#helaena coded

[rhaenyrasversion]

It's giving modern au where the greens go on vacation after viserys died

[tikhagurur]

Mentally, i’m still here...

[hotdaemondtargaryen]

THE QUEEN AND THE KING.

PHIA SABAN & TOM GLYNN-CARNEY in an interview together.

[bbygirl-aemond]

aemond: i can't have a child. i have too many responsibilities to ever be a father.

also aemond: helaena, don't forget your coat, it's cold outside. aegon, you'd better be back by ten; if you aren't, i'm coming to pick you up myself. daeron, i packed your lunch, it's by the door. and mother, please be ready by 11 for our visit to the sept.

[ruensroad]

bored doodles.

targaryens but they're stuck in lion king form

[outlawssweetheart]

I'm just a girl pondering my favorite autistic-coded characters. 😌 (And the characters who aren't exactly "coded," but I can see the vision. 😌)

[cottoncandiescupcakes]

Characters that cover their ears when startled or scared by violence and loud noises:

Helaena Targaryen from House of the Dragon

Elder Ho-Tan from Yonderland

The Swede from Our Flag Means Death

Anyone have more? As an autistic that does this since childhood I feel seen by them

[thedeadthree]

✧ — 𝐓𝐀𝐆 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄.

-`. 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 @carrionsflower and @loriane-elmuerto tytyy sm lori and airika!!!!! 🥀💌🐦‍⬛

✧ — 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓.

coffee or tea | early bird or night owl | chocolate or vanilla | spring or fall | silver or gold | pop or alternative | freckles or dimples | snakes or sharks | mountains or fields | thunder or lightning | egyptian mythology or greek mythology | ivory or scarlet | flute or lyre | opal or diamond | butterflies or honeybees | macarons or eclairs | typewritten or handwritten | secret garden or secret library | rooftop or balcony | spicy or mild | opera or ballet | london or paris | vincent van gogh or claude monet | denim or leather | potions or spells | ocean or desert | mermaids or sirens | masquerade ball or cocktail party

✧ — 𝐓𝐎𝐏 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐓.

𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 — bel canto.

𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐎 — nostalghia.

𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃 𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐊 — mannequin pussy.

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐀 — chappell roan.

𝐃𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐎𝐃𝐈𝐋 — florence + the machine.

— 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠:

@sunsofdawn, @pavus, @happilyobsessing, @girliefailure, @alvsanne

@auricfog, @jamessunderlandgf, @weisshaupts, @grapecaseschoices, @risingsh0t

@shellibisshe, @florbelles, @full---ofstarlight, @fenharel, @unholymilf

@aelyosos, @anoramactir, @roofgeese, @cloudofbutterflies92, @griffin-wood

@southernreaches, @chainsawsangel, @leviiackrman, @tethrras, @rosykims

@tommyarashikage, @carlosoliveiraa, @courtana, @lilywatt, @kroganloveinterest

@shadowsofrose, @celticwoman, @shadowsofrose, @dialdrunk, @kissingwookiees

@neonshrike, @confidentandgood, @lavampira, @adelaidedrubman, @imogenkol

@kanos, @deadrlngers, @elluvians and you!!!!!! 🥀💌<3

[sukibenders]

Me: Okay, I have homework and test to study for, so no distractions.

My brain: Okay but what if you got the sudden creative desire to write a HOTD fic that focuses on Alicent and studies her relationship to her faith and how that influences/ties into her relationships with her parents, Rhaenyra, and her children?

Me:

[helaenas-bug-art]

I wish I could better write down my thoughts because there’s something so interesting about Helaenas family not understanding her and writing her off versus now half the fandom not understanding her reaction during B&C

[nikosdaydreams]

TW: drawn on blood, not graphic

[moonshine999]

all the tales the same // told before and told again

a soul that's born in cold and rain// knows sunlight, sunlight, sunlight

and at last can grant a name // to a buried and a burning flame

as love and its decisive pain // oh, my sunlight, sunlight, sunlight

Helaena x Aegon : Sunlight By Hozier

[hotdaemondtargaryen]

“Actually, it’s kind of a fun coincidence. I actually love insects as well. My boyfriend, he did zoology at university, and he especially did his dissertation on crickets and, like, cricket song, which is so cool. I never had a sort of academic view of them, but I just grew up really loving insects. For me, particularly spiders. Yeah, my mum loves spiders, as well. When I was quite young, she just sort of drilled into me: 'You know, they’re definitely way more scared of you than you are of them.' Since then, I’ve always been really attached.”

phia saban talking about how she feels about insects personally.

