#house rosby

[athzhowakar]

Queen of Hidden Evils (Chapter I)

✒️ Maegor × Toxic OC wife

✒️ Summary: Maegor needs to find a new wife since his existing wives have failed to provide him an heir. He sends a proposal to a lesser lordly house of the Crownlands, asking the hand of the Lord's widowed sister. Maegor has heard very little about that woman but what really matters for him is the fact that, she has a ten year old daughter and hence, her fertility is proven.

✒️ Trigger warning: Mature content

✒️ Next part: Chapter II

The Red Keep :

“And whom do you suggest this time, Grand Maester?” King Maegor said reluctantly. He was getting quite tired of marrying again and again but he made sure no one knew that.

“Your Grace, if it pleases you, I would suggest Lady Lucinda Rosby,” Grand Maester Benifer replied.

Stroking his beard, Maegor said, “Lucinda Rosby? I have never heard much about her.”

“She is a woman of proven fertility, Your Grace,” Grand Maester Benifer said. “She has a ten years old daughter.”

“She is a widow, I suppose. Her husband was the elder brother of the current Lord Stokeworth, who died in a hunting accident,” Maegor said, trying to recall the events.

“Ser Bennard Stokeworth was a brave man, Your Grace. He was fond of riding horses and hunting. Unfortunately, that took his life just two years after his marriage. He left behind a three month old daughter and a grieving young wife. Her Ladyship was only eight and ten when she was widowed. She has been a widow ever since,” Grand Maester said.

Maegor looked at him and remarked, “A quite devoted woman or perhaps quite picky.”

“What are the orders for me, Your Grace? Shall I send a raven to Lord Rosby or perhaps a messenger?” Grand Maester asked.

“Send a messenger, Grand Maester. Ravens are comparatively less impressive. Who knows? That picky lady of the Rosbys might find that raven ugly and drive it away without reading the message,” Maegor said with a tone which certainly did not reveal whether he was being sarcastic or serious.

The Grand Maester paid his respects and left the king's chamber.

Maegor stood up a while later and arrived at Queen Rhaena's chamber.

“Beloved Niece!” Maegor exclaimed.

“Not at all beloved Uncle!” Rhaena responded back with an equally enthusiastic tone to mock him.

Maegor grabbed her waist as she tried to wriggle away. He whispered into her ears, “Don't you think that you are being too insolent, my dear wife?”

Rhaena mocked him by saying, “How do you expect me to talk to a kinslayer and usurper?”

“We could have been the most powerful king and queen the seven kingdoms have ever seen. You could have been a good wife to me and given me a son or a daughter or both. And yet, you choose to provoke me, mock me and dig your own grave,” Maegor said tightening his grip on her waist.

Rhaena replied, “I do not want any of that.”

“What do you want then?” Maegor almost screamed.

Rhaena said, “Nothing from you.”

Maegor let go of her. Rhaena took a deep breath and saw her uncle approaching her. She was scared as her uncle was unpredictable and crueler than anyone she had known.

“Do you think that you would have a better life without me?” Maegor asked. “You resent me for sending away your whores whom you call companions. But do you think that oaf of your brother would have allowed that? That fool tried to fight against me atop a dragon which wasn't even half the size of my dragon. You think that he could have kept you happier? You wish for me to die, don't you? You do not wish to give me a child. Isn't that why you have been secretly taking moon tea and poisoning your womb? I know everything. But I stayed silent because I love you and because you are my blood.”

“That is all a lie. You do not love me. You do not love anyone but yourself,” Rhaena said, spitefully.

Maegor replied angrily, “Foolish woman! Do you know what will happen to you if I die today? I made you the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms but if I die today, you will no longer be the queen. You will not be the Dowager Queen either, for you have given me no child which I can call mine. If I die, your brother Jaehaerys will be the king and perhaps your sister Alysanne will be the queen or whichever daughter of lickspittle your mother chooses. You will have nothing. No one will care for your opinions anymore and no one will respect you the way they do now. My own mother forged the Seven Kingdoms along with my father, with fire and blood. And yet, when your father was the king, she had no choice but to see her kingdom almost perish into nothing. What have you done compared to her? Your fate will be much worse.”

“Is that why you came here? To remind me of how great you are and how lucky I am to be alive and have you as my husband?” Rhaena asked him with tears in her eyes.

“Oh no, certainly not,” Maegor said. “I came here to tell you that I have decided to take another wife. I have already sent the proposal.”

“And who is that unlucky woman?” Rhaena asked.

“Lady Lucinda of House Rosby,” Maegor replied.

Rhaena burst into laughter on hearing the name.

Confused, Maegor asked her, “What happened? What is the matter?”

“If you hadn't killed that Pentosi witch, she would have certainly told you how her husband died. You do not know that, do you?” Rhaena said, laughing.

Maegor said, “He died in a hunting accident.”

Rhaena laughed again and said, “Things people say to keep their honour. One of my previous companions was Samantha Stokeworth, the younger sister of her husband, Ser Bennard Stokeworth. She told me something that you do not know.”

“And what is that?” Maegor asked.

“Apparently, her husband had a lowborn paramour. Lady Lucinda had that wench killed, and her head and entrails served to her husband when he was about to break fast on the morrow, while on his hunting trip. Ser Bennard was horrified when he saw his paramour's severed head wrapped in her entrails, and died of shock in his tent,” Rhaena said with an evil smile on her face. “I wish you luck, Uncle. I am sure she is the perfect wife for you.”

Rosby Castle :

Lady Prunella Stokeworth, a maid of ten, was the only Stokeworth living in the Rosby Castle. Lady Rosby used to think that it might be more proper if she lived in the Stokeworth Castle with her people but as the girl grew older, that thought vanished. The girl though comely, did not even possess a quarter of the beauty that her mother and Lady Rosby's goodsister, Lucinda Rosby did. However, Prunella seemed lovely enough to Lady Rosby. As a matter of fact, she had even convinced Lady Lucinda to get Prunella betrothed to her son.

It was another evening when Lady Rosby was having a chat with Prunella in her chamber.

“Aunt, is it true that the king wishes to marry my mother?” Prunella asked Lady Rosby.

Lady Rosby said, “It is true, little one. A messenger arrived this morning with a letter from His Grace. If we agree, he intends to wed her two moons later.”

“Will Uncle agree to this?” Prunella asked.

“Oh my sweet summer child, it is not really a proposal. It is an order and your uncle cannot defy it. However, we have to convince your mother as well,” Lady Rosby replied.

Just then, Lady Lucinda entered the chamber. She had just returned from the Castle Sept.

“May I join?” Lucinda asked.

“Sure. Let me pour you a cup of wine,” Lady Rosby said.

Prunella asked her mother, “Mother, have you heard about the proposal that came from the king?”

“I have,” Lucinda replied without a visible expression on her face.

“Are you going to reject the proposal?” Prunella asked.

Lucinda chuckled and said, “Foolish girl! Why would I refuse to become the queen?”

..

..

..

..

To be continued

[atopvisenyashill]

house frey and the inheritance of the twins

obviously it's been suspected that Red Wedding 2.0 will be happening in part to whittle down the family tree enough so that a Good Frey (tm) can take over the Twins. i just wanted to lay everyone i thought was a candidate out and solidify an opinion here.

FIRST OF ALL, i like to group the freys in my head according to their mom’s houses (since, ya kno, they’re all freys lol). I’m not listing every single frey (it would be hard since you can't do subbullet points in tumblr anyway) but here's sort of a general overview of succession, with my format being Walder’s Wife House -> “Cadet” Branch Houses. also this is just how I organize all these people in my mind, so if it doesn't make sense just ignore it, it's not here, skip down to the green text-

Royce Freys -> Main Branch Royce Freys, [Vance Freys], Vale Freys, [Lannister Freys], Wylde Freys, [Haigh Freys]

Swann Freys -> they’re mostly dead or at Oldtown so I just lump all of the Swann Freys together

Crakehall Freys -> Main Branch Hosteen Freys, Braavosi Freys, Darry Freys, Waynwood Freys, Beesbury Freys, [House Vypren]

Blackwood Freys -> Lame Lothar Freys, Paege Freys, [House Brax]

Rosby Freys -> this one is easy because it's just Perwyn, Benfrey, Olyvar, and Roslin.

