much but what a mess! and that's definitely also true here. Like from The Game of Kings classic "I will bring him to you on his knees, weeping, and begging to be killed" through...everything in Checkmate tbh...augh. It's almost always Lymond making things harder, also, but Richard just...can never quite walk away from him.

5. As usual I waffled on my fifth but I ended up going with the Sons of Feanor as a whole. A little bit of a different dysfunction because I think their dysfunction is less with each other (though increasingly the 'us against the world' thing probably...isn't super healthy) but more with. the extended family and also the world. But boy do I love a borderline pathologically loyal group of siblings dedicated to a hopeless cause that they kinda know is hopeless but it's happening anyway! and they all die miserably except one who lives miserably! That is, as the kids say, the good shit.

Honorable mention does have to go to Thor and Loki, who do own the tag "tragic siblings" on this blog.

#conversating #chilled ice cubes #top five meme #extremely belatedly

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juniperhillpatient · 2 years ago

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The Avatar State Re-Watch

Watching this episode is really stressful because I have to pretend I care about what's happening in the plot & with all the characters as if it's not the episode when my personal Blorbo of All Time is introduced.

(Yes I got excited about the flashback, & the end of Book 1 as well. Her Royal Highness Princess Azula is just that special that she gets three Offical Introductions™ okay)

Anyway...

Okay, so, the Gaang is heading for Omashu where Aang is planning to learn earth bending from King Bumi. That's when we meet one of the most unpleasant side characters of the show. Boo, Fong, me & all my homies hate Fong. Right after we learn about the nightmares that Aang is having about the power he wielded during the Siege of the North Part 2 while in the Avatar State/soul bonding with the ocean spirit, this asshole uses peer pressure to try to force Aang into the Avatar State again to defeat Ozai.

I had honestly forgotten that the show does a decent job of exploring Aang's fears regarding his own power. This episode is where we see that he's becoming affected not just by the burden of his responsibility, but by fear of what he's capable of. A big criticism I've had so far along this re-watch is that the Gaang is continuously responsible for the deaths of Fire Nation soldiers - 'Imprisoned,' 'The Northern Air Temple,' & 'The Siege of the North Part 2,' are the biggest examples so far, yet Aang is shocked & horrified at the thought of killing Ozai in Book 3. This is not because I'm on team "Aang should've killed Ozai," again, I just think the show can be hypocritical about the whole "no-kill" rule. That said - I think this episode comes close to handling the issue well, & it certainly does a good job of exploring Aang's inner motivations & fears. Aang is terrified of the amount of power he wields, & not just because of this great responsibility he has, but because the Avatar State can be quite destructive. He's having nightmares about what he did during 'The Siege of the North Part 2,' he's struggling with reconciling this scary destructive force with his own nature as a pacifist, & also just a kid.

Katara & Aang's conflict in this episode is pretty engaging because both sides make sense. While Aang ultimately realizes that 1. Fong is an insane asshole & 2. Fong is wrong that the Avatar State is the only way to win this war - it makes sense for him to consider Fong's arguments at the start. After all, on a logical basis, they are running out of time for Aang to learn the four elements. On Katara's side, we have her knowledge that discipline & hard work are the way to master the elements & her care for Aang as a person, not just the Avatar. It's a well-done conflict & we ultimately realize that Aang needs to master the elements on his own. Oh, & we get the fun little info from Rokku about the Avatar's potential destruction. I'm sure that won't be important later! I'll be honest, I don't love what they did with Sokka in this episode. After a lot of development in Book 1 & experiencing a devastating loss in the season finale, Sokka is back to being the comedic relief with no real inner conflict of his own as of this episode which is a bit disappointing. I did like him bonking Fong on the head though.

So, Book 2 has a new villain to be More Eviller & Scarier™ than Zuko & Iroh now that Zhao has been sucked into Hell where he belongs. I'm sure this is a villain I'll be completely normal about. But she sure does have an iconic introduction!

I just feel like Azula's level of badassery can never actually be underappreciated.

The Fire Hazard Siblings reunite in this episode & it's crazy to think that 2 years ago I was watching this cartoon thinking "this is a kinda interesting dynamic, hm" & now I still care a completely normal amount about these dysfunctional evil siblings in a kid's cartoon & I definitely don't spend 28 hours a day 366 days a year thinking about the stupid imperialist family of assholes.