[bbygirl-aemond]

alicent, to helaena: and PLEASE do not pull any stunts like you did last time. helaena: i made an offering! alicent: you dropped a MOUSE in your poor father's lap! helaena: yes, like a cat. alicent: you are not a cat, helaena. helaena, sighing: no. tragically, i am a woman.

[roseblossom143]

"Helaena stared dead in front of her. From one point. To another. Though she looked, she didn't quite see - her brain thrashing in her mind despite her frozen frame. She was not present - not quite - and the climbing sounds of voices only served to lock her in the prison of her own body.

She started rubbing the heel of her palm into her leg, into the fabric of her skirts. She tried to focus on the heat of the friction, on the back and forth movement, on the different threads of embroidery sliding unevenly against her feeling skin. She kept rubbing, back and forth. She exerted more pressure.

The friction. Back and forth. The embroidery. Keep rubbing. Back and forth. Embroidery. Friction. Pressure.

The noise wouldn't go away.

It wasn't working. It wouldn't go away. She kept rubbing.

They kept looking at her. They kept talking. They kept coming closer. It was so loud. It was so suffocating.

Her hand kept rubbing. She could no longer stare ahead. Her breath came quick and stuttering.

Nothing was working.

Her skin itched. Her body felt uncomfortable. It was as if something was in her chest, squirming and crawling throughout her veins, but could not escape even if it clawed its way out. Through bared teeth and fire it tried to scorch itself free, but it was doomed to always fail.

Helaena was burning."

[tpotr]

Hi my writer, I came to let you know here on Tumbrl as you told me about part 2 of the Aerea-Rhaegal body swap fanfic in which they wake up in their genderless counterparts, thank you in advance.

It's been a while since I've got this req, but hehe, did it. Thank you for sending this in! This is part 2 of this req over here, where Aerea, Rhaegal, Aemma and Daella (Genderbent!Green children, ordered by age) wake up in the bodies of their not genderbent counterparts. This time with actual Daella on screen, lol. This one is more of a feel good fanfic, ngl.

Genderbent!Helaegon | Humor/Fluff | AU of a series | wc: 1995

“Prince Daeron has come, your Grace,” a servant says when they all stand at the hall.

Rhaegal lifts his head in interest, and so do his sisters — or brothers, at the current moment. These bodies they found themselves in had not been theirs, but until they found a solution, he had been degined to wear the dresses. It hasn’t been all that bad; Princess Helaena’s dresses all seemed to have been made of comfortable fabrics and cuts, and Aerea had made sure to stick in his hair as many of insect themed jewels that would be considered palatable to court. Seeing ‘Prince Aegon’ help his wife in the mornings seemed to have left their maids speechless, but they’ve all been shooed away quickly enough. Aemma had quite a bit of thrill herself as ‘Prince Aemond’, getting to know she’s one of the Keep’s most intimidating men.

This Queen Alicent had been different from theirs. Certainly, a mother of three boys and one girl, rather than the other way around. But although not their mother, she had been no less caring or worrisome. They have adjusted to the roles of her children to calm her down, told her all had been a prank, but she insisted they remain by her side for a while.

“My sweet boy,” her brown eyes brighten when she sees a silver-haired boy entering the room. He has eyes of violet, as any of them do, with long light eyelashes framing them. The sun pecked him freckled, soft dotting seeming a blush over his nose bridge. He has a tentative smile on, and his arms hold each other in front of his body as if hiding together under billowing sleeves. “The ride must’ve been long. You should’ve told me you are coming, your room would’ve been prepared.”

