#his daughter should have been future queen (queen regent?)

[painted-flag]

Snow White and the Seven Bandits - Jacaerys Velaryon.

Story I of Between the Pages: a HOTD x fairytale series.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ series masterlist here. main blog masterlist here. .𖥔 ݁ ˖ pairing: jacaerys velaryon x reader .𖥔 ݁ ˖ warnings: depictions of violence and use of poison. .𖥔 ݁ ˖ word count: 11.4k .𖥔 ݁ ˖ note: this is a long one. the others in the series will be the same, perhaps even longer for a few, so would you be interested in me dividing them into parts for the future or just keep them as one text around 10k and release at once?

“It is imperative that you both exhibit the best of manners,” The voice of the kingdom's Queen, Rhaenyra Targaryen, carried throughout the carriage. The wheelhouse held her, Jacaerys, and Lucerys. The youngest, Joffrey, had stayed in Kings Landing with their father Harwin - as he is the prince regent and can act in Rhaenyra’s stead. The carriage rocked as it made its way down a country road. 

“Mother, we are always on our best behaviour,” Jacaerys responded, though it seemed his attention was somewhere else in pure boredom. Lucerys, who had been sitting across from him, sent a look of doubt his way. 

“Be that as it may, the Lady of Stonehill is… sensitive. The Lord of Stonehill lost his previous wife on the birthing bed. A few years after marrying a new wife, he passed. His daughter followed him in death a month afterwards. So please, do not bring up any subjects around Lady Alicent that may offend her. It may have happened years ago, but those scars do not fade.” Rhaenyra pressed the importance of their behaviour for their visit to Castle Stonehill. 

“Yes, mother.” Lucerys gave her a wide smile, the candied lemons he was snacking on made his cheeks puff out. 

Rhaenyra leaned to the side to enter Jace’s field of vision as he stared out of one of the wheelhouse windows. She raised her brow and waited for an answer. 

Jace broke out of his trance and smiled at his mom, though it did not reach his eyes, “Yes, we will be on our best behaviour.” 

⋅───⊱༺ 🍎 ༻⊰───⋅

The afternoon sun shone down on the walled-in garden of Castle Stonehill. The white quartzite with streaks of gray reflected the sunlight, casting glittered specks of light across the garden. Songbirds chirped as they flew from tree to tree. The abundance of foliage covered every open area in green. The types of flowers present filled all of the colours of a rainbow and butterflies flew from patch to patch to suck the nectar from the plants. 

It was an area of peace and safety which you frequented often when not working. After the arduous hours of work throughout the morning, you relished the break of rest you got in the afternoon. They were spent in the garden, tending to the flowers that grew there. It was the only place in the castle that your stepmother, Alicent, never touched. 

Your birth had caused your mother to pass, leaving you with your father. He was a kind and gentle man, who often spent more time with you than he should have given his lordly duties. He did all he could to raise you on his own. His gentle voice and demeanour rarely fit his appearance, for the man looked strong enough to snap a log over his thigh. Many years after the loss of his wife, he married again. The woman, Alicent, had presented herself as nothing but a dutiful and godfearing wife - a trick most wicked. While your father had lived, she treated you with kindness. It was a veiled sweetness that covered up the foul taste beneath; jealousy, want, and animosity. 

Never was there a facade more barbarous than a woman who cut another woman down. 

Upon the death of the Lord of Stonehill, Alicent’s cloaked contempt compounded. The inheritance of the castle would pass to you once you came of age, an outcome most ardently rejected by Alicent. She spared your life under the guise of benevolence, should you fake your death and take up a job as a scullery maid in the castle. It was merciful, in your stepmother’s words, to keep you alive. However, the pain of losing your father and your previous life stung the heart that lay in your chest. A torture disguised as mercy.

Through the years your resolution did not sway. There was a resilience in your kindness, both inwards and outwards, that you displayed to the world daily. What had angered you at first became nothing but a small sting. There are worse fates that people could meet. 

The day had been ordinary, inexplicably so. You found yourself in your usual routine, picking flowers and singing in your few moments of daily rest. The knife in your hand cut the stems of some of the flowers and you placed them in a wicker basket on the ground next to you. Upon turning your gaze to one of the hedges, you saw that it appeared down, as though lacking water. You put down the knife and walked over to a well placed at the centre of the garden. 

Your voice continued to carry a tune as you pulled on a rope to lower a bucket down. As you went about your way, your voice carried over the walls and into the courtyard next to the garden. 

Now, Jacaerys had not wished to go for a walk, but quickly upon their arrival at the castle he and Luke were sent away. The adults were talking, and therefore the youth must let them be. A total disgrace, in Jace’s mind, as he was set to become king and therefore felt he should be included. Alas, the stern gaze of his mother had led to him walking aimlessly in a courtyard with his brother and hoping that the day could finish. 

Jace was walking with Luke beside him and the younger brother had not stopped talking. He was explaining his thoughts on everything they had seen during their trip, waving his hands around to emphasize certain points. Jace nodded along to his observations. It was during a particular rant about the knights of the castle's armour that Jace heard a voice in the distance. The tune carried over the gentle wind, gracing his ear in sweet pleasantry. 

“Do you hear that?” Jace interrupted Luke’s rant. 

Luke halted, “What?”

“That voice… it sounds like singing.” Jace did not wait for any response before he picked up his pace, marching across the courtyard. He followed the wall to his right until the voice got louder. 

“What in the seven hells are you doing?” Luke had been confused by his brother's actions. The whole trip he had been unusually bored, often unfocused and inattentive. Now, it seemed that life was breathed into him again. 

“Don’t you hear that?” Jace looked at the thick growing vines on the wall, rapt by the singing. 

“Someone is singing, does it matter?” Luke responded, “We should go back to mother.” 

“In a moment,” Jace spoke. He stepped forward and grabbed onto one of the vines. His gaze swept across the wall as if he was unsure of his movements. Deciding not to question it, Jace tugged on the vine to test its strength. Upon finding the results he wanted, he began to climb.

When Jaceaerys reached the top, he took in the sight. It was a flower garden. Despite the countless different flowers all mixed around, it looked organized and well-maintained. The singing that he heard came from a woman by a well. She was fetching water and dressed like all the maids, in rags made of cloth. However, Jace was not a blind man and could clearly see how beautiful she was. He paused for a moment and debated on whether or not he should disturb her. His mother taught him better, that a proper man should have manners and not disturb a lady. However, there was an enchanting allure from her. 

“Well,” Luke began, “What do you see?” At that point, Lucerys had become intrigued by his brother's actions. 

“She’s beautiful,” Jace muttered. Luke was unable to hear his brother's response and watched as Jace moved to climb down the other side. He stood there, agape at his brother's impulsive nature - a trait he knew he would never get used to. 

“What an idiot.” He muttered.

You were oblivious to the pitfalls of steps coming from the other side of the well; too lost in your song to care. You were pulling the bucket of water up and had it settle on the edge when an unknown voice broke you from your daydream. 

“Hello.” It was not a very deep voice, but the timbre notes were warm, like the sun's rays on a hot day. 

“Seven Hells!” You shout in fear, the pail of water falling back down the well when the rope in your hands is dropped. The man in front of you rushed to the well wall on the other side. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” He assured. 

You looked back and forth across the garden, scared that Alicent would be looking in. She did not like it when you talked to servants, and you had no idea how angry she would be if she found out you were talking to the prince.

“I am fine,” You did not wish to prolong this conversation any longer than it had to be, so you hoped a curt response would be a hint for him to leave. 

“I’m Jacaerys Velaryon,” The man spoke, “Who are you?” 

You froze at his words. He was the prince. Oh gods, you had just rudely tried to dismiss the prince. There was a moment of rushed thinking, wondering how you could get yourself out of this situation. There was no shame in running, perhaps. Maybe wish for the ground to open up and swallow you whole.

“Nice to meet you, my prince,” You bowed lowly and kept your gaze lowered to the stone on the ground, “I am simply a maid.” Your hands smoothed over the scratchy fabric of your gown, inwardly cringing at how underdressed you were in front of him. 

“Yes, but what is your name?” Jacaerys stepped around the well to be closer. He was dressed like a prince. Rich, finely woven fabric of dark blue matched the silver embroidered embellishments on the ends of his sleeves, around his collar, and down the front of his surcoat. The garments themselves were sure to be made by a multitude of servants, a look of divinity next to the one-colour floor-length dress you wore, which was accompanied by a light beige apron stained slightly from the dirt of cleaning and tending to the garden. 

“I must go, my prince.” You grabbed the sides of your dress and held them out as you moved down in a short curtsey. He looked confused at your insistent need to be away from him, something you were sure he was not used to considering his status. You turned and began your way to a servant's entrance at the side of the castle.

“Wait! I’m sorry if I scared you, truly,” Jace spoke up and positioned himself in front of you, “Please, I just wish to talk.” He looked as though he wanted to reach out but refrained from doing so. There was a certain glint in his eyes that was unrecognizable. You were used to the way men would threaten you with their gaze, an unsaid selfish want, but Jace did not have that look. It was something kind, an emotion you had not been on the receiving end for many years. 

“There is nothing a servant can say, my prince.” You curtseyed again - a signal of a final dismissal - and moved to the small oak door. The heavy metal of the hand felt cool under your grasp. You yanked it open and closed it behind you. The transition from the warm sun-soaked outside to the cold and damp servants' hallway gave a temporary shock to your body. 

Back in the garden, Jace stood defeated. He felt horrible for scaring a woman - something his mother would sharply scold him on if she ever found out, of which Harwin would sure to join. That was not how you were raised… to corner a woman like that, what were you thinking?

At a window far up on the castle, Lady Alicent stood looking out, having watched their meeting transpire. 

He retreated to the wall he had scaled and grasped the vines in his hand. Lugging himself up, he returned to the top of the wall to his brother standing on the other side. Lucerys was close to going for help because of how long his brother was gone. 

“What in the seven hells was your reasoning for that? Mother told us to be on our best behaviour, yet here you are scaling the walls of Lady Alicent’s castle!” Lucerys scolded as Jace dropped down next to him. 

Jace adjusted his clothing as he huffed to catch his breath from the drop, “You should have seen her, Luke.” 

“Seen who?” Luke had his arms crossed and a look of vexation moved across his face. 

“The lady in the garden.A servant. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone like that.” Jace looked sort of dazed. 

“So… you saw some random servant?” Luke said. 

“I’m telling you, there was something about her… she did not act like one.” Jace marched along the courtyard path and to the nearest entrance to the castle. Luke followed closely behind. 

“All the servants here look the same. Rags and all.” Luke dismissed his brother's whims. 

“Rags cannot hide her gentle face.” Jacaerys’ tone left little room for further resistance from his brother. 

⋅───⊱༺ 🍎༻⊰───⋅

You sat in your room and skillfully embroidered a patch of fabric. The wooden loop was clutched between the fingers of your left hand as the right held the needle. It was a patch of vines being woven, like the ones the prince climbed to get into the garden. It had only been a day since your encounter with Jacaerys Velaryon, yet the memory clung to your mind and refused to let go. He was kind, uncharacteristically so compared to the people you have met in your life. 

The sudden opening of the door to your small chambers had you rushing to get up. The sewing fell from your lap and to the floor. You were frustrated by the sudden disturbance but swallowed it once seeing who was at your door. 

“Lady Alicent,” You bowed to your stepmother and watched as she stood in the doorframe of your room. Her judging eyes moved around the small space, cluttered with books and other belongings - the few you were allowed to keep. A look of disgust twinged at the corner of her mouth. She stepped into the room, her emerald gown glimmering in the small streak of light from the tiny window placed well above viewing height. Your room was ultimately like a cage but disguised as a servant's quarter.

“You have done well with your chores as of late,” Alicent began, “Good work should be met with rewards, I am generous that way.” Her words were short and snippy like it burdened her to even speak to you.

“Thank you, my lady.” You bit back the array of insults boiling within. 

“Ser Erryk will escort you to the woods, where you can pick wildflowers. Perhaps there may be new ones you can add to your garden.” Despite the kindness of her words, the tone dripped with false sincerity. 

“You are very kind, lady Alicent.” While there was an unsettling nature to her gaze, you were excited to go out in the woods beyond the castle. Since your father's death, you had been kept secluded in the castle walls, unable to even venture into some of the halls. 

“Yes, well, you best get ready then,” Alicent muttered before vacating the room as quickly as she could. The door was open still and a guard stood where she once was. 

“Good morrow, my lady,” Ser Erryk was perhaps the only guard in the castle who clued in on your identity. He was only a young man when your father died and his memory of your face stayed with him. When you were allowed to leave your room many years after your staged death to pose as a scullery maid, he instantly clocked into your true identity. He kept it a secret, for fear of what Alicent would do to him if she found out that he knew. 

“Hello, Ser Erryk. Let me just get my basket.” 

⋅───⊱༺ 🍎༻⊰───⋅

You hummed away as you tended to the wildflowers on a hill. You were taken on a carriage ride deep in the woods. It had been the most excitement you ever had, for the feeling of freedom rippled through your body. Ser Erryk stood by the carriage a few feet away, watching as you went about digging up dirt and roots of pretty colours you have yet to add to your collection. 

A shadow loomed over where you sat, and your head turned to see Ser Erryk had gotten closer. He stood above you with his sword raised in the air. You did not have it in you to scream, for a wave of hopelessness crashed over your body. A sense of betrayal seeped into your bones. One of the only men who had yet to treat you with antagonism or lecherousness had hidden their evil deep below the surface. 

Ser Erryk’s arms had stopped with the sword raised. They shook ever so slightly in his frozen position. His face was twisted, pain and uncertainty carved across the skin. He stumbled back and threw the sword to the ground, curses flung from his mouth. His breathing was laboured and his chest rose up and down. 

“Run.” His gravelly voice hitched slightly. 

You paused, unsure of his display of goodwill, “What?” 

“I am sorry I ever tried, my lady. Alicent has my brother… she said she would kill him. Go, run far from here.” Ser Erryk spoke. 

“And your brother?” You questioned. 

“I will think of something,” He responded. He reached to his side and pulled out a long dagger, holding it out to her, “Take this and go, my lady.” 

You got up on shaky legs and slowly grasped the hand of the dagger. It felt awkward in your hand. There was never a point in your life where you ever held something sharp besides a kitchen knife or sewing needle. It was heavy and unnatural. 

“Thank you, Ser Erryk. I will never forget this.” You nodded to him. You turned to the woods, looking into the looming dark depths. The fear you had felt towards him had now moved to the woods. The dark trunks stood like knights on the ground, their looming presence instilling dread. Whatever nocturnal beasts lurked within the murky bowels of the forest suddenly seemed less frightful than the beast that would be waiting should you return to the castle. 

Death in the woods felt more merciful than whatever Alicent would do to you. 

Steeling your emotions, you surged forward. Your jogged movements quickly picked up to a steady pace. You leapt over each root and bush in your way. There was no path you followed, only faith to guide you from this terror. The trees surrounding you morphed into figures like monsters. The winding branches twisted around and appeared as hands reaching out to grab her. 

Your feet carried you beyond the winding hills and scattered foliage. Tears stung at your cheeks as the cool wind dried the saltwater on your face. What felt like hours, but had only been a single one, passed as you stumbled over a branch and fell. The choked gasps of your sobbing echoed in the forest. You were hunched over and crying. 

When you pulled back to sit on the ground, you looked up and spotted a decrepit cottage in the distance. You had happened across an open space in the forest. A stream cut through and there was a small shoddy built bridge over the water and a path leading to the cottage. It was a plaster and wood building with a thatched roof. A single chimney was seen going from the bottom of one of the sides to the top of the roof. It appeared to be two storeys high. 

You approached cautiously, wondering who may be around. 

“Hello?” You called out and then waited, but no reply came, “Is anyone there?” There was no response. You moved to one of the windows and saw it covered in dust, you tried to wipe it away, but it only smudged. The cottage had been left a long time ago. Your hand reached for the nob and turned. Surprisingly, the door opened. 

You peered in to see the state of disarray inside. What little furniture could be seen was covered in a layer of dust. When you moved inside the cottage, the dust made you cough violently. 

“Oh, this place is dreadful.” You mutter. There was a broom placed beside the fireplace, also covered in dust. You picked it up and shook the dust off, with only one thought in your mind. This is going to be a nightmare to clean. 

You had spent the next few hours cleaning the cottage from top to bottom. Countless tasks were completed as time went on. While it was exhausting, it felt like a piece of freedom. Here, you were cleaning because you wished to and for yourself, not to the demands of Alicent and any of her friends. 

Earlier, in the upstairs area of the cottage - which was more of a loft space - you found seven beds placed beside one another. It filled you with sadness. At one point in time, this cottage had been full of a loving family, something you had little experience with. You could not help but wonder what could have happened to them.

You finished the last of your tasks and sighed loudly. Your hands rested on your hips as you scanned around the open living space. It looked like an entirely new place as if you tore down the old cottage and built a new one. Your exhaustion was something never felt before. The events of the day finally came down on you; the early morning picking wildflowers, Ser Erryk sparing your life, the run through the woods, and lastly your cleaning of the cottage. The beds upstairs in the lofts seemed comfier than ever. You pranced up the stairs and plopped on one of them. The soup stewing over the fireplace could be left unattended for a good long while, so with that worry out of your mind, you drifted off to sleep. 

⋅───⊱༺ 🍎༻⊰───⋅

It was in the deep stage of your sleep that the door downstairs opened up. A figure stood in the doorway with their sword raised high and scanned the room. Once they entered, six other figures followed behind. 

“The whole place is… clean.” One of them spoke in a sleepy voice. 

“I thank you for your astute observation, genius.” The one in front wielding the sword grumbled, his grumpy countenance exacerbated by his lack of patience. His free hand moved up to adjust the eyepatch on his face. The group moved as one. They surveyed the ground floor and found nothing except the almost extinguished fire and a cast iron pot strung over it. 

One of the men reached forward and pulled the lid off, exposing the wonderful smell of stew. It simmered just barely. Before they could inspect it further, the man sneezed loudly and dropped the lid back on the pot. The clattering sound emanated around the room. 

They all hunched slightly, ready to attack, but nothing came. The one who sneezed rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment. They migrated to the wooden stairs and one by one made their way up the steps. Upon reaching the lofted area, a figure underneath the covers of one of the beds was spotted. 

“What the fuck?” The grumpy one spoke in a hushed whisper. He separated himself from the group and approached the bed cautiously. He adjusted the sword in his grasp. Once he stood at the foot of the bed, he reached out with his sword and nudged the covers. The figure shifted. 

Your state of unconsciousness began to wear off. The exhaustion you had felt earlier depleted. A yawn left your mouth as you moved to sit up in the bed. The covers fell to your waist and you stretched out your arms. After stretching your arms, your hands rubbed the sleep from your eyes. Blinking a couple of times to clear your bleary vision, you opened them to see a man at the foot of the bed with a sword pointing at you. Six men stood behind, all with varying faces of curiousness to skepticism. 

There was only one reaction that seemed fitting, which was to scream. When you did, the six men standing at the top of the stairs screamed as well. The one with the sword, who had silver hair and an eyepatch over his left eye, groaned with frustration. 

“Who are you?” He demanded. 

Before you could answer, a man behind him spoke up, “Stop pointing your sword at a bloody woman!” The man had a bashful expression on his face. 

“We don’t know her, Addam.” He responded to his friend and turned back to face you, “What are you doing in our house?” 

“I… I thought it was abandoned.” You responded. Shock still froze your body. It seemed as though wherever you would run, men would always follow. 

One of the men laughed at her words. He looked to be old, with silver hair and a beard. “Well, you’re not wrong about that assumption.” The man stepped forward and to the man with the eyepatch, grabbing the sword from his hands and placing it on the floor, “I apologize for scaring you. My name is Viserys, but most people call me Happy.” 

“Happy?” You questioned. 

“They are our cover names,” Happy answered, “My friend with the patch here is Aemond, but he goes by Grumpy.” 

“Not willingly,” Aemond complained. 

You mulled over their names in your head and thought on it for a moment. For some odd reason, the names felt familiar. They settled at the back of your mind, poking at your consciousness. A heartbeat passed before it struck you. The two names and the fact that there were seven of them in total.

“As… as in the seven bandits?” You gulped a bit of air after you spoke. 

“You’re corre-” The man who spoke up sneezed abruptly, “Correct. I am Laenor, but my nickname is, well, Sneezy.” 

“Let us just all reveal ourselves. Might as well just tell her all of our secrets while we are at it.” Aemond crossed his arms and stared her down. He looked at her as though she was a threat; some hidden weapon made to kill them. 

“You suck the joy out of everything, Grumps.” Another man stepped forward and nodded to you, “I’m Aegon.” 

“Dopey,” Aemond added on. 

Aegon glared at him and crossed his arms, “At least I’m not a killjoy.” Aemond squared his shoulders and stood chest to chest with Aegon, domineering over his frame.

“Well maybe if you were smart for once-” 

“That's enough.” Viserys spoke and placed himself between them, “Both of you can leave if you won’t get along. Stop crowding around the poor girl.” They backed off and joined the other men a few feet away. 

“I’m sorry, truly. The place appeared empty and I thought that I could stay for a while. I will leave.” You push the covers from your body and maneuver off of the bed. 

Viserys raised his hands in a peaceful motion, “Please, do not feel rushed. If I may ask, who are you and why are you here?” 

⋅───⊱༺ 🍎༻⊰───⋅

Over the seven jewelled hills and beyond the seven falls, you happened upon a home of seven bandits a half year ago. Upon revealing your true identity, they had taken you in - much to the chagrin of Grumpy. However, you provided the skills learned as a maid to contribute to the house and were allowed to stay permanently. After a few weeks of asking, the men had begun to train you in the ways of the sword. 

