#hotd episode 8

[aphrmoosun]

HOTD S2E8 LEAKS!!!

[aemondseyepatch]

The Battle Above the Gods Eye

[ayo-cowbelly]

close enough WELCOME BACK JON SNOW

[damn-stark]

Chapter 7 Aerion

Chapter 7 of Moonlight

A/N- What side will mc end up siding on?

Warning- Swearing, angst, FLUFF, talks of blood & death and of SA, LONG CHAPTER.

Pairing- Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!fem-reader, Cregan Stark x Velaryon!fem-reader

Episode- half of 1x08

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

*129 AC*

“Cousin, I write to you to warn you of Uncle Vaemond, who at this moment sails for King’s Landing with the plan to appeal to his Grace the King on matters of succession, rights, and the sanctity of blood. He wishes for the Driftwood Throne to pass to him, he said that it is his by rights and that he is the only unattainted choice.

Don’t concern yourself though. I've warned my father and your mother. They should argue against his foolishness and set matters straight. Until then, our grandmother and I will see you shortly.

Your cousin, Baela."

Tsk, of course, your Uncle Vaemond is protesting, he doesn’t even have the decency to wait for more news on your grandfather Corlys’s recent injuries after his fall in the step stones. Not even because that’s his own blood.

Then again that’s not as significant as the matter of who will actually stand judgment to Ser Vaemond’s stupid petition, the Hightowers. With their hatred for your mother and family, they’ll try and turn their favor with Ser Vaemond. Or discredit your mother in some way. You know it.

“What does your cousin say?” Aemond pulls you from the depths of your running thoughts, causing you to drop your hand that holds the scroll and sigh while you look down at the little baby boy squirming in your arms as he watches Wolf rubbing against your legs.

“Oh, just that Ser Vaemond is on his way to appeal for his right to the Driftwood Throne,” you share, drifting all of Aemond’s attention from the book he was reading to you caressing the tiny silver-white curls on your baby's head before you press a gentle kiss on his head.

“It seems that your grandmother will come to us instead, Aerion,” you direct at your baby as if he cares or truly grasps what you mean. “Are you so excited to meet her and your uncles?”

Aerion looks away from the grey cat, and his father's blue eyes stare into your very soul as if trying to read what you mean before he shows off his gums with a wide smile and then follows by flinging himself against you.

“Oh,” you laugh softly and can’t help but smile through your concern. “You are so excited to meet her, aren't you? I’m excited to see her too.”

You press another kiss on your baby’s head before you turn and watch Aemond standing from his chair in front of the dancing flames to make his way to you.

“Perhaps you should back your own claim,” he suggests seriously. “You are Ser Laenor’s daughter, and the first grandchild to Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys.”

You watch him stop and crouch down before Aerion and you first and then laugh dryly at his very serious suggestion. “Do you want me to be laughed at by my uncle and the entire court?” You scoff and shake your head while you grab a buckle on his coat to fiddle with it as you reiterate an argument you've already had multiple times. “I won’t even try.”

Aerion smiles at his father and leans his little body forward to try and grab his father's attention.

Aemond notices and musters a tiny smile before he takes him from your arms.

“I’m afraid my Velaryon family isn’t as accommodating as our Targaryen family was. They’d rather see that wooden throne sink into the depths of the ocean before letting a woman sit on it. My grandmother only sits on it because my grandfather is alive.” You add.

Aemond glances down at Aerion as the baby begins to put Aemond’s hair in his mouth. “What of Aerion?” Aemond suggests and meets your gaze as he gently pulls his hair out of the child’s mouth. “He is our son, your son, he has Velaryon blood.”

You shoot Aemond a pointed look before you make him follow your figure with his eye as you walk past him to approach the couch and swipe a chewing toy off the surface. “No, Aerion is 4 months old I won’t use him to steal my brother's birthright.” You clarify without fear whilst you return to Aemond to give the baby his toy so he can chew on that instead.

“What is this about?” You press him to investigate this need for more. “Are you so eager for power that you’d use your infant son as a piece in this never-ending game? I'm sorry I don’t come with a throne, and Aerion doesn’t inherit fleets and an Island, Aemond—”

“It’s not like that,” Aemond cuts you off and snatches your hand from your side as you try to walk away. “I’m fighting for you. For our son!” He argues with a softness in his voice, but also a hint of fury that you take as him being protective.

“I fight for the benefit of the both of you,” he continues in a softer tone while he brings your hand close to his lips to press a kiss on your knuckles before he continues to give you comfort by cupping your cheek.

“If there’s a chance for something greater for the both of you I will take it. What man would I be if I don't try?”

Well, when he puts it that way…it’s sweet. But he’s still annoying for suggesting you take what belongs to your brother.

“I appreciate it,” you tell Aemond as you use your other hand to grab his shoulder before slowly sliding it up to hold his jaw. “I admire your will, but I’m okay. We're okay. I’m content with what I have; our beautiful son, Astraea, and I have you. I don’t desire anything else.”

You offer him a smile and lean in closer. “Besides, we will rule Dragonstone. It would be difficult ruling Driftmark as well.” You giggle. “We are enough. I mean we are basically gods.” You smirk, and he starts to mirror your gesture.

“I’m okay,” you reaffirm and steal a kiss from his lips. “Now let’s talk about other matters.” You drift the conversation away and glance at Aerion, busy chewing his toy.

“What did the maester say?” Aemond actually listens to you, making you bring your gaze back to him—“Are you?” He asks.

You sigh deeply and shake your head. “No,” you mutter with disappointment. “I’m just late. I started bleeding this morning…I was so sure though.”

Aemond slides his hand to the back of your head and presses you against him to press a kiss on the top of your head. “It’s all right. We have Aerion. We are in no rush. Don’t strain yourself, my love.”

You clutch onto his chest and lift your head. “You’re not upset?” You query seriously with a worry that comes from the bottom of your heart and instantly conflicts Aemond.

Considering neither of you are the heir of anything all that valuable the pressure to have children is not one he feels or one he presses on you, so he doesn’t understand this concern that pains you and brings tears to your pretty eyes.

“Of course not.” He argues softly. “Why should I be? I don’t want you just to have children. I want you for what you are, I always have.”

You sigh with relief and slowly smile at him in awe before you smack your lips against his and pull him in for a steamy kiss that is cut short because of the child he’s holding and is really attentive of him and you.

When you do pull back he does keep you close to murmur against your lips though. “Come with me and Aerion somewhere.”

Your curiosity doesn’t fail to pique or gleam brightly in your eyes. “Where?” You ask giddly.

Aemond pulls back and gives your curiosity satisfaction while also fueling it even more. “We’re going for a flight. Aerion’s first flight.”

Without as much as hesitating you secure your hand around Aemond’s and follow him outside, Afterall, you don’t fear for your child’s life whilst on a dragon, the only reason you haven’t flown with him before is because you did want to wait until he was older, but you know that neither Vhagar nor Astraea would ever let anything bad happen to Aerion. The one thing you do worry about is if Aerion will like the feeling of the wind brushing against his face. He won’t know he’s flying several feet above ground, but he might feel a discomfort when the dragon takes flight, so you do hope he enjoys this venture. He might fly on his own dragon when he’s older after all.

“He might even fall asleep,” you try to stay positive while you secure Aerion on his chest after you make it out to where the dragons are. When you finish you grab Aerion’s chin and smile.

“There, all snuggled up.” You assure your baby. “Your father will take good care of you.” You step back to try to head to Astraea, but Aemond stops you.

“Don’t. Ride with me.”

Your eyebrows slowly furrow and you glance at Vhagar. “Are you sure?” You probe. “I can ride Astraea and follow beside you.”

Aemond shakes his head. “No, I'm sure, Aerion will want you there. I want you with me.”

Your heart flutters and your smile widens. “Okay,” you give in and skip forward to rush back to his side. And since he’s carrying special cargo, and Vhagar is his dragon, you let him climb first before you follow, which proves to be difficult to do, Vhagar is huge compared to Astraea. You can’t help but be out of breath when you’re on the saddle.

“I still don’t understand how you do that,” you comment breathlessly and look down at the ground, feeling your heart skip a beat out of fear of the height since you won’t be the one strapped in. “I’m grateful Astraea is still small—maybe you should have tried to bond to Vermithor.”

Aemond picks up the ropes he has as handles and peers back with a smirk. “You remember?” He asks.

You wrap your hands around his neck and nod. “I do. Which by the way I was right,” you show off. “Size doesn’t equal speed. I have won against you every single time.”

“Because I let you,” Aemond counters smugly.

You roll your eyes and scoff. “Sure. Whatever you say.”

Vhagar then begins to walk ahead, creating thunderous footsteps that echo like an angry thunderstorm. You glance at Aerion to see if he’s bothered by the new noise, but he doesn’t react.

“Perhaps Vermithor will be Aerion’s dragon,” Aemond points out smugly since Aerion’s dragon egg has failed to hatch.

“Or Seasmoke,” you add and smile to yourself as Vhagar flaps her wings and ascends to a sky that never fails to remind you of your father. “…My father's dragon.”

As Vhagar flies higher in the sky you tighten your hold around Aemond, but not out of worry, you embrace him and lay your head on his shoulder as you feel a rush of bliss. You watch the thick white clouds start to surround you and feel the sun's warm rays bask your face, filling you with comforting warmth. Aemond’s body blocks out the chilly breeze for you, but as you fly through fields of clouds you feel the cold water droplets dampen your exposed skin.

Not so long ago you felt restless. You longed so badly to be with your mother, or to return to Winterfell and Cregan—you still wish to see him, to hear his voice, you miss him even if you shouldn’t, and those forbidden letters aren’t enough to fill your appetite for more, but…you are truly happy now with Aerion and Aemond.

What was once a place that made you feel out of place, now is a home because of the two men in your life. If things could be like this forever, you’d be okay with it. You don’t want more. Not anymore.

“Maybe we can fly forever,” you mumble in Aemond’s ear. “Get lost in the sky.”

Aemond hums. “I'm sure Aerion won’t mind.” He says back sweetly.

You lean your chin over his shoulder and can’t help but fill with joy at the sight of Aerion grinning and reaching out for the clouds he can’t actually grab.

“<He has dragon's blood,” You say in High Valyrian. “This is his destiny.>”

“<You’ll get one soon enough, my little dragon,” Aemond assures Aerion. “You’ll get the fiercest, just like I did.>”

Yes, you’re more content with this life that you have now.

——

*LATER*

Six years, it’s been six years since you’ve seen your family. Yes, you haven’t stopped communicating with them throughout the time you have been in Winterfell and Kings Landing, but it’s not the same. No amount of letters fills the void created the day you were forced to leave your family behind.

Yet finally after six years, you’re reuniting with them again as a grown woman of 18. You’re not that little girl anymore. No, that girl died when your father did….

Hopefully, you can make them proud of the woman you’ve become.

“Grandmother,” you call out breathlessly the moment you see her heading to the stairs that lead to the chambers.

Your grandmother stops in her tracks and slowly turns to face the person who had called out to her, finding you past the doors with a wobbly smile on your lips.

And no amount of time apart could make her forget you, she instantly recognizes you, and your name softly comes out of her lips as if completely captured by your presence.

You beam at her and rush away from Aemond’s side to meet her halfway after she climbs down the first step. When you reach each other she first cups your jaw to study the new person before her.

“I saw Meleys when Aemond and I were flying back home,” you tell her as you admire her too, noticing that she hasn’t aged a bit. She looks just the same as she did when you last saw her—“I rushed here as fast as I could.”

“Look at you,” she whispers with a growing smile. “You’ve grown even more beautiful. Your father would be happy.” She lowers her gaze to your chest, and when you follow her line of gaze you see her looking at the pendant she had gifted you six years ago. “I’m so very happy to see you.”

“And I you,” you redirect softly, “I’ve missed you.” You sigh deeply and frown now. “How’s grandfather? I heard he was taken to Driftmark.”

Your grandmother meets your gaze and exhales softly. “He’s home, fighting to this moment. The maesters are helping but it’s up to him now.”

You swallow thickly and assure yourself with that piece of information for now. “I’ll pray for his recovery.” You try to offer her and yourself consolation before you hold each other's gazes for a lingering and then can’t hold back a moment longer and wrap each other in an endearing embrace.

“I missed you,” you whisper again, but this time in a quivering voice.

Your grandmother's embrace tightens, and her chin rests on your head for a moment before she speaks quietly. “And I you, my little Siren.”

You stay in each other's embrace for a lingering moment because for the both of you, a special comfort has been rekindled in your hearts; one your grandmother has been missing since your father died, and a comfort you have longed for since you were separated from your family.

You almost don’t want to let go but you both break away, and right away you’re hit with even more joy when you notice the young woman behind her, your own cousin Baela—She’s a woman now too, beautiful, and just as mischievous looking.

“Baela,” you greet happily before you rush to her and immediately wrap her in an embrace. “Letters are truly not enough,” you mumble, and neither of you can help but laugh out of the pure joy over seeing each other again before you pull back and grab a hold of each other's hands to stay close. “You're absolutely breathtaking.” You compliment her.

Baela offers you a soft smirk in return before she points at you with her chin. “As are you. Motherhood has treated you well.”

You snicker and remember the little person you want them to meet. “That reminds me,” you change the subject and let her go to turn and walk to Aemond to take Aerion from him.

“Grandmother, Baela,” you say and face them with your infant clutching onto you. “This is Aerion.” You glance at your baby boy and smile proudly. “I’m sorry if he might seem grumpy, we took a long flight and went past his nap time.”

Your grandmother approaches you and reaches out for Aerion’s hand, but the baby hides it and watches her as if he’s scared.