Prince Daeron smiles a boyish smile.“It is of no matter, mother,”  He answers softly. Prince Daeron eyes his siblings prolongedly, as if seeking something out. Aemma and Aerea both glance at Rhaegal, a conference of eyes taking place. There must be a reason for this arrival, at this time, Rhaegal thinks, and comes forward towards the boy, trying to make a proud walk as noticeable as possible with skirts of the dress seeking to drown it out. His sisters follow soon behind him.

“Daeron,” he says, reaching for his arm. The name feels odd on his tongue. “How has it been with Uncle Mundy?”

The queen turns to him, lifting a brown brow. “Uncle Mundy?”

The boy’s eyes crinkle to the utmost joy and relief, their glimmer nothing less than starlike in quality. “Well!” Daeron— Daella, now without doubt— and rushes into his embrace. This male form of his youngest sister is surprisingly lanky. He wonders if this is how sisters feel normally; gods, he has never felt so short.

Perhaps now he could understand his wife’s tantrums of being the smallest of them four. Unfortunately for her, Prince Aegon’s height has only elevated her one spot on that list, and she had been quick to make note of it. “This is ridiculous,” she says annoyedly, when Daella lets him go. Prince Aegon’s hand reaches up to Prince Daeron’s hair, as if to level him. “Who allowed you to become a tree?”

Daella chuckles, coming to hug her and Aemma as well. They are stuck in this position, them all, but at least they are together. 

“We should see what you have become on the training yard,” Aemma says, keeping a calm tone, although laced with intrigue. Prince Aemond had a menacing appearance to him, with a strong jaw and the most conniving of looks, but his lips earned a cat-like grin when Aemma spoke. There may be a chance that it was natural to that body, but Rhaegal could tell Aemma had been excited. “Things are quite different, now.” 

They both turn to Ser Criston naturally. The man blinks at the both from Alicent’s side; it is clear that they needn't have any of his permission here. He only proceeds to clarify. “At this moment, my Prince?” 

The grin on Prince Aemond’s face is undoubtedly Aemma’s. “Yes.”

Aerea snorts, and Rhaegal tries to keep himself from chuckling too. Even in the male bodies, Daella grabs onto Aemma to drag her forward, locking arms with one another. Despite the odd, almost resigned looks from Alicent and Criston, Rhaegal brings his own arm to lock with Aerea and go after them. 

It makes the Queen and the Kingsguard even further confused, but he minds it not. Today, Prince Aegon and Princess Helaena walk hand in hand, and Rhaegal will enjoy every minute of it.

— 

It is a storm of swords between his sisters in the yard.

They make the fullest of every moment. Each clank of a sword earns them intense cheers from the crowd of watching bystanders, and it is quite a crowd; long it has been since two princes sparred each other on this yard, it appears. It had never been a primary interest of his, but he feels odd now, watching from the sidelines himself. 

He leans his head against Prince Aegon’s shoulder. That body is surprisingly not that different in softness from his wife’s, although he can’t say it is quite the same, either. Still, it’s comforting within all this noise and strangeness. 

“Sulking?” she asks. It sounds a drier remark in the lower voice she attained herself. He keeps his lips lined.

“No, it is only…” he trails off. The violet gaze of hers is no less piercing as a prince, and the rise of an eyebrow is just as pointed. We agreed on honesty, he reminds himself. He will not break that promise here, even if they spoke that promise from different lips. “Yes.”

Aerea hums and brings a finger to his lips. “I rather like the pout, you know.”

Rhaegal believes she is more inclined to squeeze and hold him as much as possible at the moment. She certainly did not hold back on testing the differences in intimacy. It had been as awkwardly funny as it had been oddly pleasing. He still can’t fathom some sensations that he had felt, and she had made a point to laugh at his relentlessly at some of his questions — but then again, he similarly got to laugh at when she realized fucking is quite a different job from being fucked.

But some natural instincts helped, or one may assume even muscle memory. Prince Aegon and Princess Helaena had a third child, unlike them. Maelor, his mind supplies again, with the image of an infant holding at the edge of his cradle and babbling relentlessly. 

He thinks some wistfulness conquered them both. By the time he leaves this body, he wonders if the princess would be left with a fourth. 