Anyway, Azula shows up & Zuzu is filled with joy to be reunited with his baby sister. Not. Zuko greets Azula with disdain even without knowing her intentions, which is interesting because he's pretty ready to trust her. Iroh is mistrustful from the get-go, which makes a lot of sense because he knows his brother & he knows this probably isn't the reconciliation mission Azula is claiming. Zuko's attitude toward Azula is unrelated to whether he trusts her. We saw in 'The Siege of the North Part 2' that Zuko has a hate boner for *ahem* is harboring a hell of a lot of resentment for his sister. He thinks everything comes easy for her. He sees her as having taken his father's affection, something he is desperate to obtain. So, right off the bat, we have some extremely complicated & fascinating family dynamics at play.

Azula gets a lot of praise for "do the tides command this ship" & she absolutely should because it's an iconic & terrifying introductory speech BUT I think MY personal favorite Azula moment in this episode is when the wool is pulled from Zuko's eyes & he yells "you lied to me!" & she responds "like I've never done that before?"

This is where the mask is lifted - but only partially. Azula isn't one of my favorite characters of all time for nothing - this girl has so many layers to explore. There's the calculated politician who is always playing a mind game & never telling the truth - that's who we see at the start. Then there's the mean & twisted bully who immediately starts insulating & belittling Zuko once the gig is up, playing at his worst insecurities to get under his skin by reminding him that their father sees him as pathetic & a failure. Later, we'll meet the scared & lonely girl hiding deep down, but she's buried pretty deep, so not yet.

Azula & Zuko's fight is just iconic. We get to see both of their fighting styles & how they work against each other as well as Azula using her keen ability to get under Zuko's skin, something only a sibling could do so effectively even after years apart. Zuko is an aggressive fighter, while we see Azula deftly dodging his attacks more often than fighting back, even choosing to scratch him rather than burn him - which is a tiny hint at something more going on under the surface - Azula doesn't want to kill her brother. This claim doesn't come with some great declaration that Azula is actually a softie, I just think that she's an incredibly skilled fighter & it's impressive to see the way she maneuvers to avoid doing worse damage than necessary to Zuko. She wants to take him prisoner, but not strike a killing blow herself.

At the end of the episode, we get a pretty significant moment from Iroh & Zuko. They severe their hair & their ties with the Fire Nation, cutting off their royal headpieces. This represents a pretty huge shift in their role in the story & I'm so excited about re-watching their journey & where they go from here!

#the avatar state #atla book 2 #atla re watch

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ladymorghul · 2 years ago

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Man, I love happy aus where somehow the dance is avoided, but when ever I think of it I'm always reminded of how young the kid characters are. Like even aegons only 20 and he's the oldest. No one got to grow up or age past young adult.

It really makes u wonder how they'd have changed over the years. What they'd look like, how'd they grow as people if given the chance.

I want to know how aegon would deal with his own kids if they grew into teens like he was. Would aemond be nervous/ over protective if he ended up having a kid that was as obsessed with dragons as he was? How would he react if their dragon egg didn't hatch? Would Haelena try and have her daughter marry for love? Do the Strong boys end up looking even more like Harwin as they age? How would they feel about that?

I just want to see how these people would change and mature if they'd been given the chance.

there was something that really made me laugh about the "Do the Strong boys end up looking even more like Harwin as they age?" question because it almost sounds like drug commercial lol

but yeah, i imagine it's normal to think of what would have been if the dance hadn't happened. it is after all a bloody civil war that almost wipes everyone out

tbh i think it really depends how the dance is avoided. either rhaenyra is named heir and nobody challenges her and she and alicent get along better and the kids grow closer to rhaenyra and they're all one semi happy semi dysfunctional family

or aegon is crowned king and rhaenya accepts the peace terms and caraxes eats daemon or something

kidding

i think there would be a need for a change in the relationship between alicent and aegon and otto and aegon for aegon to become more present in his family. and either he stays a drunk absent father who doesn't hate his children but who's absence causes them harm anyway or has a revelation that he doesn't want to turn into some kind of viserys and actually does more to be present as a father at least if not a husband too

i think aegon, aemond, helaena and daeron would all look at the twins and maelor and it'd remind them of themselves as teens. it'd be kinda wholesome

i think aemond would def be quite protective of their own kid, but not about dragons. that man would take his 1 year old baby and give them a ride on vaghar. it's sorta like you can trust me and my bond with my pet but other people stay tf away. mostly because there's just a limited number of people he trusts since he saw that even his sister showed contempt for him. so if he's with the ones he trusts, he's relaxed (tho he is the kind of dad who always keeps his eye on his kid just to be sure of where they are). definitely think he'd be super excited to pick an egg for his kid (esp since he and his siblings didn't have one) and he'd be super excited to see it hatch and see the bonding process between his kid and the dragon baby <3

the idea that halaena would want her daughter to marry for love really hit me. i think maybe she'd want that for all of her kids, but there would be something personal about her daughter. that would be nice. a change finally.