“It’s okay,” you assure Aerion. “It’s just your great-grandmother.” You huff softly and meet her gaze, catching a soft gleam in her eyes.

“He resembles your father when he was a babe,” your grandmother mentions quietly as she caresses the child’s cheek. “Except for his eyes, Aerion has his father's eyes.” She glances past your shoulder to steal a look at the tall man lurking in the shadows—“Congratulations, granddaughter,” your grandmother offers you wholeheartedly, but when it comes to Aemond her smile falters and that gleam disappears. “And to you, Prince Aemond, you have a beautiful son.”

You share a happy look with Aemond, and he simply offers her a stiff thankful nod, letting you move on back to your cousin. “I simply have a lot to catch you up on, Baela, why don’t I show you to my chambers while Aerion sleeps.”

Baela nods without hesitation, so you return to Aemond to hand him Aerion. “Can you take him to the handmaidens before you go to training?”

Aemond nods as he holds your gaze. “Of course. Will I see you for dinner?”

You nod and lean in to press a chaste kiss on his lips before you caress Aerion’s cheek, and then hurry back to Baela to hook your arm around hers and rush her to your chambers like a pair of excited adolescents. Once you’re in the safety of your quarters you don’t waste any time, you serve yourselves some wine and drape yourselves over your couch near the fire to talk about all that you haven’t written in your frequent letters to each other. Even Cregan comes up because she knows that you became friends, and she knows about the letters you send back and forth, but that’s all, she doesn’t know about the deeper connection you share.

No one knows, not Jacaerys, not your mother, not Rhaena, just Cregan and you.

It would be nice to tell her and Rhaena. it would feel nice not keeping the weight of that secret just to yourself. You want to gossip about him, share all the sweet things he’s done and said, and the fact he was like a hot fire in the midst of a cold storm, so warm, caring, and passionate, even if doesn’t look it, even if has a tough outer shell, and this piercing look that could kill, he was all those things and so much more. He was everything sweet and beautiful in this world to you, and cold and bitter winters felt kind because of him. He was everything you looked for in a lover.

You want to say that and so much more, but…where you are isn’t the place to share such matters, nor do you actually know that you can ever share that part of your life, you can’t risk the wrong person finding out. So as for now, you’re fine sharing that you’re friends who haven’t lost touch. Besides, it's relieving having Baela to talk to. Helaena is sweet, and you have your fun, she’s your closest friend now, but well there’s only so much you can actually talk to Helaena about. It’s different, so having Baela is like a breath of fresh air.

“Perhaps you should have married Lord Cregan instead,” Baela mentions after you summarize what he wrote to you this week. “He seems like the more…sane man.”

You snap your gaze to her and leave a long slightly tense silence that she picks up on and tries to figure out by looking at you to read you, but when she meets your gaze you begin to laugh.

“Aemond is good,” you tell her in your husband's defense. “He’s very kind to me. I mean Cregan is more rugged sure, but,” you snicker. “Aemond is passionate, he's sweet, he's like the stars and the moon.”

Baela snorts and probes teasingly. “And what does that mean? Bright and only sometimes there?”

You laugh softly and look away from her judgmental gaze to look at the ceiling as if you’re admiring a starry sky. “He’s beautiful, bright, yet timid like the moon and the stars on a cloudy night,” you muse and unknowingly describe Aemond’s love in the same manner you just thought about Cregan’s love. “He’s fiercely loyal like the moon because even if it’s daytime, or the night sky is covered in clouds, you know he’ll always be there. and even if he doesn’t look it, he's got so much love to give. He’s gentle, and forever mine.”

Baela stays quiet for a moment and doesn’t try to garner any kind of understanding, she scoffs in disgust and retorts. “Was he all those things when he slashed you across the face?”

You roll your eyes and further your defense for him. “He didn’t mean to cut me, it was an accident. But let’s not dwell in the past.” You exclaim and swing your legs off the couch to walk to the small table with a wine cup in one hand, and Cregan’s letter in the other.

“Let’s instead speak of the future, like you and my brother,” you tease her as you roll up Cregan’s letter you can't keep—you’ve kept only some, but you can’t keep them all. Not unless you want Aemond to find them—“will you still be matched?” You ask.

“I don’t know.” Baela shrugs. “Rhaena has said that your mother does plan to propose the idea, but until it’s confirmed I can’t be sure.”

You hum and finally let the candles fire eat away all the lovely words written on the paper. You watch as the fire takes more and more of it, quickly approaching your fingers and increasing its heat, but not burning your flesh.

“Well,” you sigh hopefully. “I hope it does end up happening. I mean we’d be good sisters, and you’d be my Queen in the distant future,” you giggle and peer over at her, catching her smile.

“I hope it happens too,” Baela admits, while you glance back at the letter and see that the flames are kissing the tip of your fingers now. It should hurt, but the heat doesn’t burn. You feel its warmth on your flesh, but that’s it. There’s no sharp pain, nothing that brings you agony…

How strange.

“…I could make you stay.”

Oh damn!

You throw what remains of the letter in the fireplace and very nonchalantly spin back to face her. “Oh,” you laugh and just guess what she was saying. “You’d make me huh? Well,” you scoff and place your cup down. “Who am I to refuse you? Future Queen Baela.”

Said girl giggles and sits up to face you with a narrowed gaze. “I’d order everyone—Bring me a flagon of your finest wine,” she mocks in an exaggerated regal voice.

You shoot her a playful look before you burst out laughing. “A flagon? That’s what you’d want?”

Baela shrugs. “I don’t know. I can’t think of anything else.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you still have a lot more to go before you become Queen,” you tease her and feign concern before sipping your wine.

Baela quickly grabs a pillow and hurls at you, but luckily you caught her in time so you move and miss getting hit, but you still fall back on the couch as you both fall into a fit of laughter that makes the lighthearted mood linger in your chamber room the entire time she’s with you. Even after she leaves and Aemond joins you, that lighthearted feeling only heightens. It literally has you giddy all day and you know most of it is due to the fact that a part of your family is here and the other is coming.

All this time you’ve been surrounded by people who only serve to gawk and talk nonsense behind your back. Even if you aren’t a bastard they still look at you as if you are one because of who your brothers are. And those who don’t whisper about you, or pierce their glare hoping you’ll somehow implode, are all insufferable, like Aegon, Ser Criston, and the Alicent. You only have Helaena, Aemond, Aerion, and Astraea.

It’s why having your mother and brothers return to the Red Keep is so exciting, you’ll at last be surrounded by a family that loves you and doesn’t judge you. Sure the reasons why they’re coming are not as graceful, but you’re so happy and eager regardless.

Yet it’s that same excitement that doesn’t let you sleep, and poor Aemond feels it.

“If you sleep the night will pass by quicker,” he grumbles with his eyes closed. Stop moving, or I imagine you’ll end up sleeping alone the rest of the night.”

You can't help but smile before you flip around on your side to face him on his back and with his face turned away from you.

“My heart is racing too fast, I can’t keep my eyes closed,” you finally whisper after a long night of silence. “I’m too excited.”

Aemond sighs deeply since he knows that already and responds with silence, letting you imagine he’ll just keep ignoring you, but a few moments later he turns to face you with his eye heavy with sleep.

“Forgive me,” you coo at him and brush away a long strand of hair from his face. He hums contently and grabs your hand to keep it on his face.

“Were you this excited to see me?” His question surprises you but makes you eager to answer.

“I was more nervous,” you admit with a teasing smile. “I was just as restless, but I was feeling a scared nervousness. I didn’t know who I was coming back home to. I would hear people talk about Aegon and Helaena, but I never heard whispers of you in the North. You were a mystery. And as intrigued as I did feel, my fear was greater.”

Aemond says nothing but you know he comprehended all that you just said.

“I was also angry,” you remind him making him huff softly in comprehension. “And I was also worried that you would have met and loved another lady.”

Aemond scoffs and shakes his head. “There’s only been you, my love.”

You wish you could share the same sincerity with him, but your lust for Cregan completely won you over and he turned out to be your first everything.

“Well…there was someone,” Aemond catches you off guard and piques your curiosity. “But she wasn’t really someone,” he pauses and he averts his gaze. “When I turned thirteen, Aegon took me to the street of silk…”

You go rigid and that smile you carried falls, while the excitement washes away as your heart falls to your stomach.

“I didn’t know what he had set up for me until we got to a brothel and,” he takes another short and grows quieter when he finishes. “…He said because he's the older brother he needed to ensure I was educated as he was.”

He doesn’t need to finish the rest of his story to figure out what happened that night. You piece it together and grow angry that Aegon would dare and do that to his little brother the day he turned 13! He was just a boy.

“I’m sorry that happened,” you share the sympathy you also feel for Aemond. “You were a boy.”

Aemond finally meets your gaze and in his silence, you caress his cheek and lean closer to press your forehead against his.

“I’m really am sorry.”

You miss the way the corner of Aemond’s lips tug upward softly as he shakes his head. “It wasn’t your doing and it happened long ago.”

“Still, it happened, and you’ve had to live with that memory. It’s horrible,” you argue softly. “I mean I can’t fathom having someone traumatize Aerion like that. You didn’t deserve it. You were thirteen.”

Aemond answers with silence so you push yourself up to cradle his head and press him against your chest. He quickly finds comfort in your embrace and wraps his arm around your body to keep you close to him.

“I’m glad you told me,” you whisper as you brush your fingers through his hair. “I hate Aegon even more, but it makes me feel a lot closer to you.”

Aemond hums and his breath tickles your flesh as he whispers sweet words filled with genuine and deep affection but also backed with possessiveness and insecurity that you can't hear. “I love you.”

You smile sweetly and don’t hesitate to say it back with just as much tenderness in your voice as the one he just carried. “I love you too.”

——

*A FEW HOURS LATER*

You did end up sleeping for a bit after your heart-to-heart with Aemond, but the moment you woke up you began to wait and wait, imagining how the reunion would go, imagining how your mother would react to meeting Aerion for the first time.

After your break fast, go through gowns and gowns until you find your prettiest red-colored gown, and the most shiniest jewelry to impress your mother. You grow very impatient as each second passes to see her and your brothers; all five of them, that once the time approaches for their arrival you make sure to be out at the courtyard early just to greet them—Although you aren’t excited to see her partner. Maybe if you pretend he isn’t there he’ll disappear….

A girl can wish.

Regardless, when the gates begin to open and bannermen carrying the Targaryen house sigil rush in the courtyard your breath grows unsteady, but that doesn’t measure up to the way your chest aches with the building anticipation when a royal carriage rolls in and quickly comes to a halt.

You’ve dreamt of reuniting with your mother and brothers since the moment you left. All you’ve ever wanted was to be with them again, so you can’t help your racing heart, nor can you keep yourself from biting your cheek as you fiddle with your pendant, and smile brightly.

“All hail Rhaenyra of House Targaryen, Princess of Dragonstone and heir to the Iron Throne, and her royal consort Prince Daemon Targaryen.”

You step down the stairs and watch the carriage door open, albeit you're welcomed with darkness so you slightly tilt your head and narrow your gaze until finally the sunlight hits her face when your mother comes out first.

There she is and she hasn’t aged a day it seems, she looks just as breathtaking as when you last saw her. Only now she carries a small swollen belly where your sixth sibling grows, besides that, she looks the same and still doesn't fail to make you feel a sense of relief and comfort, as if everything in this world was going to be okay.

She doesn't even have to meet your gaze for your whole body to relax, seeing her gaze wander the exterior is enough comfort. Thus, you let her take in what might be new to her and instead take this second to drift your gaze too and look at the people that walk out of the carriage, hoping to see your brothers next, but it’s just Prince Daemon—gross.

He looks a bit plumper, and he has more wrinkles than before, but age does that to a person and he is old now.

Nevertheless, a soothing and excited voice calls out your name, pulling your attention back to your mother, and noticing that she found you now.

“Mother,” you call out breathlessly and break away from your spot to meet her halfway with an embrace. “Oh,” you breathe out softly and nuzzle your face in the crook of her neck.

“Oh my sweet girl,” she coos as she caresses the back of your head. “How I've missed you.”

You draw in a deep shaky breath and find that she still smells like sweet berries and flowers.

“I’ve missed you too, so much.” You cry happily in her neck and hug her tighter, making her hold onto you tighter before she presses her face against your head to try and be as connected as you physically can before you ultimately have to pull away.

However, when you pull back you grab each other's hands to not let go yet and study each other from up close.

“I’ve missed you so much,” she says again as she lifts her hand to caress your cheek with her soft thumb. “You're so beautiful…And so grown,” she pauses and shakes her head. “I've missed so much, you're a woman now.” She beams at you with a wobbly grin while a joyous gleam reflects in her eye.

You grin back. “And you are just as beautiful,” you redirect. “And don't worry, we're together again and we won't be separated for so long again,” you reassure her and then glance down to touch her belly. “How is she?”

Your mother giggles. “Healthy and growing every day.” She blinks and looks past you to search the area behind you. “Aerion?” She asks excitedly.

You pull your hand away from her belly and sigh. “Sleeping, besides you’re rushed now, I’ll take him to you later when you have time. I’m eager for you to meet him,” you let her know.

“Which reminds me,” she interjects and secures her hand around one of yours before she pulls you towards two small blond-silver-haired toddlers behind her. “Sweetling meet your brothers, Aegon,” she introduces as she caresses the chin of a boy with pin-straight hair wearing an all-black outfit.

“Hello,” you greet the toddler. “Aren't you the cutest little boy? I’m your sister.”