Either way, Rhaegal bites the finger in his vicinity. Aerea yelps away, pouting at him now. Prince Aegon has a plump pout himself. “And I like yours,” he chuckles and looks back at the scene in front of him. He smiles at his younger sisters, resigning himself to observe. This is a sobering moment; yes, he had not enjoyed swordplay for the sparring itself, but he thinks he can understand Aemma and Daella more fully now that he is not to be included. 

From the sidelines, the joy on their faces is enviable; it looks so very fun. He has taken training for granted in his lifetime. He will have to do his best to keep being dedicated and thankful to Criston when he returns to his body.

Rhaegal does hope it will be rather soon. He misses his children, and his mother, and the abilities to hold his wife with no ogling and join his sisters’ in their spars freely.

“Oi,” Aerea huffs at some squire to her left. It is amusing to hear her attempts at impersonating male speech. It nearly brings a smile to his face, but soon enough she completes the sentence whole. “Bring me a sword!”

He squeezes his wife’s upper arm, looking at her confused. He knows not about Prince Aegon, but he could count the times Aerea has held swords in her hands on one palm. “You never liked sparring,” he says, eyebrow lifting. Their sisters would know to be mindful of her inexperience, but she doesn’t even like it. Why would she leave his side for it?

Aerea brings a hand to squeeze on his side in response. The squire returns hastily with a sword in hand, offering it to him. “My prince,” he says, and Aerea takes the sword with little care, the grip on his waist seemingly stronger than the hold on the steel. 

“Prince Aegon is joining the fray!” Someone calls. The excited audience claps in excitement, and even Queen Alicent and Ser Criston eye him with intrigue. The princes in the midst of the circle turn to them with confusion that matches his.

Aerea dispels it very quickly. “Dimwit,” she says aloud, “who told you that? It’s not for me,” she turns back to him. “It’s for my wife.” 

Ah?

That is met with a deafening silence.

“Aegon, what is this nonesense—” Alicent begins, and Rhaegal feels as if he is watching his mother from years back come alive again. Aerea hadn’t bothered with their mother’s complaints then, and she isn’t bothered by them now, only shoving the sword in the smooth hands of Princess Helaena, and patting him to move forward.

He first stares at his wife, surprised.The sword feels heavier than how it usually does, and certainly the dress is not quite the proper garb for this activity. However, he had trained and fought with swords in many situations in years past, even when it was inconvenient. Aerea knows that too, he reminds himself, and for a moment smiles at the sword as warmth rushes down him.

Go on, that is the message. And he knows his sisters would not allow for anyone to object.

Aerea is steadfast despite the complaints coming her way. Aemma and Daella also care none for the shock among the observers, they return to a starting stance in front of him. He laughs when he sees Ser Criston balking at them; now this Criston might want to put an end to this before anything starts, but his Ser Criston would remind him to not waste an opportunity to take first strike. 

Rhaegal grips the sword better, and rushes forward to enter that dance.

Swords clank in a nostalgic symphony. Words die down somewhere between the third of fourth strike he blocks. The audience’s yapping even turns into amused ones when Aemma and his team up  to make Daella yield first. Prince Daeron has fallen to his back first, in full hearty laughter.  

Aemma turns back to him, sword pointed towards him as she circles him. “Let it be said it is not the dress that would make you lose, sister,” he says. I would know, are the words that remain unspoken. Prince Aemond may have intimidating features, but the contesting tilt of his sister is all the same. 

Rhaegal grins; it is a game, and he’ll play along. “It would not need to be said if I win, right?”

“Get him!” Aerea yells loudly from the sidelines. She holds Alicent by the hand, making the stressed, shocked queen cheer alongside her. Daella has retreated to stand by Criston, who seems so bewildered he has been rendered speechless. The rest of the audience, however, seems to have been enjoying the show. 

There are many people to please. Wife, sisters, audience, who not? Rhaegal picks up the sword, and lunges forward. In this circle of surprise and cheer however, he himself feels he has already won.

This is odd work for the body he is in, but he puts his best foot forward as swords meet again. He may as well leave this body knowing he gave Princess Helaena her own victory, too.