You were beyond skilled at it, having nicked yourself and a few of the others many times over. It was a learning curve you gradually got over, though you had a long way to go. Despite all your learning, you have yet to join them on their missions. Happy assured you that your talent with the sword was enough, but truly did not feel good to have a woman join them, for he was worried about your safety. 

It was in this group of misfits that you found a family. While Grumpy was still not too keen on your presence, the others welcomed you relatively quickly. You got to know them all on a personal level and truly understand how fitting their cover names were. Aemond fit the Grumpy name. Viserys was always happy, Aegon consistently had a dopey look on his face, while Laenor sneezed near constantly. Addam had the nickname Bashful. He always blushed when you were around and got incredibly flustered when spoken to, but he was very loyal to his friends. Harrold, another one of the older men, was called Sleepy; something he proved nearly daily because if he was not training, he would be found anywhere around the cottage taking a nap. Corlys, or Doc, seemed to take up an almost leader-like role; even though they all worked together as a collective team.

Doc and Happy built you your own room in the cottage. There was a lot of open area on the downstairs level, so they picked a corner and set up walls for your privacy. That was a month after you agreed to stay permanently, and it felt like the final moment in truly becoming family. 

It was the early hours of the morning. You were making breakfast with the help of Dopey. While he was not the brightest, he followed directions well and seemed just pleased to help. The two of you were working diligently. He went to set the table as the others started to wake. They made their way down like clockwork, each settling down in their designated seats. 

When everyone sat and had a plate of food in front of them, Happy spoke, “We think it is time for you to join us on a mission.” His gaze was directed at you. You lowered your fork and tilted your head. 

“Really? I can come?” You held back the excitement that brewed within. 

“A short raid, you will stay back and only interfere if necessary. It is just so you can watch.” Happy reiterated, but you were already smiling widely. 

“Thank you!” You shot out of your seat and walked to his, wrapping your arms around him in a hug and kissing his forehead. Happy turned a shade of bright red. 

“Yes, well, don’t expect to do much,” Grumpy spoke up, “These rich folks always hire terrible guards. There won’t be a need for you to fight.” You walked back to your seat and rolled your eyes. 

“Rich folk aren’t always bad.” You tried to defend. 

“Like that prince you met?” Bashful asked. You groaned internally. A few months prior you let slip of your encounter with the prince and the kindness he showed, regardless of the rudeness you shoved his way. Since then, the men have teased you about him. 

“Not that. I am rich… well… I haven’t been for a long time.” 

“Once a rich girl, always a rich girl,” Grumpy mumbled. 

The morning was spent preparing for some scout work on one of the main roads. The group would wait for a carriage to pass, one that was obviously belonging to a rich person, and they would rob them. Half of the earnings would be distributed to one of the nearby towns, while the other half would go to supporting themselves. 

You now find yourself halfway up a tree that lined the main road through the forest. All of the other men were scattered among other trees, each within view of one another but not from any on the ground. Multiple people had passed, but all appeared to be townsfolk. It was after a few hours that a carriage began to pass. The wood had been carved delicately and embellished with gold. It was beyond a doubt that the person was rich. The only thing that threw her off was the amount of guards on horses surrounding it. 

There had to be no less than twenty men and you were unsure how your friends would handle this. You had never seen them in action before. They all shared looks and communicated through bird calls. You were still learning the meanings of the calls, but one immediately got your attention. It was the call for an attack. 

You watched as your friends descended from their hiding spots in the branches of the trees. They fell like lightning on the soldiers. Upon a closer look, you recognized the armour of the guards and almost gasped. They are royal guards. 

A figure emerged from the carriage with a sword in hand and prepared to fight. You immediately recognized who it was. There was no way you could forget the face of Jacaerys Velaryon. His unruly dark curls fell to his sharp jawline. His stature revealed how strong his form was. The sword in his grasp caught the light. 

You had to intervene. His soldiers were exceptionally trained and you could not leave your friends unaided. You swung from the rope that helped suspend you. Landing on the ground a few feet from Jace, you were intercepted by a guard. Your sword had only ever been used for practice combat, not a skilled soldier. You unsheathed it and blocked the guard's attack. 

The two of you went back and forth. Each time you struck he blocked it, with the same happening to his strikes. He pulled you in and turned your back to his chest. Just as he brought his sword up to plunge into your neck, you elbowed his face and kicked his groin. Once the guard was on his knees and more on your level, you used the hilt of your sword and swung at his helmet, effectively knocking him out. 

When his body fell to the ground, you looked up to see Jace standing there, having watched the whole thing. 

“It’s you!” He spoke. The two of you stood still, each grasping your weapons and unsure how to proceed. You did not wait to respond and swung first. He stepped back and dodged. 

“You’re that maid!” Jacaerys never swung at you but rather deflected your hits. The two of you were engaged in some kind of dance. 

“I’m her,” You responded. Your strikes got harder and Jace pushed back a few times. 

“I don’t want to fight you. Call off these men and we can go our separate ways.” Jace tried to reason. 

You wanted to do that, but knew it was not possible with your friends, “No can do, my prince.” 

The two of you were so focused on the fight, that you failed to notice one of the guards throw a dagger your way. It lodged itself into your shoulder and you cried out in pain, stumbling in your spot. It was then that Dopey called out your name. You watched as realization swept over Jace’s face. He quickly processed the words. 

“Wait, Lady Stonehill? You’re supposed to be dead!” Jace recognized the name as the lady who was said to have passed a mere short months after her father years ago. The name was unique and he pierced it together with you also having been at Castle Stonehill.

Dopey came up on the back of a horse he stole from a guard. He leaned down to lift your injured self onto the horse. Your stomach lay on the saddle behind him. You and Jace had yet to stop looking at one another. There was an underlying force to look at him that would not yield. You wanted to stay, to make sure nothing would happen to him, but it seemed with your injury your group decided to retreat after seizing everything of value. The point was not to kill, that was something that had been emphasized in your training. 

It was always reiterated that the jobs are a swift robbery of goods and nothing else. With that goal achieved, you repositioned yourself on the saddle and wrapped your arms around Dopeys waist. All of the others had clambered to other horses and swiftly fled down the road. The horse you were on followed. You looked back over your shoulder to see the other guards recovering and Jace staring you down. He did not look angry, but rather confused. You hoped he could forgive you. 

⋅───⊱༺ 🍎༻⊰───⋅

“I humbly apologize for the raid while on your travel here, my prince.” The words of Lady Alicent rang out through the great hall of Castle Stonehill. “Those miscreants have targeted these parts for years, it is time my men put a stop to it.” 

Jacaerys had arrived at Castle Stonehill for a momentary visit to discuss taxes for the Crown, but the interception on his travel seemed to be the only topic of focus. None of his men were gravely injured, but he had lost a few pouches of gold and jewels. 

“Thank you for your kind words, Lady Alicent,” He paused for a moment, “May we speak in private?” Jace asked. 

Alicent waved off her guards and the hall cleared, “What is it you wish to speak about, my prince?” 

“I mean no offence, but there seems to be no other way to inform you of this. Lady Alicent, I believe your stepdaughter is alive.” Jace informed. Alicent’s face shifted from curiosity to something bordering on indignation and distaste. She blinked rapidly. 

“What, um, what makes you say such a thing?” Alicent’s hands placed themselves on her stomach in an attempt to keep herself calm. Jace interpreted her actions as reminiscing of grief. 

“The visit I made with my mother months ago, well I ran into this girl who I thought was a maid. When the raiders attacked my travel company, she was there as well. One of them called out her name and well, I believe it is your stepdaughter. She matches the description as well. Maybe-” 

“I am sorry, Prince Jacaerys, but I cannot hear anymore. My stepdaughter is dead, that is final.” Alicent stood firm on her words. 

Jace nods, “Yes, I understand. I am sorry for the distress I have caused.” He nodded to Alicent before making a hasty exit from the great hall. He kept thinking back to his encounter with the woman. He finally, after months of thinking about her after their encounter in the garden, had a name to match her face. 

⋅───⊱༺ 🍎༻⊰───⋅

You shifted uncomfortably to try and grab a broom propped in the living space. The bandages on your shoulder moved and you hissed in pain at the sharp feeling hitting you. In the days following your injury in the raid, none of the men had let you lift a single finger. While months ago that would have been a horrible thing for the chores, you had whipped them into shape and they were able to clean properly. However, you still wished to contribute to the house. 

The group marched down the stairs with weapons in their arms. They were going on another raid, as the last few days they opted out so they could watch over you. You stood by the door and opened it for them. One by one, you hugged them goodbye on their way out, giving each a kiss on the cheek for all the help they had given you. The last one, Grumpy, stood in front of you with his arms crossed. 

“You don’t have to worry, I won’t hug you.” You joked. 

Grumpy tilted his head to the side and hummed, “What I said about rich women that day… you’re one of us, not them.” It was the closest thing to an apology you would ever get from him, to be sure. Instead of acknowledging his apology, which would surely elicit a huff of annoyance from him, you chose another option. 

You move forward and wrap him in a gentle hug. His body went stiff, unfamiliar with such kindness. One of his hands went up to put your shoulder awkwardly. After a moment he huffed as a signal to let go. You backed off and flashed him a smile. 

“You secretly care for me, I know it.” 

He moved out the door and began to walk away, “Whatever makes you feel better.” 

You closed the door and looked back at the empty cottage. Making your way to the kitchen area, you decide that you should get started on making food for them when they get back. With your injury, it was bound to take longer than usual, so the sooner the better. 

Hours passed of you prepping pies with one arm. The other would sting in pain each time you tried to use it, so it would be best to get used to your current predicament in hopes it would speed up the healing process. While rolling out the dough, a knock sounded on your door. You stopped your movements and backed from the table. When you walked to the door, you reached for a long knife placed beside it. 

You opened the door while clutching the weapon behind your back. A man stood in a hooded cape. He carried a cane in one hand and a basket in the other. His leg appeared to be in some bandage, but something about it did not look like a temporary injury. 

“Forgive me, sweet girl, but I seem to have lost my way.” The man smiled, “My name is Larys. Could you help me find the right path to the local market?” 

“Oh, I can help you with that,” You notice the man looked bleary and most likely dehydrated, “Come inside and rest for a while, I can get you something to drink.” You ushered him into the cottage and to a seat while stealthily placing the weapon back in its hidden place. Once you served him a cup of water he thanked you immensely for the help. 

“No need to thank me, sir. Kindness always goes a long way.” You sat across from him at the table. 

“I have nothing to repay you.” The man muttered. 

“Oh, you don’t have to.” You spoke. 

He lifted the lid of his basket that was on the table, “Here, at least take one of these apples. I grow them back home.” He reached in and pulled out an apple. It was the most deep shade of red and covered in a shiny gleam. His hand held it out to you and you decided to pick it up. Holding it in your hand you inspected it. 

“Well, I was starting to get hungry. Thank you, sir.” You took a bite of the apple and relished the taste. Some juice dribbled down your chin and you wiped it away. “Oh, you’re low on water. I’ll get you some more.” 

Just as you get out of your seat, your body swayed oddly. Tingles made their way across your limbs and the edges of your vision dimmed. You stepped forward but stopped when your sight blacked out for a moment. It felt like you were losing control of your body. A sick feeling developed in your stomach. The apple fell from your hand. The sound it made when hitting the floor was muffled as if you were underwater. Your knees buckled under your weight and you felt yourself falling to the floor. Before you even made it there, your vision went black. 

⋅───⊱༺ 🍎༻⊰───⋅

The band of men strolled merrily down the path to their home. It had been a successful day and they had just given half their share to one of the nearby villages. They joked with one another. Sneezy held Dopey in a headlock and began to mess up his hair, much to Dopey’s protest and Grumpy’s amused smile. 

Doc went to open the door and noticed it was unlocked and slightly ajar. He raised his hand to signal the men to be quiet. They all hushed up and saw what Doc spotted. All of them pulled out their weapons. When Doc opened the door, they funnelled in. The cottage appeared empty. Grumpy took charge and moved in further, but dropped his sword in shock upon reaching the other side of the dining table. 

The other men rushed to him and had similar reactions. Your body was on the floor, collapsed and unresponsive. Doc rushed forward and flipped you onto your back. He placed his hands below your nose but felt no air. He fell back from his crouched position as grief struck him. 

“She… she’s not breathing.” His voice came out in a helpless whisper. While the words were light, their meaning felt like iron chains on the men. They all stood around her body, both shocked and driven to hopelessness. Grumpy moved first, his eye having caught something peculiar. He reached down under the table and came back with an apple in his hand. A single bite had been taken out of it. 

After a moment, Grumpy spoke, “It was Alicent.” 

“We don’t know that for sure-” Doc began but had been caught off. 

“Seven hells, even I know it was her doing,” Dopey chimed in. 

Grumpy placed the apple down and marched upstairs. They followed him to see him rummaging through one of their large chests. Second after second he pulled out varying types of weapons and placed them methodically on the ground. 

“What are you doing?” Happy questioned. 

At first, he did not respond, not until everything from the chest laid out on display, “We are going to Castle Stonehenge and we are killing her for this.” 

“Grumpy, we don’t kill.” Bashful interjected. Some of them shifted in their stances. 

“So Alicent gets away with it?” Grumpy raised his voice, “We stick up for our own, and she was one of us.” 

Dopey crouched down and picked up a longsword, “I’m with you.” 

Grumpy looked at all the others with the hope they would join in. One by one they assembled their own collection of weapons. She may be dead, but there was no way they would let her memory die with her. Now, more than ever, they would fight stronger than they have in the past. Only one mission was left in mind, to avenge her death and spread her story - so that she would never be forgotten. 

⋅───⊱༺ 🍎༻⊰───⋅

It started as a warmth building in your stomach. It spread throughout your body further, and the more it did the more that heat increased. It clawed its way through your veins, burning the capillaries and tearing through your muscles to burn the bone beneath. Your lungs worked in opposition, for every breath you took seemed to only increase that cursed fever that took hold. It was in your ceaseless torture that dreams spread forth; wicked and wild. 

Taunts of your lost childhood flickered on the backs of your eyelids. What-could-have-been’s propositioned like a devil's deal of a promised future, staked on the trade of your soul in exchange. Given the chance, you may have been persuaded to pray for such a deal. Your father's voice rang through your mind, but it was so faint and muffled you could not make out the words. Truthfully, to the regret and pain of every fibre of your being, you had forgotten his face and voice over time; even more so your mother. 

It was cruel, beyond any punishment that could have been warranted for transgressions in your past lives. Surely, the gods could be cruel, but to be so minacious in their plan for you bordered them on the side of the cursed souls in the seven hells. Perspiration covered your body as it fought off the fever. No amount of ice in the world could aid your affliction. Your mind fought for control, or really for any semblance of consciousness beyond that of the haze plaguing your mind. 

You could feel the thrashing of your body and the hands holding you down. They felt cold in comparison to the heat of your skin and you welcomed it. A voice, as foggy as the meadow outside your cottage and refreshing as the dew on grass in the morning, spoke through your haze. It was familiar, but you could not place its origins. 

“Come back to us, my lady.” 

The depths of the boiling ocean you were swimming in gave rise to creatures below. Faces of evil men in your past voyaged through those depths, like sharks surrounding prey. However, the most fear you felt was in the memories of your stepmother, Alicent. Her cruel sneer and wicked tongue that always seemed to be ready to fire a quip of the most vile of insults coated in a thin veil of sugar; sweetness afflicted with poison, her greatest weapon. 

Time was an illusion. Seconds, minutes, hours, days, and weeks made no sense in your haze. For all you knew years could have passed suspended in this torture. It would not surprise you. But just as quickly as hopelessness seated itself in your soul, the heat was doused in water and you felt yourself clear again. Your muscles ached and your head pounded, but the relief of no longer being under such a curse took priority. 

Your eyes blinked open and struggled to see through your blurry vision. When you managed to get a hold of your sight, the roof of a canopy bed was all you could see. The engraved wood was familiar. It took many minutes to get up, but once you were sat in the plush bed you recognized where you were. 

Your childhood bedchamber appeared to have gone through no change at all since your father's death. You could not even remember the last time you were in this room, having been cast out and forbidden to go in. Perhaps you were dead and this was your afterlife. You had no idea if it was heaven or hell. The happiness of being in this room was undercut by the pain you felt for what could have been. 

It was then that your memories came like an opened floodgate. The man you helped and the sudden feeling of blacking out. The apple… it had to have been the apple. You understood that it must be a plot construed by Alicent. Your placement in the room was not a gift, but one last taunt she made before killing you for good. You’d be damned if you went out without a fight now that you’ve learned well enough from your found family. 

You scrambled out of bed and searched around the room, looking for anything that could be of service. In a drawer in a random dresser, you found a sewing collection with some shears. This will have to do. 

You positioned yourself on the side of the door that would be covered when open and waited with bated breath. Shuffled footsteps sounded from outside and you prepared to strike. The door creaked open and the person walked in. You surged forward with your hand preparing to plunge the knife into them, but a hand caught your wrist with the shears. 

“It would be regrettable to stab me, for killing the crown prince is the most heinous of crimes. I would hate for you to meet such a sudden end on your twice emergence from the dead.” The voice of Jacaerys Velaryon shook you from your adrenaline-filled mind. You dropped the shears. 

“Prince Jacaerys?” He released your wrist from his grip and took a step back to give you space. 

“It’s a relief to see you awake, my lady,” Jace spoke. 

You swayed in your spot, the fear your body ran off of ebbed away, “What…” You stumbled forward and Jace moved quickly to catch you. One of his hands wrapped around your waist while the other supported your back. 

“You should still be abed,” He uttered. Jace guided you back to the bed and helped you sit down. Your back rested against the headboard. The prince grabbed a nearby chair and moved it to the side of the bed you sat on and settled on it. 

“I am sure you have… many questions.” 

You huffed, “That may be the biggest understatement of the century.” 

“You got me there,” Jace smiled gently, “Your, uh, friends stationed themselves outside the room and wouldn’t leave while you rested. There would never be more than two gone at a time. They’re staying in the room across from yours, I can wake them up so they can speak with you.” 

He made a move to get out of his chair, but you interrupted, “Wait, no. Let them rest. How long have I been out?” 

Jace hesitated before answering, “Two weeks.” You gaped at the answer, but he continued, “Honestly, no one was sure you would wake.” 

You looked down at the blanket strew across your lap and traced your fingers over the delicately sewn design of vines. Two weeks of missed time, suspended in that state of burning pain. You blinked back the tears that pooled in your eyes and cleared your throat. 

“Forgive me for my language, my prince, but what in the Seven Hell’s happened?” 

Jace rested his hands on his thighs and leaned back, conveying his openness, “To be honest, my lady, I am not entirely sure. It was a shock. I was having dinner with Alicent when your… friends descended. I still have no clue how they got past both the castle and my own guards. They were a fury to be sure. Hurling such accusations at Alicent.”

You wanted to speak, but violent coughing raked through your throat and had you seize for a moment. Jace got out of his seat and reached for a cup that was placed on the bedside table. He poured the water into the glass and held it out for you. When you went to reach for the cup, Jace grabbed your hand and moved it back down to the covers. He brought it to your lips and tilted it so you could drink. Once you had a sip, he pulled back and waited if you wished for more. You shook your head, muttering a thank you, and he put it back on the table before settling in the chair again. 

Jace continued, “They claimed Alicent faked your death to take your inheritance. That you had been ultimately killed by her with poison. I must admit, I did not believe them at first. But, a knight, Ser Erryk corroborated their story. Only then did Alicent fumble under the pressure, her story of innocence did not match up and began to crumble under scrutiny.” 

You were in a state of shock. Never, in any dream or wish, could you have ever thought of Alicent being seen as the true person she was. That her crimes would be revealed. 

“I had her arrested.” Jace’s words had rung in your head. The picture of Alicent in a cell came to mind, and the relief in that image could not be measured. Perhaps, finally, you may be out of reach from her conniving talons. 

“I… How am I still alive?” You questioned. 

Jace cleared his throat, “Well, I sharply questioned her for information regarding the poison. The castle healer knew of an antidote, but we were unsure if it would work, given how long it took to get to you. I am glad it did.” The corners of his lips turned up slightly. 

“I need to see her.” You spoke. 

“Absolutely not, I cannot allow that, my lady.” Jace shook his head. 

“I have a right to see her. I am the lady of this castle, am I not?” You retorted. Your eyebrow rose in challenge and Jace nodded. 

“You could barely stand for a few moments. When you are strong enough, I will personally take you to her. And yes, you are the lady of this castle so for you and your people, you must rest.” He emphasized the final three words, pausing after each. 

The finality in his tone had you lean backwards and close your eyes. The pounding in your head had yet to cease, but it had eased. You pinched the bridge of your nose and began to breathe in and out. 

“I sent word to my mother. She is coming to oversee Lady Alicent’s trial.” Jace lowered his voice, “Ser Erryk has physical evidence of a box meant for your heart. He was sent to carve it out of you… Um, another man was found, the one who gave you that apple. He is locked up and will be put on trial with Alicent.” 

That day when Ser Erryk helped you felt like years ago. You were a different person then. Naive enough to believe Alicent would do something kind for you for once. While it had been the lowest point of your life, without it you would not be who you are now. A changed woman, with a true family and purpose. 

“I wish to see my family now.” You whispered. Despite the conversation sucking all your strength, you wanted to see your friends. Jace stood up and nodded. He did not say anything further, in case he would stress you more than you were at that moment. His hand gripped the door handle and he opened it. Jace turned back around to you and looked as though he wanted to say something but refrained. His figure went through the door and closed it, leaving you to stew in the overwhelming amount of information you were fed. 