i'll be honest, i didn't read the books so i know nothing about this dynamic other than what i've seen on here and it's very little but i am intrigued about the idea of aegon iii and jaehaera navigating life together as two traumatized children (tho idk much about aegon iii), but at the same time i hate this idea because imagine being married to the son of the man who killed your twin and destroyed your family. that sounds horrible i reckon it's hard not to think it when you look at them. but again idk anything about this dynamic. like anything.

tbh i'd think if there wasn't any dance they wouldn't have been so upset about it. jacaerys seemed okay with it and wanted to attend his father's funeral. like in the dance it matters because lucerys is realizing that he is in fact getting a seat that's quite not his.

#asks

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saphirered · 4 years ago

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Hey! I hope you’re doing well. You’re writing is always great and I get excited when I see you’ve posted something new. Would you consider writing a little something with platonic Caduceus and reader where they have similar personalities and interests, but different backgrounds? Maybe the reader doesn’t have any family to speak of? I’m open to any character class or race :) thank you!

I’m doing well. I’m glad you like my writing and thank you. It’s really nice to hear people get excited when I post new things. I never expected people to like it at all 🙈. I hope you like the way this one turned out 😘

You were typical city folk. Born and raised in the heights of civilisation; the pride and joy of the Law Bearer Erathis herself. Raised at the temple of the Raven Queen as a foundling the clergy were the only parental figures you knew and they were hardly parents. Your relationship with them is less of a parent-child dynamic. They were your caretakers and supported which is more than a lot of people can say but you missed out on parental pride, love and the ability to confide in someone in such a way. You missed out on the relation with siblings. No running around the hallways of the temple, no secrets between just you and them, no protective older sibling or a younger one that gets away with everything. You had no weird aunt or uncle to tell you ridiculous stories or take you on adventures every so often like the books you’d read as a child.

Your childhood never bothered you because it was good and happy, just in a different way. You found a mother figure in the Matron. You’d get dreams sometimes, waking up with a single black feather on your pillow. She gave you an appreciation of all things living. Death is a sacred thing but it’s the life that counts. You made it your goal to nourish that what needs a little extra attention and preserve what can be saved before its time, conforming to the natural order. The Matron of Ravens taught you death is just as sacred as life and so you valued it and vowed to upkeep her commandments and preserve that natural order of life and death.

As a child you spent much time within the public parks and gardens. You had an affinity unrivalled. Making flowers blossom in spring and keeping the branches and roots healthy during the colder months, curing diseases, healing ailments as well as returning to the earth what once came from it upon the passing. When you were old enough these habits carried over to ‘living things’; a term you had to disagree with because all that grows lives. You became part of the clergy and continued your life within the temple of the Raven Queen.

You were never confined to the temple life. Your work took you far and wide, your expertise wanted by the many. You had tended to the ailments of kings as you had commoner, treating no different. You had tended to the pristine gardens of royalty as you had the fields of a farmer. In the eyes of the natural order all lives are equal in the end and so you treated them in life.

When a group of strangers came knocking at your door looking for an expert you were surprised by the colourful bunch on your doorstep but heard them out regardless. You were faced with the story of a cursed forest, a sanctuary of the natural order to be disturbed, a family missing and a new one found. A story of beacons of endless stars, possibilities and souls of the preserved to be reborn, conflict, war and death. Stories of salvation, resurrection, a fight to preserve the natural order and save the lives of the many. Stories far and wide yet to be told.

You were needed. Your expertise was needed and when a raven landed on your windowsill staring at you, studying you and awaiting your response you knew it was time to leave behind the life you knew and venture into a strange new world of adventure and the unknown. How could you turn them down? Your help was needed and while the venture might be a bit longer and much riskier than your usual ones, the task remained the same. You’d travel with the Mighty Nein for a while and aid them for however long they needed you.