Farring Freys -> again, easy because none of them have kids so they're all one branch. This branch includes several of the maids presented to be wives for Robb/Edmure/Roose including Arwyn and Shirei, as well as Elmar, the boy who was briefly betrothed to Arya

brackets are female lines (as in, a daughter that married another house) so they’re not technically “Freys” tho i’m sure a lot of them would be willing to change their names for a shot at owning the Twins. Lannister Freys are in brackets bc altho they’re male line, I don’t think they’re in line for the Twins anymore bc the Crown gave them Riverrun (and they’re probably all gonna die before they can get back in the running for the Twins so they don’t count lol).

NOW. WHOMST DO I THINK IS LIKELY TO INHERIT? LET'S DIG IN-

Walda Frey - 2nd in line for the Twins currently

Please applaud the highest ranking person on this list. She is the direct descendant of Walder, of the main Royce Freys branch, being his great great granddaughter. It goes-

Walder -> first born son Stevron (dead) -> first born son Ryman (dead) -> first born son Edwyn (first in line, Evil Frey) -> Walda, as Edwyn’s only child.

As I laid out here, there are some obstacles she has to overcome but it’s not impossible that all this hubbub is leading up to Walda being able to keep the Twins from her pushy, grasping male relatives - we have a LOT of female heiresses at the end of ADWD and I do think that’s leading to something in the endgame. BUT. Considering all the doom following the Freys around, she could very well be an innocent victim of LSH and her Red Wedding 2.0 plan - she is still, after all, in the riverlands as a Frey which is the most dangerous place for a Frey to be.

Once again, rip to the sweet little angels caught up in the game of thrones by their parents (shireen, tommen & myrcella, sweetrobin, fat walda, and possibly, poor sweet walda frey the first). I think her odds don't look great here but I also can't (and don't want to!) ignore that we will have a lot of female heiresses at the ending and she may very well be one of them.

Perra Frey - 4th in line for the Twins currently

Another of the Main Brance Royce Freys, her line goes-

Walder -> first born son Stevron (dead) -> first born son Ryman (dead) -> third born son Petyr Pimple (dead) -> Perra

Very similar story to Walda except she doesn't even get any real narrative focus (Edwyn does in fact mention his daughter, and we even see Walda on page - we don't see Perra at all). I very much think Perra is a Disposable Frey and likely to die or be passed over. I still wanted to count her though (justice for Doomed Babies!)

Vale Freys - 5th through 8th in line for the Twins

I'm grouping them all together. The Vale Freys line goes like this-

Walder -> first born son Stevron (dead) -> third born son Walton Waynwood Frey -> Steffon, Fair Walda, and Bryan Hardyng Frey

Now this isn't the first Vale family (and Waynwood specifically) to marry into the Freys; Anya Waynwood knows how to matchmake for her house! But I refer to them as the "Vale Freys" specifically because they have two Vale women that marry into their line - Marsella Waynwood and Deanna Hardyng. Remember Anya raised Harry the Heir and Jocelyn Stark's daughters married a Waynwood. This Waynwood/Hardyng connection could mean nothing and I fully acknowledge that. However, the number of Vale ties with this line and the fact that Sansa is dealing with Waynwoods and Hardyngs right now does make me wonder if the ultimate Lord of the Crossing could come from this seemingly Disposable Frey line.

Mad Huntsman/Aegon Bloodborn Frey - 17th-ish in the line of succession currently

Aegon “the Bloodborn” Frey is around 17th in line (but isn’t really in line, because he’s an outlaw). He hasn’t been seen in the books, only listed in the appendices. He is of the Royce-Wylde Freys so his line goes like so-

Walder -> third born son Aenys Frey (dead as of TWOW) -> first born son Aegon Bloodborn

Yes, his brother is Rhaegar Frey of “Frey Pies” fame. He’s not otherwise noteworthy ie we have no idea why he’s called “the bloodborn.” HOWEVER. There is the mad huntsman theory that if true could push him to the front of the “who gets the twins” race, narratively.

if you’re not familiar with the mad huntsman theory (no shame, i completely memory holed that one until recently too) it’s the idea that the Mad Huntsman, one of the brotherhood without banners who is described as being a big strong man with a “weak chin” who joins after his wife and sister are raped by Lannister soldiers. he tries to alleviate the starvation around the Stoney Sept by bringing in sheep from far away with his hounds later on. He’s also described as “quarrelsome” which fits with being a son of Aenys, who is also described as cruel, with a weak chin (in fact the term “weak chin” is used quite frequently to describe Frey men!). We also know Aegon Bloodborn is an outlaw and therefore doesn’t live at the Twins. Once LSH (noted Frey hater) takes over the BWB, it’s notable that the Mad Huntsman is no longer traveling with the main group. The biggest hole here imo is that the Mad Huntsman has a sister and afaik not only does Aenys only have two sons (Rhaegar and Aegon), but there’s not a mysteriously missing or disowned Frey daughter he could have run off with. It COULD be a sister by law, however.

If he IS working with the brotherhood, and leaves specifically bc of lady stoneheart, that means he’s safely away from All Of That, AND he’s one of the highest in the line of succession (i mean, before being disowned for being an outlaw, but if he is known to have worked with the brotherhood, i do imagine in the endgame he’d be pardoned). Especially considering having that crazy “Aegon the Bloodborn Frey” name, that feels like a SET UP altho tbf the set up could be something completely different from “Aegon Frey inherits the Twins.” Being a grown man, a fighter, and potentially married Does also help just from a logistical standpoint - if someone decides to question his claim, well, he’s more than capable of hitting back.

Alesander Frey - 31st ish in line of succession

Alesander is a Braavosi Frey (so we're finally at point 3 in my family tree there), which are a subgroup of the Crakehall Freys. It goes-

Walder & 3rd wife Amarei Crakehall -> third born son Symond -> first born son Alesander

Yes, Symond, his father, was in a Frey Pie. But Alesander is still A Good Frey! Alesander is my favorite Frey because he is a singer and it’s his absence from the Red Wedding that alerts Cat to something being a off. Ryman just says he’s “away” and I find it interesting that even though he has no real relationship with the Starks (and therefore no emotional reasons to speak out against the Red Wedding, the way the Rosby Freys do), he does still speak out against it, likely for moral reasons. Speaks to a good sense of character that he’s willing to stand up to his family when literally dozens of his relatives are in on this plan.

HOWEVER. It’s not, as far as I’m aware, a BIG theory, but it IS one I’ve kicked around and I've seen a few others kick around that Alesander might be dead - you see, Arya cleans a dead body in the House of Black and White that is a mystery to us. I want to add the quote here-

One man had died at the feet of the Stranger, a single candle flickering above him. […] Before summoning the serving men to carry him away, she knelt and felt his face, tracing the line of his jaw, brushing her fingers across his cheeks and nose, touching his hair. Curly hair, and thick. A handsome face, unlined. He was young. She wondered what had brought him here to seek the gift of death. Dying bravos oft found their way to the House of Black and White, to hasten their ends, but this man had no wounds that she could find. The second body was that of an old woman. […] The corpses were laid out in the vault. The blind girl went to work in the dark, stripping the dead of boots and clothes and other possessions, emptying their purses and counting out their coins. […] On the handsome man she found four golden dragons out of Westeros. She was running the ball of her thumb across the most worn of them, trying to decide which king it showed, when she heard the door opening softly behind her.

It stood out to me because

arya notes most people don’t pray to westerosi gods in braavos but these two die at the foot of the Stranger

there’s a young man and an old woman, and we know alessander's mother is braavosi, betharios, so it could be his mother. the man is so noted to be a younger man, and that would match alessander's age as well

the man has four gold dragons on him - not a small amount of money, and westerosi money at that!

in my opinion here, if the face is being hidden from us through arya not knowing who it is, it will be plot relevant later. it’s only alesander who feels plot relevant and could also be in braavos at this time. it could be interesting if arya lands in the riverlands wearing the face of a stark friendly frey, or perhaps not wearing the face herself but recognizing parts of it in others and letting people know of alesander's fate.

why would they be here, likely having killed themselves? well...this is post red wedding, and alesander was specifically left out of the red wedding plot because they knew he'd have a moral argument against it, and symond seems to have been particularly involved in the red wedding plot. i think it could be interesting if they ehard of what their family did and committed suicide out of fear and shame.

anyways i hope alesander is alive because i think the set up for him is interesting and i want it to stay interesting and not tragic, hah.