⋅───⊱༺ 🍎༻⊰───⋅

The following week waiting for the arrival of Queen Rhaenyra was spent recovering. The shoulder wound you had sustained in the raid against Jace and his men had almost healed. Your body had fought off the last of the poison days ago, but everyone around you still treated you like glass. It had begun to grind down on your nerves. 

Visiting Alicent had been a decision you turned against. There was nothing you wished to say to her and nothing she could ever say to you that would be worth your time. It would only ever throw you into more distress. Your new family settled into castle life surprisingly well, a fact you often teased them about. However, they still showed some form of distrust towards Jacaerys. 

The prince had become a close friend in the short time spent together. He would visit you often in your chambers as you recovered. When you were cleared to walk, he would escort you around the caste. In his words, he accompanied you in the event that you collapsed, but you knew he did not have to as there were plenty of guards that could have done the job. 

Despite the closeness between you two, some of your friends - mainly Grumpy - were still put off by him. Grumpy had approached you at one point to question Jace’s intentions, a conversation that made your cheeks flush and heart race. After clarifying that Jace was just being a gentleman, Grumpy acquiesced his hostility to the prince but still watched him with a piercing gaze when he went near you. 

It was not just Grumpy that had become more protective over you. All of the men had heightened awareness of every little thing that happened in Castle Stonehill. There was rarely a moment when no less than two were by your side. They went so far as to have you dismiss your night guards and take shifts outside your door. When meals were made for you, Doc and Happy would watch over the cooks in the kitchen. 

It was an unspoken fear they had; of the possibility of Alicent getting someone to come for you. You knew that so long as she was alive in a cell they would continue to act like this. Jace often joked about you having your own mini army, or legion of defenders that safeguarded your every waking moment. You would laugh if it was amusing. At first, their actions were endearing, but now they felt more stifling as of late. 

When Queen Rhaenyra arrived, you were surprised by the soft warmth she brought to whatever room she occupied. She was strong-willed and an excellent conversationalist. Her kindness was refreshing, and you could see the resemblance in personality between her and Jace. Though, you were able to note he must carry more of King Harwin’s looks than his mother. A small piece of yourself was jealous whenever you would watch Jace and Rhaenyra spend time together. They were close, and you yearned for what kind of relationship you could have had with your mother. 

A part of you wondered, had Alicent not been as vain, if you and her could have been close. 

You were in your chemise and struggled to change the bandages on your shoulder. Regret for having dismissed the doctor washed over you. You were standing in your room, with your head tilted to look at the stitched wound. The door abruptly opened. You looked up to see Jace had walked in. Upon seeing your state of near undress, he let out a surprised yelp and turned his back to you. The sound of his startled voice made you laugh. 

“I am so sorry, my lady. I do not know what I was thinking to not knock like that- oh, my mother will be furious. Again, I express my deepest condolences. This-” Jace began to frantically apologise. 

You began to laugh harder, finding this situation amusing.. Had it happened to you months ago, you would have been mortified. Now, it does not bother you. Especially since it was him who happened to walk in.  

“It is alright, Jacaerys. I know you meant nothing nefarious.” The two of you had common ground. When away from the listening ears of court, you could ignore propriety in referring to one another by your titles. It pleased a part of you to hear him address you by name rather than Lady Stonehill. 

He still kept his back to you, “I will, um, come back later.” 

“Could you…” You debated if you should ask, given that it was not entirely appropriate, “Could you help me?” Jace turned around to face you, but kept his gaze in line with your face. He coughed to clear his throat. A vibrant red flush spread from his cheeks to his neck. 

“Yeah, uh, of course.” He moved forward hesitantly. The table next to you had a silver tray with some ointment and wraps. He cleaned off his hands in the bowl of water beside it and took some of the ointment. Standing next to you, the height difference was apparent. His chin when looking down only reached the top of your head. Jace’s breath was calm as he applied the ointment to the stitched area on your shoulder. 

You had cursed yourself inwardly for asking him to do this. Your brain only seemed to focus on his calloused fingertips gently applying the cool ointment. Your mind ran wild and you closed your eyes in an attempt to calm your mind. He methodically wrapped up your shoulder. When he finished, his hands lingered on the skin around the wrap. 

You coughed subtly to get his attention. Jace blinked and backed away, moving his gaze to the floor as he rubbed the back of his neck. 

“Thank you, Jace.” You were unaware of the effect it had on him to use his nickname rather than his full name. You moved behind a room divider for some privacy and began to put on the other layers of your clothing. 

“Are you… okay? With everything going on.” Jace spoked to you from the other side of the wood divider. Today was the day of Alient’s execution. You had ruminated on it for countless hours during the last few days. 

“I thought that maybe I would feel bad about her death… I truly feel nothing but relief. I guess Sir Erryk never needed to cut out my heart, there seems to not be one.” You shuffled your dress over your head and adjusted the ties on your back, having perfected the routine by having to do it yourself for many years. 

“You have every right to feel that way about her execution. Everything she has done to you… you have a heart, I hope you know that.” Jace reassured. You walked out from behind the divider to look straight at him. 

“And you’ve suddenly become an expert in matters of the heart?” You raised a brow with challenge as you teased him. However, Jace did not seem as though he was joking. 

His gaze held an intensity you could not decipher, “Yes, recently so.” 

You ceased your jesting face and came to understand the gravity of his words. It was not a surprise, for this was something the two of you had been blatantly ignoring as of late. The two of you failed to evade one another. It was an invisible force that pulled you together. Jace took one step forward and there was only a few inches from you. 

“Jace, I…” You sucked in a breath. 

“You don’t have to say anything, I will not make you feel forced to. Nor do I wish for you to feel compelled to reciprocate what I feel. But, I know you have noticed it. I only ask for consideration.” Jace’s eyes held nothing but sincerity. He looked down at you and the closeness felt more intimate than anything you have experienced in your life. 

“I feel insane even saying it,” Jace clarified, “It has happened so quickly, feeling this kind of love, but I would not have it any other way.” 

You were finally able to respond, “I will be honest with you. I don’t know if I love you, Jace, I hardly know you. We have spent a lot of time together and I know there is something there, something I do wish to pursue. Why don’t we start by continuing to get to know one another?” 

Jace nodded desperately at your words as if he clung to every syllable. You reached out to rest your hands on his chest because of how close he was. When you did not push him away, Jace took that as a positive sign and moved his arms to wrap loosely around you with his hands resting on your back. He moved his face closer but stopped just short of yours. He waited for a sign of approval from you. When you gestured with your head in approval, Jace leaned forward and connected your lips. 

In that moment, everything around you ceased to be a reality. It was a promise of protection and devotion given by Jace. His lips were warm and soft, a reflection of his personality. His nose pressed into your cheek. The two of you moved in sync with one another. Normally, you are hyper-aware of all of your senses, but with him, they all seemed to fade away. All you could focus on was him; his arms around you, his lips on yours, and the feeling of desire coursing through you. 

Jace pulled back enough to rest his forehead on yours. Both of you inhaled deeply to catch your breath. Upon opening your eyes, you saw that Jace was already staring at you. He held a dazzling smirk on his face. 

“I hope I do not disappoint you.” He spoke. 

You decided to tease him a little, “I don’t think it could be as disappointing as that kiss you gave me.” 

Jace feigned a look of hurt, but it was tinged with a smile. “Oh, so that is how this will be?” 

“Of course, my prince. I will always have the upper hand.” You giggled. Jace moved his hands from your back to wrap around your waist and pulled you flush against him. The feelings that action elicited from you were all too new and addicting. The closeness of your bodies set your veins alight. This was something you would have no shame in getting used to.

“Well then, my lady, I shall rise to the occasion.” Jace leaned back in to kiss you. 

_____________

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ note: that was part 1 of Between the Pages! i am super excited to start off this series, as I had developed plans for this back in 2022. there were entire storyboards planned, but i never got to writing them. thank you for all the support <3

if you want to be added to any of my taglists, click here.

𖥔 ݁ ˖ taglist: @uniquecutie-puffs @dracaryxzs @beebeechaos @libdarkheart @whodis? @void21

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Hiii there!

I wanted to request an oscar tully x targaryen reader maybe rhaenyras daughter please.. tbh i dont even know what it should be about i just wanted it to ba a oscar and targ reader .. thanks ☺️☺️

The river and the flame

Oscar Tully x princess!reader

warning : hurt/comfort, kissing, holding hands, no use of Y/n

Summary : A sacrifice, the only daughter of the Queen of the Black had to be married and the best match was the new young Lord of the House of Tully who promised to give his strength to the Queen. An engagement and marriage consummated, the fire finds itself in waters where both young nobles must hold each other to make it together and not burn and drown each other.

info : thank you dear anon for this request it was a lot of fun to write it have fun reading and have a nice day everyone

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With fire and strength she could have been born, but when the gods were merciful and gave her first husband something in a night of listlessness through wine and potions, the Queen of the Black conceived her fourth child from a marriage that could never have been consummated.

The queen's first and own princess was born, the little child with the image of her parents bright hair thicker than her mother's silken hair and violet eyes like gems that captured everyone. Behind her were the symbols of the dragon and so she was the only one of her siblings to keep her mother's family name, a decision that complicated things and put her three brothers in an even worse light.

But sacrifices had to be made for the princess, sacrifices in the form of "assassinations", new marriages and the retreat to Dragonstone where the faction of the blacks gathered and rebuilt over the course of weeks and months.

The legacy of the Black Dragon Queen was laid on her true daughter and two small toddlers, even though Jacaerys Velaryon was her eldest son and a young man willing to prove himself to inherit his mother's legacy, he knew he had strength in his blood, a blood that his two brothers had but not his half-siblings.

So the Targaryen family, the black party faced with serious problems Daemond in Harenhall had been trying to gather support for some time, Aegon and Viserys sent away with Rhaena but what now?

An alliance had to be forged because even if honor still prevailed houses no longer chose Viserys' side, it was about the future of families, of royalty and children, it was a decision that could mean death or life, ,,Without news from Daemon we cannot rely on the support of the Riverlands…if you allow the proposal of marriage to be made" the Master began again, who returned without his raven's message.

But she didn't even have to look up from the map to hear her mother's reply, ,,Out of the question" before Rhaenyra tried to find answers in the documents and maps, she had no one to marry but her daughter, but what mother wanted to lose her child in an area she could never get to herself.

It could mean her death but when violet eyes met there was something like hope in the princess's eyes, ,,If my queen allows me to marry the new Lord Tully I would be protected by the Prince Regent and the lords of the surrounding houses who have sworn allegiance to Oscar Tully" she gave her explanation and clasped the small metal statue of the fish they had all heard the aftermath of the death and resurrection of the head of the house and it was the only solution.

It ended in a few arguments, tears and loving gestures but now just a few days later here she was under the banner of the fish with her husband Osacr Tully, despite the fact that they were both young so appreciative of each other he had welcomed her without vourtiele was sincere and loving…and perhaps her heart had beaten faster than she thought when he had placed a kiss on her palm.

He held her hand as he showed her Riverrun, introduced her to the household, the hall and the vassals who had also proclaimed themselves for his wife, he treated her as in the songs and stories of yesteryear about noble knights, ,,My reign would not be possible without you, you are the first flame in the river and my heart rejoices more and more every day in your company my beloved," he said to her as he helped her onto one of the boats and they sailed across the river together.

She smiled back at him and gratefully held his hand, holding this little,,,nushell" quite insecurely in contrast to her grandfather's boats, but with every little jerk he held her tightly to him, his dark eyes like the river assuring her of her safety.

,,You are safe I promise" he murmured to her as he held her and she dipped her hand in the river, the wetness and coolness was pleasant instead of the everlasting heat and warmth, ,,I will follow you my lord husband" she replied after the words her mother and grandmother had taught her.

Before she felt his hand gently on her cheek it was just the two of them and the still river as they came closer and kissed again, ,,Oscar please my love" she whispered and she leaned her forehead against his for a moment as the two barely grown nobles lay in each other's arms enjoying the river ride while a joyful scream could be heard above them from time to time between the clouds and she followed Oscar's interested gaze closely.

The water, the fish, the river was her new home, which she quickly took to her heart. Her clothes, although now more of a bluish red and bronze, she kept the symbols of the dragon with her hair, brooches and Seasmoke herself.

Until she met her great-uncle again who had watched this marriage with a disdainful look and even if he didn't admit it, it offended him that his great-niece had managed the union in what he couldn't do in weeks, ,,Impressive isn't it what a princess can do with such looks and devotion, isn't it Lady Tully?" he had asked her at dinner as he sat next to her and looked into tired, almost haggard eyes that resembled her own in color.

She knew Oscar must have heard, she knew her great-uncle and her husband hated each other, didn't like the prospect of sharing power, ,,Her sacrifice to her family and the Queen towards my Targaryen wife is truly impressive she is not only in my house she is the Guardian of the Riverlands Prince Regent" Oscar said with pride in his voice as he raised his goblet and took her hand saying a good luck to Rhaenyra and his wife and she welcomed the restraint of her great uncle who would have otherwise only made things worse.

But all could not always go well only one moon later at the weirwood tree in the garden of the ruined castle Harenhall the houses of the Riverlands found themselves together with Oscar as their new lord and Daemon, a confrontation the princess attended with Seasmoke watching over the whole thing with an interested eye.

A confrontation that ended in blood as Daemond cut off Ser Willem's head ordered by Oscar whose eyes reflected fear for a moment as he looked into hers she clasped his hand the highborn couple watched this execution for all to see she felt the brief squeeze of her hand as Oscar truly saw this bloodshed for the first time.

,,You did the right thing Oscar they will follow you now and so will my great uncle…I won't let any words come back to haunt you I will stand for it" she told him as soon as everyone else had left the ruined garden and the young lord sat down by the tree still somewhat affected by the murder she felt herself almost reflexively wiping the blood away with a handkerchief before helping Oscar wipe his away.

She returned his silent thanks with a gentle kiss and the two sat there in silence until an idea came to her and she called her dragon who was struggling for space in the garden, ,,You have shown me the beauty of the water of your river let me show you the beauty of the sky" she said and climbed onto Seasmoke's back who seemed happy to be flying again.

She saw how it confused him for a moment, the boy rose and placed his hand carefully on the bright waremn scales and Seasmoke nudged him, mocking Ocsar who had been feeding the dragon fish with the help of his wife.

,,Can we fly through clouds? " Oscar asked as she saw courage and joy return to his gaze and he placed himself behind her, his grip on her stomach tightened and she heard his cry as Seasmoke took off with a scream and seemed to disappear into the smoke of his fire in the air.

She put one hand on Oscar's while with the other she gently guided Seasmoke, knowing that Oscar didn't understand her she would one day teach him, ,,I'll fly through anything you want look at this peace and quiet" she said louder over the sound of the loud flapping of wings and Seasmoke's hissing she heard Oscar slowly relax and hug her, laughing happily as he too saw this special something she could see every day.

Up here there didn't seem to be any problems it was quiet not too hot or too cold and peaceful, ,,It's incredibly beautiful" he mumbled continuing to hold on to her fetus as she headed for the clouds and he hesitantly held out a hand and gasped as his fingers got wet and showed her like a little child enjoying a wooden swing but she did the same and they joined hands and flew through the clouds for hours.

She heard his thanks and praise every now and then, a kiss on her cheek and both their hearts beat together in peace as they found beauty in each other's homes, together in love that would go beyond war.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[madou-dilou]

Harrow and Viren : analysis

Viren, since he resurrected in season 4, is constantly paralleled with Harrow.

"It's been a long time. Our kingdom is prospering. There is peace. My boys, they are growing up. Perhaps it's wiser to stay focused on these blessings."

"My whole life, I have been chasing after things I did not have. Now that I'm here and may have only thirty days left, do I really want to spent those days ... chasing ? Maybe I should stop and appreciate what I do have. A whole month, enjoying every moment with my daughter. Maybe it's time for me to accept that I am who I am. And when I reach the end, I'll be at peace. And it will just be the time to let me go."

Both reevaluate their lives, questioning the crimes they left in their wake. They feel like they have escaped justice. Their loved ones do their best, encourage them to continue living, of course, but they have come to the conclusion that if their life has left such a trail of blood, prolonging it will only spread more.

That at this point, the only right thing they could do for the world was leaving it.

For said loved ones, this attitude makes no sense and feels straight-up ungrateful. ("You are acting stubborn and ungrateful!"/"Please, dad, don't. Don't do this. Don't leave. It's a mistake. You can't. I saved you! You me your life! You have to stay...")

Especially since Harrow and Viren are both incapable of explaining themselves clearly. Viren straight-up tells Harrow he doesnt understand where he is coming from, and Harrow only answers "I know you don't. Leave me." Viren, meanwhile, talks about "a path of truth of freedom" that he needs to face.

In short, to quote Kaamelott's queen Guinevere "You slit your wrists in a bath I had myself prepared just for you."

Two kings caught in blood feuds, pushed by the devils on their shoulders to prolong an existence they no longer want, even at the cost of two being supposed to be sacrifices: a soldier, who signed for that (unlike the High Mage, side-eye Harrow), and this homunculus.

Both thus renounce dark magic by, as Harrow says, "calling it what it is" for the first time; and no longer “a creative solution to solve this” as Viren used to say.

And just as Harrow wrote a letter to his son Callum to free him from the wrongs of the previous generation, Viren attempts to do the same.

To Callum, Harrow tried to explain that the past, which we must nevertheless seek to understand, should not define the future; that his death must close the cycle of revenge that he initiated with the assassination of the Titan and for which he takes full responsibility; and that his sons must ensure a new era of peace. As he prepares to face death, he also makes sure his last conversation with Ezran is completely mundane, so the boy does not grow up thinking he abandonned him.

However, Harrow did not think to officially appoint a regent (Viren, Amaya or Opeli), which forces poor Ezran to assume a horrible role for which, at eight years old, he is obviously absolutely not prepared.

Which obviously puts the kingdom in a dangerous situation.

In his letter to Soren, Viren is very literal. He wants Soren to judge him, but for him to have all the necessary elements to do so; he wants Soren to understands why he made all these mistakes. Viren tells Soren that all the suffering he felt was never his fault, but his own.

It was Viren and Viren alone who chose to become a monster by violating Kppar then Lissa, thus causing her departure, then making Soren pay for it throughout his childhood.

The letter was intended to free Soren of all guilt. Because, when you get given the cold shoulder by your father throughout your whole childhood, you believe it has to be your fault. All divorce children think it's their fault.

The problem is, reading the truth might as well make Soren feel worse. Because this letter confirms that it was to save him that Viren destroyed the family, even if it was a choice that Viren made. According to Puzzle House, Soren remembers that he was sick, that his grandfather disappeared, that his father saved him, and that his mother left, but he could never connect the dots between all these events.

This letter means that the simple fact that Soren was alive was indeed the first crack that eventually caused the whole house to collapse.

Viren therefore chose to burn the letter, hoping to spare his son such a burden.

Both Viren's and Harrow's deaths have something of a suicide to them, and not just in the letters they leave behind.

Remember my post comparing their actions to the quote from the Kaamelott show ? "What is someone who suffers and spills his blood on the floor so that everyone is guilty? All suicides are Christ. All bathtubs are the Grail."

In short, I was trying to explain how their masochism made others suffer.

Harrow claims to consider himself a servant, and he certainly means it. He is humble, is aware monarchy is an unfair system and has a great sense of honor, not hesitating to defy certain traditions - by sharing his official portrait with Viren - and to put his own life at stake. But when, for example, he finds nothing better to do than deprive his people of food simply to honor a promise, his claims sound particularly hollow. He is out-of-touch enough not to know the state his kingdom is in, so he will certainly not have to see his own family starve. But he set out to restore some justice to the world, however stupid this justice is. He seems to consider that by sacrificing the kingdom, he is sacrificing himself. And during his heroic death, that by sacrificing himself, he will save the kingdom instead of plunging it into chaos.

Viren, most probably partly because of his social origins that he keeps getting reminded of (and a fun childhood too, the guy insults himself in front of the mirror until he breaks down crying and constantly devalues his son) is haunted by an inferiority complex. To be useless. He has a morbid need for gratitude. Hoping to matter, to serve a purpose, he spent years self-destructing through dark magic, constantly putting himself in danger, ruining his health, wiping behind the king's decisions, or letting Aaravos exploit his body in increasingly abject ways. In short, to see himself only as a means to an end.

This feeling of ungratefulness is not unfounded: not only is the king actually incompetent enough not to have the slightest idea of ​​the state of his kingdom's resources, but in addition, where any swordsman would display with pride the scars of his craft, Viren is forced to hide his swollen face - it is even part of the reason why his wife left him.

The problem is that his own self-sacrificing tendancies made him think he had the right to exploit others: his wife, Sarai, Harrow, the princes, Soren, and a few thousand others, and I'm probably forgetting some.

That since sacrificing others was difficult for him, it made him the hero.

Viren probably suffers from a huge martyr syndrome: being able to exist only through the gratitude of others, he begins to take charge of all their problems, even unsollicited, and even if it means creating others in the process. It doesnt make him evil. It's an unconcious strategy to simply survive.

Since he is competent, no-nonesense, pragmatic and literally magical, he ends up making himself absolutely indispensable. No one but him could save two kingdoms from famine. Even more so, Sarai, Harrow's wife, sacrificed herself to save him because he was a mage. This survivor's guilt may have made this problem worse.

His mentality, which he summed up as "get a grip" to a traumatized Terry, also likely played a role in the deterioration of his relationship with Harrow. After Sarai's death, Viren probably felt that he ought to be the immovable and unshakable pillar on which Harrow should be able to rely. That if he ever showed the slightest doubt, the slightest weakness, Harrow, and with him, the kingdom, would collapse. Whereas if Viren had been less constipated, Harrow would undoubtedly have felt less lonely, and would have been less likely to take his own life as he did.