He looks like Daemon. They have the same eyes, however, your brother does have a sweet charm that Daemon doesn't, especially when Aegon smiles briefly before hiding his face in the handmaiden's shoulder because he makes you laugh.

“And this is Viserys,” your mother adds and points to a smaller toddler with the same hair color but wearing red and gold. Unlike Aegon, Viserys waves, and he looks like your mother.

“You’ll make a fine and charming knight, I see it already,” you tell the little boy before you step back to look at both toddlers. “You’ll make friends with Aerion soon,” you tell them.

Now that those introductions are done with nevertheless, you let your mother's hand go and turn to try and find your brothers, but luckily you’re immediately welcomed with the sight of two tall young men with dark hair already staring at you. You don’t need introductions to know who’s who, you recognize them instantly.

“Jace, Luke!” You exclaim before you stride over to try and stay composed in front of other people, but you can’t contain your excitement, nor can they contain theirs; you laugh excitedly and break into a sprint. When you get close enough you throw your arms around the both of them to pull them into a group embrace.

“Look how you’ve both grown!” You exclaim and pull back to grab their shoulders to study these changed faces they have grown into.

“Look at you,” Lucerys counters sweetly. “I almost didn’t recognize you.”

You shoot him a sweet smile. “I would say the same thing considering you’re taller now, and lost those precious curls, but you still carry that sweet face.”

Lucerys scoffs softly and his cheeks grow red whilst he offers you a soft and sweet smile. Yet when his eyes land on your scar his smile falters.

“Cool huh?” You redirect. “My friend, Lord Stark says it adds character. Perhaps I shall tell you how I got it.” You try to make him feel better so he doesn't worry over a scar that happened years ago and wasn't his fault.

“Please do,” Jacaerys interjects, drifting your eyes to the taller brown-haired boy who now has a stronger chin, broader shoulders, and a charming grin rather than that sweet and innocent smile you remember him having.

“Have you grown?” You tease Jacaerys. “I think you’ve…hm, nope you’ve stayed the same height, Little Prince.”

Lucerys snickers and Jacaerys parts his lips to snap back but he just glares at you instead and mutters, “I’ve matured, I suggest you do the same.”

Lucerys and you look at each other with the same teasing look before you both burst out laughing. Jacaerys watches the both of you with a pout, but he can’t stand it so he laughs with you.

“How I’ve missed you sister,” Jacearys says as he pats your shoulder.

“We have so much to catch up later,” you lean in and whisper. “Now, now,” you repeat happily and turn away from them to face the little boy in front of the timid Rhaena.

“You must be Joffrey,” you direct at the boy and pick up your gowns skirt to crouch before him. “I’m your sister,” you say and then state your name even though your name has been spoken to him many times in your absence. You just feel like doing that courtesy to the little boy. “The last time I saw you, you were an itty babe. Now you’re almost a man grown.” You beam at him.

He smirks and raises his chin proudly. “I remember,” he counters a bit smugly.

You snicker and hear your mother laugh softly.

“Ah, do you?” You question him and look at him with an entertained and feigned curious look.

Joffrey nods. “I do.”

You shoot him a smirk and mirror his confidence. “Good then, have you missed me terribly?”

“I have.” He nods in agreement.

You stand to your given height and grin at him. “Good answer, that’s what I like to hear.” You praise him and ruffle his hair before you proceed to glance up to meet the kind gaze of Rhaena.

“Cousin,” you greet.

“Princess,” she greets before you both close the gap with a much more gentle hug. “It’s nice seeing you again.”

“Likewise,” you say and pull back. “You look lovely.”

Rhaena offers you a shy smile and then says, “Congratulations on your babe. I know I’ve said it before, but it’s not the same as in person.”

You touch your chest and speak with delight. “Thank you so much, it means a lot. I’ll bring him around later when you’ve settled, and after lunch with Baela?” You ask. “I want to hear all you have to say. Well, all you can’t write on a letter.”

“That sounds like a marvelous idea,” Rhaena assures you.

You smile softly and whisper, “good,” before you step back and get ready to finally bring them inside—

Until you remember someone else with them.

You exhale out your nose and merely face your stepfather Daemon with a feigned smile. “Prince Daemon, I hope the sea wasn't rough.”

Said man shakes his head stiffly. “Not at all. It’s a pleasure seeing you again.”

You hide your face of disgust and hum softly before you respond very dryly. “And you.” You sigh and quickly point to the doors to end this greeting. “Let’s head inside.”

They all follow you without question, and the moment they're surrounded by castle walls and protected by a tall ceiling, everyone gawks at the change that the Red Keep has gone through since they were last here until those who have to break away from the group get sent away, leaving you with your mother, Daemon, and the babies.

“Cassandra,” you tell one of the servants following you. “Show my mother's handmaidens to the kids' chambers, they can stay with Aerion. “Have baths drawn for my mother and the prince after their visit with the King, and set for lunch at the gardens for my cousins and I.”

The servant nods her head and scurries off, letting your mother fall beside you. “Being in charge suits you,” she praises you.

You smile softly. “It’s either that or sewing by my fire,” you scoff. “There’s not much I can do here, so I take what I can.”

You meet her gaze and shoot her smirk. “And I also like it.”

Your mother smiles back at you, but you then falter and sigh deeply. “I do what I can,” you add from deep inside. “With grandfather, at court…I hope you understand that.”

Your mother shakes her head softly. “Don’t you worry about that, my sweet,” she assures you. “I understand.”

The corner of your lips tug to a relieved smile and her words do work to assure your worry.

Throughout the year there has been this pesky doubt in your head that made you think you’d somehow disappoint your mother. It’s good that she doesn’t think so even though you don’t have much power here, not with Alicent seeming to ice you out after about a month of trying to be kind? You try your best with what you can do; whether it’s putting out good words for your family, and or doing good deeds in your mother's name. And with your grandfather, well, you try what you can, but that’s not much besides simple company.

“I would say it’s nice to be home,” your mother interjects with a change of subject. “But I scarcely recognize it.”

Daemon hums and walks ahead, letting you comment in high Valyrian so bypassers won’t understand. “<The vipers have spread their poison deep in these halls.>” You steal a glimpse at all the faith symbols that have replaced the dragons and huff.

“<I see that,” your mother responds in the same language. “It’s unfortunate they can’t poison themselves.>

You hum in agreement and keep quiet as footsteps trail up behind you while you climb the stairs that lead to the King's chambers.

“Princess,” a familiar voice calls out.

You look back and see Vanessa, so you stop in your tracks and let your mother catch up to her husband so you can hear what Vanessa has to urgently say.

“What is it?” You probe.

Vanessa leans by your ear and whispers, “there was a problem in Aegon’s chambers involving a servant girl. She was then taken to the Queen's quarters right away.”

You snap your eyes to meet her gaze and the corner of your lips pulls to a smirk. “Good job. Thank you for telling me, go find out more and talk to me later.” You tell her and grab her hand with a smile. “Be careful.”

Vanessa nods and then turns to leave back where she had come from, letting you catch up to the pair you had been with. And once Vanessa is out of sight they both look at you curiously, and only your mother presses you.

“Is everything all right?”

You draw in a deep breath and this time give Daemon your attention too. “I don’t know,” you exhale. “It truly depends…<the serpent is getting ready to strike again.>” You hide your smirk as they’re only more confused and instead just leave them to their curiosity for now. “I’ll tell you later. I can’t now.”

It’s not the most jaw-dropping news, and it’s not surprising either, but you know that they’ll at least be somewhat shocked that you have a way to know, and you also know Daemon will like what you have to say since you both hate how the Hightower’s like to think they’re holier than thou but ignore the nasty activities that Aegon does so it won't taint their image in all the wrong ways.

It's absurd and annoying, and they're all hypocrites, but regardless since your mother and Daemon are going to visit your grandfather, you let them be and catch up to your brothers instead.

“Jace! Luke!” You call to them the moment you see the back of their heads, making them stop in their tracks just before they can reach the door.

“You should have told us to wait for you,” Jacaerys says as he watches you get between them.

You shrug. “Matters come up, I wouldn’t have wanted you to waste your afternoon waiting,” you explain and hook your arm around Lucerys to walk with them now. “Anyways, where is it you’re heading to?”

“Training yard,” Lucerys points out even if you already knew since you recognize the hall. “We’ve just been walking around. Seeing what's new.”

You hum and feel the gentle breeze the moment the doors open for the three of you and welcome you outside to the sound of clashing metal, clamoring echoes throughout the training yard, and murmurs from the stairs.

At first when you had just arrived from Winterfell, hearing and seeing the halls and courtyards filled with people was hard getting used to since Winterfell was quieter and less busy, but now the noise and all the people are tuned out.

“Now tell me sweet brothers how much you’ve missed seeing my pretty face,” you interject teasingly and let Lucerys go to spin around on your heels and walk back on the stairs, making Lucerys grow concerned over your lack of care.

“The days have been truly dreadful,” Jacaerys feeds your ego. “The years passed by with little meaning without you.”

You flash Jacaerys a grin and squeal. He may be sarcastic but you don’t care, you like his response regardless.

“Be careful,” Lucerys warns, but you ignore him and spin around to grab the railing and rush down the stone steps. “How does it look now that you’ve gotten older? I know I thought this castle was much bigger when I returned.”

“Really?” Lucerys questions. “It’s smaller than I remember.”

You hum softly and glance out at the training yard, catching a crowd of people surrounding Aemond at the far end of the yard.

He isn’t hard to miss, his long silver hair gives him away, and his fascinating skills attract anyone passing by. He surely catches your attention right now too, just like the many times before.

“It looks exactly the same,” Jacaerys retorts in a much more lighthearted tone than your little brother. “Oh, Luke, come on.”

Jacaerys rushes past you and chooses to lead the way.

“I have to show you both my archery skills,” you interject happily and run to a rack of weapons. “I think they’re a lot better than my sword skills, especially when I’m on Dragonback!”

However, before you can grab a bow Jacaerys grabs your hand and pulls you with him towards the gates. “Look,” he laughs and pats a dent on the stone wall. “This is what Lucerys made with Ser Criston’s Morningstar.”

You share an entertained gaze and feel the bumpy dent. “Little Luke?” You ask.

Jacaerys nods. “Yes! He thought he was stronger than he was,” he says and turns to speak louder so Lucerys can hear now. “See? I told you this would still be here. And you thought you could swing Criston’s Morningstar.” He then glances at you again and snickers. “He almost took his own head off.”

You giggle softly before you pull him back to the rack where Lucerys stayed. Rather than grabbing a bow and arrows though, your gaze falls on the sparring swords.

“Careful,” Jacaerys warns with feigned concern. “What would your husband say about you grabbing such a weapon? This is for men.”

You roll your eyes and wrap your hand around a long sword. “He can go speak to Astraea if he has anything to say about it.”

Jacaerys scoffs softly, but rather than countering with something witty, he addresses something else. “What’s your problem?”

You pick your eyes off the weapons and look at your side, catching a glum frown on Lucerys face, and growing concerned too.

“Everyone’s staring at us,” Lucerys answers quietly.

You peer back and catch gawkers whispering amongst each other as their eyes pierce into your brothers.

One doesn't need to be a genius to know what they’re whispering about, it’s why you’re so quick to pierce a glare into all of them, but since they’re so focused on their gossip they don’t catch you glaring right back at them. Nor do you actually draw their attention just yet, you play it off discreetly and instead counter back to Jacaerys by clashing the sword in your hand against the dagger he had picked up.

Jacaerys flashes you a proud grin, and you mirror it before you both turn toward the rack again and fist bump.

No matter how far you’ve been, or the fact that you haven't seen each other in years, your bond hasn’t broken. Now that they aren’t little and annoying—well they’re still probably annoying because they are your little brothers, but now that you’re older, you get along a lot better than before.

This is a fine example, neither Jacaerys nor you have to say anything, you just clash your sparring weapons as if it was planned.

“No one would question me being heir to Driftmark…” Lucerys adds and goes quieter. “If…I looked more like Ser Laenor Velaryon and you, sister, rather than Ser Harwin Strong.”

You put the weapon down and shuffle closer to him before you look back again, and let yourself get noticed this time by the onlookers who aren’t gathered around Aemond and Ser Criston. You don’t shoot them daggers, but you do meet their gazes and lift your nose in the air to demonstrate your power.

They realize they were caught staring and gossiping so they shut their mouths and turn to slowly walk away, letting you exhale and face Lucerys now. “People talk regardless,” you tell him and grab his shoulder so he can meet your gaze. “It doesn’t matter who you are, or what you might look like, they talk because they have nothing better to do with their lives. Ignore them, what they think doesn’t matter. They’re commoners with nothing compared to you.”

You offer your brother a soft smile before you ruffle his hair. Lucerys exhales softly and offers you a tiny smile.

After that, before anything else can be said, the sound of cracking wood and cheering steals the attention of all three of you and pulls towards Aemond and Ser Criston sparring.

Like many times before they’re the stars of the training yard, when they spar many people gather to watch them fight. And why wouldn't they? They’re an impressive pair.

“Come,” you urge your brothers before you break away from them to push through the crowd and watch Aemond swing his shiny sword from up close. However, he misses as Ser Criston slides back, making you focus all of your attention on his counterattack, and hold your breath as you watch how Aemond barely blocks the move with his shield.

After Aemond throws the shield to the side and stands back to his given height, you slowly breathe out and squint your eyes to follow how he swings his arm at the knight.

Nonetheless, Ser Criston then responds by swinging his weapon but ends up failing and hits the ground, making the pair then swiftly switch sides and watch each other.