Ami Darry Frey or Gatehouse Ami - 35th ish in line of succession

Another member of the Crakehall Frey Branch and someone we've actually met on page! Amerei or Gatehouse Ami's line goes-

Walder & 3rd wife Amarei Crakehall -> fifth born son Merrett (rest in piss) & Dariya Darry -> Ami

When we meet her through Jaime’s POV, she is engaged to Lancel Lannister so that the Lannisters can claim the Darry lands. Despite her engagement, Ami has a….reputation. She sleeps around a lot, and Lancel is not interested in her at all. She’s kind of wild, Jaime in general seems to find all the Darry Freys pretty unclassy, and I kind of love the idea that the Twins go from the completely classless Late Lord Walder to the equally but differently classless Gatehouse Ami. Let Ami Fuck Her Way Through The Riverlands!!!!

Walda Frey Bolton or Fat Walda - 36th ish in line of succession

Also known as Fat Walda, she is not only the same line as Ami but they are sisters! She’s a year to two years younger than Ami!

And listen, I love her but she’s doomed 😭 i hope ramsay suffers immensely for this one tho 😭😭😭😭

Perwyn Rosby Frey - 60th in line

Perwyn is the oldest member of the Rosby Frey branch (point five above!) His line goes-

Walder & 6th wife Bethany Rosy -> Perwyn.

He is one of the more obvious Good Freys; he is often placed in trusted positions such as guarding Catelyn, he is well liked by Daven Lannister, and seems to be close to his sister Roslin, perhaps even rooting for the Tullys to win out over the Lannisters. We get this line here:

Roslin's a pretty little thing, hardly stoatish at all. And fond of Edmure, queerly. Perwyn tells me [Roslin is] praying for a girl.

I really worry about Perwyn dying tho. Between Olyvar in Rosby, Roslin in Riverrun, and potentially Aegon in the BWB/eventually the Twins, I feel like Perwyn……..might be a death meant to hurt our feelings!

Olyvar Rosby Frey - 63rd ish in line

Younger brother of Perwyn, so also a Rosby Frey, something that is very important to Olyvar's story!

Despite being the most obvious Good Frey (he has to be dragged away from Robb’s side after Robb marries Jeyne), he’s not getting the Twins in my opinion, he’s getting Rosby’s holdings bc he’s Rosby’s ward - here's a good write up here. The gist of the "Olyvar is the Rosby Ward" theory is that the Rosby lands are currently up for grabs because Gyles Rosby died without a clear heir. It seems likely he wanted his lands to go to his unnamed ward but in AFFC, Cersei plans to seize them and give them to an ally. She runs into a brick wall here, as does Kevan before he dies, because the Rosby ward does not seem willing to play ball, even refusing to offer hospitiality to the Stokeworths. I think the fact that the Rosby ward seems determined to be a nuisance is the biggest indicator of this being Olyvar; he’s pissed off about Robb, and he’s showing it by refusing hospitality to any Lannister supporters. However, this could very well be set up for Olyvar inheriting a larger seat! Hard to say at this point!

Roslin Rosby Frey Tully - 82nd in line

She of many last names lmao. Another Rosby Frey (Bethany did something right as a mother i guess!!) who has recently married the heir to Riverrun, Edmure Tully.

She technically counts but I think her, Edmure, and their baby will eventually be safe in Riverrun. I’m aware this could be wishful thinking on my part but regardless, I’m not sure how likely it is that she and her baby inherits the Twins when they’re so wrapped up in the Riverrun story AND they're female line. It WOULD be funny though, if after all of Walder’s scheming and nonsense towards the Tullys, that the Twins is taken over by a cadet Tully branch of Roslin and Edmure's first born daughter.

Big Walder Frey - 54th in line

Now we get one (1) Bad Frey in our budding serial killer and kinslayer, Big Walder. He is from point 4, the Blackwood Freys. His line goes-

Walder & Alyssa Blackwood -> second son Jammos & Sallei Page -> first born son Big Walder.

I've always been fascinated by Big Walder and not just because of him murdering his cousin, Little Walder. I kind of love that he has his own coat of arms where he quarters the Frey's sigil with the houses of his grandmother and his mother. *Arya Voice* the woman is important too!

Big Walder, despite being a very minor character, does have a decent amount of narrative focus. He's appeared in four of the five books, being present at the Twins and sent to foster at Winterfell in AGOT, becoming a nuisance to Bran throughout ACOK, signing his name to Ramsay's false report that Theon burnt Winterfell in ASOS, and finally coming out with blood spattered clothing just after Little Walder is mysteriously murdered in ADWD. I think of all the Evil Freys, Big Walder seems the most "set up" as a potential inheritor of the Twins.

WHAT DO YOU THINK?

Thoughts? Potential contenders you think I've missed? In my opinion, I think Olyvar, Perwyn, Aegon, and Big Walder are probably the most likely inheritors although I would love if it was Roslin and Edmure's daughter or Gatehouse Ami.

[dyannawynnedayne]

The Eight Ladies of the Crossing

First Row: Perra Royce, Cyrenna Swann

Second Row: Amarei Crakehall, Alyssa Blackwood

Third Row: Sarya Whent, Bethany Rosby

Fourth Row: Annara Farring, Joyeuse Erenford

I tried to do the designs and details based around their houses, with the colors of the Freys. I possibly maybe should have flipped that, but oh well! Here are the girls!

[bbygirl-aemond]

(Non book reader here) What's this about Rosby and Stokeworth?

oh this happens much later in the dance- basically, when given the choice to allow an eldest daughter to rule, rhaenyra passes the daughter over, two different times. in both cases (one more than the other), her decision is later directly implicated her downfall and death.

let's start with house stokeworth. lord stokeworth actually swore fealty to rhaenyra and was imprisoned in king's landing by the greens because of it. under duress, he swore for aegon. when rhaenyra took king's landing, lord stokeworth tried to renew his fealty to her, but she ordered him beheaded. he left behind two children: an eldest daughter, and a younger son. daemon suggested she choose the daughter; rhaenyra chose the son, even though he was super young and couldn't really rule.

basically the same thing happened with house robsy. lord rosby swore fealty to aegon to avoid execution, and when rhaenyra took king's landing she had him executed. again, lord rosby left behind an eldest daughter and a younger son. again, daemon advised rhaenyra pick the daughter, and rhaenyra chose the son instead.

as an aside- i don't think rhaenyra was politically pressured into one answer or another. these two decisions wouldn't have really set a precedent for any of her other leal lords, because they specifically involved lords who had committed treason in front of tons of witnesses. the precedent would have only granted rhaenyra the power to choose a lord's heir after he'd been executed for treason and wouldn't have applied to any of her then allies, so making a woman heir shouldn't have made any of her lords feel threatened.

here's where it gets interesting. later, rhaenyra has been rejected by the smallfolk and is fleeing the greens. when she asks the stokeworths for refuge, the male castellan (ruling in the young boy's stead) tells her she can only stay for one night, and then turns her out onto the streets. when she asks the rosbys for refuse, they straight up refuse to even let her enter- directly at the command of the woman whose claim rhaenyra disregarded. it is after being turned away by these houses that rhaenyra flees to dragonstone, where she runs right into aegon the elder's hands and meets her end.

now, it's not specified why rhaenyra chooses the son over the daughter. but this is grrm we're talking about, and the narrative importance of lord rosby's daughter in particular is relevant. it's deliberate that the dismissal of the daughter's claim is mentioned in the same sentence where she denies rhaenyra entry. the poetic justice of that is not a coincidence. whether you think this is grrm narratively punishing rhaenyra for not being feminist enough, or whether you think she's being unfairly punished for being constrained by the patriarchy- it's up to you. i'm personally undecided. but regardless of her intent, her decision is very intentionally implicated in her demise.