Viren is the brain of the heart. He provides a safeguard to Harrow, whose sense of justice blinds him. Harrow has, after all, indeed chosen the Blindfold in his dream, to push him to imagine a system aimed at protecting everyone equally. An ideal, unrealistic and inconsiderate. Viren is the Scales, in my opinion: he compares the costs of his actions to the positive consequences that will result from them. He is a result-oriented person, measuring his self-worth by his productivity.

Now, it's time for me to talk about the Drama Triangle, theorized by psychiatrist Stephen Karpman in his article Fairy Tales and script drama analysis.

Karpmann first applies this schema to fairy tales: for example, the Piper of Hamelin saves the villagers, victims of the rats who persecute them; but instead of thanking him, the villagers throw stones at him and banish him without paying their dues; which pushes the Piper to take revenge, becoming a persecutor, by making all the children of the village disappear.

But this Triangle, as Karpman explains, is also an unconscious psychological game, a relational pattern between victim, persecutor and savior that cannot be applied to an emergency situation. It is not necessary for all three instances of the triangle to be present, but it is often enough for one person to play the game for the others to get involved. Stephen Karpman adds that the more roles are reversed in a single scene, the more intense it is in emotion and conflict.

The victim is isolated, passive and unable to make decisions to resolve their problems. The persecutor belittles them, minimizes their suffering and mocks them in the hope of making them react. The savior defends them, feels obliged to solve the victim's problems for him even unsollicited, which is very gratifying for them but maintains the victim in a state of dependence.

None of these roles are positive because they create unbalanced relationships.

The problem, you can see it coming, is that over the years, Harrow has become completely dependent on Viren to put his grand ideas into practice, and therefore on the "necessary" crimes that Viren lined up like pearls on a necklace. It's not just dirty, it's also infantilising. Viren constantly acts as a savior, which places Harrow in a victim role, unaccustomed to questioning Viren's decisions even when he is wrong.

Harrow couldn't take it anymore.

He became so fed up with his own dependence on Viren that he concluded the only way to get rid of him was to die.

Harrow could have hidden with the princes, or fired his entire guard and faced the consequences of his actions alone, but he just seized the opportunity to sell his skin dearly and die a hero.

I would even go so far as to say that for Harrow, his own death served three purposes:

Reunite with Sarai without whom his life no longer has meaning

Finally receive his rightful punishment and put an end to his own feelings of guilt

Make Viren finally feel guilty about something, even if it was his suicide. He wants him to see his blood spilled on the floor.

In short, to finally regain control by placing Viren in the role of victim, while becoming the persecutor.

"I have tolerated your arrogance for to long. But if this is my last day as king, I will make sure you will know your place."

Viren, throughout seasons 1 and 2, paying for Harrow's mistakes as he always did, tried to position himself as the savior of the human kingdoms, that were then facing a crisis situation: as a result, he is rejected at every turn, completely isolated, sentenced to death for treason and completely unable to resolve his problems. In short, a victim.

And who is it that "saves" him ?

Aaravos, by presenting himself as Viren's "servant", flatters his ego and points out persecutors to blame. However, Viren is not a fool: he is aware of being manipulated. He knows that Aaravos is deliberately withholding a lot of information from him. But he throws himself into it of his own free will. He's more stressed than everyone else as well as grieving, he back to the wall and isn't thinking like the rest of the world: as far as he is concerned, he has only made a series of unavoidable decisions, which had doors and doors shutting in his face over and over, plunging him further and further into sheer darkness.

Until he has "nothing left to lose". Until the man who he has chained to a wall is freer than him. Until the knife eventually becomes the border between two worlds, separating him from the only source of light, pale, artificial, unforgiving, coming from "worse than death": Aaravos.

Yeah, it's clearly suicide-coded.

Viren (believing he was doing the right thing) got the worst out of Harrow, just as Aaravos (wanting to cause chaos for fun) got the worst out of Viren.

And just like Harrow, the only way Viren had to get rid of the devil on his shoulder was to die.

And as for Viren's third death in the sixth season, heroic if ever there was one (on the very balcony where he looked at his wrist in season 2), it is also no coincidence that he repeats Harrow's last words to him, told to humiliate him : "I am a servant."

This term carries an ambivalence: the nobility of abnegation and the humiliation of submission.

Although Harrow saw himself as a servant of the kingdom and promoted equality in his reforms and symbols, he eventually grew tired of it. He does sacrifice his own life to end the cycle of revenge, but since he does not take the trouble to prepare for his succession, even if only by ensuring that the princes are safe, the result is a total disaster. He also devotes the last minutes of his existence to being completely unjustified cruelty towards Viren. His death was a way for him to finally regain control.

Viren, hurt that Harrow lowered him to the ground by mistaking his self-sacrifice for arrogance and once again leaving him to pay the price for his decisions, has made this term the justification for his crimes... confusing, in his good intentions, “serving the people” for “using the people”.

Viren was completely willing to sacrifice himself to save Harrow in Season 1, but Harrow, determined to regain control, didn't even listen to him; and Viren immediately recanted when Harrow refused to recognize him as an equal. Although it could not have been more sincere, the sacrifice of his own life was then rejected by the plot because it was done without humility.

(or maybe Harrow immediately understood what Viren was going to do and scolded him to dissuade him)

Viren was then reduced to his greatest weakness : his existential need for gratitude.

And more than ever, he was the only one with common sense in the room, on top of being belittled for his absence of royal blood. He still thinks he knows better than everyone else, just as he always actually did. Anyone who crosses his vision ought to be killed. No matter how much he has to harm others and himself (burning his own eyes, committing high treason and sentencing himself to death, giving in body and soul to "worse than death", letting Aaravos manipulate his body in absolutely gross ways, risking being burned at the stake) in the process. Aaravos sees straight through, exploits this, because it's what dark magic is: it's dehumanising yourself as well as others; seeing no longer people but components and obstacles. Viren harms himself to be seen as a hero, not a servant. He needs gratitude, admiration. To be seen as above. A servant is beneath, only ever doing what he is told.

But today, Viren, haunted by the vision of Harrow's blood on the floor, chooses to sacrifice himself, thus saving the population of Katolis in the face of dragon fire, to sacrifice himself alone and no one else, reviled, hated, and misunderstood. The official portrait of him and Harrow, symbolizing his noble deeds and the good they were able to do together, burned in the castle fire.

He dies not in court clothes but in rags, not as an official hero showered with praise, but as a traitor. Soren will never know what he did for him as a child, Viren doesn't want his death to haunt him.

Even though he dies as the Lord Protector of the Realm Ezran could not be, in the eyes of history, Viren will remain the traitor. The Evil Chancellor, Jafar, Richard III, Iago, Scar.

No one will see his blood as he spills it on the floor of Harrow's room.

Servants of the realm indeed.

[livingdreams97]

Eloise Bridgerton - "The Prince" (Part 2)

Eloise Bridgerton x Male reader/oc

Summary: Two people who have never seen each other before, with the same need and desire to be free in different ways. What could come of that when both people meet each other?

Words: 3.275

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POV Narrator

Dear readers,

The same two words always come to mind for this author the morning after a big party: surprise and delight. And dear reader, the scandalous accounts of last night's evening at Ranger House ( Bridgerton house ) are quite surprising and a real delight.

Emerging from her previous failure with Viscount Anthony Bridgerton, Miss Edwina Sharma seems to have charmed Prince Friedrich of Prussia with her charms.

They have been seen very together at every social event and close sources comment on the success of the diamond of the season with the prince. Perhaps it turns out that the Queen Regent is a very good supervisor and has an eye for pairing.

Maybe this is the queen's redemption, compared to the resounding failure she had last season with Miss Sharma herself; her diamond for the second consecutive year, and the frustrated wedding she was going to have with the Viscount.

Speaking of royalty, we must also mention the presence of Prince Y/n of Hannover and also the queen's nephew in this season. Also remember that Prince Y/n is the future heir to the throne since the queen and the regent king so dictated after his 16th birthday .

Apparently, this handsome green-eyed prince is also looking for a wife and a future queen. The mothers are very attentive to each moment of solitude, to push their daughters into hisarms and try to catch the biggest fish in the place.

But it seems that his attention is fixed on none other than Miss Eloise Bridgerton. It should be noted that this is the second season as a debutante for the second daughter of the Bridgertons and the bad reputation that comes from the people with whom she joined last season.

But that fame does not seem to frighten or matter to the Prince of Hanover, as he has been seen many times on the dancefloor with Miss Bridgerton. They say that love is blind and perhaps in this case it can also become deaf.

How will the queen feel about this possible union?

On the other hand, we have Miss Prudence Featherington who is still engaged to Mr. Jack Featherington and it seems that the nuptials are still some way off. On the other hand, we have Penelope Featherington , who has reportedly been seen in the company of Mr. Colin Bridgerton more than usual. Could this mean something else; or is it just a friendship?

Always yours,

Lady Whistledown.

Eloise's POV

I can't do it anymore. I can't continue with this constant pressure, feeling like every step and every one of my movements is being watched. And not only for my mother, but also for the rest of the people in each event.

It's only been three weeks since the social season began, three weeks that have seemed eternal and one of the heaviest. It seems that three months have passed and not three weeks.

I feel exhausted and totally stressed. I don't want to disappoint my mother again and have our last name put in doubt again because of me. That is what I least want.

But the pressure not to disappoint Mother again, the feeling of being completely watched at all times, and the discomfort I feel every time a newcomer questions me about my "radical" ideals overwhelms me.

The only times I don't feel so overwhelmed and suffocated by everything is when I'm reading in my room and no one bothers or watches me at all.

I can only relax when I am completely alone.

Worst of all, I can't talk about it with anyone, since I would have talked about it with Penelope before and that's it. But after her betrayal, I can't talk to her, much less when she didn't trust her and continues to write as Lady Whistledown .

The fact that she continues writing annoys me even more, especially when she writes about my family and more specifically about me. If anyone had forgotten about her comment last season, about my relationship with Theo and my supposed radical political ideas; with what she wrote about me three days ago, she reminded all of London.

So people looked at me even more and not in a very positive way. But I couldn't talk to anyone about how I felt, because I don't have any friends left and no one in my family would understand.

I can't even tell Benedict how I feel, since he's too focused on his drawing and I don't want to worry him with my problems. In addition to that he would tell me not to pay attention to people and he would tell me something funny to make me laugh.

But that's not what I need right now. What I need now is someone who listens to me, who understands me and can help me with all this that I feel. Because I feel like I'm drowning more every day and how I'm short of breath every time I enter a dance or social event.

And the same thing was happening to me right now.

Tonight was the annual seasonal ball at Vauxhall Gardens, so the whole family except my two younger brothers had come. Even Kate had decided to leave little Olivia at home.

As soon as the family had set foot in the party, all eyes were on us and more specifically on me.

Ignoring with all my might the gazes on me, I comply with what my mother asks of me and dance with two men until the song ends. But neither of the two men are educated people.

Because both of them have spent the dances asking about my ideals and how wrong I am with my radical political thought, since that promotes the extinction of my life as a person of high class.

What ends up getting fed up and in a carelessness of my family I flee towards the labyrinth of the gardens. Where I sit on one of the stone benches of the place and I start to cry without being able to avoid it.

XY: I don't think it's safe or correct that you're out here without supervision.- I hear near me, causing me to jump scared and turn around to find the Prince of Hannover.

Eloise: I could say the same to you.- I reproach with a frown, forcefully wiping away my tears and trying to stop crying.

Y/n: Are you alright Eloise? - he asks with some concern on his face, walking towards where I am and sitting a bit far away; but in the same bank.

Eloise: Of course I'm fine.- I answer clenching my jaw and holding back the urge to continue crying.

Y/n: I'll  believe you and we can go back to the dance as if nothing had happened.- he says with some sarcasm, bringing a glass to his lips and giving a small sip.

Another thing that has changed is my relationship with Prince Y/n. At first it seemed unbearable and somewhat unbelievable. But over time I have been able to learn more about him and have long intellectual conversations about our interests.

So I've started to see him a bit as a friend, since he knows what is said about me and completely ignores it. He has never come to ask me about my radical political ideas, even though I don't have them as such and that is something that everyone has asked me about.

So you can say that I like him a little, although not enough to tell him my stuff and be considered my friend completely.

Eloise: I'm just tired and overwhelmed by everything.- I admit with a sigh and see how he offers me his drink.

Y/n: What has you overwhelmed?- he asks as I accept the glass and take a small sip, feeling a burning pain in my throat.

Eloise: Iugh Yuck.- I say with a gag, giving him back the drink and causing him to laugh at my reaction.

Y/n: Don't change the subject and answer me.- he tells me funny.

Eloise: I feel overwhelmed for not finding a husband and disappointing my mother for a second time.- I answer playing with my hands and lowering my gaze.

Y/n: And why do you think you won't find a husband?- he asks with some confusion in his voice. -From my point of view, you are perfect for any man. You are beautiful, you have your own thoughts and ideals that you defend with very good arguments, you are educated, you like to read and you do not give importance to what the rest of the world says. - he enumerates and I look at him completely surprised, feeling a certain heat on my cheeks and ears.

Eloise: You say that out of politeness.- I played down what he just said, feeling embarrassed and somewhat impressed by his opinion about me.

Y/n: I say what I've seen and what I've experienced with you.- he assures me with a small smile, so I look away from him. -There are very few women like you Eloise Bridgerton and you should be proud of who you are. Because you are worth much more than any of the other debutants with knowledge of pianoforte or whatever they know how to do, because you go further and you don't focus only on learning something to please your future husband.- he expresses and i presses my lips , so that he does not see the smile that wants to appear on my face about what he has told me.

Eloise: That's the problem, I don't want a husband to please and become a boring housewife.- I say with a sigh. -I don't want to have to pretend to be someone I'm not in order for a man to like me, I don't want to make myself less so I can get married and I don't want my life to be left in the hands of a husband who is only interested in himself.- I complain and I can see how he listens to me attentively.

Y/n: So you don't want to get married? - he asks with confusion and with some interest shining in his eyes.

Eloise: No.- I deny with a sigh. -It's not something I want, but my mother wants me to get married and I don't want to stay like a spinster either; because it is not that they are very well seen in our society. - I explain and I see how he nods with his head processing what I just said.

He stares at me in silence for a few moments, saying absolutely nothing and with a certain pensive look on his face.

Y/n: Can I make you a proposition?- he asks me with some caution.

Eloise: What kind of proposition? - I ask a little interested, but also with some caution for the possibilities.

Y/n: You don't want to get married, right? - he asks and I shake my head. -But neither do you want to stay single and "disappoint" your mother by not getting married.- he says and I nod without understanding where he wants to go. -I propose that you marry me.- he says confidently and I open my eyes wide.

Eloise: WHAT?!! - I exclaim completely in shock.

Y/n: Don't yell or someone will see us.- he whispers looking at all sides.

Eloise: Have you gone crazy?- I ask quickly in a whisper. -I just told you that I don't want to get married and you ask me to marry.- I commented as if it were the craziest idea in the world.

Y/n: Be quiet and listen to me for a moment please.- he asks me with a certain plea in his eyes.

Eloise: Okay.- I accept with a sigh, trying to relax my breathing and the accelerated beating of my heart.

Y/n: I don't want to get married either, but my father forces me to find someone and marry her for love.- he begins to tell me. -I just want to travel the world and enjoy life, but I can't do it until I get married; since I made a deal with my father. The deal is based on the fact that if I marry for love, he will pay me six months to travel the world and buy me a house wherever I want for myself and my wife.- he explains and I still don't understand his proposition.

Eloise: And what do I paint here and in your proposal for me to marry you? - I ask still a bit confused.

Y/n: That's what I'm getting to.- he complains with a sigh. -I don't want to get married and you don't want to get married, but for different reasons we don't want to be single either. So it's the best thing that could happen to us. - he exclaims and I look at him still confused.

Eloise: I still don't quite understand the reason for your proposition.- I point out how poorly it is being explained.

Y/n: You marry me and your mother is glad that you marry a prince and future heir to the crown; besides that you don't stay single.- he points to me first . -And I marry you, finally being able to travel the world and having the freedom to live away from my father. We both won.- he exclaims with some joy.

Eloise: But I would still have to marry you and I'm not going to make myself less or become a housewife for you.- I deny immediately.

Y/n: And you won't.- He denies, reassure me immediately. -You will have all the freedom in the world, you will be able to read everything you want and dedicate your time to yourself without having to worry about your future anymore.- he assures me and I observe him considering the proposal.

Eloise: Could I choose where to have the house? - I ask with a raised eyebrow.

Y/n: As long as it's not near my father; yes.- he nods with a smile.

Eloise: I want to review your proposal, okay? - I ask and he nods. -You want us to get married together; because neither of us really wants to get married, but I don't want to disappoint my mother and I don't want to stay single either. At the same time as you , you have made a deal with your father and if you get married he will finally let you travel the world and buy you a house.- I am saying everything he has told me, causing him to nod again. -And I will be able to continue enjoying my books and not being the most feminine woman in the world, without you caring and I will have all the freedom in the world; besides that I will choose where we would live? - I finish reviewing the proposition.

Y/n: Exactly.- He nods with a smile.

Eloise: What's the catch? - I ask raising an eyebrow, knowing that everything sounds very perfect and there must be a catch.

Y/n: It has to seem like we really love each other and my aunt has to accept our marriage.- he responds a bit insecure and I open my mouth in surprise.

Eloise: No.- I deny getting up from the bench. -Your aunt; Your aunt THE Queen hates me.- I point out and he follows my example getting up from the bench.

Y/n: My aunt will adore you if she thinks you're the love of my life and thinks I'm in love with you.- he assures me and I shake my head.

Eloise: Nobody will believe it. - I deny nervous and somewhat disappointed.

The proposal was perfect, but it was too perfect to be true and now it's clearly impossible.

Y/n: Eloise, please listen to me.- He begs me, grabbing my hands and making me look at him. -You are my only hope, the other debutants want to marry me to show off and for the possible power that marriage would entail. And to be honest, I couldn't pretend to love them one bit, no matter how good an actor I may be.- he explains sincerely and I can't help but laugh at the last thing .

Eloise: And with me if you can pretend perhaps? - I ask strangely nervous about his closeness and curious about his answer.

Y/n: Yes, because you have something in your head and you have thoughts of your own.- he answers without thinking for two seconds. -It would be easier for me to fake a relationship with someone intelligent like you, than with someone who doesn't even know what an intellectual and casual conversation is; without it being planned.- he comments and I can't help nodding at the reality of the situation.

Eloise: And what happens if we don't fool anyone? - I ask with an exhausted sigh.

Y/n: Lady Whistledown already believes that there is something between us and as my aunt says, if that lady writes about it, the rest of the town comments on it and also thinks about it.- he answers calmly. -We just have to start being seen more together, take walks in the park together and dance only with each other.- he explains part of his plan.

Eloise: And how will we convince my mother, Lady Danbury and your aunt the Queen?- I ask and I see how he remains thoughtful.

Y/n: I could go to your house for tea from now on, show an intense interest on my part towards you and a notorious approach so that they do not suspect.- he plans and I can recreate the plan in my mind.

I can see how the situation can turn out favorable for us and how we can both win if everything works as he has said. But it can also go wrong and someone discover us.

Eloise: Can I think about the proposal for a few days? - I ask a little nervous and insecure.

Y/n: You can think about it for as long as you want. - He nods with a small smile. -But I'm afraid that to ensure a positive ending in case you accept, we have to start acting now and even if in the end you reject the offer, we'll just distance ourselves a bit and that's it.- he raises and I nod, understanding his point of view .

Eloise: Okay.- I nod and he leaves a light squeeze on my hands and then releases them. -I'll think about it these days and I 'll give you an answer as soon as possible.- I assure him and he takes a couple of steps back, picking up his glass from the bench.

Y/n: Great, now let's go back to the dance and hopefully no one has noticed our absence.- he tells me and we both head towards the dance.

Before reaching the end of the maze, he asks me to go first and that he will appear a few minutes later; so as not to arouse suspicion. And that's what happens.

Ten minutes after I have found my brothers, excusing myself for having been in the bathroom and for the long queue, there he was. Prince Y/n approaches us and asks me to dance with him, which I immediately accept with a smile and beginning the most important performance of my life.

From this moment on, in the following days we will have to be the best actors in the world and make all the people believe that there is something between the prince and me.

I just hope that everything goes well and that in the solitude of my room, I can think calmly and weigh all the pros and cons of the proposition Y/n has made me.

I only hope to be able to choose well and not regret it in the future; either close or far from the decision that I have to make in a few days. Because that decision will dictate my life and future from the moment I make my final decision.

[listen-to-the-inner-walrus]

if im remembering it correctly, it was really early on like he was considering when he was originally writing A Game Of Thrones.

george seems to have mellowed out quite a bit since the early days, both in his behaviour (theres a famous story about a multi fandom fighting tournament and in regards to a jaime v hermione granger round, george said something along the lines of jaime knocking out her teeth so she couldnt utter her spells) and in his plans for the series, or i guess his plans have shifted as society has shifted?

unfortunately, its kinda hard to tell because like, its been over 17 years since weve had an asoiaf book. fanfic right now is all we really got, apart from the fan project where theyre like trying to write the winds of winter themselves?

george specifically plotted out a potential arya jon romance if i remember correctly

I really like ASOIAF (as much of it as has been published anyway) but the more I learn about George's plans for it the more I feel like maybe George and I just have different preferences in what makes a good (ending to?) a story. And that's ok. This is what fanfic is for.