You grew to love the Mighty Nein like the family you never had but you have to say from the very beginning you felt a natural gravitation towards the colourful firbolg, a radiance akin to that of the life you vowed to preserve. Caduceus did not hide he felt a same sort of gravitation towards you. The two of you were often paired together on watches or went out together to stock up on supplies for the road, spell components and the likes. The two of you while at first glance are day and night, as your respective deities are when compared, but those who look closer know you are in a way, one and the same.

You’re sitting on the jungle floor eyes closed listening to the nocturnal critters make their way through, searching for food, hunting and finding their hideouts, burrows and nests before the sun rises and morning comes. A smile on your face, as you take everything in over the soft snoring and slight twisting and turning of some of the Nein. You hear someone sitting down next to you.

“Good morning.” You say peaking through one eye seeing the pink haired firbolg cup of tea in hand. The two of you had always been and probably always will be the early risers of the group. Old habits? Perhaps so.

“Ah, it is, isn’t it?” He offers you a cup of tea. You take it with a quick thanks blowing away the steam and cool it down a little before you take a sip. A good cup of tea never fails to wake you up properly.

“How are you feeling? Getting closer to where the Wild Mother has been sending you?” The two of you look out seeing the first light barely bleed through the trees. Caduceus waits a little before speaking, contemplating his answer. His brow furrows.

“I’m unsure.” Caduceus mentally retreats just a little bit, watching his expression you can see the thoughts rush through his head. You know he worries for his family and how you might find them. A lot is unsure at these times. You can only hope for the best and prepare for the worst but you have faith.

“You’re worried, for your family. For what might have become of them?” He gives you a bit of a smile and nods. It’s clear Caduceus hasn’t directly been faced with the notion of mortality in this sense close to home whereas in any other situation he’d be fine.

“I’ve been waiting to see them for a long time. While I trust the Wild Mother’s path, I can’t help but find myself doubting if they are well.” You try to find a way to best approach his concerns and ease his mind. The words of comfort either of you would offer to those coming into your respective places of worship do not apply to this situation nor would they be particularly helpful. You’re not dealing with the dead, just the possibility of death of loved ones.

“You trust her path and you believe she’s at your side?” You ask deep in thought as a light breeze rushes through out of nowhere. The Wild Mother must be listening. Caduceus relaxes a bit more knowing she’s there. Despite what some may think, the breeze may just tell you what you need to know.

“Yes. I believe so.” He smiles watching the leaves blow, the breeze being carried away into the distance of the early morning jungle, a couple of birds scattering as it comes along.

You take a moment, close your eyes and reach out your senses sending a little prayer to the Raven Queen. You’re met with a sense of warmth, a soft cawing of a raven flying away and a small light in the darkness.

“Then they’ll be alright in the end. I don’t sense my Matron’s presence in relation to you. You’ll be reunited with your family once more.” You interpret the signs she shows you. While they might not be a certainty you have faith she would not let you down.

“That’s nice.” You return to staring into the jungle in comfortable silence for a while.

“What do you miss the most? About home and your family I mean.” You ask a bit out of the blue but you couldn’t help yourself wondering with everything drawing closer and the uncertainty of how you’ll find the Stone family, and what you’ll encounter there.

“Old habits. The people. The simplicity of life. I’d say the piece and quiet but that wouldn’t be entirely true. Just different kind of noise. You know what I mean.” Caduceus reminisces, dopey smile returning at the memory of his family. You’ve heard some of the tales of his shenanigans when it comes to his siblings. He’s confided in you and you vowed to keep those a secret. Who knew Caduceus could be quite the prankster?

“I don’t actually. I never had a family like yours. The Mighty Nein is the closest I’ve ever gotten to the meaning of a family.” You look over to the sleeping shapes. You wouldn’t trade them for the world but can’t deny it’s still not the same. The others can attest to that.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I apologise if I offended you.” You smile at him. You’d stated before you loved your found ‘family’, the clergy but they were never your real family. It just hadn’t come up your dynamic with them was not the same as a more typical even dysfunctional family.

“It’s quite alright. I never knew my birth family. I knew the clergy at my temple and that’s alright. I always wondered what it would be like to have parents to confide in, siblings to spend time with, perhaps even share interests with and people who love me unconditionally, people like me but also not. Do you get what I mean?” Caduceus nods in agreement and thinks for a second.