[warsofasoiaf]

People suggest that Olyvar is the mysterious ward of Rosby. Given his mother being a Rosby, he is a potential claimant now that old man Gyles is dead. But, would Olyvar’s older brother Perwyn have the stronger claim?

Under traditional inheritance older brothers inherit before younger, but this appears to be naming the ward the new heir under the idea that Gyles Rosby has no heirs of his body in a sort of inheritance-by-adoption. This sort of thing could happen in the medieval era, with various claimants using oaths of kinship and familial relations to justify inheriting. This was the case with William of Normandy, who claimed that the close friendship with Edward the Confessor was such that he swore that the two were sworn brothers and William would inherit Edward's kingdom if he died without an heir.

Thanks for the question, Anon.

SomethingLikeALawyer, Hand of the King

[rosaluxembae]

In an AU where the North either gained independence or alternatively made a deal with Stannis Baratheon to remain part of the realm (but in either scenario the Lannisters are defeated), how would having a Stark/Tully-friendly Lord of Rosby (in Ser Perwyn or Olyvar Frey) so close to capital benefit Robb and/or Edmure, in your opinion? Assuming Lord Gyles passed away at roughly the same time as per OTL?

First of all I feel very important getting proper asks like this >:3

Unfortunately I don't really know about this sort of detail of medieval politics but I'll give it a go.

I'd guess in the case of independence having friends on the other side of the border, even minor lords like Rosby would act as a certain safeguard for peace which would benefit the new kingdom, especially with the Riverlands vulnerable/exposed.

In the case of some sort of deal, it might give them a route into King's Landing politics but that also depends on how much they want to get involved. Robb might be happy to continue the policy of sitting under a rock (ie behind Moat Cailin) staying out of Southron politics.

Also can't believe you picked Stannis instead of best king smh.

[9383hff3839]

Are they’re people that still truly believe the Rhaenyra is feminist? On my spam, Team Green content popped up and I went snooping till I found a post that mentioned Team Black stans still think Rhaenyra is feminist. From my end, the TB stans I come across accept that she’s not and support Rhaenyra for different reasons. At this point, I see that they simply support her ascension to the Iron Throne because she was mainly usurped on the basis of her gender and because they think she’s a better person than most of Team Green members (Aegon, Alicent, Aemond, Criston, and Otto mainly). A good example of this a creator called: AvataraKatara (she thinks Daeron isn’t as daring as people say he is). They’re are also a multitude of other reasons, of course, that revolve around Team Black members, for example.

The feminist point can be applied to younger Rhaenyra, since she told Rhaenys she was going to create a “new order”, when Rhaenys (her tone was harsh, tho) rightfully warned her that noblemen won’t accept her and will support Aegon’s claim, instead. You can even add her bringing up the double standards between women and men, when Viserys questions her about her outing with Daemon to Flea Bottom in S1 EP 4 (I think it was this episode).

Older Rhaenyra doesn’t seem to think and care about any of this when she mentioned the hypothetical male children of the Baela and Jace inheriting the Iron Throne, when they’re time comes, to Rhaenys in S1 EP 8, in order to gain her support in the fight against the greens. She could’ve and should’ve said, “children” but chose to say “sons”, instead.

Was it an oversight on her part? The writers part?

Was it intentional? Maybe it was…

I was confused because Viserys stated that the Iron Throne would adopt absolute primogeniture when her ascension comes along. I actually thought they were gonna have her carry out that mindset into her later adulthood (I can’t be the only one), especially with how the writers were trying to make obvious contrasts between her and Alicent when it comes to literally every-fucking-thing, but I guess not. She probably views it as wishful thinking and such childish and idealistic views can’t ever be taken seriously in the real world.

GRRM gives us nothing on her thought process about the Stokeworth and Rosby ordeal but still made the choice for the female claimants, who were older than their brothers, to not inherit their ancestral seats. They could make it parallel Alicent and Dyanna’s scene in S1 EP 8, they feel sympathy but still not feel obligation to do anything. Maybe in fear of retaliation, fear of war (mostly for Rhaenyra, tho)? All situations that come back to bite them in ass later on in the war.

We have much better runner ups for feminists icons throughout the story, especially if this is still the case, so we shouldn’t be harping around Rhaenyra (I really hope we aren’t, though).

Let’s see how they go about with the Stokeworth and Rosby situation.

I hope my explanation makes sense😅

[dreamfyre01]

Historia de la Casa Rosby - CDHYF

[cynicalclassicist]

I think that it's plausible that it is Olyvar Frey. What is sad is that his elder brother Perwyn may die as part of Stoneheart's vengeance, even if they had no wish to take part in their family's treachery.

But I can well imagine that Olyvar may take the Rosby name, wishing to avoid any association with his horrible family.

OPERATION ICEBERG: THE TIER LIST

THEORY:

Olyver Frey is Rosby's ward

TIER:

50/50: These theories are complete toss-ups.

[Tier list overview]

EVIDENCE:

What is the theory?

Lord Gyles Rosby had no immediate heir when he died in A Feast for Crows.

Gyles Rosby's ward is a young man residing at Castle Rosby, located in the crownlands.

Presumably, Gyles wanted his lands and castle to go to this ward.

Cersei Lannister prefers to seize the lands and give them to an ally as a reward. She doesn't seem worried that the ward will cause any issues.

The inheritance is still in question by the end of A Dance with Dragons. Kevan Lannister, Hand of the King, dies before any resolution.

"Is there aught else?" The Grand Maester consulted his papers. "We should address the Rosby inheritance. Six claims have been put forth—" "We can settle Rosby at some later date. What else?" - Epilogue, ADWD

The author has deliberately not revealed the ward's name; many in the fandom believe it's Olyvar Frey.

Who is Olyvar Frey?

Born in 281 AC, Olyvar Frey is a member of House Frey.

He is the eighteenth son of Lord Walder Frey, and the fourth born to his sixth wife, Bethany Rosby.

Robb Stark took Olyvar as a squire, a role in which he excelled.

"You have done House Frey a grievous insult, Robb." "I never meant to. Ser Stevron died for me, and Olyvar was as loyal a squire as any king could want. [...]" - Catelyn II, ASOS

x

"I'd hoped to ask Olyvar to squire for me when we march north," said Robb, "but I do not see him here. Would he be at the other feast?" - Catelyn VII, ASOS

Olyvar Frey was notably loyal to Robb Stark; he expressed a desire to stay with Robb even after he married Jeyne Westerling, and was not present at the Red Wedding. He is considered a Good Frey™.

"You have done House Frey a grievous insult, Robb." "I never meant to. Ser Stevron died for me, and Olyvar was as loyal a squire as any king could want. He asked to stay with me, but Ser Ryman took him with the rest. All their strength. The Greatjon urged me to attack them . . ." - Catelyn II, ASOS

x

Lady Westerling had remained at Riverrun with her children; Jeyne, her little sister Eleyna, and young Rollam, Robb's squire, who complained bitterly about being left. Yet that was wise as well. Olyvar Frey had squired for Robb previously, and would doubtless be present for his sister's wedding; to parade his replacement before him would be as unwise as it was unkind. - Catelyn V, ASOS

x

"I'd hoped to ask Olyvar to squire for me when we march north," said Robb, "but I do not see him here. Would he be at the other feast?" "Olyvar?" Ser Ryman shook his head. "No. Not Olyvar. Gone . . . gone from the castles. Duty." - Catelyn VII, ASOS

x

Olyvar Frey had been devoted to her son as well. Hadn't Robb said that Olyvar wanted to remain with him even after he'd married Jeyne? - Catelyn VII, ASOS

What is a Good Frey™?

A Good Frey™ is a member of House Frey who isn't entirely reprehensible. Believe it or not, there are members of House Frey who are actually good, although the author makes it challenging to distinguish who they are.

Other members of Good Frey™ include:

Roslin Frey, the wife of Edmure Tully and the sister of Olyvar Frey.

"And Lady Roslin was distracting you." "She . . . they made her do it, Lord Walder and the rest. Roslin never wanted . . . she wept, but I thought it was . . ." - Jaime VI, AFFC

Perwyn Frey, personal escort to Catelyn Stark, member of Robb Stark's personal guard, and older brother of Olyvar and Roslin Frey.