[fantasyroyalfamily]

The Sims 4: The Little Mermaid Part 2

Ursula bumped into Ariel and at that instant knew who she was. Ariel was her only link to her sister, Athena, as she had been searching for her ever since their father died. Ursula decided to help Ariel and investigate what had happened to her.

Queen Regent Gayla and a mystery man, known as Prince Eric, argued because Gayla wanted Eric to marry a royal princess. However, Eric begged his mother to give him a chance to find the woman who saved him and marry her. After some protest, his mother caved in and allowed the search.

Ariel was unable to speak, and Prince Eric was unaware of her condition. Despite her muteness, Ariel provided comfort to Eric, and he was glad to find a friend in her. He promised to find a solution to her muteness. At the same time, Ursula was searching for answers to help Ariel in her endeavors.

Nine months have passed, and still no true love's kiss. Ariel is scared that her deadline is almost up. One day, Prince Eric arrived from his tour of the kingdom and went to his mother, stating that he found the woman who saved him. Unbeknownst to his mother, he was under a spell forcing him to listen to the commands of this mystery woman. Ariel was distraught and upset. She left, bumping into Ursula from her journey, and it was there that Ursula confessed who she was and that she knows who was behind Ariel's second curse.

Ursula was able to defeat the mysterious woman with her magic and obtain a confession that Ursula's mother, Carina, was behind everything because she wanted the throne for her daughter. Ursula attempted to restrain the woman, but she was able to escape."

Ursula united Prince Eric and Princess Ariel, and they had their true love's kiss, breaking both curses. Ursula explained Ariel's origin, the curses, Lady Carina, and the events that occurred. Ariel forgave Ursula, but Ursula received the bad news that Athena and her other nieces were lost.

Ariel went to the ocean to inform her father of everything. At first, he was upset, but then overjoyed that the curse placed on him and his family was broken.

Prince Eric and Ursula bowed to King Triton out of respect, and King Triton agreed to the union of Prince Eric and Princess Ariel to unite the kingdom and bring about peace.

5 years later, Arial and Prince Eric got married at the age of 20. Nine months later, she was due to give birth to their first child. However, unexpected news reached the palace.

Princess Arial's maternal grandfather, Duke Gael Tolman, approached her with troubling news. He informed her that Lady Carina, Ursula mother, was expecting a child after a relationship with Arial's uncle. This revelation deeply upset Princess Arial and Prince Eric, who is now the King and Queen. In order to maintain peace within the royal family, Duke Tolman suggested that the children of Arial and Carina should be wed in marriage. In return, Carina would disclose the whereabouts of Arial's missing sisters and mother, of whom Carina was aware. Arial had no other choice but to accept the arrangement in order to finally locate her missing family. Both King Triton and King Eric agreed to this proposal.

A month later, Queen Arial gave birth to her daughter Melody.

Carina gave to her son Lord Leo.

Will this be a happy union or will it cause more chaos in the family?

Will Arial find her sisters alive or in unhappy situcation?

Will be see in the future! To Be continue.

[thaliajoy-blog]

Chapter 1 "Three Green Queens and the Dragon Anarchy" project

What a grim feast it was. The gold and black banners played a gloomy game with the torches. Alicent stood to the right side of the young bride, at arm's length of her grand-daughter.

Jaehaera was unnervingly calm - too much of the drug she'd been given to keep her steady and hopefully, mindlessly smiling, had made her as silent as a graveyard, and her face did not shine at any moment during the dressing, the parade, the ceremony or the party afterwards. She is only eight years old, and this whole thing should only be a formality, and an occasion for her to be the center of everyone's attention and affection. In fact, Alicent thought, she is now bound to be at the center of all our attentions for the rest of her life. She's the Queen. A queen of her own, by blood and not by marriage. The banners around them belonged to her late father, King Aegon II. A three-headed golden dragon on a black background. For the late king's beautiful dragon. But that dragon was dead now. Sunfyre had come crashing down from the sky after his fight with Baela Targaryen's own Moondancer. The poor thing had agonized for days. They would have to change those banners, at some point. They belonged to the grave, like all her sons now.

In any case, Alicent had informally forbidden black from being worn by anyone on this day of celebration and triumph. A discordant decision, given that the atmosphere of mourning was ominous. But no one dared go against the demand. They all knew why. In the same spirit, few dared to wear red. Alicent herself wore a dress of the deepest green - in stark contrast with Jaehaera, dressed in a soft and light springtime green.

Red and black stood for the imprisoned queen. Rhaenyra Targaryen still lived. Under heavy guard, in a place where she was hated and would find no friend ; the city of Oldtown. Or so her cousin said. Alicent would not draw one breath without some fear getting into her lungs and chocking her. At Jaehaera's left, Aegon the Younger sulked. Dressed in green too, like most people attending to some degree, he bore a grey dragon and a flaming tower on his breast. Alicent thought a moment about Jaehaera's new sigil ; maybe a dragon coiled around the Hightower. They might as well show for all to see who truly ruled. Behind this gloomy young queen, the power of Oldtown, the power of the Hightowers, the Green power. Alicent ruled. Jaehaera would not be of age until she was fifteen - and given her present state, she might forever need a regent, albeit an unofficial one. Alicent still had at least seven years of power ahead of her. If things went according to plan. Around them, men looked with deep eyes. Unwin Peake, a noted loyalist, could almost be heard plotting his future moves. This one would push his mother out of a window for a taste of power. He wants something. They all do, or they are stupid, and almost useless. Lord Roland Westerling was there, on behalf of his daughter Johanna, and not far from him, Lord Royce Caron represented his daughter Elenda, the lady regent of Storm's End. The later should have been there for a different wedding : that of Aegon the Elder and lady Cassandra Baratheon. The lady was there too, smiling (as she was surely bid), with two of her sisters. More people to content ; she needed their strength, however displeasing it was for a Queen, to be in the debt of subjects.

Aegon the Younger, obviously was a source of trouble too. He was a child, nearly eleven, but he was Rhaenyra Targaryen's last living child. Aegon II had officially booted Rhaenyra from the succession, and her son as well, but ironically, his own ascension showed how laws and decrees could mean very little in the face of ambition and determination. If enough people wanted this Aegon to be king, the war would continue. The child sometimes looked at her straight and clear ; he was old enough not to make a scene, but his chilly stares showed how little he controlled his emotions. He barely looked at Jaehaera - and when his eyes fell on her, they went through her, as though she were a ghost ; as though she weren't there. No doubt in his mind, the only queen in Westeros was his mother. Alicent shot him back a chilly smile. He understands me, she thought, seeing him flinch a little, and lower his eyes.

The feast was nearly at an end. It had gotten a little bit merrier, and Alicent remembered sweet summer evenings with her sons and her daughter, where laughter felt, through the passage of time, like beautiful songs. She could not remember one thing that was said then ; her memory refused her that comfort. But she let no sadness transpire on her face. I'm the Queen, she thought. They all realize it. Not a sad thing forgotten in a tower, a tottering grandmother who counted her losses and smiled upon her new-born grandchildren - I am the real center of this room. Rhaenyra is not here. Nor are her brothers. It is just me, Jaehaera, and this sulky boy, Aegon. There were two others, really, but neither could or would attend. Helaena slept or raved in her chambers, too deep in grief. And the other...the royal little lady, Baela Targaryen, who had put her son under for a second time, and left to her the ruling of the kingdom. Baela could not be trusted anywhere near knives, or anywhere near Alicent. She hated her with a fiery passion, and Alicent only gave her a cool dislike in return. She now slept in a cell, and no doubt screamed as much as Helaena did. For now, she was a nuisance more than anything. But holding her had its advantages.

High in the snowy Vale, Alicent's true ennemy stood. Hard to believe - but the Targaryen who threatened her the most, because of her freedom, her youth, and her brand-new dragon, was Rhaena of Pentos. The girl who was said to be sweet and ladylike, prone to obedience. Had Rhaenyra been like her ! Would it have made her stronger, or more vulnerable, that armor of courtesy and maidenhood ?

But Rhaena is a daughter of Daemon Targaryen, no one should forget it. And of Laena Velaryon...could the little thing high in the Vale be scolded or coddled into being crowned queen ? If she chose to go all the way, she could claim the throne by putting forward the claim of her grandmother and mother. The Vale was ruled by a woman, after all...why not ? How grotesque this situation would be. Having Baela to hold against her was a good thing. And in a way, Aegon, even if he was now her grand son-in-law.

When it was time, Jaehaera and Aegon were made to get up. They have to sleep in the same bed, even if of course, nothing will come of it at this point. It was purely symbolic, but Alicent cared about it. Jaehaera then came to her, her eyes darkened, dull and sharp at the same time, somehow.

"Lady grandmother, can I visit mother before I go to bed ? I will not speak loudly, I will not touch her, if she doesn't want it. I want to see her for a minute, that's all."

Did Alicent receive Helaena on her wedding night, before she went to Aegon's bed ? She would almost let the mask slip, there. She put her spindly hands on her little queen's face. They had both grown frail. Alicent was long and thin now. She was like a great squeleton - the war has weakened her, like a malignant tumor. And the little girl seems smaller than ever, so slow to grow, her cheeks so pale.

"My Queen, that would not be wise. Your mother is very ill. More ill than usual ; you may be distressed at seeing her in her present state. You should rest - I see you are tired."

"I'm not tired," Jaehaera responded.

It's true ; she was a dragon too. It was difficult to sway her father, and his brother Aemond. Maybe she will be difficult too, after all. And Helaena had always been peasant and pliable, but what she had suffered had turned her into a sad, unruly creature.

She would have to deal will that.

Everything is so fragile, little granddaughter. You are a queen, and yet, you have to learn to obey for now. She imagined it ; the great black dragon Jaehaera would one day ride and command, flying over the Hightower. The two most powerful houses in the realm, united. And an eight years old with a mad mother and the ghost of a dead twin is the hope of that project. Jaehaera went away, and did not turn her eyes to her.

[lemonhemlock]

Your analysis was really interesting to read!

I had these thoughts about Aemond saying he was next in line.

Aegon has not been made king yet. Maybe Aemond is confident that should Aegon shirk his duties, that instead of the crown being past to his very small son, that they’d want to see him on the throne instead so they’d move the line of succession from the 1st born who is gone and uncrowned to Viserys second son.

Otto wouldn’t protest because it’d still be his grandson on the throne. Plus it might be easy to get the houses to fall in like because Aemond is of marriageable age and who wouldn’t like their daughter to be queen with future grandchildren then in line for the throne. Puts their house in good standing.

It’s why I assumed Aemond wasn’t married yet. They were waiting to use him to their advantage.

I definitely didn’t take it as a threat to the kids. He seems to be all about duty to family. Thus holding on to Aegon when it’d serve him better to let him go.

Love all the thought you put into the subject!

Hey there, thank you for your kind message! I'm glad you liked it, I needed to get it out of my head somehow. 😂 I'm going to divide my thoughts on this in three parts.

I want to preface this by saying that I don't think baby-murder is in line with Aemond's characterization at all (at least so far). He has no reason to inflict so much pain on his sister and mother by killing his niece and nephews for personal ambition. The problem is that he can't really get rid of them either, if we are to take him seriously that he's "next in line to the throne".

a) The problem is that much complicated, because, as GRRM pointed out as well, medieval succession is muddy and not really codified properly, so it's conducive to a lot of dilemmas. If you resort to the argument that the King's firstborn son is heir, then his heir, in turn, is the next firstborn son, so Viserys->Aegon->Jaehaerys. Aegon being the true heir, as the greens argue, is not dependent on whether or not he eventually gets crowned.

If he dies before his time, the crown passes down his line, not his brother's. There is also this idea that the crown passes from one monarch to another at the very moment of death, so that the throne is never actually vacant (even if the crowning ceremony didn't take place). So, if you go by that philosophy, Aegon got to be King already for a couple of hours before his "death".

There are also others that fight over the proximity to the monarch - who should inherit? the grandson/greatgrandson etc of the King or the King's second son or perhaps the King's brother, since they are generationally closer. It's all very philosophical and many different arguments can be made, but there is no one clear answer here when everyone has their own take.

The problem is that you're not just passing up one baby, you're passing over three, including two boys, just for Aemond to be King. The greens can't wiffle-waffle like that when they're trying to prove they have law and historical precedence on their side. I mean, it's not out of the question, but it could come off as a coup-within-a-coup.

The most straightforward solution would be to install a regency for Jaehaerys, until he comes of age, but that would put an expiration date on Aemond's time galavanting as King. Also Otto would just love being Regent for a baby, since he could basically do as he pleases and not have to answer to anyone. Aemond taking Jaehaerys' place kind of curtails that, so I'm not sure he would necessarily support Aemond in this scenario. My belief is that the greens would be split if Aemond really pursued the throne over Jaehaerys, when they really can't afford to get side-tracked.

b). I actually don't have a problem with helaemond. It may not be everyone's cup of tea within the green community, but I think it provides an additional layer of narrative irony that is just very compelling to me. I think your idea of keeping Aemond and Daeron as bargaining chips for marriage alliances has merit to it - also, Aemond is meant to be what age in episodes 9-10? 16? If he claimed Vhagar at 10 years old and there's been a 6-year time skip. Time is a little fuzzy in the show for practical reasons, but still. Aemond and Daeron may just have been too young to go looking for brides up to this point.

That being said, in this scenario in which Aegon disappears, I still think it would make more sense for Aemond and Helaena to marry. Helaena is a dragon-rider, remember, and Targaryens are loath to give away their dragons to other houses. It's one of the reasons they practice incest.

When Rhaenys married Corlys, she effectively endowed House Velaryon with dragons. At one point, the dragon parity between the Targaryens and the Velaryons was 2-3 (Caraxes, Syrax vs Meleys, Seasmoke, Vhagar). That's kind of crazy. Aemma's children kept dying, Daemon wasn't having any with Rhea Royce and if Rhaenys kept having them, who knows how many dragons the Velaryons would end up with? I don't think the greens would be willing to just give the female, egg-laying Dreamfyre away to another house.

To continue in this fanfiction-y vein, the only way Aemond would get to be King over Jaehaerys if he declared Helaena's children to be bastards, then legitimized them as his own. If they had additional children within wedlock, it is unclear if Jaehaerys/Jaehaera/Maelor would be relegated to the back of the line and their new siblings placed ahead.

c) Or, I suppose, he could just propose a compromise? He takes the throne, marries Helaena, names Jaehaerys as heir and just makes sure he doesn't have any additional children to supplant Jaehaerys and Maelor. That prevents them from being declared bastards and does not cause a succession crisis, because it doesn't place them in direct competition with better claimants. It's not an unimpeachable position from a legal point of view though - he'd definitely have his detractors. And it's contingent on him convincing his family to go along with it, too.

The reality, though, is that Aemond is not doing shit without Mother's approval. Theoretically speaking, if he seized the throne by force, he could do whatever the hell he wanted, but he lacks resources and political support for that. He has Vhagar, but he lacks soldiers on the ground. How would he realistically enforce this? Waltz back into the Red Keep and tell Alicent & Otto he's King now? Practically speaking, he hasn't shown himself to be that much of a rogue and has no counter-insurgency backup plan. If Alicent & Otto say no, then I'm afraid it's a no.

[ailelie]

Story ideas for future stories

Yulia Belsky. This is an urban fantasy with Yulia Belsky who keeps Chicago (because I live in Chicago) safe from supernatural threats, but this was also my attempt at pulling what I enjoyed about Batman fanfic into a new story. So, Yulia also ends up mother and/or mentor to a group of young women who join her in fighting and negotiating with the supernatural creatures. Yulia also has a best friend who is a social worker who helps with the many fostering/adoption situations, but who also alerts Yulia to issues.

Gabriel Torres. This is a superhero story set in the modern day and is actually a series of short stories about how people with powers integrate with a society that requires all empowered people to be registered. Empowered people must receive permission to use their powers and are mostly shuttled to the police. Gabriel Torres' story opens, closes, and threads through the others. He is unregistered (and undocumented), but a definite hero for his neighborhood and popular. Then he gets caught. I've had this idea for over a decade, but have never really written it because it doesn't feel like mine to tell.

What happens after you beat the big bad? This was my 2022 NaNo. It is an epistolary novel, though I am seriously reconsidering that aspect of it. This has a rather large cast and focuses on the politics of running the country after you destroy the longstanding government (in this case the Immortal Tyrant). This is probably my next project should the current ever end.

Laura Church & David Conroy. This is a superhero romance story in which two strangers marry each other in Vegas. Initially both are intent on an annulment, but then the hotel is attacked and David (a mastermind-type villain) realizes he has married Halley, a powerful superhero. The two work together to save the hotel and realize the attack was part of a larger conspiracy. After that, David refuses to separate. Laura swears him to secrecy and returns to her normal life to report the attack on the hotel. But, their lives keep intersecting and the need to defeat the conspiracy before it acts again brings them together as well. Snippets of this story are buried in this blog.

Ultimogeniture. The heir to a kingdom learns that his newborn baby sister is the actual heir, but his father is dead and his mother dies in childbirth. His older relative would be her regent and the young man cannot let that happen. No one knew his mother was pregnant, though (she wasn't showing yet before they went into seclusion to mourn his father). No one save him, his deceased father, the midwife, and the midwife's assistant. So the young man proposes to the midwife's assistant and asks to pass his baby sister off as their daughter so that he can become king. He can abdicate in her favor when she's old enough. The assistant reluctantly agrees. Since she's been staying with the queen, no one knows she hasn't been pregnant. Romance does eventually happen, but the focus is on becoming a family and defeating the twisted politics threatening to ruin the kingdom. (This idea is from 2012)

[kemetic-dreams]

Who was the king of Ethiopia before Haile Selassie?

The title used by Haile Selassie actually translates as 'King of Kings', and thus was usually rendered in English as 'Emperor' rather than 'King'.

The previous monarch before him was a Queen (or Empress) not a King: Zewdita, who ruled from 1917 to 1930. Before her came her nephew Iyasu, who was never actually crowned so is usually not included in the list of emperors. Before him came Emperor Menelik II, who ruled from 1889 until 1913, but his death was not publicly announced until 1916.

In Amharic, the title was Negus Negusti, or in Ge'ez (the traditional language of Ethiopia still used for ritual and sacred purposes) Negusa Negest. 'Negus' is pronounced with the stress on the second syllable, which is long, so something like ne-GOOSE. It is usually translated into English as 'King'. It should also be noted that Ethiopia does not use the Latin alphabet, so Amharic and Ge'ez words are often transliterated into English in different ways (such as negusti, naguste, etc).

For much of its history, Ethiopia was a collection of rival kingdoms such as Shewa, Gojjam, Wollo, and Begemder, whose rulers often used the title Negus or King. Meanwhile the Solomonic dynasty claimed to rule the whole country by the right of their descent from Menelik, the supposed son of Solomon and the Queen of Sheba. Members of the dynasty called themselves Kings of Kings. Sometimes they had real power and the country had a centralised government; at other times there were merely figureheads while the various provincial kings were practically independent.

The period from 1769 to 1855 was one of those times of division with no real central government: it is known as the Zemene Mesafint or 'Age of Princes'. No fewer than 23 different Emperors were crowned during this period, but none of them had much actual power. That changed with the rise to power of Kassa Haile, son of a minor nobleman from the Dembiya province. Disinherited and reduced to outlawry — popular legend speaks of him as a Robin Hood-like figure, stealing from the rich and helping the poor — he formed an army and eventually seized control of Dembiya for himself.

Kassa attracted the attention of the powerful noble Ali of Yejju, whose mother Menen had married the nominal emperor and who himself claimed to be the Imperial Regent. In order to make this up-and-coming young warlord an ally, Ali arranged for him to marry his daughter Tewabech in 1848. While Kassa and Tewabech had a happy marriage, he soon quarrelled with his in-laws, and by 1852 was in armed rebellion against them.

Kassa defeated both his father-in-law and several other rival nobles, and by 1855 was the strongest ruler in Ethiopia. He then forced the nominal Emperor Yohannes III to abdicate, and had himself crowned Negus Negusti on 11 February 1855. He changed his name to Tewodros ('Theodore') which sounded more imperial, and spread the story (which may or may not be true) that his mother was descended from a 17th-century Emperor of Ethiopia and thus he himself had the blood of the Solomonic dynasty in his veins.

For the first time in a century Ethiopia was united by an Emperor who had actual power. Tewodros II (there had been a previous Tewodros in the 15th century) ruled for 13 years and spent much of that time leading an army, forcing the semi-independent rulers of Gojjam, Tigray, Shewa, and Wollo to recognise his authority. As well as constant civil wars he was threatened by the expansionist Egyptian khedivate, the Ottoman Empire, and neighbouring Muslim kingdoms.

In 1862 Tewodros decided to ask the British Empire for help modernising his kingdom. However, the British did not want to get involved in the region, and did not take his request seriously. Outraged by this dismissal, Tewodros ordered all the British citizens in his country to be arrested and thrown in prison. When he heard that a Church of England missionary had written a book describing Emperor Tewodros as 'barbaric, cruel, and unstable' he flew into a rage, personally threatened the missionary with a gun, and then beat two of his servants to death with his own hands.

The British response to the imprisonment of their citizens (including their ambassador) has been described as "one of the most expensive affairs of honour in history." They organised an army 13,000 strong, invaded Ethiopia (in January 1868), defeated its army, conquered it, and set the British prisoners free. Then, mission accomplished, they turned around and went back home again, leaving Ethiopia to its own devices. As for Emperor Tewodros, he shot himself when the British soldiers broke through the gates of his fortress.