You begin to smirk and watch them circle each other before Ser Criston uses his aggression and swings at Aemond, but misses every time. It’s only as he gets closer that he finally makes contact when your husband chooses to clash his sword against the weapon before he spins around Ser Criston and brings an end to the spar by pointing the blade at his throat.

You immediately beam and clap with glee.

“Well done, my prince,” Ser Criston says as he lowers his hand. “You’ll be winning tourneys in no time.”

“I don’t give a shit about tourneys,” Aemond snaps back. “Nephews,” he then addresses your brothers beside you without actually looking at them.

He doesn't even proceed to, no first he lowers his weapon and then meets your gaze briefly before he drops his eye on your brothers.

“You come to train?” Aemond asks.

The corner of your lips tug to a soft smile and you look at your brothers to await their response, but Aemond then addresses you, “My love.”

You blink and meet his gaze again with a smile before you both meet halfway.

“Have you come to train?” He asks as he grabs your hand to lift your knuckles to his lips and press a gentle kiss on them.

“I’ve come to see you train,” you rebuttal and grab his shoulder to lean in and give him a small kiss on his lips. “<I’ve missed you, it’s like I haven’t seen you all day.>” You comment in High Valyrian.

Aemond smirks and cups your jaw. “<Let me kiss you so I can have something to think about when you’re not with me.>”

Sweet words like those are why you came to be with child so quickly after your marriage. His voice is so sexy and soothing, it's like a spell in your ears. He enchants you with every word that goes past his pink lip. It’s why you can’t say no, you kiss him with a burning passion that grows every day, and eagerly bite his bottom lip without caring that there’s a crowd; they want something to look at? Well, they can see the love you and Aemond share.

The one and only reason why you cut the kiss short is because your brothers are here, but you still don’t step away from Aemond, you hold his gaze with a smirk.

“Open the gates!” Voices break through the courtyard, causing you to slide your hands to Aemond’s chest and turn your head to watch the gates.

Much to your misfortunate though, it’s your uncle Ser Vaemond Velaryon; he marches down surrounded by his people proudly showing off the Velaryon sigil and the bright house colors.

You know he sees the crowd, the boy that he wants to dethrone, but he acts like he doesn’t care, and acts nonchalant as he slithers past.

Oh, but you can't wait for that smirk to be wiped off his face when he loses his fight on the morrow. If only you can do it now. What you’d give him to see him beg for his pathetic life in front of Astraea, or any dragon really.

It’s a bit extreme, sure, but who in the Seven Hell cares? You don’t.

——

*LATER*

“Look at that!”Jacearys exclaims and pulls your hand to him to get a closer look at the glimmering sapphire ring on your finger. “It’s huge! Mother look.” He lifts your hand over the couch, making you lift your head to peer over. Albeit your mother doesn’t pay much mind to the ring on your finger, she just glances and hums before she focuses back on Aerion. Ever since you brought him to her all she does is swoon over him, she doesn’t even seem to want to let him go. She especially likes how little Viserys finds baby Aerion so fascinating.

They’re so young and untouched by this stupid feud between the family that it’s nice watching them play so innocently with each other. Sure, at first Aerion was cautious of her and the others, but that’s because he hadn’t seen any of them before until this very moment. After he accumulated he quickly became equally as enamored by his grandmother and couldn’t get enough of her.

Maybe he can also sense the babe she carries?

“How is it that you carry yourself?” Jacaerys teases and drops your hand. “I mean that big head of yours is already weighing you down.” He snickers, and Lucerys stifles his laughter.

You look away from your mother to shoot Jacaerys a pointed look as you fake laugh before you shove him back with your foot.

“Look at your hands,” you redirect as you stroke your cat's fur. “It looks like they haven’t seen a day of work in your entire life.” You blink and look back at Baela with a smirk. “How can you marry a prince like that?” You tease with a snarky laugh.

Baela smiles softly, and Jacaerys rolls his eyes and sits on your legs since your head is on Baela’s lap. “Let me see your hands then,” he argues.

You lift your left hand off your cat and show him a scar that trails over your middle, ring, and pinky finger. “I got this from ice.”

Lucerys drags himself over on the couch and leans over to look at what you’re showing off.

“Fuck off,” Jacaerys scoffs.

You sit up straight and let Rhaena see too since she approaches with curiosity of her own. “I’m being completely honest!” You defend yourself. “Ice burns! The maester said I was lucky, I could’ve gotten my fingers amputated.”

“Okay,” Jacaerys plays along as he still finds your story made up. “How did you get it?”

You smile softly at your hand as a memory of Cregan and Arra comes to mind. “Uh, my friends Lord Stark, his lady wife, and I were out skating on the iced-over lake, and then we heard a cry out in the woods nearby, so me, being ever so curious—” you laugh softly and glance at all of them paying close attention. “I went to check it out, that’s when we saw a stag stuck under an ice cap. I didn’t have gloves on so as Cregan helped the stag, and Arra helped me, I lifted the ice cap with my sleeves over my hands. Albeit half of my left sleeve slipped so it only covered half of my hand, and I couldn’t let the ice go or else it would hit the stag again, so I had to let it burn.”

Jacaerys sits back and hums with his eyes squinted on you, so you challenge his gaze.

“I’m telling the truth! I swear it,” you plead your case.

“I knew ice was cold,” Lucerys interjects, “but I never knew it could do that.”

You nod softly. “Ice is dangerous, but it’s beautiful. At night when the moon hits it, it shines like stars.” You grin with excitement. “We need to go North. All of us, on Dragonback! Rhaena can ride with me since Astraea is bigger. I know a spot on The Wall we can go to so we can see what lies behind it.”

“I thought the dragons didn't go past it,” Rhaena adds, causing your gaze to drift to her—“I read it. Is it true?”

You glance down and think back to the few times you did fly to the wall. “Well,” you answer unsurely. “We never went past the wall, we would land on top of it each time, but,” you hum and blink repeatedly in confusion. “I think now that you mention it, Astraea would never wander past the wall, she’d stay perched or just circle behind me.”

“Huh,” Jacaerys breathes out thoughtfully.

You look at Rhaena and smirk at her. “Thanks for pointing it out, Rhaena,” you add. “I never gave it much thought, now I’m extremely curious as to why.”

“Perhaps,” Baela cuts in with a smirk that matches yours. “We should try it out? See what the dragons do this time. That’d be fun!”

You nod in agreement, and just as you do the door opens, pulling the attention of everyone to the entrance. That’s when you see Prince Daemon walk in, and you instantly begin to lose your smile.

You’d ask what he was doing here but unfortunately, he is your mothers…husband—

Please if your eyes rolling could make a sound, it would be the loudest sound in the room.

“Don’t stop on my account,” Daemon cuts through the silence that had built in the parlor room. “As you were.”

You cross your arms over the couch to rest your chin on your hands and watch every step he takes with a discreet piercing glare as he approaches your mother holding Aerion.

It doesn’t matter if he’s your mother's husband, your uncle, step-father, and father of your younger brothers, you don’t like him. You don’t trust him. You don’t like how carries himself as if he’s the best in the world. You don’t like the way he talks or the way he acts. You had no reason to be wary of him before, but now?

It’s no accident how your father died. Ser Qarl cared for your father, he never had any ill intentions. He didn’t kill your father, his paramour. You just—no, you just know you're right!

Besides, it’s no coincidence your father's death happened as soon as Lady Laena died! You’ve heard the rumors of how creepy Daemon was with your mother when she was young. You know who he is, The Rogue Prince, it’s not unlike him to kill and manipulate to get something he wants.

You can’t make your mother see it, you have no proof. You can’t make your brothers support you for that same reason, so they can like him until then. And maybe you’re just delusional, feeding this stupid hatred, but how can you not think of it that way? How can you like him? You loved your father and he’s gone now, he died moments after Daemon walked into your mother's life again. In your eyes, Daemon is the monster that took him away. A demon incarnate.

His evil eyes catch your stare, but you don’t look away, you lift your nose in the air and narrow your glare until he’s the one that drifts his gaze away.

“Tell me my sweet,” your mother interjects as she walks to Daemon to show Aerion off with pride. “Has there been any improvement with the dragon egg?”

You sigh and shake your head. “No, it hasn’t hatched, but,” you add with a soft smile. “If it doesn’t then it’ll be fine. Maybe he’s meant to bond with Seasmoke or another dragon. Aemond hopes he will bond with a bigger one later on too.”

“It’s common for us to bond with dragons later on,” Daemon cuts in even if you did not ask. “Maybe he’s meant to ride the fiercest.”

You clench your jaw but hum in agreement, and thankfully your mother fills your silence. “Do you like the sound of that, little prince?” She tells Aerion. “Riding the fiercest dragon in the world?”

You watch her smile at him, and he smiles back, so you can’t help but do the same regardless of the thorn on your side that keeps stabbing you.

“If the gods are graceful,” she continues softer and grabs his little fist to press a gentle kiss on his knuckles. “You and my Visenya will ride side by side.”

Aerion coos happily, making your mother giggle and for Daemon to caress Aerion’s head.

You don’t like it, you’d take Aerion away from his proximity, but you hold yourself together and bite your tongue. Even if it is very, very difficult.

“What was the news that was shared with you earlier?” Daemon once again cuts in. “You said you’d share it.”

Calm down. Calm down…

You put the cat down to push yourself off the couch and stretch your limbs before you walk to the small table holding the wine. “<I’m sure you’ve all heard the rumors that get spread around by the little birds about the Queen’s eldest son,” you begin to say to everyone in High Valyrian in case bypassers pass the parlor room, or stop by. “ Well,” you snicker as you pour yourself wine. “That’s been me and a close friend I met a couple of months back.>” You turn and walk towards the balcony doors to let the sun kiss your flesh.

Everyone in the room watches you closely, but you notice that it’s Daemon who pays more attention than most.

“<Today news,” you continue and take a sip of the sweet red wine. “Mhmm, well,” you smack your lips and lower the goblet. “My handmaiden found out that the eldest son assaulted a servant in his bedchambers. She then said…> you trail off and smirk as you turn, causing the sun's beaming rays to reflect off your eyes which in turn makes them burn ferociously, while the same sunbeams bounce off your white-silver hair so brightly that it’s like seeing diamonds gleam.

“<… that the Queen paid off the servant to keep her mouth shut and leave,” you pause to lift the cup to your lips and smirk deeply at your wine. “But I paid her triple to stay with my close friend.> You sip your wine and hear Daemon snicker.

This time you can’t help but be actually proud of his speechless approval.

“Why?” Lucerys asks.

You lower the goblet and meet his gaze. “<Why what? Why I take time out of my day to spy around the castle? Well, to taint the reputation of the Hightowers that they think is so holy. They parade the eldest son around as if he’s some angel or some Aegon the Conqueror incarnate, so I want to undermine them. And two,” you shrug. “I don’t like the eldest son, no one in the city does. He’s a drunk, and a rapist with no sense of duty…I’m also bored. That’s why.>”

Your mother hums and only takes a few steps towards where you are. “How do you do it?” She asks. “I'm sure that they have eyes on you all the time.”

You shake your head. “Not as much as you’d think, but,” you say and turn to walk to a round table. “<I remember you would disappear through secret doors,” you continue in Valyrian. “I came back, went exploring and after getting lost a few times I found myself around. We use that.>” You finish and lean back against the table's edge to set your goblet down.

“Who’s this friend?” Daemon probes.

“Do you trust her?” Jacaerys cuts in and gets off the couch.

You scoff and shake your head whilst you now push yourself off the table to walk to your mother and Aerion. “Only a fool would trust the White worm, but we have common enemies so we bond over our discontent of certain people.” You say and take Aerion from your mother now.

Your mother shares a slight smirk and says, “I never thought you could be so calculating, my sweet.”

You meet her gaze and shake your head. “Not calculating, I’m playing it smart, like you told me.”

Your mother responds with a gentle smile before she caresses your chin and then wanders over to Daemon. “You don’t happen to have something on Ser Vaemond do you?”

You laugh softly and shake your head. “No. Sorry, but don’t worry, I’m sure it will go the right way on the morrow.” You try to assure them before glancing at Lucerys and offering him an assuring smile.

Lucerys sighs deeply and slouches as his concern clouds over him.

“I’ll pray to the old gods, they listen.” You say hopefully before you look at your son. “Now we must go. We had a lovely day.”

You look at your mother and then at your brothers and cousins to offer them an excited grin. “It was good seeing you all. I’ve truly missed you all. It hasn’t felt like home until now,” you share and sigh softly before you walk to the door. “I’ll see you to break fast. Good night.”

“Good night!” Everyone says after you. And just before you can disappear past the doors, you offer them one last smile.

Once you’re out in the hall past the parlor room you meet your son's wandering gaze and speak to him. “Now let’s go see your father. He must miss us. I know I miss him, do you?”

The baby coos, making you laugh softly before you press him against your chest to embrace him with so much affection.

Last year you wished to be back at Winterfell, you wished for this life to be shared with Cregan, but now…you have to admit that you can’t picture your life with anyone else but Aemond. So…maybe it’s time that your letters to Cregan come to a stop…

——

*THE NEXT DAY*

“Rhaenyra of House Targaryen, Princess of Dragonstone and heir to the Iron Throne, and her royal consort Prince Daemon Targaryen.”

The clamoring spread throughout the throne room cuts off, providing a chilling silence. Eyes fall on a Daemon right away as he walks down the stairs, but their gazes then quickly dart to his other side where your mother is since the petitions being held today are about Lucerys, and don't dare lose sight as if afraid they'd miss something. They itch to murmur their despicable rumors while they watch her, but they bite their tongue and just watch with caution and curiosity.

When it comes to you, the guard announces your name and your title but adds that last bit of information that has been attached to you since the day you wed, as if you turned to his property since that day. “…And the lady wife of Prince Aemond Targaryen.”