"Well met, sers. Is Ser Perwyn about? He helped escort me to Storm's End and back, when Robb sent me to speak with Lord Renly. I was looking forward to seeing him again." "Perwyn is away," Lame Lothar said. "I shall give him your regards. I know he will regret having missed you." "Surely he will return in time for Lady Roslin's wedding?" "He had hoped to," said Lame Lothar, "but with this rain . . . you saw how the rivers ran, my lady." - Catelyn VI, ASOS

x

"You were speaking of the Freys you wanted dead. Ryman, Edwyn, Emmon . . ." "And Walder Rivers," Daven said, "that whoreson. Hates that he's a bastard, and hates everyone who's not. Ser Perwyn seems a decent fellow, though, might as well spare him. The women too. [...]" - Jaime V, AFFC

Willamen Frey, a maester of the Citadel and the brother of Olyvar, Roslin, and Perwyn Frey. He seems to be minding his own business.

I'm sure there are other Good Freys™ hiding about, but for whatever reason, George seems rather fond of this specific Frey family. Good job, Bethany Rosby.

Why do we suspect Rosby's ward might be Olyvar Frey?

Olyvar is related to Gyles Rosby through his mother, Bethany Rosby.

Some of Olyvar's relatives, like Merrett Frey and Geremy Frey's children, have been fostered with maternal families.

Olyvar's older brothers are either dead, knighted, or serving as maesters, making him the logical choice.

The maester at Rosby, Melwys Rivers, is a bastard son of Lord Walder Frey.

Olyvar was sent away on "duty" before the Red Wedding, which could be both an excuse and a legitimate reason for his absence.

Do we know anything else about the Rosby ward?

Rosby's ward refused to offer hospitality to House Stokeworth.

"Uncomfortable," complained Falyse. "It rained most of the day. We thought to spend the night at Rosby, but that young ward of Lord Gyles refused us hospitality." - Cersei V, AFFC

Why it might be Olyvar: As a Robb Stark loyalist, Olyvar Frey may be unwelcoming to friends of House Lannister.

Why it might not be Olyvar: One doesn't need to be a Stark loyalist to avoid hosting Falyse Stokeworth in their castle.

He's an "ill-born wretch."

She sniffed. "Mark my word, when Gyles dies that ill-born wretch will make off with his gold. He may even try and claim the lands and lordship, though by rights Rosby should come to us when Gyles passes. My lady mother was aunt to his second wife, third cousin to Gyles himself." - Cersei V, AFFC

Why it might be Olyvar: Despite Olyvar being a legitimate child of Walder Frey, and House Frey's power and prominence, the house has a low reputation in Westeros.

Why it might not be Olyvar: "Ill-born" could mean lowborn or illegitimate.

He's not of Gyles Rosby's blood.

"No children of his body, but there is a ward . . ." ". . . not of his blood." - Cersei IX, AFFC

Why it might be Olyvar: Olyvar is not a direct descendant of Gyles Rosby.

Why it might not be Olyvar: Olyvar has Rosby blood through his mother.

Is there anything else to consider?

Not Olyvar: Olyvar would not be the first in line to inherit Rosby; legally, his older brother Perwyn should come before him.

Yes Olyvar: The author may eliminate around 30 Freys from the line of succession, possibly saving Perwyn, Good Frey™, for a larger castle that sits on the Green Fork.

If it's not Olyvar Frey, who the hell is it?

STUMPY'S THOUGHTS:

You guys have the opportunity to do the funniest thing ever by making this a tie vote.

VOTE:

I welcome discussions. Feel free to reblog, respond, or challenge my perspective—I won't be offended by any of it.

Please note, if "no" is the eventual winner, or if it's competitive, a second poll will be conducted to determine the proper location.

NEXT THEORY:

Ned Stark + Ashara Dayne = Jon Snow (N + A = J)

[Main menu]

[horizon-verizon]

Apparently Hugh Hammer is in King’s Landing making scorpions for the targtowers …

I finally watched it bc it was around invading my space when others I lived with had it on and I thought, might as well.

Yeah, I saw that. idk, guys, I simply ran out of fucks to give abt this show. It's obvious that they plan to make him bad on his luck against nobles and then try to justify his later Tumbleton betrayal....which in the bk comes from him not getting titles, become a lord, money, etc. the way Daemon suggested Rhaenyra do twice even when she was going to allow him to get a few tracts of lands. Could be wrong, but I don't think I am or will be.

The lands, castles, and coin of Houses Rosby and Stokeworth were awarded to the sons of the two executed lords, whilst Hugh Hammer and Ulf White were knighted and granted small holdings on the isle of Driftmark.

These dragonriders got greedy, thus their betrayals. And it is also within everyone's better interests for there not to be too many dragonriders/dragon rider lineages. So mark my words, if they make Hugh more "sympathetic" this way, it's likely to make Rhaenyra seem even more "ungrateful" and too "entitled" when really it's the other way around.

Once again, could be wrong. but...the show hasn't ever inspired in me faith in its direction away from maligning Rhaenyra...esp after they made her and Criston's scene what it was. Even had her have sex with him at all to try to make her seem "equal" in amorality, sexual predation, or plain irresponsibility to Aegon & "even" the sides.

Also he's a rapist:

[athzhowakar]

Queen of Hidden Evils (Chapter II)

✒️ Maegor × Toxic OC wife

✒️ Summary: Lord Rosby has accepted King Maegor's marriage proposal for his widowed sister. The Rosbys arrive at the Red Keep for the wedding. Rhaena sees Maegor's new wife and feels that she needs a taste of her uncle's new wife too. (Wedding & bedding ceremony)

✒️ Trigger warning: Mature content

✒️ Previous part: Chapter I

Red Keep:

The sound of carriages and horses approached the gates of the Red Keep. The carriages finally arrived and the travellers stepped out. The herald announced, “Lord Jon Rosby and Lady Elinor Rosby, the Lord and the Lady of Rosby. Lord Rosby's sister, Lady Lucinda Rosby and his niece, Lady Prunella Stokeworth.”

The guests saw a young silver haired lady standing there to welcome them. She was dressed in a purple silk gown. The lavish dress and the ornaments made it easier for them to recognise her.

Rhaena did not really want to welcome them but Maegor insisted that she should. So as it was planned, Rhaena stood there along with her ladies-in-waiting and watched the newly arrived guests with the eyes of a hawk.

Rhaena did not know how to feel about Lucinda. Her uncle had married several women besides herself. She found Ceryse to be rather stubborn and Alys was an adulteress who tried to betray none other than Maegor himself. Tyanna was an evil sorceress and Jeyne seemed rather uninteresting. Elinor seemed to be full of hatred while lacking courage to kill Maegor herself.

However, Lucinda was not like any of them. Rhaena wondered how she must have felt when she became the cause of her husband's death and why she remained unmarried for so many years.

Rhaena saw Lucinda walking towards her. She had worn a black gown and a grey headdress which was studded with rubies. It was an odd combination of colours but nevertheless, it looked good on her. Lady Lucinda, a woman of eight and twenty years of age, was way older than Rhaena and Elinor, the only surviving wives of Maegor. There was no hint of child-like innocence on her round face. However, she was extremely beautiful in a way that no one else was. “Where was she hiding all these years?” Rhaena wondered.

Soon enough, Rhaena and Lucinda were standing face-to-face. Lucinda greeted Rhaena with a curtsy and a smile on her face.

“Your admirers don't do justice to your beauty, My Lady,” Rhaena said.

Lucinda laughed and said, “You flatter me, Your Grace. My beauty will go begging in front of your youthful face and beauty.”

Rhaena instructed one of the servants to show the guests, their chambers. She then walked to Maegor's chamber and found him wiping the sweat off his body.

Maegor looked at her and smirked. “I was sparring in the training yard. If I had known that my wife was looking for me, I would have returned earlier,” he said.

Rhaena sighed and replied, “I came here to tell you that the Rosbys have arrived. And Uncle, I saw her.”

“Whom?” Maegor asked.

“Lucinda Rosby,” Rhaena replied.

Maegor placed a necklace on her neck and kissed her ears saying, “Do not fuck her before I do.”