The death of the Emperor left a power vacuum in Ethiopia, triggering four years of civil war. His immediate successor as Negus Negusti took the throne-name Tekle Giorgis II and attempted to consolidate power by offering concessions to the Ethiopian Church; but few of his rival nobles recognised his claim to the throne. Tekle Giorgis ruled for only three years before being defeated in battle by the warlord of Tigray province, who had him blinded and thrown in prison to die.

The new ruler was Kassa Mercha, another son of a minor noble who had fought his way to control of a province. When the British invaded in 1868 Kassa had helped them pass through his lands in Tigray rather than fighting them, and in return the British gave him enough modern muskets to equip 800 men, plus a battery of artillery. It was with these modern troops, plus around 11,000 more traditionally-equipped warriors, that Kassa defeated the 60,000-strong army of Emperor Tekle Giorgis at the Battle of the Assem on 11 July 1871.

After mopping up several other rivals, Kassa had himself crowned as King of Zion and King of Kings of Ethiopia (Nagusä Sayon, Nəgusä Naguśt zä Ityopya) on 21 January 1872. He took the regnal name Yohannes IV, and ruled for 17 years. He was a strong ruler who continued the work begun by Tewodros II of attempting to unite the rebellious provinces under central control, and also expanding the borders of Ethiopia outwards by conquest. A major blow to his ambitions was when the Italians seized control of the port of Massawa, previously controlled by Egypt, in 1885 — Yohannes had hoped to acquire the city himself.

Emperor Yohannes IV was killed in battle in 1889 when the Mahdists of Sudan, who believed their leader was the prophesised Messiah, invaded Ethiopia. As he lay dying in his tent he declared that his nephew Mengesha was actually his son, and so should succeed him to the throne. However, few people believed this claim and even fewer were willing to accept Mengesha as their emperor; so he was never crowned. He did, however, continue to rule his father's lands in Tigray.

The next emperor was instead Sahle Maryam, who took the throne as Menelik II. He was the illegitmate son of the negus of Shewa province, and was taken prisoner when Emperor Tewodros II subdued Shewa and reincorporated it into his empire. However, Tewodros took a liking to Sahle and arranged for him to marry his daughter. In 1865 Sahle seized control of Shewa for himself. He remained neutral during the British invasion of 1868, helping neither his father-in-law the Emperor nor the British. While Yohannes ruled, Sahle remained mostly quiet, though he showed great interest in modernising his province and especially its army with Italian help.

He declared himself as rightful emperor under the new name Menelik as soon as Yohannes died, because unlike the previous few monarchs, he was directly descended in the male line from the House of Solomon. Most nobles accepted his claim and he was crowned on 3 November 1889. He would rule for 24 year

born Sahle Maryam, 1889–1913

Menelik II consolidated power in Ethiopia, establishing a new capital city at Addis Ababa with modern enhancements such as paved roads, plumbing, a bank, and a post office; and in 1894 he invited the French to build a railway to connect the city to the French-controlled port of Djibouti. He also more than doubled the size of Ethiopia, by conquering the tribal lands to the south and east of his empire in a series of brutal wars. However, he is probably most famous for defeating the attempted Italian conquest of Ethiopia in 1895-96.

When he took the throne in 1889 Menelik had signed a treaty with Italy in which he recognised their ownership of Massawa and Eritrea in return for their acknowlegement of his position as Emperor. The treaty also guaranteed the freedom of both countries to trade in each others' territory and enjoy equal rights for their citizens there. However, this agreement, the Treaty of Wuchale, contained a clause that was different in the Italian and Amharic versions. The Amharic text said that the Emperor of Ethiopia could use the services of the Italian government when conducting negotiations with other nations. The Italian text said that the Emperor must use those services.

In other words, the Italian version of the treaty — which the Italian government circulated to other European nations — made Ethiopia their protectorate, conducting its foreign policy only with Italian permission. The Amharic wording suggested that this was merely optional, and that the Ethiopians could simply ask for Italian help and advice when negotiating with Western countries. It is thought that the discrepancy was included, on his own initiative, by the Italian ambassador in Ethiopia, Count Antonelli, who wrote the text of the treaty.

Emperor Menelik did not discover this deception until 1890, when he wrote letters to Queen Victoria of the UK and Kaiser Wilhelm II of Germany, only to have them returned with a note that he was not allowed to do this, and should communicate with them only via Italy in future. (Supposedly Victoria's answer was cool but polite, Wilhelm was rude and dismissive.) Menelik was outraged, but it was not until 1893, when he felt his domestic position was secure, that he denounced the treaty. Italy, in turn, saw this defiance as justification for war.

In December 1894 fighting broke out between Italian forces in Eritrea and the inhabitants of Tigray, ruled by Mengesha, the "son" (or nephew) of Emperor Yohannes whom Menelik had beaten to the throne in 1889. The Italians won a swift victory and captured Adwa, the capital of Tigray. This encouraged them into overconfidence, and they decided to invade and conquer the rest of Ethiopia. This proved a disastrous failure.

On 1 March 1895 an Italian army of 14,519 men attacked an Ethiopian army of about 100,000 men in the Battle of Adwa (or Adowa), and was almost wiped out, losing 7,000 killed, 1,500 wounded and 3,000 captured. News of the defeat caused riots in Italy and the collapse of the government there. The new Italian government quickly signed a treaty under which they recognised Ethiopia's independence after all, and paid an indemnity of 10 million lire, in return for peace (and Ethiopia's recognition of the new border with Eritrea).

Menelik suffered a stroke in 1909, at the age of 65, which left him incapable and paralysed. His (third) wife Taytu, who had a strong personality, effectively ruled the country for a year until she was forced from power and replaced by a Council of Regency which governed from 1910 until Menelik died in 1913.

Menelik had no children from his three marriages, but he did have at least three illegitimate offspring. In 1909 he nominated his 14-year old grandson Kifle Yaqob, son of his eldest illegitimate daughter, as his heir. In 1911, with his grandfather still alive but unable to rule, his teenage grandson took power under the name of Iyasu. His title was Lij, literally meaning 'child [of noble blood]': 'Prince' might be an appropriate English translation in this context. ('Infante' would be even closer if we were speaking Spanish.)

Prince Iyasu, uncrowned ruler of Ethiopia 1911–16

Lij Iyasu faced multiple challenges to his rule, including an attempted coup, a poisoning attempt, and an armed mutiny in his first year in power. He was also accused of neglecting his duties and engaging in scandalous behaviour, including leading his bodyguards in slave-raids against neighbouring states instead of remaining in the capital.

In December 1913 Menelik finally died, though this fact was kept hidden to avoid instability. The nobles and ministers of the court, who regaded Lij Iyasu as an incompetent brat, avoided having him crowned as Emperor. On 27 September 1916 the Minister of War, Habte Giyorgis Dinagde, organised a coup d'état. He produced witnesses claiming that Iyasu had secretly converted to Islam, which would be grounds to forfeit the throne; and under pressure the Church confirmed this claim, excommunicated Iyasu and released the Ethiopian nobles from their oaths of loyalty.

A brief civil war followed, and Iyasu's side lost. He fled into hiding in the desert for five years, being captured in 1921 and kept under house arrest. When Emperor Haile Selassie took the throne in 1930, as described below, Iyasu was treated more harshly. When the Italians invaded again in October 1935 they distributed propaganda urging the Ethiopians to rise up in support of "the true Emperor Iyasu V" to overthrow Haile Selassie. Purely by coincidence, the 40-year old Iyasu was shortly afterwards found dead in his cell; having died entirely of natural causes and certainly not murdered on the Emperor's orders as a potential threat.

Going back to 1916, however, the organisers of the coup decided to make Zewdita the new monarch. She was an illegitimate daughter of Emperor Menelik II, and thus the aunt of Lij Iyasu. She was also the first regnant Empress of Ethiopia, and the first female African monarch in several centuries. Her title, rather than 'King of Kings', was 'Queen of Kings' (Negiste Negest). However, as a woman it was agreed that her relative Tafari Makonnen (who was also her heir since she had no surviving children of her own) would act as her regent and plenipotentiary, the Balemulu 'Inderase. Empress Zewdita was not entirely a figurehead — she had the final decision-making power and a lot of political influence — but her kinsman was the public face of the government.

Empress Zewdita, 1917–30

Empress Zewdita was crowned on 11 February 1917 and ruled for 13 years. She was conservative and a traditionalist, and a patron of the Church in Ethiopia. She left most matters of government in the hands of her relative the Regent Plenipotentiary, Tafari Makonnen.

This regent’s father Ras Makonnen ('ras' is a noble title, roughly equivalent to duke) was the first cousin of Emperor Menelik II on his mother's side, and was appointed as governor of Harar by the Emperor. He was also a notable military commander at the Battle of Adwa. Makonnen's son Tafari, born in 1892, thus had royal blood, and it was agreed in 1917 that he would be the nominated successor to the childless Empress Zewdita. He was also given the title ras at this point.

Ras Tafari thus became the face of the Ethiopian government in the name of the Empress. He arranged for his country to join the League of Nations in 1923, and pursued a cautious strategy of modernisation and westernisation. He also banned slavery in his country, though he was unable to enforce this.

In 1928 there was an attempted revolt against Tafari's power, led by the governor of Sidamo province who was accused of underpaying taxes to the central government. Conservative nobles rallied around the Empress and attempted to have Tafari tried, for treason and consorting with Italians. The attempt failed, and as a concession to secure peace Empress Zewdita was pressured into upgrading Tafari's title from Ras to Negus, or 'king'.

Two years later the Empress's husband Gugsa Welle launched a rebellion of his own against Negus Tafari — without the permission of his wife. He raised an army of around 35,000 men, but other members of the nobility were too cautious to join him. The Empress reluctantly declared her husband a rebel, and Tafari led the official army of Ethiopia to combat him at the Battle of Anchem on 31 March 1930. Three aircraft flew over the rebel army dropping leaflets urging the soldiers to desert, followed by bombs. Gugsa Welle himself was shot and killed while riding a white horse into battle. His army disintegrated. Within three days, Empress Zewdita herself was dead, supposedly of shock and grief at her husband's death (though she was in fact seriously ill anyway).

Eight months later on 2 November 1930 Tafari Makonnen was proclaimed as Emperor himself, taking the name Haile Selassie (which means 'Power of the Trinity'). He remained emperor until the revolution of 1974, though between 1936 and 1941 he was in exile in England after the Italian conquest of his country

A major famine in 1972-74 which killed tens of thousands of people (some sources claim even higher figures) undermined public support for the Emperor, who until then had generally been popular. High inflation also led to riots, strikes, and a mutiny by the army which demanded higher pay. On 12 September 1974 a Committee (Derg in Ge'ez) set up to investigate and rectify the army's grievances, instead deposed the Emperor and placed him and his family under arrest.

Haile Selassie's son, the 58-year old Crown Prince Asfaw Wossen, was in Switzerland at the time receiving medical treatment. The military junta announced that he was now King of Ethiopia (they used the term 'King', not 'Emperor'). However, Asfaw refused to accept the legitimacy of the coup against his father, and therefore refused to use the new title given to him. He also publicly condemned the actions of the Derg when they had about 60 high-ranking members of the government executed by firing squad. In March 1975 the Derg — officially known as the Provisional Military Administrative Council — therefore announced the abolition of the monarchy and declared the creation of a Marxist-Leninist socialist republic.

The last reigning emperor, 83-year old Haile Selassie, died on 27 August 1975, supposedly of complications following surgery but according to some, he was strangled.

[goodqueenaly]

Throughout Westerosi history there has been a number of Regent Queens, so I was wondering why do you think it is so hard for Westerosi to accept a Queen in her own right?

(I looked but couldn't find a gif of Ophelia Powers - that fucking name lmao - saying "male academia" in Catwoman because I love that movie so much so just imagine that here.)

I'll answer this with a quote from everyone's favorite misogynist (heavy sarcasm, in case you couldn't tell) Maurice Druon, from the third book in The Accursed Kings series. For context, the plot of this book (La Loi des mâles, usually translated The Royal Succession) largely concerns the question of succession following the death of Louis X; the dead king has left a young daughter, Jeanne, whose paternity is questioned (since her mother, Marguerite of Burgundy, was carrying on an extramarital affair at the time of young Jeanne's conception and birth), as well as a pregnant widow. When one of the supporters of Philip (the next eldest brother of the dead king, who has royal ambitions of his own) admits he has found no precedents for outright excluding women from the throne, Gaucher de Châtillon, the Constable of France and another supporter of Philip, has this to say:

The Constable was a misogynist like all good soldiers, and he jutted his square chin and screwed up his saurian eyes. "It would be madness to allow a girl to ascend the throne," he went on. "Can you see a woman or a wench commanding the armies, unclean every month, pregnant every year? Can you see them dealing with the vassals when they cannot even control their own bodies’ heat? No, I don’t see it, and I should put up my sword at once. Messeigneurs, I tell you France is too noble a country to fall to the distaff and be handed over to a woman. Lilies do not spin!"

(Eventually Philip's supporters, in Druon's depiction, invent the Salic law to keep little Jeanne from the throne, which may have influenced the widow's law of F&B.)

This is not far off at all from the attitude of much of patriarchal Westeros. This is a land where the majority religion emphasizes that women are "wantons at heart, given to using their wiles and their beauty to work their wills on men" and presents in its godhead only three options for women - that is, virgin girls, mothers of families, or old (and by definition ugly) women. This is a land where not only can a man honestly and vigorously believe that "[t]he gods made men to fight, and women to bear children" and "[a] woman's war is in the birthing bed", but few if any men around him would think to disagree. This is a land where it is taken for granted that an aristocratic girl's future will be to "marry a king and rule his castle", to have her "sons ... be knights and princes and lords and, yes, perhaps even a High Septon". This is a land where even a woman or girl who has the right to rule in her own name can have that name (and consequently that authority) literally co-opted by her "lord husband". I'm hardly scratching the surface of Westerosi misogyny and patriarchy, obviously, but you get the idea - women are "the gentler sex", in need of being protected, divinely ordained to be wives and mothers and certainly incapable (so the society itself presumes, anyway) of performing the martial leadership that the Westerosi military aristocracy demands from its leaders.

So while there have been ladies and queens who have served as regents, it is in turn difficult to swallow that a woman should be a permanent leader and ruler in her own right. A regent might at least have a public association with the former, presumably male ruler (especially if she were the widow of the former ruler), and would in any event promise an eventual future of (again, presumably) male rule (since she would be ruling in the name of that male), but a woman who would think and act for herself, who would presume to lead (or at least direct someone else to lead) armies on her behalf, with no comforting promise of a strong male hand? Bluster bluster most unorthodox.

(And that doesn't even mean that women serving as regents are free from the strictures of that same patriarchal society. Brynden Tully notes that in the Vale, "many whisper that he [i.e. Nestor Royce, high steward of the Vale for Jon Arryn] should rule until the boy [i.e. Lord Robert Arryn] comes of age", while "[o]thers believe that Lysa must marry again, and soon, with "suitors gather[ing] like crows on a battlefield" around her; Lord Hunter even sniffs after her death that "Lysa Tully was never truly of the Vale, nor had she the right to dispose of us". Cersei might have proclaimed herself Queen Regent for Joffrey, but Tyrion and Tywin simply act as the executive authority anyway, neither one treating her as remotely like a power equal. Rogar Baratheon certainly believed that he could bully the Queen Regent Alyssa (who was of course also his wife) into accepting his schemes, no matter how bonkers.)

Of course, that does not mean that women are entirely excluded everywhere from ruling in their own right; Westerosi law does affirm (at least on paper) the right of a daughter to succeed to her father's (presumably father's, anyway) seat ahead of an uncle, and we've certainly seen our share of ladies ruling in their own right. (I have a tag for ruling ladies myself.) There was even a teasing mention in TWOIAF that a single Gardener queen sat the Oakenseat, though nothing else is known about her (grumble grumble more unnamed ladies, GRRM). However, Rohanne Webber summarized the point well: in the grand pissing contest of Westerosi aristocracy, "[a] woman must needs piss twice as hard, if she hopes to rule. And if that woman should happen to be small ...".

[aerltarg]

Maybe this is a stupid question, buuuuut:

I just can't imagine a world that Rhaegar comes back from the Trident, wins the war and becomes king. No, I'm not a anti Rhaegar, matter of fact I like him very much, I'm just can imagine how would Lya, little Jon, this whole affair, would settle in the capital. The norm that fics (at least those I read) tend to follow is to make Rhaegar:

1. A douche, paranoid and destiny-obessed king.

2. Completely incompetent, aloof monarch, that deep down has a heart of gold, but can't really be understood.

I mean, isn't he supposed to be a scholar since he was a kid? What's are your thoughts about it?

oh, yeah, i can totally understand this! it's is the whole point in canon actually, "the wrong man came back from the trident". you would expect a hero win against his antagonist and have a happy ending w his lady love but it doesn't happen. instead the subversion happens to them with rhaegar being killed by robert who becomes obviously a shitty king and lyanna dying after him. they were never supposed to have happy ending, they were created as tragic and doomed and dead from the beginning for the whole plot to start, jon to have his parentage mystery and dany to take the passed baton as the last dragon, prophesied savoir and the heir who has to carry entire house on her back now.

as for the realistic rhaegar wins aus that's the difficult question. tbh we just don't know enough abt their situation, plans and wishes. you see, e.g. in agot we can be right in ned's head and see his motivations, what he was thinking abt, what he was planning, what he was hoping to do. but if his story was told the way rhaegar's was i bet he would have his own crowd of haters and ~intellectuals~ jumping out every two seconds w their "hot takes" how actually all hints abt what rlly happened (ned being a good man w his own sense of honour, justice and experiences affecting him and the deal w cersei's children) doesn't matter and he was an ambitious prick, planned to grasp the power by being joffrey's regent and make his daughter sansa queen. (you can actually insert there any bullshit and still don't reach the level of stupidity of such "hot takes" this fandom loves so much lmao). also he would be blamed to the hell and beyond for being too stupid and not foreseeing the future and actions of other ppl bc ofc after everything happened it's so easy to say what was so obvious to notice. also they would say that the deaths of his men and horrible fates of his kids are 100% his fault and even straight up say he killed them lmao. i can rant abt it for hours so yeah. this is a situation w too many unknown variables bc it depends too much on actions of too many characters we don't know enough abt. the only thing it's possible to tell for sure is the fact that there couldn't be any perfect solutions since things got too complicated at this point.

such fics as you've mentioned tho are just a part of this dumb fanon where rhaegar is "too prophecy obsessed"/"incapable of love"/shrodinger's rhaegar both smart and stupid at the same time/whatever/all of this combined lmfao. the man was notably intelligent from the early age as you've absolutely rightly mentioned, his guesses abt himself being tptwp have nothing to do w egocentrism as some parts of the fandom would want us all to believe unless he wouldn't be so reasonable abt it and later on, after so many years, wouldn't have changed his mind and thought his son could be tptwp.

and literally fuck all antis that think you shouldn't consider prophecies that hold real power in this fantasy world lol. you know, aegon the conqueror was said to be motivated (or at least partly) to unify westeros by the prophecy and still got the treatment of perfect/maximum close to perfect figure of a leader everyone should look up to from the narrative and grrm. prophecy obsessed much, huh? i don't even talk abt all these parallels between him and rhaegar grrm put there not for bitches to ignore them completely! and i will never get tired of reminding that dismissing prophecies is UNWISE for targaryens of all people. the house whose story is built on the dream of young daenys and her father aenar that listened to her despite common sense (or what local "anti magic"/"anti prophecies" clowns consider to be common sense). targs would be as dead as the rest of dragonlords if not for daenys the dreamer. who else in the world has as many reasons to take prophecies seriously as them?

yet antis out there act as if rhaegar is one dimensional weirdo whose every character trait is abt mf ~prophecy obsession~. like how can they miss one of the main points so badly?? the game of thrones distracts ppl from the real danger beyond the wall, yk, the one rhaegar was aware of and meant to deal with. there wouldn't be such a problem if he became king and had as many years of head start before ice zombies apocalypse as ignorant bobby b did. rhaegar had to die just for westeros to sink in shit and our main heroes to save everyone to make this story more epic LMAO

so yeah, too many ppl portray rhaegar as this one dimensional robotic creature without any knowledge of what feelings are idk even for what reason. it seems these ppl can't read for real bc rhaegar was not only intelligent af as well as dutiful ("it seems i must be a warrior" but "he loved his harp more than his lance") but also. ugh emotional?? my boy had constant emo sessions w brooding at ruins of summerhall, sleeping out there beneath the stars all alone and writing songs that made all women cry. does it sound as someone who "isn't capable of love" lol? folks act as if he was completely heartless from the day he was born (bc he didnt play w other kids ig??) but in reality their emotional range is less than the one of a spoon in comparison to rhaegar's lol. i'm not even gonna address the horrible attitude of demonizing him for his implied depression, vile clowns never listen to themselves when they talk abt targaryens and their "madness".

tldr; these fics are mostly lame af and suck at characterization if they're making rhaegar like that lol. anyway his character isn't abt being a good or a bad king, it's abt being a would-be-king for characters in books and readers in reality to sigh over his tragic aura and pretty aesthetic abt how it could've been. however, grrm clearly doesn't write rhaegar as evil or incapable as some parts of the fandom would want to try to persuade others. realistically speaking in the scenario where he wins there couldn't be any perfect decisions but it's a territory of speculations on thin air and lit nothing more since canon doesn't provide us with enough information to rlly theorize anything instead of building biased headcanons some ppl call "analysis".

but remember what barristan said about rhaegar while practically watching him all his life, from a literal baby to the man grown:

“I know little of Rhaegar. Only the tales Viserys told, and he was a little boy when our brother died. What was he truly like?”