“I understand. Though you might come to take back the part about wanting to spend more time with siblings. They’ll grow on you like ivy in places you don’t want it.” He laughs a little and you join him.

“They can’t be that bad.” You joke the both of you laughing as quietly as you can trying not to wake the others up.

“I’d love to meet your family. From what you’ve told they’re wonderful.”

“They are, in their own ways but don’t tell Calliope I said that.” Caduceus bumps your shoulder and you bump back finishing the last of your tea. You’ve heard enough tales of Calliope to know you better not tell her or she might never let Caduceus forget he admitted it so openly to someone else outside of the family.

“I’m sure they’d like you too. If you wanted to you could come back to the Blooming Grove with us one day. Clarabelle always wanted another sibling. She thinks Calliope is a bit too stoic. The two of you would make great friends.” Caduceus finishes his tea and you’re a little taken aback. You look for any kind of jest. He must be joking right?

“You’re serious?” Caduceus laughs a little at your reaction.

“Unless you don’t want to. I think you’ll fit in right along. Our ancestor used to be a champion of the Raven Queen. She might appreciate the return of a new Clay. Not by blood but by heart.” You recall the story he once told about the champions Stone, Dust and Clay of the Matron. You feel a pull in your heart out of nowhere and swear you hear a raven’s caw in the back of your mind. She’d be satisfied.

“I’d like that very much if they’ll have me.” With Caduceus reassurance his family would very much like you and get along with you you’d see where this would go. Perhaps you would become an unofficial Clay. Your friends are just your chosen family after all so why should it be different?

You’ll see where your path leads and you’ll stick with Caduceus until either of you grow tired of each other. Not that either of you see that happen. You’ve grown thick as thieves to the point where you could call yourselves siblings. If the two of you claiming yourselves siblings extends into his family then you’d love nothing more.

A place. A purpose. A home. You’ll have to put the world back into tune first but once the Matron and the Mother call you both home you’ll stick to the path until homeward bound you both be. Both of you lost in thought come to the same conclusion. Caduceus pours the both of you some new tea, cooling it down a bit you both take a sip.

“That’s nice.” You say in unison watching the nocturnal critters go to sleep and the early risers come out and go about their daily business.

#critical role x reader #mighty nein x reader #critrole x reader #caduceus x reader

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notbecauseofvictories · 4 years ago

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So anymore thoughts on Umbrella Academy season 2?

I’m not sure I have thoughts, but I had a good time watching it! I feel like this season took pains to emphasize the dysfunctional family dynamic, which worked spectacularly for me---throwing characters together in various combinations, all the tragicomedy of their reunions, plus the main characters’ new, fun awareness that they operate in a nonsense universe with extremely ridiculous rules that make no sense and it’s fine, okay, it’s not like they were functioning human beings anyway. Plus there’s a very specific pleasure in watching a bunch of characters acknowledge the rules of their universe are dumb, yes, but their siblings make it worse.

It seems like everyone got more interesting. I found Alison much more compelling in season 2, in no small part due to Yusuf Gatewood giving her so much to work with. I liked Five in season 1 but he got even more scenery to chew on in season 2, which suited me. (The character has Artemis Fowl vibes and I dig it.) Also I’m not sure who in the writers’ room realized that pairing Diego and Luther together was the key to making both of those characters more interesting, but extreme kudos to them. I didn’t care about either of them in season one---but I loved Low-Rent Batman and the King of Daddy Issues Try to Solve A Mystery!

And then it still makes time for horrible, gutpunch scenes like when the Academy kids confront their father, only for him to eviscerate them and their pretensions.

....as a final note, it was deeply funny to me that after a single season the writers gave up any pretense of Vanya being straight.