Rhaena snapped at him, “What makes you think that I am going to do that?”

In response, Maegor said no word and kissed Rhaena on her lips.

The wedding took place a week later. It was attended by all the Lords and Ladies of the Seven Kingdoms.

The ceremony took place in the Grand Sept atop Visenya's Hill. When it was time for the ceremony, Lucinda and Maegor stood in front of each other. Lord Rosby removed his sister's cloak and Maegor placed a cloak of his own house colours her shoulders. They took their vows and the septon declared them man and wife.

The wedding feast however, took place in the Red Keep. It was a grand feast with meat of seven kinds, fishes of five kinds and wine of eight kinds. Lucinda sat quietly at the high table beside Maegor and ate only lamb meat. Maegor noticed that his wife did not even drink a single sip of wine. He was curious but still, he did not exchange any word with her during the feast.

Rhaena seemed to be more excited about this wedding than Maegor himself. Maegor knew the reason even if others didn't. As the feast ended, she announced, “My Lords and Ladies, now it is time for the bedding ceremony.”

Everyone started shouting, “Bed them! Bed them! Bed them!”

Rhaena announced, “My Lords, you may escort Queen Lucinda to the King's chamber. My Ladies can help the King. His Grace is more than willing to go if beautiful ladies call him.”

Maegor did not know whether he was supposed to feel embarrassed or angry at Rhaena's words.

The Lords were afraid of touching Lucinda. Who knows what might incur the wrath of Maegor the Cruel? So they just accompanied her as she walked towards Maegor's chamber.

The Ladies weren't interested in disrobing Maegor either. However, Rhaena seemed unnaturally enthusiastic about that. She joked about Ser Bennard Stokeworth, Lucinda's dead husband and his paramour's death as she pinched Maegor and took off his clothing one by one.

Finally, Maegor entered his chamber in only his pants and found his fully dressed wife standing in front of him.

“The Lords weren't interested in disrobing you, it seems,” Maegor remarked.

“Mayhaps it is because, the last man who saw me naked died,” Lucinda replied with a straight face.

Maegor was slightly disturbed by that. With an awkward smile, he said, “And the women who see me naked stay alive all the time. That might have encouraged the ladies to disrobe me.”

With a scary smile on her face, which widened as she approached Maegor, Lucinda asked, “Did it really?”

“Mayhaps,” Maegor replied.

He held his wife's waist and pulled her closer. Lucinda made him sit at the edge of the bed. Then she sat on his lap. Maegor pulled her face closer by holding her chin and kissed her lips. The reciprocal was fierce and Lucinda managed to bite his lower lips and draw blood.

Lucinda's left hand glided on Maegor's bare back. Her right hand was playing with the hair on his chest.

“You seem to like my chest hair a lot,” Maegor said.

“I have never seen anyone with silver chest hair before,” Lucinda replied.

Maegor slowly untied the laces of his wife's gown. Once he was done, he was met with the sight of her milky white teats with pink nipples. Lucinda bit her lips as he began to play with her nipples.

Seeing that, Maegor squeezed her teats which made her gasp. He did that again and she bit his ear and then kissed it. She tried to stand up but Maegor pulled her back to his lap.

“Not so soon, my little berry,” Maegor said.

He started sucking her nipples and Lucinda could not stop herself from moaning. He then placed her on the bed and pulled off her gown completely. She was then fully naked in front of him. He touched the stretch marks on her belly and licked her navel.

Her cunt was properly shaved. However, Maegor could see some tiny sprouts of hair from which he could deduce that her cunt hair was black just like the hair on her head. He pinched the clitoris which made Lucinda scream.

“Your Grace! It hurts!” she screamed.

“Pleasure comes after pain, my little berry. Have patience,” he replied, laughing.

He teased it as she kept wriggling and after sometime, she shot her fluids right at him. Lucinda took heavy breaths. Maegor then left her clitoris which was sore by this point. He then proceeded to put one finger inside her cunt. It slid inside very easily. That one finger was followed by two more. Lucinda grabbed the bedsheet and her nails bore holes into it as Maegor moved his fingers in and out of her cunt. She reached her peak once again. She felt Maegor taking out the three fingers that were inside. She had thought that it was over but just then, Maegor inserted his entire hand into her cunt. She screamed so loudly that it almost burst Maegor's eardrums. But he did not care. He continued to do what he was doing. Soon enough, his wife reached her peak once again and shot a load of fluid right at him.

By this time, Maegor's bed looked so wet that a man would assume that someone had urinated on it.

Maegor took off his pants and let out his cock which looked like a snake which was ready to bite. His cock was painfully hard. He thrust it inside Lucinda's cunt and kept moving it in and out. He lifted her legs and put them on his shoulders for better access. Within no time, his wife reached her peak. Maegor tightened his grip on her thighs and quickened his pace. Lucinda had no control of her throat anymore. Her sounds of pleasure were echoing in the corridors. She screamed as she peaked again.

Maegor loosened his grip a little and taking advantage of that, she tried to pull down her legs from his shoulders. But Maegor tightened his grip, not letting her move. He kept thrusting her as deeper as he reached his own peak of pleasure and spilled his seeds into her womb. Lucinda stayed still so that his seeds may take root.

..

..

..

..

To be continued

[hawkdisaster]

Rhaenyra : My father named me heir so fuck Aegon and his birthright, i will be Queen !

Lady Stokeworth and Lady Rosby : Our fathers are dead and we haven't be named heirs but we are the oldest daughters so we can rule our Houses right ?

Rhaenya and her council : Good joke but no. As tradition requires, your younger brothers will be named Lords of our houses, end of discussion.

[asoiafandotherbooks]

TWOIAF/Fire & Blood: The Trial By Seven

Warning, Spoilers Ahead…

Visenya has crowned Maegor and proclaimed him King of Westeros. Visenya and Maegor arrived and King’s Landing and laid down the challenge: “Want some? Come get some!”

The Warrior’s Sons picked up the gauntlet. Seven hundred knights, led by Ser Damon “the Devout”, rode to Visenya’s Hill.

Maegor wasn’t in the mood to persuade or pacify his opponents: “Let us not bandy words. Swords will decide this matter.”

Damon the Devout agreed: “Let each side have seven champions, as it was done in Andalos of old. Can you find six men to stand beside you?”

This was the moment Maegor realized he left the Kingsguard at Dragonstone and Visenya isn’t as spry as she used to be. Maegor asked the crowd: “Who will come and stand beside his king?” The crowd played the “sorry, I can’t hear you” game as the Warrior’s Sons were fierce fighters. Dick Bean, a master-at-arms, volunteered to fight with Maegor: “I been a king’s man since I was a boy. I mean to die a king’s man.”

Dick’s courage shamed a knight to step forward: Bernarr Brune, the quire who had slain Harren the Red and had been knighted by King Aenys. Bernarr proclaimed: “This Bean shames us all! Are there no true knights here? No leal men?”

Bernarr’s scorn cased others to come forward: Ser Bramm of Blackhull (a hedge knight), Ser Rayford Rosby, Ser Guy “the Glutton” Lothson, and Ser Lucifer Massey, the Lord of Stonedance.

Playing for the other team are Ser Damon “the Devout” Morrigen (Grand Captain of the Warrior’s Sons), Ser Lyle Bracken, Ser Harys “Death’s Head Harry” Horpe, Ser Aegon Ambrose, Ser Dickon Flowers (the Bastard of Beesbury), Ser William the Wanderer, and Ser Garibald of the Seven Stars (the septon knight).

Before covering the Trial by Seven, have the opposing sides taken the time to clarify the stakes in the fight? What happens if Maegor wins? He’s recognized as king? The Warrior’s Sons leave King’s Landing? The Faith ceases their rebellion? If the Warrior’s Sons win? What? The Targaryens forfeit their claim to the throne? The Faith chooses the next king? Does Damon have the authority to make these decisions/concessions? Would the High Septon honor the agreements? What is the point of this mortal combat?

Damon the Devout led a prayer before the fight. Visenya gave the command to begin. Fight!