You distaste it but there's nothing that can be done and Aemond says that there’s no harm in a title. But they don’t call him your husband every time he walks down some room, do they?

Regardless, the onlookers watch with slight surprise because for once since you’ve been married you’re not attached to Aemond, instead you trail behind your mother and take the lead in front of her heir, and the heir to Driftmark. Even Alicent’s gaze tears you apart as she watches you walk in with your nose in the air, and a sense of cockiness in the sway of your hips, showing that now that you were surrounded by your family you were out of her touch.

“Prince Jacaerys and Prince Lucerys of House Velaryon, followed by Lady Rhaena of House Targaryen.” The guard finishes announcing, letting the whispering pick up again, and the curious gazes focus solely on Lucerys, who was already feeling insecure as it is and probably feels even worse now.

Thus you slow down your pace to walk in between him and Jacaerys. “<You’re a prince,” you whisper to your little brother in High Valyrian as you shoot daggers at the audience watching him. “What they think does not matter.>”

Lucerys’s eyes fall on you and he hesitantly whispers back. “I know.”

You blink and look at him with a soft look and a sweet smile, making Lucerys mirror your gesture.

When you reach the front of the throne room you take a step towards the other side to go stand by Aemond, but you’re suddenly interrupted.

“Ser Vaemond of House Velaryon.” The guard announces before closing the doors.

You quickly shuffle back to your mother's side and stand beside Jacaerys to watch the one person everyone was left waiting on, Ser Vaemond.

Your grandmother and Baela were already here, as were Alicent, Aemond, and his siblings, so now you’re stuck with your family and only able to hold Aemond’s gaze from across the floor.

“Though it is the great hope of this court that Lord Corlys Velaryon survive his wounds,” Lord Otto starts the petition and silences the crowd. “We gather here with the grim task of dealing with the succession of Driftmark. As Hand, I speak with the King’s voice on this and all matters.” He says and pulls his coat to confidently sit on the Iron Throne. “The crown will now hear the petitions. Ser Vaemond of House Velaryon.”

You clench your jaw and sigh, you don’t even bother to look at the man, you keep looking at your husband across from you as if you haven’t seen him your whole life.

“My Queen,” Ser Vaemond addresses the people who will determine who succeeds your grandfather Corlys. “My Lord Hand. The history of our noble houses extend beyond the Seven Kingdoms to the days of Old Valyria….”

Oh please can he just get on with it.

“…for as long as House Targaryen has ruled the skies, House Velaryon has ruled the seas. When the Doom occurred on Valyria our houses became the last of their kind. Our forebears came to this new land knowing that were they to fail, it would mean the end of their bloodlines and their name. I have spent my entire life on Driftmark defending my brother's seat. I am Lord Corlys closest kin, his own blood. The true, unimpeachable blood of House Velaryon runs through my veins.”

“As it does in my four eldest children,” your mother suddenly interrupts him. “The offspring of Laenor Velaryon.”

You glance at the ground and smirk proudly at your mother's words and confidence.

“If you care so much about your house's blood, Ser Vaemond, you would not be so bold as to supplant its rightful heir. No, you only speak for yourself and for your own ambition—”

“You will have a chance to make your own petition, Princess Rhaenyra,” Alicent cuts your mother off. “Do Ser Vaemond the courtesy of allowing his to be heard.”

What else can he say? That’s all that man can say unless he wants his tongue cut off.

“What do you know of Velaryon blood, Princess?” Ser Vaemond directs at your mother now, causing you to lift your gaze and notice him now facing your mother. “I can cut my veins and show it to you…”

Oh gods, how pathetic.

You roll your eyes and meet Aemond’s gaze to share your annoyance. He was already looking at you so he responds with a small agreeing smirk.

“…and you still wouldn't recognize it. This is about the future and survival of my house, not yours.” Ser Vaemond spats and then turns to face Lord Otto again. “My Queen, my Lord Hand. This is a matter of blood, not ambition. I place the continuation of the survival of my house and my line above all. I humbly put myself before you as my brother's successor…the Lord of Driftmark and Lord of the Tides.”

You exhale deeply in annoyance and clasp your hands in front of you, ending with you fiddling with your sapphire ring out of boredom.

“Thank you, Ser Vaemond,” Lord Ottos says, letting the man step aside to now address your mother. “Princess Rhaenyra, you may now speak for your son, Lucerys Velaryon.”

You lift your gaze again and watch your mother step in the center to now speak her argument. This time, unlike with Ser Vaemond, you actually care what has to be said.

“If I am to grace this farce with some answer. I will start by reminding the court that nearly 20 years ago, in this very—”

The doors suddenly opening cut off your mother's speech and turn all heads back. And when your eyes fall on the exit you gasp softly in surprise as you see none other than the sick King.

“King Viserys of House Targaryen, the First of his Name,” one of his Kingsguard announces to everyone in the hall, creating a disbelieved chill that everyone can feel. “…King of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men. Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm.”

He’s always been in too much pain to do much of anything, even when he’s lying down he doesn’t find comfort, but here he comes hobbling forward now, much to everyone's surprise and yours.

His breathing is clearly growing shallow but he makes no effort to stop, he pushes forward. He doesn’t even accept the help of his Kingsguard, he pushes on and only pauses once; that's when his crown slips off his head and clinks on the floor. And much to your surprise instead of letting the guards run to his aide, you catch Daemon leaving his spot to walk over to his brother the King. He picks up the crown that fell and helps his brother to his throne.

That alone surprises you more than your grandfather attending this petition. It shouldn’t, you saw how affectionate he was with your mother at breakfast, but Daemon’s…kindness shocks you.

“I must…” the King breaks the shocked silence that covers the hall. “…Admit…my confusion. I do not understand why petitions are being heard over a settled succession.”

Exactly! So can we please now end this farce and your boredom!

“The only one present…” your grandfather continues to strain himself. “…who might offer keener insight into Lord Corlys’s wishes is the Princess Rhaenys.”

Your eyes, along with everyone else’s travel to your grandmother.

“Indeed, Your Grace,” she interjects very calmly and with as much surprise as everyone else before stepping to the center. “It was ever my husband’s will that Driftmark pass through Ser Laenor to his trueborn son…Lucerys Velaryon.”

If you could laugh at this very moment you would, but you can’t so you just smirk very smugly at Ser Vaemond.

“His mind never changed,” your grandmother continues to add. “Nor did my support of him. As a matter of fact, the Princess Rhaenyra has just informed me of her desire to marry her sons, Jace and Luke, to Lord Corlys’s youngest granddaughters, Baela and Rhaena...”

So she did end up agreeing? The call was left for her to take. Or at least that was your understanding.

Good nevertheless. Now the twins will be your good-sisters as well!

You share that happiness with both Baela and Rhaena by offering them both a kind smile as your grandmother finishes speaking her argument.

“...a proposal to which I heartily agree.”

“Well,” your grandfather interjects. “The matter is settled. Again. I hereby reaffirm Prince Lucerys of House Velaryon as heir to Driftmark, the Driftwood Throne, and the next Lord of the Tides.”

The corner of your lips tug to a wider smile, and this time you meet your brother's gaze to share your pride, and soft and cocky, “I told you so,” look.

“You break law,” Ser Vaemond bluntly cuts in, causing your smile to fall and turn to an annoyed frown—“And centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir.”

You scoff under your breath and twist your face to show your disgust for this man and his words.

“Yet you dare tell me…who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon. No,” he mutters. “I will not allow it.”

Who does he think is?

“Allow it?” Your grandfather repeats with spite. “Do not forget yourself, Vaemond.”

“That!” Ser Vaemond yells as he twists around on his heels to point at Lucerys with anger. “Is no true Velaryon. And certainly no nephew of mine.”

You raise your chin and scowl whilst you fist your hands at your sides.

“Go to your chambers,” your mother tells Lucerys before addressing Ser Vaemond. “You have said enough.”

“Lucerys is my true-born grandson,” your grandfather argues. “And you…are no more than the second son of Driftmark.”

“You,” Ser Vaemond snaps. “May run your house as you see fit…but you will not decide the future of mine. My house survived the Doom! And a thousand tribulations besides. And gods be damned,” he hisses and throws his head to the side to glare at Lucerys. “I will not see it ended on the account of this…” he trails off and closes his mouth, but you and your family know what he was going to say.

“Say it,” you catch Daemon quietly egg him on.

“Her sons,” Ser Vaemond continues and narrows his glare on your mother, making you step forward to her side and grab her hand.

“Are bastards!” Ser Vaemond bellows.

The audience begins to murmur, and you curl your lips to a scowl, whilst your mother's hand tightens around you.

“And she,” Ser Vaemond continues and faces the King. “Is…a whore.”

You swallow thickly and grab your mother's arm to try and give her comfort.

“I,” your grandfather pants, snapping your attention to him now out of his chair. “Will have your tongue for that.” He threatens him with his blade.

However, before anything can happen you’re startled by the sound of metal loudly slicing through flesh. When you look at where the sound comes from you gasp in horror, and quickly cover your mouth as you see half of Ser Vaemond’s head fall to the floor.

“He can keep his tongue,” Daemon retorts smugly as he puts his blade down.

“Disarm him!” Lord Otto shouts, causing the Kingsguard to pull out their blades and surround him.

“No need,” Daemon says as he cleans his sword with his cloak, and then returns to where he was.

“Call the maesters!” Alicent’s shout breaks you from your shock and snaps your eyes away from the bleeding body to watch her run to your grandfather groaning on his Iron Throne.

“Father?” Your mother calls out and slips away from you to head to him. However, she doesn’t make it far since Alicent is already helping him.

“Please, my love,” you hear her tell your grandfather as she helps him off his chair. “You must take something for the pain.”

“I will not cloud my mind,” he argues as he holds onto her. “I must put things right.”

The maester and one of his Kingsguard takes him from the Queen and helps him out of the Throne room, bringing it all to a bitter end once and for all, and letting people in that are going to come pick up the body, while you step away from your spot and face your family.

“I will see you all for supper,” you tell them with a soft smile.

Your mother nods in comprehension, and that’s all you need as a response to part ways with a gentle goodbye kiss on her cheek before you turn to walk towards Aemond, already waiting for you in the center.

When you get close he reaches his hand out for yours and you gladly take it. And unbeknownst to you, when you're heading out, he glances back at your family, and they watch his gaze linger for a moment with a sly smirk as if taunting them, or showing off how much you love him before he presses a kiss on your head and rolls his head ahead.

——

*LATER*

“A gift from the Queen,” you repeat what your handmaiden Vanessa said before she unveiled a gown slathered in green and hints of gold.

Sure it’s a beautiful gown, the shoulders are covered by gold metal dragon scales, and the front is very impressive; it has a long and elegant gold embroidered cut down the middle which is quite to your liking—you hate feeling restricted in a gown, but it’s green. She wants you to make a statement at supper in front of your mother and Aemond. You know it.

But you don’t want to pick sides. It’s stupid and there is no need for such a thing. So you don’t wear the green gown, nor do you choose a black one.

“Put it away,” you tell Vanessa, “I can wear it another day, but do send the Queen a thank you card. Pull out the lilac one instead, the one…with the pleated skirt and silk dragon scales over the breasts. I like the diamond cut it has over the belly and the sides ”

Vanessa smiles and nods. “That one is my favorite too. I much prefer the gold embroidered dragon scales on it though.”

You giggle and give your attention back to the letters you had saved from Cregan. You cherish his soft-spoken words and the way he writes. When you miss him you enjoy rereading what he wrote as if it was a story. But you…can’t have him as a temptation anymore, you love him, he was your first love, but you have to let him go for Aerion and Aemond.

Even if it hurts you have to let him go. You’ll miss him for a long time, maybe forever, but it’s for the best. Thus before Aemond can walk in, you approach the fireplace with the letters in your hand and crouch in front of the tall flames. You push the letters forward but hesitate before the flames can touch the parchment.

You can’t…

Your bottom lip begins to tremble, and a lump begins to form in your throat.

You can’t—but you have to. You have to. He has to be a memory. So after a deep breath, you close your eyes and throw the letters in the fire. When you feel nothing weighing your hands down, when you hear the fire crackle you slowly open your eyes and let tears escape past your eyes.

Cregan has to be a memory…

You watch the letters burn away, you watch the flames dance, feel the heat warm your face, but it never burns.

In fact, while you watch the flames eat away the parchment they seem to induce you, you feel suddenly captivated by the bright burning flames instead of cautious. For a moment it feels like there’s nothing else around you but fire.

You mindlessly begin to move your hand to reach out for the flames, even if in the back of your mind you’re telling yourself to stop, that it can burn, but you keep inching your hand closer and closer.

There comes a point where your fingers are embraced by the flames. Yet you don't break you from your stupor, now you’re completely fascinated, hoping that seeing your hands be unscathed by the fire isn’t some crazy dream. You move your hand deeper and smile as the fire keeps embracing your flesh, but then approaching from the hall are familiar footsteps, so you pull your hand away and quickly stand up.

A knock then raps on the door before it opens and Aemond walks in.

“You’re not dressed yet,” he points out.

You look away from the flames and meet his gaze. “I'm going to take a bath,” you tell him and walk to the bathtub but make sure to peer back to face him with a smirk. “Join me? Supper isn’t until, about, two hours?”

“One,” he corrects you.

You shrug him off and watch Vanessa walk out of your closet with your dress.

“Do you like the dress I picked out?” You ask him to pass the time while you wait for Vanessa to walk out before you can help him undress.