#remember how my taste in movies and tv shows is exclusively subjective #yes I feel like you should remember that right now #I have taste in literature #my taste in visual media is ''do I like it y/n''#I liked it it was fun #I have very few further thoughts #umbrella academy #Anonymous

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stirringwinds · 5 years ago

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I was just curious if you see Arthur and Alfred's relationship as one of those who publicly despise each other (as often implied by most complex father-son relationships) who secretly care about the other? Like they can trash-talk each other till blue in the face, but if a mortal or country should say something they each have their own way of defending their horrible son/terrible father?

good question! i see it varying through the ages—their relationship has evolved quite a bit with time. these are my headcanons:

1. alfred is probably most vocal and public about how much he hates his old man during the american revolutionary war, the war of 1812 and at various points during the american civil war (think the trent affair). father is out to undermine him, is gleefully watching and hoping he fails! From arthur’s perspective, man. The american revolutionary war? That ungrateful wretch! Publicly, arthur goes from ‘that fool will learn his lesson and realise he is nothing without me’ to more like ‘oh whatever, I’m bloody glad he’s disowned himself.’ (king george sure bitched about the americans that way to his prime minister lol). But internally? Shit, Arthur’s got this tumultuous mixture of fury, humiliation and dismay. Ungrateful, treasonous wretch or not, Alfred is his eldest son. the one he’d poured various hopes and expectations into. By god, he even allowed himself to get emotionally invested—but…arthur’s a really prideful person. Showing that alfred’s actions have affected him that way? Weakness! So publicly, he’s casually contemptuous of any mention of alfred for a while. If someone spoke badly of alfred during those times he’d probably agree.

2. During other parts of the 19th & entire 20th century? Publicly despise isn’t quite how I’d describe it despite their dysfunctional dynamic. They start mellowing a little. It’s like—once alfred is more secure as a world power, he’s pretty amiable to sitting down and having a drink with his father. They talk more without arguing. Alfred’s more…irreverent of Arthur rather than publicly hating him. (‘not dead yet eh, old man?’). Arthur’s not good at expressing affection healthily—but his snipes at Alfred lose some of their genuinely resentful edge. It’s like, over breakfast alfred will cheerily remind him how he shot Arthur’s jaw back off at Yorktown, and Arthur’s just snorting like yeah lucky shot there, don’t be insufferable Alfred I haven’t even had a drink and lord knows I usually need 3 to tolerate you. And that’s just how they roll. Though if someone badmouthed Arthur and his empire, tbh I don’t see Alfred necessarily defending him mainly because the 20th century is also where there’s a power struggle between them both for what the world should look like after WW1 and WW2. A rivalry. As far as Alfred’s concerned, Arthur is clinging on to a decaying colonial empire while he’s an idealist who envisions something different that a sclerotic empire like his father can’t. He’ll remake a better world in his image, and not even his father will stop him (also: pax americana. Open markets. Autarkic empires like his father’s stand in the way of that.)

3. Still, it’s a situation where going to war against his father is no longer such a real thing he’ll contemplate unlike when he was younger. I’d say Alfred’s somewhat improved r/ship with Arthur is shown more in action than words when shit is really going down. So, like WWI. Alfred’s so tempted to be all ‘goddamnit it’s not my problem’ but he does, in the end throw his weight in. Similarly with WWII before Pearl Harbour: he’s very adamant about not helping. (‘what did we get for the last war? all those millions I sent to bleed? another war!’) but he does bend laws and move heaven and materiel to throw the old man a lifeline (it’s not an understatement that the allies would’ve been fucked without Lend Lease). But otherwise? He’s always here for the old man being roasted, especially by his siblings, lol. Hell, he and Arthur are also going to have one giant argument about Indian independence during WWII and Alfred’s not on Arthur’s side, as per the real US divide that existed with the UK over this. (imo Churchill’s perspective seriously over-romanticises the ”special relationship” and glossed over the concrete disagreements/rivalry that did exist) For Arthur? He’s torn between feeling somewhat resentful about how Alfred doesn’t even bother to hide how he’s fine with waiting to push the british empire down an entire flight of stairs after WWII—and this grudging sense of acknowledgement and pride. His foolish firstborn. Beat him at his own game. Well played, you wretched lad. Well played. You’re just like me, son.

4. Additionally: Arthur is much older than Alfred, so he probably does have more experience and time to parse out his feelings about his complicated relationship with his Beloved Firstborn™. Alfred on the other hand? He’s still pretty young. And one thing that he still absolutely hates is showing any sign of weakness in front of Arthur. Whereas Arthur in the 1940s—beyond a certain point—he doesn’t give a fuck about showing up a mess in a flowery bathrobe, with dark eyebags, insomnia and a glass of scotch. Bollocks to it all! Alfred? Oh no. He can’t. He’s obsessed with controlling his image and appearing strong and confident in front of Father. A strong touch of vanity and insecurity there. Which is why he absolutely hates it when Arthur shows up unannounced in December 1941 for the Arcadia Conference—and gets to see his face being a mess of ugly stitches and bandages. He’s grown up tall and strong. Stronger than his Father. But Arthur still has a way of getting under his skin that few others do, a way of making him feel the way he did as a little boy in the 17th century: vulnerable—and helplessly young.