The old man considered a moment. “Able. That above all. Determined, deliberate, dutiful, single-minded.” (ASOS, Daenerys I)

“Prince Rhaegar’s prowess was unquestioned, but he seldom entered the lists. He never loved the song of swords the way that Robert did, or Jaime Lannister. It was something he had to do, a task the world had set him. He did it well, for he did everything well. That was his nature. But he took no joy in it. Men said that he loved his harp much better than his lance.” (ASOS, Daenerys IV)

[dwellordream]

“It is unlikely that any king ever received more valuable assistance from his mother than did Richard from Eleanor. The new English monarch empowered her to hold England until he could arrive to take charge himself, and as a crowned queen she symbolized lawful royal authority in the kingdom until his arrival for his coronation. With her strong personality, she could dominate royal officials and assure administrative continuity. Although official records fail to reflect Eleanor’s efforts on Richard’s behalf, contemporary writers vividly depict her exertions. 

One chronicler wrote, “Queen Eleanor, who for many years had been under close guard, was entrusted with the power of acting as regent by her son. Indeed, he issued instructions to the princes of the realm, almost in the style of a general edict, that the queen’s word should be law in all matters.” He concluded, “To make up for his many excesses, [Richard] took care to show his mother all the honor that he could, that by obedience to his mother he should atone for the offenses committed against his father.” Although Eleanor’s position in England’s government was not comparable to that of Philip II’s mother in France, who was proclaimed official regent while her son was away on crusade, she swiftly exerted herself on Richard’s behalf, securing the kingdom for him and remedying the late king’s abuses. 

Representing royal power, she gave legitimacy to the authority of the experienced and capable chief justiciar Ranulf de Glanvill, and his writs sometimes stated their authorization “by the queen’s precept.” The respect given Eleanor as queen-mother would give her a prominent part in English politics during the turbulent years of 1190–94, when the kingdom was threatened by her younger son John, count of Mortain, and by the Capetian king. She was a prominent force in England, enforcing royal directives, prohibiting a papal legate from entering the kingdom, attesting royal charters, and attending gatherings of the king’s great council.

…A chronicler described Eleanor after her release from captivity: “Circulating with a queenly court, she set out from city to city and castle to castle just as it pleased her.” The chronicler must have chosen the uncommon term “queenly court” instead of “royal court” purposely to draw attention to the extraordinary sight of a female exercising royal authority. The queen sent representatives to all the counties of England to take free men’s oaths of fidelity to their new king. These royal agents were ordered to release captives imprisoned by the king’s will alone, not by the law of the realm, and also those held for offences against the arbitrary forest law, while those lawfully imprisoned were to be released once they found sureties for their appearance at trial. 

The chronicler continued, commenting, “In her own person she demonstrated how grievous unjust imprisonment was for men, and how release aroused in them joyful revival of spirits.” He added that Eleanor freed prisoners because her own experience had taught her that “confinement is distasteful to mankind, and that it is a most delightful refreshment to the spirits to be liberated therefrom.” Certainly Eleanor could feel for those arbitrarily imprisoned by her late husband, but her proclamation was not a general amnesty emptying the jails, for conditions for prisoners’ release were specific and consistent with legal principles and practices. The monastic writer William of Newburgh, nonetheless, was disgusted that freeing them had unleashed “these pests” back onto society only to terrorize decent subjects more confidently in the future. 

Another chronicler commented more favorably, recognizing her action as redressing Henry II’s despotic deeds. She curbed “the depredations of those . . . charged with the care of the forests, intimidating them with the threat of severe penalties”; he also hails her ending of Henry’s habit of housing his horses in the stables of abbeys, remarking that she “distributed them with pious liberality.” Although Eleanor’s first concern in the weeks after Henry’s death was assisting Richard’s smooth accession to England’s throne, she did not forget a widow’s duty to provide prayers for her departed husband’s soul. She assigned income of the vacant bishopric of Winchester as alms on Henry’s behalf and also made grants to the nuns of Amesbury and to the Carthusian brothers for his soul.

In old age, Eleanor was finally fulfilling the role that her English subjects considered proper for their queens, tempering the king’s harsh rule with mercy and busying herself with spiritual matters. Eleanor met Richard at Winchester soon after his landing at Portsmouth on 13 August 1189 to join his entourage. When he learned that English castles on the southern frontier of Wales were being attacked by the Welsh, his first impulse was to march immediately to their relief, but heeding his mother’s counsel, he continued on his way to Westminster for his coronation. In preparation for the queen-mother’s participation in the coronation festivities, over £100 was spent on clothing, furs, horses and their harness, and other items to ensure that she and her entourage made an appropriately splendid impression. 

Her household now included a number of noble maidens in her care, among them Alix of France, Richard’s long-suffering fiancée and victim of Henry II’s lust; Count John’s betrothed, Isabelle, daughter of the deceased earl of Gloucester; and Denise of Déols, heir to the lordship of Berry and soon to be the bride of Andrew of Chauvigny, one of Richard’s Poitevin stalwarts. Andrew had ties of kinship with Eleanor through her Châtellerault ancestors, and his kinsmen had supplied officials for the counts of Poitou. Bernard de Chauvigny had served as the queen’s chamberlain during her first years in England, and Richard as count of Poitou had made Geoffrey de Chauvigny his chamberlain.

Eleanor acknowledged her ties to both Andrew and Denise by attending their wedding at Salisbury. Richard took care to ensure that his mother had adequate wealth for maintaining a standard of living appropriate for a great queen, although as duchess of Aquitaine she was already rich and powerful in her own right. The division of the duchy’s resources between Richard and his mother is unclear, but Eleanor evidently felt no constraint on making grants from Poitou’s revenues. As duke of Normandy, Richard granted his mother income from some Norman administrative agencies.

…In spring 1190, after Richard had crossed to Normandy, he summoned his mother, his brother John, his illegitimate brother Geoffrey Plantagenet, and several bishops to a great council at Nonancourt. This council’s purpose was to lay out plans for governing the new king’s lands during his expedition to the Holy Land, and he provided funds for his mother’s travel. Richard had taken the cross in 1187, and it is his leadership of the Third Crusade, 1190–92, that makes him the best known of all medieval English monarchs. 

During Eleanor’s voyage across the Channel her mind must have turned to her own hardships endured on the Second Crusade more than forty years earlier, and her memories would have aroused fears for her son’s safety. Making the crossing with Eleanor were noble maidens in her entourage, among them her granddaughter Eleanor of Brittany, the unfortunate Alix of France, and the daughter of the countess of Eu. Also traveling with her was a great lady, Hawise, countess of Aumale, Normandy, lady of Skipton and Holderness in northern England, and the widow of the earl of Essex. A strong-willed lady similar to the queen-mother, a contemporary described her as “a woman who was almost a man, lacking nothing virile except the virile organs.” 

Richard aimed to give her in marriage to William de Forz, one of his faithful knights in Poitou and a descendant of functionaries in the service of Eleanor and her predecessors. At the Nonancourt council, the new king made provision for his sole surviving brother during his absence on crusade. He handed over to John control of six shires in England and the county of Mortain in Normandy, and he confirmed his title of lord of Ireland, making him a dangerously overmighty subject in the British isles. Richard’s generosity to John in his strongly governed kingdom and his wealthiest French province gave his brother scope for causing trouble, although the king apparently felt confident that his weak character left him incapable of causing serious mischief. 

Establishing the new count of Mortain in so powerful a position led some of Richard’s subjects to surmise that he did not expect to return from his crusade, and they feared that if he did, “His brother, already no less powerful than he and eager to rule, would defeat him and drive him out of the kingdom.” Richard’s lavish grants to John seemed an implicit declaration of his intent that John should be his heir in case of his death overseas. He saw that an explicit statement, however, would have encouraged the count’s bad behavior, as Henry II’s unhappy experience with Young King Henry had shown. 

The Lionheart perhaps expected that two checks would discourage his brother from doing harm. One was their mother Eleanor’s influence, and the other was John’s oath to remain outside England during his brother’s absence from the kingdom, but neither worked as expected. First, Eleanor was away from England for several months in 1190–91, accompanying Richard as far as Chinon in Anjou, then crossing Aquitaine to Spain and across the Midi to conduct Richard’s bride to his camp at Messina in Sicily, where he was wintering before sailing to the Holy Land. 

The second precaution, Count John’s promise at Nonancourt not to return to England for three years, was soon undone apparently through Eleanor’s pressing Richard to free him from his oath. She hardly knew her youngest son, who had grown up during her long captivity, and like Richard, she underestimated his capacity for trouble-making, or perhaps she expected that John’s awareness of his advantage as Richard’s presumed heir would induce him to behave himself. In fact, John surfaced “in active mischief” once his mother was far from England on her long journey to Spain and Sicily, although open moves against the regency government would begin only after he heard of his brother’s formal declaration of young Arthur of Brittany as heir late in 1190.

Once the queen-mother returned to the Anglo-Norman realm in 1191 she exerted her maternal pressure on her last-born son, succeeding in preventing him from rushing off to join Philip II following the French king’s premature return from the crusade in anger and frustration at Richard. At Nonancourt, the Lionheart named two chief justiciars to govern England jointly in his absence, but this scheme promptly collapsed on the death of one of them, William de Mandeville, earl of Essex. The king then began tinkering with his plan that ultimately would leave one of the co-justiciars, William Longchamp, bishop of Ely, solely in charge of the kingdom. Longchamp’s power rested on his control over the royal seal as royal chancellor, a sign of Richard’s confidence that in effect handed over to him the administration of the realm. 

By limiting authority of the other co-justiciar, the bishop of Durham, to the north of England, Richard had given Longchamp an excuse to exclude him from Westminster, the center for royal administration. Finally in June 1190, Richard acknowledged Longchamp’s supremacy, declaring him chief justiciar of all England. On the same day that the king’s letter arrived, news came that the pope had conferred on Longchamp spiritual authority over the Church in the island kingdom as papal legate. One chronicler’s claims that Longchamp had “three titles and three heads” and that he had become “Caesar and more than Caesar” ring true.

Apparently Richard’s trust either created or encouraged an arrogance and ambition within his chancellor that would ultimately bring him to ruin. The issue of Richard’s marriage was doubtless a topic for discussion during the Nonancourt conference. It may have been at that time that he revealed to his mother his plan to marry Berengaria of Navarre, and he requested her to travel to Spain and bring his bride to him in Sicily. Among Eleanor’s weightiest concerns was the Lionheart’s marriage and the birth of a son and heir that would ensure dynastic continuity and preserve the unity of the Plantagenet holdings. She knew well the many dangers that lay ahead for a crusader king. 

Years earlier, Richard had been betrothed to Alix, daughter of Louis VII and half-sister of Philip II, but he had always balked at wedding the Capetian princess, probably because of his belief that his own father had seduced her. Despite Eleanor’s anxieties, Richard himself showed few worries about the succession, confident that he would survive the dangers of an expedition to the Levant and live long enough to sire heirs. His mother was wary of the potential heirs to Richard—his sole surviving brother, John, count of Mortain in Normandy; her grandson Arthur of Brittany; and Richard’s half-brother Geoffrey Plantagenet, a cleric in minor orders. 

At Messina in Sicily, before sailing for the Holy Land, the Lionheart would name his nephew, Arthur of Brittany as his heir. Eleanor considered the child Arthur unacceptable because of the ferocious hostility of his Breton mother toward her Plantagenet in-laws. Eleanor can hardly have had much sympathy for Geoffrey, her late husband’s beloved bastard son, and she opposed Richard’s honoring his father’s wishes by naming him archbishop of York. Before Geoffrey could be consecrated, he had to take priestly vows, making him less credible as a potential king, and like John, he was barred from entering the kingdom for three years. 

Notwithstanding any doubts that Eleanor harbored about her youngest son’s character, she apparently viewed him as the sole suitable successor to the English throne should Richard die without direct heir, and possibly her insistence that Richard release John from his obligation of remaining outside the kingdom reflects her concern for his succession. A chronicle from the crusader kingdom maintains that Eleanor was the instigator of Richard’s marriage to Berengaria because her hatred and resentment of the king of France and his offspring led her to prevent at any price her son’s marriage to a daughter of Louis VII. This work is a continuation of William of Tyre’s chronicle that had recorded the Antioch affair that had brought public attention to Eleanor’s troubles with her first husband. 

It is unlikely, however, that Richard Lionheart was “bullied into marriage by his formidable mother” or that she can be credited with negotiating his marriage to Berengaria of Navarre. Despite Eleanor’s feelings about Richard’s choice of a bride or her fears for the succession, her son’s marriage to a princess from the Pyrenean kingdom must be seen as his own plan.  Allying himself with Berengaria’s father, King Sancho VI (d.1194), and her brother, the future Sancho VII, formed part of a program for stabilizing Gascony. Richard saw the match as “an ingenious diplomatic device . . . in order to cut his way through a thicket of political problems,” probably proposed by him as early as February 1190 at a great council of the Gascon nobility at La Réole.”

- Ralph V. Turner, “The Queen-Mother: Richard’s Reign, 1189–1199.” in Eleanor of Aquitaine: Queen of France, Queen of England

[cristinborgia]

AU Austria: Best destinations for the wives of Felipe II of Spain (It should be clarified that he was not a good husband to say)

Mary Tudor- Queen consort of France (1516-1571)

Henry VIII of England was desperate, France did not want to form alliances with England trying to marry his daughter Elizabeth to the dauphin of France, Francis of Brittany. His second wife, Anne Boleyn tried to convince the French ambassadors to commit her only daughter to the dolphin, but Francis I of France would only accept an engagement to Mary, Henry VIII's legitimate daughter. Mary had been a maid to her younger sister Elizabeth in Hatfield for two years now and had been declared illegitimate, but it is believed that Henry still had a fondness for her eldest daughter and even considered her favorite.

In the end, thanks to his best friend Charles Brandon and his lover, Jane Seymour, the king was convinced to legitimize his eldest daughter in secret from his wife, the Boleyns and Cromwells. Mary Tudor was called to her father at More's Castle, something that made many servants or the other nannies in the House of Elizabeth think. Lady Maria was reunited with her father, who was said to hug her daughter for the joy of seeing her again. Henry VIII made a small ceremony where he legitimized his daughter in the eyes of the priest Thomas Cranmer, who was threatened with execution if he did not do what the King ordered, despite the fact that Cranmer was faithful to Anne Boleyn.

Maria was given back her title of Princess of England, Princess of Wales and above all the alliance with the dauphin Francis III of Brittany was signed, she also being a Dauphin of France and future Queen of France. In the middle of the year 1535 while Henry VIII's birthday was being celebrated, the princess arrived with some of her ladies looking charming and beautiful. It is known that Ann Boleyn was about to faint when she saw her stepdaughter entering and that her husband received her with open arms, being the cherry on the cake that Henry VIII declared before the court to Mary Tudor as a legitimate daughter and therefore the current one. Princess of Wales above Princess Elizabeth.

After that news that scandalized all of England, Mary was returned to her rooms in Ludlow Castle and received a pension from her father, but the princess sent this money to her mother, Catherine of Aragon, who was in trouble. economic after being exiled. Although Mary hated Anne Boleyn, she always had a fondness for her younger sister, Elizabeth, and asked her father not to take away her comforts from the little girl after she stopped being Princess of Wales.

At the end of 1535 the princess left for France saying goodbye to her relatives and asked Alice Middleton, widow of Thomas Moro, to deliver a letter to her mother after her departure. On January 1, 1536, Maria arrived in France, being received by her father-in-law, her fiancée and her in-laws.

Mary and Francis fell in love at first sight and Francis is said to have called Mary "the most beautiful and cultured princess he has ever known." The wedding took place a month later in Marseille, being a great ceremony and the dolphins were acclaimed in France and England. Mary was considered the desired queen after the death of Queen Claude in 1524 and they thought that she would bring color, peace and joy to France.

Francis and Mary settled in the duchy of Brittany where the princess sent some sums of money to her mother, Catherine secretly being Mary of Salinas the one who gave this money to her queen. While this was happening Ann Boleyn had an abortion and the king wanted to execute her under the crimes of adultery, witchcraft and incest, but in the end the second marriage of Henry VIII was declared void. Anne was exiled from the court and retired to a country house with her mother Isabel Howard.

At the end of the year 1536 Enrique married Jane Seymour and this managed to convince the king to be less harsh with Catherine of Aragon so he gave her first wife some fair amounts of money to eat. In 1537 Mary was born she had her first son, Henry who would be King of France as Henry II of France and this birth was taken with great joy for France. That same year, her younger brother was born, Edward the desired Prince of Wales and María, together with her family, traveled to England where she became the godmother of her brother, treating him with great affection.

María had a good relationship with some of her political relatives, but her sister-in-law Catherine de Medici always saw her as a rival of hers since she wanted to sit on the French throne with her husband, Henry of Valois. In addition, Catherine envied Maria since she had a good marriage with Francis, and a very healthy male child, while she had children who presented some deformities or a delicate health and her husband Enrique was in love with his lover Diane de Poitiers at the same time. which gave all his attention.

In 1538 his first daughter was born, Catherine named in honor of her maternal grandmother Catherine of Aragón, this would be Queen consort of Spain as she was the second wife of Philip II. Two years later in 1540 Mary was born who would be Queen of Scotland by marrying the eldest son of James V, James VI of Scotland. The birth of three healthy children increased Mary's popularity, in addition to the fact that she had made it fashionable to wear dark-hued dresses with diamonds as decoration, something unusual in the French court.

In 1541 her second son, Arthur, was born, who would become Duke of Orleans after the death of two of his cousins, Charles and Enrique. In 1543 her last daughter was born, Charlotte who would be Princess of Transylvania and her favorite.

Henry VIII died in the year 1547 being succeeded by the young Edward as Edward VI. Mary attended the coronation of her younger brother and asked permission to take her mother, Catherine of Aragón with her because she was already an older woman and it would be good to spend the last years happy with her. This was accepted by Edward VI due to the great affection he had for his older sister and María left with her mother for France but not without first recommending to her brother that he write letters in case he needs help and that he lean on his loyal advisor, Eustace Chapuys to deliver those letters because he knew that the King's uncles, Thomas and Edward Seymour would do everything possible to control the kingdom.

A few months after the death of Henry VIII of England, King Francis I of France passed away and the Dukes of Brittany were crowned, Francis being the second of his name. Mary made her mother her personal secretary, as well as being her loyal advisor, mother and daughter remaining very close.

In 1549 Thomas Seymour was executed on thirty-three counts of high treason. The Queen of France traveled to England and declared herself regent for the minority of her little brother. Although Mary was not very interested in politics, she knew that Edward Seymour, the brother of the late Thomas, would do his best to become regent and she did not want England to fall into the ambitious hands of the Seymours. Her position as regent did not please the Protestants and some members of the court, but especially Edward Seymour who believed he had more right to be the regent of her nephew. On January 23, 1550, Edward Seymour broke into the king's rooms to try to kidnap him, but the barking of Edward VI's favorite dog alerted the guards who arrested the Duke of Somerset. In the end Edward was imprisoned for treason and attempted murder of the king and half a year later he would be executed.

Mary, frightened by this situation, decided to send her younger brother to France to be under the protection of the king and people the queen trusted. The Queen's regency had many ups and downs due to her Catholic beliefs and her religious reforms to limit the power of Protestants whom she viewed as heretics. The regent spent a year in England and a year in France trying to carry out her position as Queen consort of France, this being somewhat stressful for her.

In 1553 her grandson, Henry the future Henry III of France, was born and the queen loved her grandson very much, so much that she granted properties in the Duchy of Brittany for her enjoyment. Two years after the birth of her grandson, King Edward VI became engaged to the French princess Elizabeth de Valois who was the niece of Mary.

Her role as her regent was repeatedly engulfed by tensions between Catholics and Protestants, the latter being the ones who did not want a woman, much less a fervent Catholic, to rule in the name of her king. These pressures and threats to her life caused different depressions for Mary, which were aggravated when her mother, Catherine of Aragón, died in 1558 due to heart problems at the age of 73.

The burial of her mother in the basilica of Saint-Denis, Mary Tudor left the regency of England when her brother Edward was 21 years old. Mary returned to France in 1560 with her family and continued her role as queen consort of France. In 1565 her husband Francis hers began to have various health problems and died that same year from an alleged stomach cancer being the traumatic death of her for Maria who was still depressed by the death of her mother.

Despite these deaths, the widowed queen remained next to her children, especially next to hers, her first-born Henry of hers, who was crowned Henry II of France. The queen mother focused on leading a quiet and family life with some of her grandchildren, but it is known that she had many complications with her young daughter Charlotte who was Princess consort of Transylvania when she married Esteban Bathory and with him she had a marriage marked by the infidelities, jealousy and the supposed madness of the princess.

In 1570 Esteban Bathory died and his son Esteban “el negro” locked up his mother in a mental asylum for his supposed insanity. Maria tried her best to get her little girl out of there and return to France with her, but this was denied by her grandson and her court. The confinement of the dowager princess made the French family begin to intrigue against the Bathory claiming that they were heretics who showed loyalty to Satan and that Charlotte, being a fervent Catholic, decided to get rid of her.

The health of the queen mother suffered after the confinement of the princess and she passed away at the end of the year 1571 at the age of 55. Ten years after her death, her grandson Esteban “el negro” died without issue, being succeeded by her younger brother Henry, who freed her mother, Charlotte from her, allowing her to return to her normal life.