Aemond gives it a long look before meeting your gaze and nodding. “I like when you wear purple. It’s always been your favorite color.”

You grin brighter and nod. “It has because well, I heard that since lilacs bloom in the spring, the color lilac represents first love,” you speak out softly as you twist slowly on your heels to walk to him.

Aemond swallows thickly as he holds your gaze the entire time.

“And blue, sapphire blue, and red make purple,” you laugh and begin to fiddle with his buckles when you close the gap between the two of you.

Aemond hums and only looks away because Vanessa walks out of the room. When you can no longer hear her out in the hall he gives you all his attention and lets you take his eyepatch off.

“There it is,” you whisper as you place the eyepatch down before you then take no time to help him undress.

Aemond also steps in and slips your robe off, making you feel your body begin to burn with desire.

Once you’re both done you smack your lips together and begin to devour each other, as if it’s the first time. He pushes you back before he slides his hands to the back of your knees and helps you wrap them around his waist.

Aemond knows you have a task to do, so he sits you on the edge of the tub without letting your lips go and continues to move in sync with you until you’re the one who teases him and pulls back to dip the warm water.

Aemond scoffs in protest as he licks his swollen lips, but you just snicker and motion him over with your finger.

He challenges you as if protesting against what you did, but he can’t resist your charms so he ends up climbing in the water, and chooses to sink between your legs.

“You know,” you interject as you pull off the leather tie around his hair to let half of his hair fall over his shoulders. “I don’t even feel like going to supper.”

Aemond begins to caress your knee and probes. “Why not?”

You grab the bowl from the small table and duck it in the water to scoop some up. “Because of Daemon. Because he will be there lurking like a creep.”

Aemond hums, so you proceed to dump the water on his hair and continue to talk. “Acting like nothing happened. Like the world is his.” You scoff.

“You had breakfast with him,” Aemond points out.

You roll your eyes and shake your head whilst you begin to gently massage Aemond’s hair with what you have in hand to clean it and make it silky and soft just the way he likes it. “Yes out of courtesy. I wanted to spend time with my mother, siblings, and cousins, I can’t just be like “hey you can’t join us for breakfast.” He’s my mother's husband, and my little brother's father. My,” you pause and stick your tongue out and groan. “I can’t even say it—Regardless, I had to and well…he is nice to my mother, which counts for something. I just…” you trail off and exhale deeply.

“You miss your father,” Aemond whispers.

You brush your fingers down Aemond’s long hair and nod slowly. “I do, I miss my father. I know my mother wasn’t truly happy with him, I want her to be happy, but…” you pause and splash more water on Aemond’s hair. Once the stuff is all out he looks back to meet your watery gaze.

“What?” He presses you.

“I wish I knew what happened,” you mutter in a shaky voice. “I know Daemon had a part in it. Am I mad for thinking that?”

Aemond turns around completely and cups the side of your face. “No.” He shakes his head. “No. I would want to know too, especially because your father passed away soon after Daemon's wife died.”

You sigh in relief after hearing him express what you had been thinking too. All this time you’ve been spinning all these thoughts in your mind about the matter like a spider spins its web, trying to connect dots, and driving yourself mad in the meanwhile. You expressed that same theory to Cregan, but he shut you down and said that the story of Ser Qarl matched and that you were only going to make things worse by thinking too much about it. So it’s relieving having someone understand.

“He was so quick to kill Vaemond today,” you share. “I wouldn't put it past him to have…gotten rid of my father too.”

Aemond nods, and you can’t help but smile softly in relief. “So no, I’m not mad?” You double-check.

Aemond shakes his head. “No, my sweet love. No, I believe you. Whatever you plan to do, I will be by your side.”

You don't actually think of exposing Daemon to the masses, maybe just to your brothers to have them team up against him too. You’d even tell your mother too, but that’s about it. You just want the satisfaction of knowing the truth.

“I love you,” you tell him before you wrap your arms around his neck. “Thank you…for not thinking I’m mad. I appreciate it.”

Aemond returns your embrace and presses a kiss on your head before he turns you around so you can be lying against him in between his legs.

“I love you,” he says in your ear, letting you grab his hand and press a kiss on his knuckles.

“Now,” you whisper after a moment of silence. “Tell me about your day.”

Aemond exhales deeply and helps you scrub your body with the lilac and honey-scented oils he likes smelling on your skin so much.

“Well,” he whispers. “Nothing much today. I caught up on a book I haven’t finished.”

You hum, but don’t actually leave it at that, you know him and his struggle with Lucerys. You’re not stupid, he may not tell you, and he may hide it well, but you know seeing your brother makes him mad. You can’t hold that against Aemond. It’s normal. He lost his eye after all. The only thing you won’t do is pick sides. You’ll understand both sides but never side with one over the other.

“Look,” you interject and peer over at him. “I doubt Lucerys will stay long. You’ll only have to tolerate him a bit longer. Okay?”

Aemond blinks in disbelief and doesn’t add anything. He’s just actually shocked you knew his struggle without having to actually hear him say it, and that you don’t judge his anger because you love your brother Lucerys.

“We only have to get through supper;” you assure him. “After that, we can go stay at the summer house if they stay longer,” you suggest. “We go on dragonback since Aerion enjoys flying, we can picnic by the waterfalls at sunset, and present Aerion to some horses. We can enjoy our nights stargazing in the grass fields.” You smile sweetly and look back at him. “How does that sound? Just you, Aerion, and me. And of course our dragons, hm?”

“What of you?” He says, making your smile falter. “Don’t you want to spend time with your brothers? Your mother?”

You nod. “Yes,” you agree softly. “But Aerion and I can accompany them back to Dragonstone when they leave. Stay there for a few days and come back home. How does that sound?”

“All right,” he agrees. “It’s not like you’re asking for permission.”

You laugh softly and shake your head. “No.”

You then look ahead again and watch the fire as you lean your head back against Aemond’s chest. “As of now,” you sigh, “we just survive through supper. You tolerate Lucerys, and I tolerate Daemon…it shall be fun.”

.

.

.

.

A/N- It’s cute that you don’t think the white worm is actually controlling you. Sweet summer child. So much to learn! If only there was a manipulative and cool witch coming soon to teach you her ways!

Tagged- @namelesslosers @stargaryenx @chainsawsangel @lauftivy @winxschester @cloudroomblog @llarue @padsdarlg @sofietargaryen @gracielikegrapes @dreaming-of-the-reality @itzelpeyton @patdsinner33 @mrsdominickstark @elaena-aerrin @todoroki-slut @snh96 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @nifujiswhore @sweethoneyblossom1 @kaetastic @lightdragonrayne @squidscottjeans

[greenqueenhightower]

"I know it wasn't your fault. I believe you."

This is one of my favorite scenes from season 1. We see Alicent owning up to her responsibilities as a queen, mother, and fellow woman, and being resourceful in averting crises. She empathizes with Dyana because she too has been r*ped and feels liability for her son's actions. She feels further responsibility as the Queen who could or should have prevented this lamentable occurrence. It is an intensely vulnerable moment for Alicent and provides great insight into her character because as much as society's norms allow, she saves that girl. She is providing the help that Alicent never got. Did Alicent ever have a shoulder to cry on? No. Was anyone ever there when she was trembling and afraid? Also no.

By assuring Dyana that she believes her innocence, Alicent tells her what she would like to tell her younger self who no doubt had struggled with shame and guilt. As she hugs and comforts Dyana, she heals young!Alicent over the trauma she has endured. She becomes the mother she wished she had when she was just a girl for Dyana.

[horizon-verizon]

Alicent literally raised her sons preparing them for war their whole lives, festering them with hatred, forced Aegon to be king, only to backtrack when the war ensues. What kind of writing is this ?

They really thought it would make her seem sympathetic and like a “voice for reason” but instead it makes her completely hateable and stupid.

From her sons’ perspectives, the woman who literally raised them to fight for their lives is all of a sudden telling them no, to the point of literally selling them out to die. Absolutely disgusting behaviour.

Also, speaking of Rhaenyra’s executions, Alicent is tipping Rhaenyra off on TG plans, committing treason. A treason that will result in the death of her FATHER AND BROTHER. Otto and Gwayne both die when King’s Landing falls. Are we to believe that Alicent is sacrificing her father, brother, and three sons to Rhaenyra and DAEMON ? That she offers Aegon’s head to a woman whom she believes to be responsible for beheading Aegon’s son, HER GRANDSON ? How does a sane person come up with this ? 

🤷🏿‍♂️

In 1x08, Alicent, after Rhaenyra gave one apology, immediately accepted her as the next queen wholeheartedly even thought she has been harassing both her and her sons for 10 years and impressed on all her kids that she needed to be ousted for them all to even survive. I already didn't like the writing for Alicent & kinda mentally checked out of all the drama in the "suspension of disbelief" way before, but this is when I really started to actively despise her writing. When all my latent thoughts about this show's absurdities & hypocrisies swelled up to be unignorable. There, too, Alicent seemd all too ready to pretend the past is the past bec apparently Rhaenyra acknowledging her as a queenly authority and being a good wife to Viserys proved she would make a good Queen AND not kill her kids...okay. Ironically, they decided to be consistent for this of all things AND that 1x08 switch up is itself an inconsistency of such different definition that it is just an irrationality rather than an inconsistency.

[multiverseofseries]

HBO’s official statement regarding the House Of The Dragon finale leak:

“We are aware that clips from the season finale of House of the Dragon have emerged on social media platforms. The clips were posted after an unintended release from an international third-party distributor. HBO is aggressively monitoring and removing clips from the internet, and fans can watch the episode in its entirety this Sunday night on HBO and Max.”

[drakaripykiros130ac]

You ever notice after Aegon r*pes Dyanna, Alicent doesn’t say, “How could you do that to a woman? A human being??”

She starts talking about herself and Helaena like the r*pe will look badly them.

“Think of the shame on your wife, on me! How can you keep carrying on like this, especially on a day like today.”

So this is a pattern of behavior and he’s r*ped before. Smfh.

Yep, I picked up on that. Alicent’s conversation with Aegon was similar to the one she had with him episode 6.

In episode 6, instead of actually attempting to be a good mother and scold her son for bullying his brother, she was basically telling him that it’s ok to do it as long as he did it in private. She was angry because Aegon was ruining their family image, not because he was being a jerk to his younger brother and terrorizing him.

In episode 8, same thing. Instead of scolding Aegon for doing something like this and telling him that it is not ok to r*pe women, she was more concerned about the public perception of her messed up family.

She was not saying, “How dare you r*pe girls?!” She was saying, “How dare you make a spectacle of yourself and embarrass our family? That girl was ready to tell the whole world what you did, and I had to shut her up with words of comfort and moon tea!”

Alicent is a terrible mother and a horrible human being, not to mention a traitor to her own gender. She seems to like the idea of women being meek, helpless and serving men’s interests. She only ever cared about maintaining the public’s perception that she has a “perfect family”, compared to Rhaenyra.

Why does she care about that so much? Because she needs people to be more ok with them usurping Rhaenyra’s throne when the time is right.

And she has the nerve to look all innocent at that Council meeting in episode 9 and claim that she had no part in the conspiracy, when this is precisely what she had been occupying her entire life with ever since she became Queen. From the moment that crown was put on her head, Alicent had made Rhaenyra’s life her business: stalking her, using her power as Queen to emotionally abuse her, bad mouthing her and her children to her husband, undermining her at every turn and gossiping with her guy friend/murderous shield/guy she undresses with her eyes, Ser Crispin. Rhaenyra and her children were Alicent’s targets for many years.

[arcielee]

Happy 1 year, sisterwives. ✨

I am reuploading my collection of those ridiculous heart edits I do on Canva whilst giggling and twirling my hair. Please reblog if you use!

And Behind the Scenes:

[bunbunbl0gs]

house of the dragon

Jace ❣️💋

Jacaerys ❤️🖤

Dating jacaerys velaryon

Modern Alicent Hightower

Modern Alicent Hightower 💚

Modern rhaenyra 💋

Modern rhaenyra

Modern queen Alicent Hightower 👑

Young rhaenyra 🌹

Young Alicent Hightower 🖤💚

Young rhaenyra 🐉❣️

Alicent and rhaenyra 💚❤️🤍🖤

Young Helaena

Helaena 🪻🤍🌸🌺

dreamer🌺🪻🌹💐

Daemon ❤️🖤🗡️

Daemon 🗡️🖤

Ageon ❤️🗡️🖤

Aemond 🖤🗡️

The red keep

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[bbygirl-aemond]

In Your Grave

Kudos to this post which implanted the idea in my brain of Alicent giving Viserys the death he deserves at the end of Episode 8 and making sure he goes out in both mental and physical agony as all child and wife abusers should ❤️ So here is the result! This is cross-posted to Ao3 here but you can read it in its 2.7k entirety below if you want! TW for references to canonical events such as Alicent's SA and Aemma's death.

Viserys was always heard before he was seen, these days. His broken wheezing echoed down the corridor long before Alicent stepped through the door to his bedchambers and he came into view. It rankled in her ears as she drew up short, as a careful stillness settled about her shoulders and her spine.

The servants had rearranged his limbs haphazardly about, such that he more closely resembled a discarded doll than a King. He was lying on the left-hand side of the bed, she noted idly. They must have placed him there while unconscious, for he would never have chosen such a thing on his own. The right-hand side of the bed was for sleeping, she knew. The left-hand side was only for her, for Aemma, for the little girls who tipped back their heads and gripped the sheets and bit their lips bloody as a man unmade them night after night after—

Another wheeze, this time louder than all the rest. Even from here, she could see the pallor to his face, could hear the rattling within his lungs.

She knew that sound.