#hetalia #aph america #aph england #garbagedad and trashson #hetalia headcanons #what has tumblr done to my read more lmao???? this hellsite

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heart-eye-harrington · 4 years ago

Text

frozen hearts don’t thaw overnight

(gif credits to @harringtown, thank you!)

Summary: After the break-up with Nancy, Steve isn’t sure how to spend his Sunday mornings. He finds himself in the diner you work at week after week

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: mentions of loneliness

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Steve found himself in a never-ending battle with the cold. He hated the goosebumps and stiffness that it brought. Regardless of how many layers he wore, the wind found its way to his skin, frozen fingers running down his spine. No matter how many people he surrounded himself with, he always felt the coldness in their hollow laughs. He could turn on every light in his house, but, the shadows of simpler times lingered in the corners. His house was too big, any warmth dissipated in its sheer volume.

Nancy was a candle, a small and steady flame that provided warmth and light. She was a comfort, someone who listened and paid attention. She invited him over for family meals that took place in a house full of life. The Wheeler house never felt empty, filled with Mrs. Wheeler’s homemade meals and genuine questions, sibling banter and occasional laughter, Holly’s wide eye gaze, and Mr. Wheeler’s unsolicited advice. As dysfunctional as the whirl-wind was, it the warmest Steve felt.

The small flame burned for a while, long enough for Steve to get used to it. With a single breath, it was blown out.

A single word, bullshit.

It had been months, but the frost she left behind could not be shaken. Steve woke up to an empty house. The January morning air waited for him outside of his comforter, pouncing into his bones after he shrugged off the thick blanket. Sleep did its best to linger, clouding his vision and trapping warmth under his skin so he wouldn’t freeze. Steve would pull whatever sweatshirt he threw on closer to him as he walked down the stairs, footsteps echoing with each step.

If this were months ago, he’d be rushing out the door, speeding off to Nancy’s house for Sunday brunch. He’d be glaring at Mike and trying whatever new breakfast casserole Mrs. Wheeler would subject him to. Nancy would give polite tight-lipped smiles, her hand would brush his bicep.

Now, all that waits for him is an empty kitchen and a barely stocked fridge. As much as he’d gotten used to being alone, to cooking half-way decent meals for himself, to silent lonely meals, he couldn’t take it anymore. He had to get out. So like a moth to a flame, he sought out warmth.

Steve grabs his keys off the hook and drives to the local diner.

It was perfect. He could sit at a stool, no need to awkwardly ask for a table for one, order some hot food, and people watch. Sunday mornings brought all walks of life to the eatery; older couples share sticky buns and black coffee, parents groan as their children spill maple syrup on freshly pressed church clothes, hungover teenagers laugh as they piece together the night before.

“Morning! What can I getcha?” A question plucks Steve from his wandering daze. He looks up to find your soft eyes. A white waitress hat, the one that resembles a paper boat, sits crookedly atop your head. He’s instantly entranced by your comforting energy, but realizes he can’t just soak it in, he needs to say something.

“Um, can I get…” Steve quickly tries to scan the menu, hoping something jumps out to him in the next few milliseconds, “uh, a coffee with cream and sugar?” He looks up to you with a sheepish expression, as if his request was somehow odd and unreasonable.

“Sure thing. Let me grab that, it’ll give you a bit more time with the menu.” you turn, off to get his coffee and a dish of cream cups and sugar. You’re gone just long enough to let Steve breathe and pick out his breakfast. You try not to over-analyze the somber energy that lingers around him as you set down the dishes and take his order.

You and Steve didn’t really run in the same circles. Of course you knew of him, he was the king of Hawkins High himself, but you hadn’t known this Steve. This Steve had sunken shoulders and anxious eyes. As his trips to your diner became more frequent, you’d hope the puzzle pieces would fall into place, but it seemed like the opposite was happening.

It was like watching a masterpiece flake away before your eyes. Every week more chips of paint would fall, the facade crumbling to reveal what was underneath, a sad and confused boy.