The only agreed version of the fight was that Dick Bean died first, cut down by Lyle Bracken. The rest of the details vary wildly. Some say the fight went on for hours, other say it lasted minutes. No one seems to agree on whether Lord Massey killed Harry Horpe or if Horpe killed Massey. The ending came down to Maegor versus Damon the Devout and William the Wanderer. Maegor slew Damon and dealt William a death blow but William gave the king a terrible blow to the head before dying. The blow cracked Maegor’s helm and left him insensate.

Maegor was declared the victor as he was the only combatant still alive – comatose but alive.

Visenya ordered Maegor to be taken to the maesters. The Swords of the Faith “dropped to their knees in submission” and Visenya ordered the Warrior’s Sons to return to Rhaenys’ Hill.

The trial didn’t resolve a thing – the Warrior’s Sons are still in King’s Landing with no intention of leaving. The Faith is still in rebellion. The only result was the death of thirteen men and a weakened Maegor. So what was the point? This is why you discuss parameters before a fight to the death! The main purpose of the fight seems to be a rationalization for Maegor’s post-coma cruelty.

Up next, Maegor takes a month-long nap.

[bbygirl-aemond]

*stares in ladies rosby and stokeworth*

*stares in baela and rhaena*

society if we could get on the same page about how just because you are a woman in power experiencing misogyny does not inherently mean you are using your power to fight for women’s liberation 

[myladysapphire]

Duty

Robb Stark had kept his oath to house Frey and married you as a result allowing him to win the north’s independence however he now has to live with the sacrifices of duty and must find out if duty is truly the death of love.

word count: 3,992

CW: MDI 18+, slight smut, p in v, angst, arranged marriage, infidelity, childbirth, unhealthy dynamic, toxic relationship? open ending, pregancy, not proofread!

Robb Stark x Frey!Reader

Masterlist | part two

dividers by @zaldritzosrose

Duty.

The word rang in your head as you stared at your husband.

He was yours; you were his but as his eyes wandered across the hall you knew he was not entirely yours.

A mere hour into your marriage and you already felt the strain of an unfaithful husband.

The longing looks he gave her form across the room were the looks you had wished to feel.

You were the youngest daughter of Walder Frey and his sixth wife, Bethany Rosby, and though your older sister Roslin was often called beautiful, you were considered beautiful. It was the one-word Robb stark had said when he saw you, the only word he had said to you beside your wedding vows.

He hadn’t even spared you a glance since the ceremony, most of your conversations had been with his mother, Catelyn. She had been kind, having been the one that choose you as his bride. But you knew it was not your beauty that she chose you for, it helped of course, pleasing Robb if only by a little. You were neither smart, cunning or wise. You were simple normal, with no special skills to sway the eyes of suitors or to persuade your husband. She choose you, the often forgotten daughter, with no influence or means to gain any, for that reason alone.

It was clear to anyone the marriage and alliance was an unwanted one. Especially to your husband and the woman he loved.

He did not dance with you once, offering no words beside the necessary pleasantries, the kindest act he seemed to do was forbade the bedding ceremony. Though there was little bedding done that night, though the act was done, he neither spoke a word to her or stayed the night. And from the whispers she heard the next day it seemed he had gone to her swiftly after.

He had left after that, though he did not say goodbye, or offer to write to you. You were simply left with his mother, set to journey to the Winterfell.

The journey as not long, taking less than two weeks before you saw the peak of Winterfell’s towers. It was a wonderful sight, having never left the twins, and rarely being allowed outside. Seeing the castle of Winterfell was a freeing experience. There seemed to be endless halls, some bare and empty allowing the privacy you had never once had in the twins. The god’s woods was even more magnificent than you had expected, it expanded for acres, with endless trees and countless springs waring both the gods woods and the castle. You felt some peace here, but you had also never felt more alone.

You were looked at as an outsider, talked to as one, and it was clear you were unwanted.

As the moons passed, you felt even more alone, you only heard about Robbs victory through his mother, the one person who didn’t talk to you with resentment.

Then you realised you had yet to bleed since your wedding.

And the word duty once again rang in your head.

You were pregnant, a fact that made you seemed more welcome, people were kinder to you. And yet you felt more alone, suddenly surrounded by people who only cared for you know you cared the heir.

The heir to a man you did not know, the heir to a man who scorned you on the day of your wedding for another woman. He didn’t even have the respect to at least act like a loyal husband.

You had done your duty, but he had not.

For it seemed she was also pregnant.

You were far along in your pregnancy, near eight moons when you heard the news. The news that was accompanied by your husband’s victory. And the norths independence. Yet you felt little joy only envy at the news of her pregnancy. Envy that she gets to know him and he never once tried to let you know him, even in the fleeting hours they did have together.

The next month was lively, the keep full of servants and lords from all over the north preparing for their kings arrival. The planning of feasts and several other northern events to be held. And you did not know what to think, you had long craved to know your husband, but he seemed to want to forget you even existed, and even more so when he arrived, with her on his arm and a babe in hers.

You bowed your head, clutching your belly protectively as if their presence would harm the babe somehow, and greeted him “husband.” You spoke plainly, not in joy, nor as a move of possessiveness towards her.

He nodded his head, going to greet you in the same fashion but stopping himself at the sight of your belly. “wife” he said in shock, as if the very idea of you being pregnant or here for that matter was shocking.

You smiled, a forced smile and spoke softly, “come, husband we have much to discuss”

She had stayed put, looking lost among the faces of Winterfell.

Though you had started out a stranger those first few months, after your pregnancy was announced, though you had at first received false pleasantries to win your favour, a time that made you feel even more alone. Now you felt rather comforted by the halls and the people with in it.

You took your time to win over the people inside the walls, though you never felt that you could truly be yourself ,as you did not know entirely who you were anymore, but none the less, you no longer felt like a stranger, even Catelin had even started to heavily involve you into the running of Winterfell, and her kindness became truer to you, even more so when news of your husbands bastard spread.

Your basic and natural kind behaviour had one the loyalty of many of the people of the north as they sneered at her, shunning her away as they welcomed the victors back from war.

And from the kind smiles you received as you walked the halls to your chambers, chambers the lord and lady of Winterfell had traditionally shared. It had not crossed your mind about were you would know sleep. Never having shared the bed with another, not knowing what it is to share a bed, let alone with a man. It was also your belongings that filled the room, your tapestries and art, your nicknacks and clothes. His had either gone with him or remained in his old chambers, but know she supposed he was fully with in his rights to move in and perhaps even throw her out.

She did not know if he weas cruel enough to do so, or kind enough to let her stay. You only knew of him through the view of others, mainly his mother. An opinion you held   with restraint, seeing as what mother would not love her son.

He stared at you awkwardly once you entered the room, the realisation of never once talking alone coming to light for you both.

“your with child?” he asked after a moment.

You snorted “of course” you said “though I doubt you care much, seeing as you already have a babe”

“i…” he looked down ashamed, “I do care, though….though we barley know one another… I am your husband”

You snorted again, “really? And where exactly has my husband been? Not once have you acted like one, the only husbandly act you had done was to take my maidenhead!” you were mad, for so long you had been nice and kind, acting as if you cared not for his actions and now months of anger was finally spilling out of you.

He coughed awkwardly, clearly not expecting you to say something like that, especially as one of the first things you had said to him.

“i…I you are right?” he said, clearly unsure of what exactly to say, “I should have said something to you, told you of Talisa”

Talisa.

So that was her name.

“or at least have waited until after we were- “

“until it wasn’t our wedding day?

“yes” he looked down, “though I… I will admit I do not regret loving her”

Loving her.

Hearing it hurt, though you supposed you had to right to feel hurt.

You huffed, your eyes downcast, “must you admit it so freely? I understand we do not know each other, that you did not want this marriage, but it is our duty, and I…” you took a deep breath, looking up at him “I want respect, I want to be treated like a wife, and not” you couldn’t bring her self to say it, you were a woman scorned, scorned by your husband and yet he was a stranger, and in his eyes you hadn’t earns the respect you deserved. “…not like-“ you didn’t say it, he did.

“Like a duty?” He looked at you, “because that’s all that you are, a duty” he seemed to sneer “I once desired a marriage of love and then I was told I would have to marry a Frey” he hissed the name, ‘at first I hoped to find love with my wife, a wife I would not little say in, then I met her” you knew he didn’t mean you, how could he? “Talisa” he whispered “I love her more than I thought possible, and then I met you.” He shook his head “ you are beautiful, more so than she I will admit that, but I do not love you, and I very much doubt I ever will.”