It was one that she knew as surely as she knew the sound of her own breath.

When Alicent had been a very young girl, her father had sent her to read to the old King Jaehaerys upon his deathbed. He had terrified her when she’d first seen him. In all the tales her father had always told her, Kings were larger than life. They were the father of the Realm, after all; above them were only the Gods.

Jaehaerys had not died a God.

He had died a withered old man, with spittle flecking his lips and urine staining his sheets.

Alicent had been there when he’d passed. She’d been sat by his bedside, as had become habit as of late, clutching a book in her hands that had quickly become forgotten as an eerie noise had begun to emanate from within Jaehaerys’s trembling chest. She’d paused in her reading, transfixed by the noise, all of the sights and sounds within the room narrowing down to that one death-rattle.

The Stranger had come, then, looming over the room. But Alicent had not been afraid, for she’d known he had not been there for her. She had leaned in, utterly entranced, and between one moment and the next Jaehaerys had been no longer.

“Please,” gasped the dying man on the bed before her, and Alicent felt a quickening within her heart.

Before the next sun rose, the Stranger would once more taint the walls of this room.

Viserys groaned once more, his hands spasming by his sides. Her eyes roved over him disinterestedly, taking in the sores about his face and the wreckage of his eye with a marked sense of detachment. He must be in terrible pain, she knew; those who clung to life the Gods were no longer willing to give paid a steep price for their cowardice.

“Please,” he begged again, his voice cracking.

One of his hands lifted itself off the bed by just a few inches, his remaining fingers stretching themselves towards his bedside table. She followed his gaze to the goblet that rested there, to the milk of the poppy that rested within.

It would ease his pain, she knew. Ease his passing.

Her face twisted with practiced sympathy.

“Oh, dear husband,” came her voice, saccharine sweet. The words clung to each other like slices of candied lemons. “Does it hurt terribly?”

The fingers stretched further, searching desperately. She supposed she should have expected as much. After all, he had refused the poppy all day long, had likely been counting down the minutes until he was alone once more and could reach for its warm embrace.

Alicent shushed him gently, stepping over to the table and lifting the goblet delicately in one hand. She carefully lowered herself to sit beside her husband and ever-so-gently batted away his hands. Viserys stretched his head eagerly forward, his lips parting as if he’d been trapped in the deserts of Dorne for a thousand days without water.

“There, there,” she soothed, and then took immense pleasure in pouring every last drop of the medicine out onto the sheets beside him.

He let out a little cry of alarm, his fingers twitching plaintively—impotently—towards the cup, as if hoping some of the medicine might remain. One of them brushed against her hand, and her lip curled in disgust. She dropped the cup to the floor, where it bounced with a loud clatter.

Instead of turning towards her, Viserys’s eyes followed the cup, almost frantically. A surge of something—sudden and heavy and searing—bubbled over within her and she darted one hand forward, snatching ahold of his chin to tilt his face towards her.

She kept her face smooth, kept the curl of her lips pleasant and her eyes softened. He’d always loved her smile, had remarked upon how comely it was ever since she’d been a little girl of two and ten. So Alicent smiled for him as prettily as she knew how. But her fingers dug in until the tips bled white, and until pinpricks of red blossomed against the papery skin beneath her nails.

Viserys was in too much pain, she knew, for the grip to even register, that it was but one drop within a sea of agony.

But she knew she was hurting him. She knew that, for once, she was adding to his pain instead of taking it all away, and it sent a little thrill curling up along her spine.

Never in all of their years together had she ever once touched him with the intent to harm. She had wanted to. By the Gods, she had wanted to. Every time he bedded her, a once-dormant beast would wake up from within her and would seize ahold of her limbs, and she could never remember which was worse, the urge to claw open her own skin so that nothing could touch it ever again, or the urge to claw Viserys’s flesh to ribbons, to get him off of her to get him out of her—

But little girls who scratched at Kings lost their fingers, just as little girls who cursed at Kings lost their tongues.

And so Alicent had fisted her hands by her sides until her fingernails had broken the skin of her palms and had forced that great beast back within the recesses of her ribcage so that her King could allow himself the pretense that he was not hurting her. She’d forced herself to relax and to lie there and to smile back at him when he looked up at her because Gods forbid he suffer the knowledge of what he was doing.

Things had shifted eventually, after the farce had fallen away and they both knew that the other recognized their marriage-bed for exactly what it was. Oh, Viserys had still called her to his bed—had still wrung two more children out of her yielding womb. But when he would whisper sweet nothings into her skin, praises for her hair or her skin or her cunt, she would say nothing. When he would look up at her expectantly, she would gaze right back at him with no expression at all. She could not claw at him or at herself, lest reality crash in around him entirely, but she would dig her nails into the silk sheets below her and relish in the tatters that would remain behind once he was done.

Viserys would not leave her be, but he would not confront her about the destruction wrought of his sheets, either. She had fancied them to be at a sort of stalemate—had fancied her private little destruction to be some sort of rebellion, had sought a modicum of comfort within it.

But now she was clawing at him and not the sheets and his skin was a thousand times more delicate than the silk and a thousand times more satisfying to tear.

“Look at me,” she told him sweetly, leaning over his face so that her hair fell in a curtain around him both. She wanted the sight of her smile to be the only thing he could see. The scent of her hair to be the only thing he could smell. The sound of her words to be the only thing he could hear.

For a moment—for just one moment—there would be nothing but her.

His eyes focused on her agonizingly slowly, his pain rendering even the slightest of movements laborious.

“Do you remember the vows I made you, upon our wedding day?” she asked him. “I should like to make you another.”

And she leaned in even closer, until the heat of his lips warmed her own. The lines and sores that twisted at his skin repulsed her. The humid, bitter beath that ghosted across her lips repulsed her. But repulsion was an old friend to her; she welcomed it and then sent it merrily on its way.

Alicent looked down upon her husband. Her skirts remained firmly settled about her ankles, and not hiked up around her waist. Her thighs were pressed together, and the space inside of her was blissfully empty, and the only points of contact between them were her fingertips bruising his face.

“You will die tonight, my King,” she breathed. “And when the day breaks, there will be a new King.”

The withered face below her blanched of all color, and she shushed him softly, digging her nails further into his papery skin.

“It is all decided,” she soothed. “The Conqueror’s crown will be placed upon your son’s head, and the Conqueror’s sword will be placed in his hand. And when the Septon has blessed him and he has mounted his dragon the smallfolk will look upon Aegon, Second of His Name, and they will worship him as they worship their Gods.”

Viserys was wheezing once more, his fingers scrabbling for purchase, threatening to press at her own. She swatted him away once more, and this time her palm cracked cruelly against his skin. Still, when she spoke, her voice was unbearably gentle.

“Our ravens are waiting to send word to every corner of the Seven Kingdoms,” she promised him. “They shall remind the Lords of Westeros of the promise they or their forefathers made when they made you a King, my darling. It is in your name, and yours alone, that they will swear fealty to my son as their King.”

There was a pounding within her ears, a throbbing between her ribs where her heart resided. The beast reared its head inside of her, only it did not show itself within her voice or upon her face but in the savage press of her nails and in the venom spilling out from between the lips Viserys always swore were softer than the finest of Myrish silks.

“I will call Rhaenyra back to King’s Landing, of course,” she continued, her words coming faster now, spurred on by the fire within her. “A grieving daughter would think of nothing else but to rush to her father’s side. Of course, she cannot be allowed to live. Not her, and not her spawn, and not your dear brother.”

A tear trickled across one, wizened cheek. Her smile widened, and she leaned in yet closer still as the fire swirled inside of her.

How dare he weep in her presence, when he never once allowed her the same?

“Oh, do not cry, my darling,” she whispered. “They will have an honorable death. A dragon rider’s death. The princes shall bathe in the flames of the mighty Vhagar, and the princess shall slate dear Sunfyre’s hunger. Though he is not quite large enough to swallow her whole; she will have to hope he takes his meals quickly.”

“Alicent,” Viserys gasped, his face gray with horror. “You—you cannot do this. You will not—”

“I will do exactly as I wish,” she snapped at him, and then inhaled, plastering her smile back about her face. She wiggled his chin back and forth, as one might a child, or an unruly dog. “While you lie cold in your grave, Aemma’s line will die, and House Targaryen will continue through me. Aegon will rule with Helaena beside him—your subjects adore her, Viserys, a thousand times more than they ever adored Rhaenyra. And Aegon will rule with my darling Aemond as his Hand—he was always so fond of history, of philosophy, of all the poets and novelists you so loved, and yet you would barely look at him. And with sweet Daeron by their side—I had to send him away to keep you from him, he was always so clever with his tongue and I had to make sure he kept it because you vowed to—”

The beast rose up further, fire tugging at the back of her throat, threatening to choke her. She drew in a shuddering breath, and forced it back down. Perhaps this time she was not entirely successful; her smile now felt as sharp as her nails, and her eyes held themselves open a smidge too widely.

“Aemma,” Viserys wept, his eyes clouded with terror.

An infant, begging pathetically for its mother.

“Aemma is dead, remember?” Alicent told him, very slowly and patiently, as if talking to a confused child. She brought up her other hand, dug a finger deep within his belly, and dragged it up to his sternum as he moaned and writhed. “Pigs are butchered more humanely than you butchered the mother of your child. Did she beg you to stop? Did she cry for you? Did she scream for you?”

A garbled wail tore itself free from Viserys’s lips; it was an ugly, wet thing, flecking his mouth with drops of crimson. He screwed his eye shut, feebly trying to turn his face away from her.

“Look at me!” she screamed, and his eye forced itself open again.

He looked upon her with terror and a sick, dawning sort of realization. Her smile widened further, and she leaned in close to him once more.

This is the thing you married, the voice in the back of her head whispered gleefully. You saw its pretty smile and its dainty hands and so you dragged it into your bed and upon your cock and trusted that it could never hurt you. You bred it like a bitch and you promised to cut out its tongue and all this time you should have been worried about its teeth. But you did not and now it will leech your throne and your legacy and its pretty mouth will swallow the House of the dragon whole.

“You will never see your dear Aemma again,” the thing that was Alicent Hightower vowed, baring its pretty teeth as its pretty lips curled further. “She is in the Seven Heavens with her infant son, where you can never touch either of them again. But you will see me again, Viserys, I swear this to you. When my time is ended I will search the Seven Hells for your wretched soul and then your torment will begin anew.”

She lowered her lips to press one last, caricature of a kiss against his withered brow.

“Farewell, dear husband,” she told Viserys. “Until we meet again.”

And she turned her back upon her King as he flailed and sobbed and gasped upon his deathbed. Her pace quickened, and her heart beat in anticipation.

It was not Aemma’s name that he cried, then.

Nor was it Rhaenyra’s.

“Alicent,” Viserys begged, grasping desperately after her, the acrid scent of blood and urine and rot seeping into the air around his bed. “Alicent, please.”

Her hands flexed by her sides, one set of fingernails stained with the blood of a King. She did not look back towards her husband, nor did she acknowledge his wails. But she very carefully engraved the sight of his terror-stricken face upon the insides of her eyelids, carved the sounds of his agonized betrayal into the crevices of her ears.

This, too, she would never forget.

The Queen left the royal chambers with a beatific smile upon her face.

Behind her, the Stranger entered.

[aphrmoosun]

Tom & Phia & Ewan

For Buzzfeed Celeb

[arabellasleopardcoat]

My thoughts on Episode 8. SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Note taking has evolved into opinion, so to avoid being called out by anons about lack of neutrality, we go back to note taking. Edit: I lied! Opinions but since this is my writing reference, they are about characters' motivations so it doesn't count.

Tyland negotiates with the Myrish, who look deeply arabic, to break the blockade, in exchange for the Stepstones. Poor man is withering under heat. Captain Lohar I love already. “I will not sail with a man who cannot defeat me.” 

Vhagar and Aemond burning Sharp Point, you know, as one does. 

Aegon suffering through getting better. Larys taking Aegon away since he knows King’s Landing will be taken. Aegon calls Aemond mad. Finally the plot advances. Larys thinks Aemond will kill Aegon since he is frightened and angry by Rhaenyra’s dragons. Aegon suggests capturing Aemond. Larys insists in running, says he moved his savings to the Braavos Bank. Aegon feels alone and useless, no longer has a functioning cock. Larys doing the work to build him up. 

Rhaena is very thirsty. Walked for days? She sways.

Jace against Ulf and Hugh. They are lazing around and eating. Ulf is annoying, tries to hug Jace, mocks his hair, thinks himself equal to Jace. Jace in a tizz about Sharp Point and the commoners, which is more concern anyone in thus show does have for them. Forces them into apology. 

Corlys and Rhaenyra discuss dragons. Helaena is not seen as a threat by Rhaenyra, even though her dragon is old. Tessarion too young. She has no interest in riding, Rhaenyra says. Corlys names his ship The Queen Who Never Was. Lannister and Hightowers march.

Caraxes prefers pigs. Daemon shows the army to Rhaenyra’s envoy. The envoy says Rhaenyra is not fit to lead, since she hesitates and isn’t a King. Daemon calls him a traitor for suggesting Daemon should declare, and laughs. Simon Strong watches and shakes his head. 

Aemond orders searching every ship that leaves to prevent dragonseeds going to Rhaenyra. Makes it more difficult for food to get there. Helaena tells Alicent she was happier not being a Queen. Aemond orders Helaena to ride to battle, she says she won’t burn anyone. Aemond tries to drag her, Alicent and Aemond fight about how does one fight this war. Alicent wins. 