AU Austria: Mejores destinos para las esposas de Felipe II de España (Cabe aclarar que el no fue un buen esposo que digamos)

María Tudor- Reina consorte de Francia (1516-1571)

Enrique VIII de Inglaterra estaba desesperado, Francia no quería formar alianzas con Inglaterra tratando de casar a su hija Isabel con el delfín de Francia, Francisco de Bretaña. Su segunda esposa, Ana Bolena trato de convencer a los embajadores franceses de comprometer a su única hija con el delfín, pero Francisco I de Francia solo aceptaría un compromiso con María, la hija legitima de Enrique VIII. María llevaba ya dos años siendo criada de su hermana menor Isabel en Hatfield y había sido declarada ilegitima, pero se cree que Enrique todavía sentía aprecio por su hija mayor e incluso considerada su favorita.

Al final gracias a su mejor amigo Charles Brandon y a su amante, Jane Seymour, el rey fue convencido de legitimar a su hija mayor a escondidas de su esposa, los Bolena y Cromwell. María Tudor fue llamada ante su padre en el Castillo de More algo que hizo pensar a muchos criados o las otras niñeras de la Casa de Isabel. Dama María se reencontró con su padre el cual se decía que abrazo a su hija por la alegría de volver a verla. Enrique VIII hizo una pequeña ceremonia donde legitimaba a su hija a los ojos del sacerdote Thomas Cranmer, quien fue amenazado con ser ejecutado si no hacía lo que el Rey ordenaba, pese a que Cranmer era fiel a Ana Bolena.

María le fue de vuelto su titulo de princesa de Inglaterra, princesa de Gales y sobre todo se firmo la alianza con el delfín Francisco III de Bretaña siendo también delfina de Francia y futura reina de Francia. A mitades del año 1535 mientras se celebraba el cumpleaños de Enrique VIII, la princesa llego con algunas de sus damas luciendo encantadora y bella. Se sabe que Ana Bolena estuvo apunto de desmayarse al ver a su hijastra entrando y que su marido la recibiera con los brazos abiertos siendo la cereza en el pastel que Enrique VIII declarara ante la corte a María Tudor como hija legitima y por lo tanto la actual princesa de Gales por encima de la princesa Isabel.

Después de aquella noticia que escandalizo a toda Inglaterra María le fue devuelta sus habitaciones en el Castillo de Ludlow y recibió una pensión de su padre, pero la princesa destino este dinero a su madre Catalina de Aragón quien estaba en apuros económicos tras haber sido exiliada. María pese a que odiaba a Ana Bolena, siempre tuvo un cariño a su hermana menor Isabel y pidió a su padre que no le quitaran a la pequeña sus comodidades tras dejar de ser princesa de Gales.

A finales del 1535 la princesa partió hacia Francia despidiéndose de sus familiares y pidió a Alice Middleton, viuda de Thomas Moro que le entregara una carta a su madre después de su partida. El primero de enero del año 1536 María llego a Francia siendo recibida por su suegro, su prometido y su familia politica.

María y Francisco se enamoraron a primera vista y se dice que Francisco llamo a María “la princesa mas bella y mas culta que haya conocido”. La boda se celebro un mes después en Marsella siendo una gran ceremonia y los delfines fueron aclamados en Francia y en Inglaterra. María era considerada como la reina deseada tras la muerte de la reina Claudia en 1524 y pensaban que ella traería color, paz y alegría a Francia.

Francisco y María se instalaron en el ducado de Bretaña donde la princesa enviaba algunas sumas de dinero a su madre, Catalina en secreto siendo María de Salinas la que entregaba este dinero a su reina. Mientras esto ocurría Ana Bolena tuvo un aborto y el rey quiso ejecutarla bajo los crímenes de adulterio, brujería e incesto, pero al final el segundo matrimonio de Enrique VIII fue declarado nulo. Ana fue exiliada de la corte y se retiro a una casa de campo junto a su madre Isabel Howard.

A finales del año 1536 Enrique se caso con Jane Seymour y esta logro convencer al rey de que fuera menos duro con Catalina de Aragón por lo que le entrego a su primera esposa algunas cantidades de dinero justas para comer. En 1537 nació María tuvo a su primer hijo, Enrique que sería Rey de Francia como Enrique II de Francia y este nacimiento fue tomado con gran alegría para Francia. Ese mismo año nació su hermano menor, Eduardo el deseado príncipe de Gales y María junto a su familia viajaron a Inglaterra donde ella se convirtió en la madrina de su hermano, tratándolo con mucho cariño.

María tenia una buena relación con algunos de sus familiares políticos, pero su concuñada Catalina de Medici siempre la vio como una rival ya que ella quería sentarse en el trono francés junto a su marido, Enrique de Valois. Además Catalina envidiaba a María ya que ella tenia un buen matrimonio con Francis, y un hijo varón y muy sano, mientras que ella tenia hijos que presentaban algunas deformidades o una delicada salud y su esposo Enrique estaba enamorado de su amante Diane de Poitiers a la cual daba toda su atención.

En 1538 nació su primera hija, Catalina llamada en honor a su abuela materna Catalina de Aragón, esta sería Reina consorte de España al ser la segunda esposa de Felipe II. Dos años después en 1540 nació María que sería Reina de Escocia al casarse con el hijo mayor de Jacobo V, Jacobo VI de Escocia. El nacimiento de tres hijos sanos aumento la popularidad de María, además de que ella había puesto de moda usar vestidos de tonos oscuros con diamantes como decoración, algo poco usual en la corte Francesa.

En 1541 nació su segundo hijo, Arturo que sería Duque de Orleans tras morir dos de sus primos, Carlos y Enrique. En 1543 nació su ultima hija, Carlota que sería Princesa de Transilvania y su favorita.

Enrique VIII falleció en el año 1547 siendo sucedido por el joven Eduardo como Eduardo VI. María asistió a la coronación de su hermano menor y pidió permiso para poder llevarse a su madre, Catalina de Aragón con ella debido a que ya era una mujer mayor y sería bueno pasar sus últimos años feliz. Esto fue aceptado por Eduardo VI por el gran cariño que tenia hacia su hermana mayor y María partió junto a su madre a Francia no sin antes recomendarle a su hermano que le escriba cartas por si necesita ayuda y que se apoye en su leal consejero, Eustace Chapuys para entregar aquellas cartas debido a que sabía que los tíos del Rey, Thomas y Edward Seymour harían todo lo posible por controlar el reino.

Unos meses después del fallecimiento de Enrique VIII de Inglaterra, falleció el rey Francisco I de Francia y los duques de Bretaña fueron coronados siendo Francisco el segundo de su nombre. María hizo a su madre su secretaria personal, además de ser su leal consejera permaneciendo madre e hija muy unidas.

En 1549 Thomas Seymour fue ejecutado por treinta y tres cargos de alta traición. La reina de Francia viajo a Inglaterra y se declaro regente por la minoría de edad de su hermano pequeño. Pesé a que María no estaba muy interesada en la politica, ella sabía que Edward Seymour, el hermano del fallecido Thomas, haría lo posible para llegar a ser regente y ella no deseaba que Inglaterra callera en las manos ambiciosas de los Seymour. Su puesto como regente no agrado a los protestantes y algunos miembros de la corte, pero en especial a Edward Seymour que creía que tenia mas derecho a ser el regente de su sobrino. El 23 de enero del año 1550 Edward Seymour irrumpió en las habitaciones del rey para tratar de secuestrarlo, pero los ladridos del perro favorito de Eduardo VI alertaron a los guardias que detuvieron al duque de Somerset. Al final Edward fue encarcelado por traición e intento de asesinato al rey y medio año después sería ejecutado.

María asustada por esta situación decidió enviar a su hermano menor a Francia para que estuviera bajo la protección del rey y de personas en las que la reina confiaba. La regencia de la Reina tuvo muchos altibajos debido a sus creencias católicas y a sus reformas religiosas para limitar el poder de los protestantes a los cuales veía como herejes. La regente pasaba un año en Inglaterra y un año en Francia tratando de desempeñar su cargo como Reina consorte de Francia, siendo esto algo estresante para ella.

En 1553 nació su nieto, Enrique futuro Enrique III de Francia y la reina amo mucho a su nieto, tanto que concedió unas propiedades en el ducado de Bretaña para su disfrute. Dos años después del nacimiento de su nieto, el rey Eduardo VI se comprometió con la princesa francesa Isabel de Valois que era la sobrina de María.

Su papel como regente se vio varias veces enfrascado por las tensiones entre católicos y protestantes siendo estos últimos los que no deseaban que una mujer y mucho menos una ferviente católica gobernase en nombre de su rey. Estas presiones y amenazas a su vida le causaron distintas depresiones a María que se agraviaron cuando en 1558 falleció su madre, Catalina de Aragón por problemas cardiacos a los 73 años.

El entierro de su madre en la basílica de Saint-Denis, María Tudor dejo la regencia de Inglaterra cuando su hermano Eduardo tenia 21 años. María regreso a Francia en 1560 junto a su familia y continuo su papel como reina consorte de Francia. En 1565 su marido Francisco empezó a tener diversos problemas de salud y falleció ese mismo año por un supuesto cáncer de estomago siendo su muerte traumática para María que estaba todavía deprimida por la muerte de su madre.

Pese a estas muertes la reina viuda se mantuvo al lado de sus hijos sobre todo al lado de su primogénito Enrique que fue coronado como Enrique II de Francia. La reina madre se centro en llevar una vida tranquila y familiar junto algunos de sus nietos, pero se sabe que tuvo muchas complicaciones con su hija pequeña Carlota que era Princesa consorte de Transilvania al casarse con Esteban Bathory y con este tuvo un matrimonio marcado por las infidelidades, los celos y por la supuesta locura de la princesa.

En 1570 falleció Esteban Bathory y su hijo Esteban “el negro” encerró a su madre en un asilo mental por su supuesta locura. María trato lo posible para que su pequeña saliera de ahí y regresara a Francia junto a ella, pero esto le fue negado por su nieto y su corte. El encierro de la princesa viuda hizo que la familia francesa empezase a intrigar en contra de los Bathory afirmando que ellos eran herejes que mostraban lealtad a satanás y que Carlota al ser una ferviente católica decidieron deshacerse de ella. 

La salud de la reina madre se vio resentida tras el encierro de la princesa y falleció a finales del año 1571 a los 55 años de edad. Diez años después de su muerte, su nieto Esteban “el negro” falleció sin descendencia siendo sucedido por su hermano menor Enrique el cual libero a su madre, Carlota de su encierro permitiéndola regresar a su vida normal.

[alinaastarkov]

There's a dilemma that you Dany morons don't think about. If Dany is going to be seen as an heir she needs Dorne's support because they have gender equality. Without it Dany is behind Aegon, son of Rhaegar and Stannis, great-grandson of Aegon V. And after that there's even the chance of Robert's bastards being legitimized so she's behind Mya Stone, Bella, Gendry and Edric Storm. Dany has nothing without Dorne. But you idiots can't even acknowledge that she fucked up majorly with Quentyn Martell.

Right, you asked for a history lesson so you’re gonna get it.

George R. R. Martin has based ASoIaF on a lot of things, but it’s fair to say he has been most heavily influenced by British/ English history. The laws in Westeros are very similar to medieval England, the geography is similar, the Dance of the Dragons is literally The Anarchy (the war of succession between Empress Matilda and King Stephen), the main conflict is based on the Wars of the Roses, etc. 

Succession laws in Westeros are one of the things he took from English history, besides Dorne. The main part of this was something called male primogeniture, which he has copied into the series pretty much unchanged. Male primogeniture meant a female member of the dynasty (or, more specifically a dynast’s daughter, i.e. the daughter of the ruling monarch/ head of the family) only inherited if she had no living brothers and her brothers had no living children themselves. After that, older siblings come before younger siblings, etc. Dorne practices absolute primogeniture, where the eldest child of the dynast will inherit, no matter what gender, and they will always come before younger siblings/ anyone from extended branches of the family.

Having educated you on that fact, let’s educate you on your Stannis/ Baratheon claim which is honestly the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard. No one has brought this up before cause it’s really that fucking stupid. Stannis has a claim because of Robert, but you, sir, decided to base this on Targaryen lineage, the ruling dynasty for 300 years, so let’s go. 

Obviously the daughter of the dynast (Aerys) comes before the great-grandson of the king from 50 years ago. Stannis is at least 3 generations removed from any claim to a Targaryen throne. Even in male primogeniture, the daughter of the dynast will always come before cousins/ uncles/ nephews/ any extended family. It’s why Matilda fought for her claim against her cousin, it’s why Mary I became Queen over Jane Grey and other male relatives, why Elizabeth became Queen over Philip II and Mary Queen of Scots and a bunch of male relatives, it’s why Mary II and Queen Anne both ruled, it’s why William of Orange only became King with the express permission of Anne herself who was the rightful heir. I could go on. I don’t know where this idea that Stannis has a better claim comes from cause it makes no sense. Female or not the child of the ruling monarch comes before extended family. Always. That extended family may contest it because they’re misogynists, but that doesn’t actually weaken the claim itself.

The same goes for Robert’s bastards but even more so as they are illegitimate, meaning they technically have no claim to anything at all until someone legitimises them. And by someone, I mean the monarch. Tommen will never do that and I don’t see any reason why any other claimants would either, unless it’s to put someone in charge of Storm’s End. To use another example, this is why Henry Fitzroy was never considered as a future king even as Henry VIII struggled endlessly for a son and both his daughters’ legitimacy was called into question. He was a bastard. End of story. They have less of a claim than Stannis, and Stannis has basically none. Besides, to make a claim to the throne that is weaker, you need a strong army. Robert’s bastards have none, Stannis is losing more of his every day, meanwhile Dany has the strongest army in the series. She has the strongest claim and the power to back it up.

Now, onto Aegon. Going off the law I’ve just explained, Aegon would come before Dany. There are a few problems in universe, however. For a start, Aegon is likely an imposter, and so would have no claim. See Lambert Simnel and Perkin Warbeck as good examples of this sort of thing. The second is that Aerys (likely) disinherited Rhaegar and his children, passing over him in favour of Viserys as his heir.

When Prince Rhaegar and his new wife chose to take up residence on Dragonstone instead of the Red Keep, rumors flew thick and fast across the Seven Kingdoms. Some claimed that the crown prince was planning to depose his father and seize the Iron Throne for himself, whilst others said that King Aerys meant to disinherit Rhaegar and name Viserys heir in his place. Nor did the birth of King Aerys's first grandchild, a girl named Rhaenys, born on Dragonstone in 280 AC, do aught to reconcile father and son. When Prince Rhaegar returned to the Red Keep to present his daughter to his own mother and father, Queen Rhaella embraced the babe warmly, but King Aerys refused to touch or hold the child and complained that she "smells Dornish." - TWOIAF

Had any whiff of proof come into their hands to show that Prince Rhaegar was conspiring against his father, King Aerys's loyalists would most certainly have used it to bring about the prince's downfall. Indeed, certain of the king's men had even gone so far as to suggest that Aerys should disinherit his "disloyal" son, and name his younger brother heir to the Iron Throne in his stead. Prince Viserys was but seven years of age, and his eventual ascension would certainly mean a regency, wherein they themselves would rule as regents. - TWOIAF

Birds flew and couriers raced to bear word of the victory at the Ruby Ford. When the news reached the Red Keep, it was said that Aerys cursed the Dornish, certain that Lewyn had betrayed Rhaegar. He sent his pregnant queen, Rhaella, and his younger son and new heir, Viserys, away to Dragonstone, but Princess Elia was forced to remain in King's Landing with Rhaegar's children as a hostage against Dorne. - TWOIAF

The last passage is especially damning. If it was simply that Rhaegar died, his children would be next in line to the throne over his brother, as I have explained. But Viserys is clearly stated as Aerys’ “new heir”, meaning he passed over Aegon and Rhaenys, deposing them to put Viserys as next in line. Before anyone says this can’t be done/ doesn’t count, it does. Henry VIII deposed both Mary and Elizabeth after removing their mothers and it was completely valid/ recognised. It’s why people called them both “bastards” throughout their lives. He also had to undo that decree before he died, meaning they were both able to rule after Edward. If Henry himself hadn’t undone it, they never would have ruled. So, Aegon’s status as disinherited will stand, even if he is really Rhaegar’s son. Aegon now has an army, meaning he can back up his weak claim, but so does Dany. And the army doesn’t mean his claim is better, either.

Dany doesn’t need Dorne for her claim, only for extra support when backing up her very valid claim to the throne. As I have just explained to you, Dany is currently the person with the best claim to the throne who is not currently sitting on it. Besides, she didn’t “fuck up” anything with Quentyn. She accepted him into her court graciously and did all she could to keep his support, foster a relationship with him and Doran/ Dorne by extension, shy of calling of her own engagement which would have meant the deaths of all her people. Everything Quentyn did after that was because he wrongly felt he was letting his father down and was his own mistake entirely. None of it is on her.

In summary, Dany has the best claim and the power to back it up, Aegon (might) have second best claim (though it’s highly unlikely, in fact pretty much impossible as he was disinherited) with slightly less power to back it up and Stannis has one of the worst claims without the power to back it up. Hope you enjoyed your history lesson! Read the books next time and you could avoid embarrassing moments like this 😬🤗

[simoviacourt]

The Queenmakers - the relationship between the Simovian monarchy and nobility

Yay, another history/worldbuilding post! No? Feel free to skip... But if you do read, I recommend you read this post about the noble titles first and the post about the way the Simovian government is set up is a handy one as well. For more general information, check out this page.

The civil war is over, now what?

To understand the power dynamic between the Simovian nobility and monarchy, we need to look back to 1798 when the War of the Bastards came to end with the former royal dynasty having been stripped of all power. That is when the 21 highest ranking nobles, the landed Vorsts (dukes) came together to discuss the election of a new King from one of their own. 

However, as the name would suggest, the main reason for the strenuous civil war that had lasted for nearly five years had been the late King’s inability to provide a single legitimate male heir, leaving the nation to deal with his five bastard sons instead upon his passing. 

The previous dynasty had also been absolute monarchs, something that the assembled Vorsts were keen to see an end to as well. 

Unsurprisingly, there were difficulties in reaching a decision. Each of the 21 families would put themselves forward as candidates and even though after a month of tireless bickering, negotiation and some more underhanded tactics, the selection had been narrowed down to two candidates from the den Pruys and Creutz families, neither of the candidates could reach the required unanimous vote. 

The problem that both candidates faced was the general division among the noble families who had each backed different factions during the war. Now those differences were erupting once again and it was starting to look like the civil war would resume there and then. 

It was then, in July 1798, that the young Vorst Florijn van Zuylen, who had been instrumental in bringing the noble families together in the first place to depose the King’s bastards and to end the war, received the tragic news that his young wife had passed away in childbirth after bringing to world a daughter, Estelle.

"No man who wears a crown will heed another man’s advice”

A very important note here is that Florijn van Zuylen had been one of the first names raised up by the other noble families to become the next king. He had come very close to receiving the unanimous vote as well, however he had refused the honour, stating that he would rather serve his country in any other way. He had seen each of the late King’s bastard sons succumb to their thirst for absolute power and he had no desire to wear a crown.

Florijn van Zuylen was very familiar with the writings of the late 18th century political philosophers, even going as far as to write some pamphlets himself, and he was a firm believer in power corrupting everyone. This left him with a dilemma. No man who set himself up to be the King would make a good King, but an unwilling King could get corrupted all the same. Yet, a nation without a strong leader would fall prey to infighting. He was already witnessing this with his own eyes as old feuds were being brought up among the nobility.

It is still widely debated what exactly possessed Florijn van Zuylen to make the most controversial proposition that the Simovian history knows. In a passionate speech addressing the other nobles he stated that no man in that room should become a King. In fact, there should never be another King in Simovia. For no man who wears a crown will heed another man’s advice. And so he suggested that his newborn daughter Estelle should be raised and educated to become a Queen for Simovia. Women did not claim such keen ambitions as men and thus would be more amicable to the idea of a council guiding them in their decisions. This, of course, was very much the way of the thinking of the late 18th century, and not true in the slightest but for the Vorsts gathered it made sense, even if Florijn van Zuylen’s suggestion was at first met with shock and suggestions that the young man had gone mad with his grief.

Long live the Queen, long live the nobles that guide her

Yet, such was the uniting power of Florijn van Zuylen that after fierce debate that lasted a good part of a week, the other Vorsts agreed to his suggestion on a number of conditions. Firstly, Estelle would be guided by a council, the House of Lords that would consist of every other noble family apart from the van Zuylens, secondly, Florijn van Zuylen would act as the regent until Estelle would turn 21, and finally, the future Queen’s marriage would need to be sanctioned by the newly established House of Lords. The seats in the House of Lords would be hereditary, making sure that the noble families would keep their power much in the same way that the monarch would. Furthermore, to cement this new form of government, Florijn van Zuylen rescinded his own title and lands to the nation.

And thus, a new era of Simovian monarchy began. No longer absolute, but guided by the House of Lords, and two decades later further legitimised by the creation of an elected parliament. Yet, to say that the transition was smooth, would be false. The highest ranking nobles may have agreed to the new system but the numerous Landgraafs were at first unwilling to go along with the arrangements. It was only after Florijn van Zuylen brokered a deal that liberated the Landgraafs from being fiscally responsible to the Vorsts, that a fragile balance was formed. 

However, Florijn’s efforts were not in vain, and for over 200 years Simovia has enjoyed relative peace and prosperity. There are of course those who criticise the system for giving the 20 families far too much power, especially considering that the noble families have been strengthening their ties to the royal family through marriage. Insiders say that there is so much powerplay within the nobility that what Florijn van Zuylen set out to do, which was to counteract the corrupting effects of power, has failed, though reform is unlikely as most people agree that the system works well enough. The topic however remains a classic staple for the Simovian debate clubs. 

(excerpt from the book “From the Gilded Era to the Age of Queens - exploring the Simovian history” by Professor Jan E. van Geerts)