You did pick up little things about what was underneath. You saw how he took his coffee, drowned in cream and sugar, a tower of empty cream cups assembled during his every visit. He held his mug with two hands when it rested on the counter, as if trying to warm up frozen fingertips. Loud noises and dogs barking made him stiff, his grip tightening on whatever was in his hand. He always took his eggs with hot sauce and dipped his potatoes in whatever was left.

It seemed to be an especially harsh winter, not a week went by without flakes falling. Hawkins was covered in a thick blanket, the snow muffling and quieting the already sleepy town. Steve warmed despite the weather. After weeks of sitting silently, observing others from his own little world, he tried to bring you into it.

“Here is your ‘coffee’-” you laugh at the word, seeing as there was barely a drop of coffee amongst the cream and sugar, “and the number one. Need anything else?” You take your rehearsed pause you’ve learned to do after working here for so long. It was just enough time for patrons to look over what you delivered, or think of something they’ve needed since you last helped them.

“Some warmer weather.” Steve gives a small chuckle to hide some of the seriousness behind his words. It seemed to be an endless winter, but the diner was always warm. You’re used to sarcastic answers like that from patrons, but this was the first time Steve’s joked around with you.

“Well, l can call the weatherman, see if he can swing anything for ya.” If felt good to see a twinkle in his eyes, and not the distant grey that’s been plaguing them. He picks up his forks, pushing around some of his eggs. He shifts, taking a breath, contemplating his next moment.

“Has this seemed like an especially cold winter to you, too?” His gaze says on the plate, eyebrows knitted together, a small shake to his head. The lure was out, now to see if you’d humor him and bite.

“Hm, maybe. To be honest, I don’t quite mind it. You know how hot it gets in here by now,” you draw another laugh from him. It feels like the two of you practically live amongst the checkered floor and coffee rings on the counter. “But when I’m not rocking this killer uniform, I usually have on one of the sweaters I knit.”

A lopsided smirk pulls on Steve’s face, mischief flashing in his eyes. “You knit sweaters?” Steve’s smirk only widens as he notices you shift a bit, ready for your defensive words before they come.

“Ye-yeah. I do. What? It gives me something to do, and they’re warm.” You suddenly don’t know what to do with your arms, opting to cross them in front of your chest. In mere minutes the power dynamic has changed. Steve’s the one with witty comments while you’re left speechless. The sudden flip leaves you disoriented, and off to help other patrons.

Weeks continued to pass, but winter held Hawkins with a firm grip. Spring wouldn’t be coming soon, but the diner was 24/7. It was always warm, not just from the grills but from the people. You and Steve had warmed up to one another. Long gone were the days of observing, now you couldn’t get him to shut up. You often got in trouble for talking to him too often, your manager joking that he was getting special treatment.

The cold morning air still waited for Steve, but it didn’t seem to have the same edge. He was back to driving somewhere full of life and noise. Steve had found a place with smiling faces and people who cared about him again. He had a designated place to sit, where he’s expected and even anticipated.

“Moring!” his voice especially chipper this Sunday.

“Morning Steve!” you call from across the diner, scribbling his usual order on a ticket and handing it to the kitchen, not even needing to ask him what he wants. Before making your way behind the counter, you grab something from your bag.

“Here” you place the brown paper package on the counter, along with his ‘coffee’ and fixings.

“What’s this?” Steve raises his hands and eyebrows, eyes dancing from the string to your blushing cheeks.

“Just open in” you insist, both for his sake and your own. His fingers make quick work of untying the twine you used and tearing through the paper. Underneath is something forest green and soft. He unfolds it to find a hand-made sweater. It takes a few moments to process, a few passes of his fingers against the stitches for him to realize what this means.

“Did you make this, for me?” his question is soft as the snow outside the window.

“No, it’s for Donna,” you giggle, nearly blinded by the light in his eyes when he looks at you. They’re wider than you’ve ever seen them, yet somehow harder to read than ever. A million emotions are welling behind them. The ice on his heart has melted, thawed by a new candle.

“Thank you” is all he can say. It’s all-encompassing. Thank you for taking the time to make him a sweater, for helping him, for listening, for the food, for the laughs, for noticing him, for welcoming him, and for caring. He may be stuck in a never-ending battle with the cold, but now he had someone else on his team, and he was confident that they would be staying for a while.

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taglist: @kurtsbuckethat @harrington-ofhawkins @nxncywheeler @cececroft

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington imagine

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