Alicent asks the grandmaester for passage and discretion, Cole smells the favor Alicent gave him and Gwayne finally connects the dots. Gwayne is a bit dumb, I am afraid. He confronts him, Criston says not to say anything because he would ruin the Hightowers and Alicent too. Cole says honor is a mist. Seems disappointed with his white cloak, finally. Suicidal again? 

Meanwhile, Tyland is getting trashed in the mud by the Captain, literally, until he starts to play dirty. She still doesn’t know his name. He is terrified of her, and she teases him with eating human flesh. I really like Lannisters. 

Baela teasing a pouting Jace. Yup, they are the healthiest relationship here. She sets him right by telling him a Prince isn’t just having a dragon and he is not the first bastard in the world. Gives him a motivational speech. 

The Myrish still don’t know Tyland's name. They make him sing, and Lohar agrees to sail with him. Cute. A dancer! Lohar offers Tyland to give her children. She wants him to fuck her wives and poor guy is terrified. I do love Lannisters, so I don’t blame her. 

Ulf makes a nuisance of himself at Rhaenyra’s dinner with Baela, Jace and the dragonseeds. Addam proves himself well behaved. She promises them knighthood. Rhaenyra wants them to burn innocents and Jace supports it. She reprimands Ulf for his manners, Jace backs her. Informed by Lord Simon that Daemon might betray her, she calls for Addam. 

Alys watches Daemon sleep. Invites him to the Godswood. He sees q man with antlers. Alys acts as his wise magic mentor, it seems. Daemon no longer scoffs at magic. She offers him red pill or blue pill and he takes it. She calls him control obsessed. Daemon touches the heart tree sap, sees Bloodraven, the Nightking, the death of the dragons, his death, Dany!!! And her baby dragons. Sees Rhaenyra and Helaena, who tells him it’s a story and he is only a part of it, that he knows what to do. Turns out he wasn’t hallucinating Helaena, she was speaking the words. Aemond tries to seduce Helaena into fighting. She asks him what if she doesn't. His eye gets teary at her rejection, she tells him she saw him burning Aegon. She prophesied Aemond's death at the God’s Eye and Aegon’s reign again. He threatens to kill her and she tells him it won’t change anything. 

Rhaenyra on Syrax arrives at Harrenhal, with Seasmoke as backup. Simon asks her to see for herself. 

What he doesn’t know is that Daemon is now a man led by prophecy, and by god medieval men like prophecies. Fama y memoria de sí, nunca mejor dicho. 

Daemon meets Rhaenyra. She asks about his loyalty and he keeps her waiting because he is dramatic like that. He tells her in High Valyrian what he saw and that Winter is coming. Rhaenyra says he sounds like Viserys. He calls her the realm’s only hope and bends the knee. The men, loyal to him as he said, bend the knee too. Simon Strong looks astonished, Ser Alfred disappointed. Rhaenyra threatens him if he leaves her again. He charms her again with a great romantic gesture including motivating the soldiers to fight for their Queen.

Simon Strong honestly is watching a romcom, he even claps in the background, and same. 

Corlys reaches for Allyn, he refuses. Corlys fears he will die. Allyn complains of Corlys lack of help during the years, how hungry he went. Deadbeat father accusations in the deadbeat fathers show. Corlys is taking the cake in the competition. Allyn I rather like because he confronts him about it, of giving him scraps after he realized he is old and alone. Feels like the wet dream of anyone with Daddy Issues ™ or is it just me?

Rhaena finally sees Sheepstealer, after almost freezing. 

Mysaria motivates Rhaenyra into being ruthless. She doubts her father would have wanted this, but Mysaria says he gave her no choice. It is why I like her. They rise Rhaenyra during the night, Alicent is visiting. She says she might have been wrong. Alicent then apologizes for being an ally to the patriarchy and believing in it. Rhaenyra accuses her of hypocrisy, which is true, for sleeping with Criston. Rhaenyra tells her it’s too late. That she can do as she pleases but Rhaenyra won’t care, including fleeing. Rhaenyra says she won’t absolve her. 

I feel unkind for thinking Alicent has only turned against the patriarchy when it started bothering her. It is an unkind thought because it started bothering her ever since she was a girl forced to marry a much older man. She believed in those power structures, though. I'm undecided about her. I guess she thought she would get the freedom of widows (Which was a thing back then, I think) and got mad when she didn’t get it. Perhaps that was her compelling force. When Viserys raped her, she took comfort in the fact that he would die first and she would be free and it didn’t happen. I cracked her. 

Alicent talks of letting Rhaenyra in the Red Keep when Aemond isn’t there peacefully. As a conqueror. Rhaenyra asks about Aegon, Alicent says she can convince Aegon to bend the knee. Rhaenyra tells her she has to take his head, she cannot have the cake and eat it too. Alicent must choose. Rhaenyra lets her leave. Seems like Alicent chose Helaena and decided anyone else can die.

The dragonseeds prep for battle. Black armor. Rhaena runs to her dragon. Hightowers march with Daeron on the head (We only see his dragon) Cregan’s men march, so do Lannisters and Leffords. Daemon leaves Harrenhal with his army. Alicent in the tunnels. Tyland and Lohar in the sea, same Corlys and Allyn. Otto in a cell? A wagon? I do think it might be a cell because he looks awful.  Larys and Aegon go into hiding, no sign of Jaehaera. Everyone marches to war. THE END. 

[fictonrantsworld]

Lol I just realized during the dinner scene in hotd. helaena's little jab of aegons alcohol addiction was also right after aemond made a jab at him for 'drinking more than a braavosi seahorse'

It's funny bc it's clear that aegon doesn't really think his drinking is that bad and even admonishes aemond for it, with him saying 'I drink just enough' thinking he has won that argument and then a few minutes later his wife jabs at him for his drinking and he can't even argue back.

I'm sure she also did it bc of his transgressions that morning. But she jabbed at his alcohol addiction specifically, right after he argued with aemond that he doesnt have an alcohol issue.

[greenqueenhightower]

Y'all, I only just noticed Alicent's "WTF?" face when Viserys tells her that Aegon should inherit the throne.

She's probably thinking he is so useless that he had ample of time to fix/secure the succession and he DIDN'T, only to drop a succession bomb minutes before he dies.

You can tell she is thinking "this is such a Viserys thing to do, you'll make me deal with your crap again."

[horizon-verizon]

Final Thoughts on Show!Rhaenys before We Get into the Second Season

I'm not hopeful about Rhaenys in season 2 because the trailer showed us that she'd be sticking to her "no war" and "anti-emotions" agenda even after Luke's death and our knowledge of who Otto is/his emotional influence on Alicent.

I clearly see show!Rhaenys became as bitter as she was. Despite her father-- Prince Aemon--having been the named and official heir plus her being his only surviving child, she was automatically, technically, his heir as well. But because Jaehaerys I didn't believe women should rule like a man AND worried that there would be a civil conflict between Viserys' supporters (namely Daemon) & the Velaryons-Baratheons (Jocelyn Baratheon was Rhaenys' mother and was alive at the time), he decided to use an election knowing how it would go to place a universally uncontested male heir. Show!Rhaenys and dbk!Rhaenys were, some argue, a better fit for the throne by character. It would so likely make any person, woman, resentful of her lot & thus express her resentment...

But the issue is that show!Rhaenys is too cynical & she decides to take it out o the wrong person, the person who is probably the least responsible for her position and the person who is more vulnerable to such expressions at that moment. To the point where she's passive-aggressively trying to discourage a good thing (Rhaenyra believing she could be Queen) when she tells Rhaenyra that men would "sooner" destroy the realm than "see" a woman on the throne. This isn't advice, it's her bitterness being expressed, because she doesn't ever follow up with how Rhaenyra can constructively begin to come up with any strategies.

Because yes, things ARE different for Rhaenyra. Viserys made her his OFFICIAL, declared heir. Rhaenys was never that. Viserys also never called for any Great Council, he relied on the already extant custom that the King's word was Law to justify his choosing Rhaenyra.

Men will never accept ANY woman, so I (Rhaenyra) do what I must anyway.

In the context of a woman having to become Queen in a patriarchal world where there literally ever has been a Queen regnant, Doylistically, why is this woman who the show is saying is supposed to be strong of character or will submitting to patriarchal will wholeheartedly and trying to get Rhaenyra to?!!! Okay, so men will not accept me...am I supposed to just lie down and accept that when I DO have an opportunity to rule anyway, which Viserys/the Monarch, allowed me? "That's how it is"...okay, so bc that's how it is, I should just do nothing at all to improve my place?

It's not smart as people claimed, it's not insightful. It's you putting us all against a wall & saying you shouldn't even try to cross bc you'll fail. It's an ingredient to anti-progress, anti constructivism.

Rhaenys was also absolutely being hypocritical with Alicent in episode 9 about "windows" in prisons, because she has not really protested against Corlys sending off their daughter to be married off at 12 purely for his own ambitions like Otto.

You are wiser than I believed you to be, Alicent Hightower. A true queen counts the cost to her people. And yet you toil still in service to men. Your father, your husband, your son. You desire not to be free, but to make a window in the wall of your prison. Have you never imagined yourself on the Iron Throne? I'll leave you with your thoughts.

She has done what I already described to Rhaenyra in episode 2. And she says to Corlys she's over not having been chosen...yet says what she says how she says about the lords never going to accept her in episode 2.

And while being anti-war for "the realm", she also kills dozens of smallfolk bc "it's not my war"...but the greens can use this as an excuse against her, Rhaenyra, and the blacks to open the war and make themselves look that much more righteous! (Rhaenyra is still close r to the blacks than "neutral" through Baela & Rhaena) So is she really that careful or conscientious even in her goal for there to be no war?!

If Rhaenys meant "realm" as both nobles & peasants, she has a funny way of showing her concern for "the realm". If not and she just meant nobles, is she really all that wise or compassionate?!

But Rhaenys in the show is made not to see any of that. You can say she's "keeping it real", but sometimes you stifle your own hopes so you cannot see possible paths to the thing you want to accomplish or change. Therefore, show!Rhaenys is actually being very blind & close minded.

It reminds me of some people's tendency to say "I'm just being real" (not so much Rhaenys but the justifications for her behavior towards Rhaenyra) & being nihilistic or over-cynical kinda places us back to square one, the place where we stay victimized by the status quo.

I mean, think of how if people had just accepted "that's just how it is", we'd still have legal segregation, women wouldn't be able to vote or own their own properties or have their own bank cards w/o having to get paper permits from their dads & husbands into the 70s!!!

Show!Rhaenys' particular brand of bitterness (that some of us have misidentified as "truthtelling"), if allowed to be totally justified can serve to reaffirm oppressive status quos.

Which is why I just prefer book!Rhaenys, who many have pointed out was not bloodthirsty but merely thinking of a ruthless strategy and eager to protect her own interests & those that she loved. Because no matter what either show or book Rhaenys wanted, war was definitely coming for not just Daemon & Rhaenyra, but Baela and Rhaena. They are Daemon's daughters no matter who their supposed host was [HotD, Baela is Rhaenys' & Corlys' ward], how would the greens just ignore them?!! Baela is very much like her father, by the evidence and I'm sure Rhaena would also not just abandon Daemon or Rhaenyra, not having had been close to them for years and Daemon literally being their father who has raised them with real love since both were born.

To clear up some misunderstandings about the original book, no one at the black council believed for a second that greens wouldn't come for them or were really "warmongers":

The greens would have never let go of the people they usurped (Rhaenyra & her kids) who could come back at any moment to oust them...that's how usurpations usually go. Look at Robert with Dany and Rhaegar's children!

["The Blacks and the Greens"] -- further proof of greens' intentions against the blacks

Rhaenys says this ("The Blacks and the Greens"):

Bk!Daemon was actually the one practicing some caution, against a full front attack on KL. (Something bk!Rhaenys advocated for.) BUT like Rhaenys, Daemon in the OG story wasn't against a war. Not because he is he's "turned a new leaf" against violence and being an actual, non-playful menace just for the fun of it (which was never his character), but so he can protect his family...proven by how before he speaks, we have Rhaenyra worry over the fates of her sons going into battle in Rhaenys' suggestion. Bc again, the war was nearly inevitable, and definitely became so after Lucerys' death.

Bk!Daemon knew how hard it'd be to fight against actual dragons. He specifically wanted them to use them as a last resort & first send letters to different lords to get them to show their allegiances & prepare for war, fight under Rhaenyra's name. And so they knew who to watch out for.

["The Blacks and the Greens"] -- Black council, Daemon's Words

Corlys was also not anti-war, he was anti-full blaze attack on KL bc it would destroy the things they were fighting for.

["The Blacks and the Greens"] -- Black council, Corlys Disagreeing w/Rhaenys

So Daemon & Rhaenys' roles are almost switched for the show, and this reveals another layer of how the show seeks to subdue their female characters into parrots and puppets of men around them for the male gaze, turn them into something "nonthreatening" & more influenced by men's wills & ambitions than they had been in the book. [xenonwitch]

I say "almost" because the show was anti war vs "go-go-go" instead of the book's full attack on KL vs dragons-as last-resort.

Doesn't matter that the scenes where Baela tries to get Rhaenys to see that were deleted, this situation exists without any of their permission, consent, will, etc. Book!Rhaneys has the sense to not try to deny or hide from it. No one tried.

No, show!Rhaenys doesn't offer very good things, nor is "wise" as people claim she is. "Wise" is different from "clever", and claiming that this iteration of Rhaenys was "wise" really just positions this discouragement of actual action and seizure of opportunity for an event where else-time didn't or couldn't happen is categorically unwise!! And a way to re-affirm patriarchal license of suppressed female ambition or rage.

This was already wrote this on Twitter, under this post (LINK):