“Why?” You asked, stopping him before he could saying anything more.

He swallowed “how can i? I do not know you-“

“Then get to know me!” You interrupted, moving closer to him, “we are to have a child of our own soon, do you not want to know its mother?”

He shook his head, “let me finish.” He spoke sternly, causing you to step back again.”I do not know if I want to know you, I have her and she for months was all I needed…” he stopped talking then, looking at you, as if hoping you would interrupt despite his words.

“And now i… she had a babe, our babe, a girl. And perhaps some part of me feels And perhaps some part of me the guilt of loving her, despite my duty to you.”

You shook your head, “I am your wife, you should feel more-“ you clutched your belly in pain, as a contraction hit.

 “are you alright?” He asked moving to you.

“I have been having them all day, it is nothing to worry about” you said as you shook it off only to be hit with another contraction.

“Are they meant to come that close together?” He asked worry clear in his voice.

You sneered “I don’t know you’re the one with a bastard, weren’t you there went she gave birth?”

“I… no we haven’t been together since the wedding”

You laughed “oh Im so sorry our marriage was such a inconvenience for your mistress”

He said nothing at that, leading you to believe that perhaps he wanted to continue his relationship with her and she was the one to stop it.

“I’ll fetch the midwives” he spoke suddenly, leaving before you could say anything.

Soon you were on your bed, a midwife between your legs telling you to push.

It was just you and them, woman you had never met, wishing you had met your mother so that she could be here for you and not strangers.

And it seemed the gods were cruel as they sent her in, she walked in saying she was a healer and was simply there to help, and by the worried looks the midwives gave her it seemed you needed it.

She went to touch you, and you flinched back.

“No” you whispered.

“The babe is breached” she said hoping to sway you, but the constant shaking of your head caused her to bite her lip a concerned look filling her face “I have experienced with breached briths, I can help you” she insisted.

“No” you simply said again, but this time she ignored your pleas, moving to sit on the bed and take your hand in hers.

You tried to pull your hand back but she only held on tighter, and leaned in.

“Please let me help you” she begged “neither of us want to be in this situation and I am only trying to help you”

“What so the gods aren’t cruel on you as they have been on me?”

She laughed “sort of I suppose, but also because I have caused you enough pain and wish to mend it.”

You looked at her, she was sincere, it seemed she too hated the situation they were both in, trapped feeling like the other woman, “fine” you gritted out.

She nodded “I need to move the babe” she said placing her hand on your belly and started to turn the babe.

The pain was terrible, the want to push and being unable to and the feeling of you babe moving inside of you, and then finally she said you could push, after that is was swift, and before you knew it cries filled the room, and your baby was placed in your arms, a boy, an heir.

“Congratulations” Talisa breathed, “he looks just like you” she said softly, you smiled nodding you head. He did, he lacked all the Tully features Robb ware, though it was clear the stark genes that skipped him wen to the babe, as he had a tuft of Black hair, and a part of you hoped for the grey eyes most Starks bore. But other than that he was every bit yours, your eyes and nose, he was all you.

“Should we fetch the king?” A midwife asked, and you shook you head,

“no, he knows I am here, let him come to me.” You said, as Talisa went to stand, “thank you,” you whispered.

She smiled “just because we are tied in the same way does not mean we must hate one another” she said, looking at you kindly, and you hoped she was right, because you hated the envy you felt towards her.

“We shall speak on this soon, but for now I shall rest” you said, focusing your attention back on your son.

“Of course,” she nodded. Leaving the room.

Robb did not visit you for ten days. No one did really.

It was just you and your son, Cregan. A stark name, though not a common one, you may know little history but the little you did know was about the dance of the dragons, and about Cregan stark. He was your honourable and loyal, traits you would raise your son with.

“Hello” you heard suddenly, as you Cregan was placed in your arms.

It was robb.

“Finally come to meet your child?” You sneered.

“I apologise” he whispered, coming towards you and looking down at your child. “I had matters to deal with”

“of course” you nodded not that you could see how he had not once found the time to visit you and your child.

“I here you named him Cregan” he spoke, softly smiling down at your son.

“yes, I thought it to be a good stark name.”

He nodded, caressing the babes head. “I had hoped to name him Eddard, or Ned…. After my father” he said softly.

“Was that what you were going to name your daughter had she been a boy?” You asked, though your tone was neither dripped with envy or anger, you had said it so nonchalantly, as if you cared not for the answer.

Both the question and your behaviour confused him, he did not know what to make of you, your personality, or how to even start a marriage with you. Or even if he wanted to have one with you. “Yes” he mumbled, “though we ended up naming her Minisa, after my mothers mother” he spoke with such a tenderness, and you realised you could never compete with her, no matter how kind she was, you hated her.

Hated that she was the only reason you could never know your husband, who he was and what he liked. How he looked when you woke up beside him or how it felt for him to hold you lovingly. Your heart broke at the future you would never have.

“Leave” you demanded, pulling Cregan away from Robb. As if Robb being close to him would hurt him the same way Robb being apart from you, had hurt you.

“What?” He asked in alarm.

“I can’t do this” you said, “I can’t, every moment of our marriage has been shadowed by here, I am your wife, not her”

“gods, I know that, and I hate it” he angry spoke back, “we both know neither of us had a choice in who we marry!”

“but you have a choice in who you love, why not try and love me!”

“Because you’ll never be her” He pulled back completely, “I do not want to know you, I only ever wanted her and I will only ever choose her.”

“then leave!” you spoke as tears fell down your face, “I will move out and into one of your over holdings as soon as I am able, and we will not have to put up with this farce any longer”

“good.”

And just like that any hope for a marriage was lost, your son would only know your face and not his fathers for years to come.

As the years passed your rarely saw your husband. With Cregan now five, all hopes of giving him another sibling had disappeared, as you and Robb could scarcely spend longer than a few minutes in a room together.

And though Cregan got along well enough with his siter, Minisa, a part of you resented her. Resented how she was Robbs whole world and Cregan wasn’t.

perhaps it was because you had pushed him away so thoroughly.

That your relation to his heir caused him to resent your son in turn.

And perhaps he hated you more now that Talisa had passed.

The birth of their second child had killed both mother and babe.

Robb had raged.

For months he seemed to only act in anger.

And then it all stopped.

He seemed to return to normal, expect he know insisted he do his duty to you.

Duty.

You hated the word.

Especially as you lay now on the bed, his cock thrusting in and out of you and your moans filling the room.

There was no emotion but hate in the way he fucked you. As if you were the very reason for her death.

As if you were the guilty one in the marriage, when all you had ever done was your duty. As if you existing had caused her death, as if you had killed her and not the winter sickness.

He seemed to fuck you as if you had killed her, pounding into you at a relentless pace.

There was no part about it that could make it seem like he was making love to you.

Not as he bent you over a desk, or pushed you to the floor and hicked up your dress.

Or as he barged into your room as your maids were preparing you for bed, dismissed them and instantly started fucking you.

You hated it. But you also loved it.

Hated how gave you every opportunity to top him, and not once had you.

You happily let him fuck you.

Enjoying the touch of your husband.

The pleasure of sex.                     

“fuck” he groaned as he came, releasing you from his vice like grip.

He rested his head against yours, catching his breath.

It was rare he fucked you on your back, often choosing you to face away from him as he fucked you.

You pulled back from him awkwardly, waiting for what always happened next.

Him leaving.

But this time he didn’t leave.

Perhaps it was because it had been over a year since her death, over a year since her name was mentioned.

Perhaps he had somehow forgiven you for whatever crime you had committed against him in his head.

He had been more…pleasant?

He had been able to spend time in your company without shouting or yelling at you for no reason.

He had had spent more time with his son, though perhaps that had been because you had taken his daughter under your care.

It hurt almost to care for her but apart of you loved her. Having always wanted a daughter for yourself, and for so long believing you would only ever have your son, Cregan. She was the image of her father, with little trace or her mother on her features. She was quite and shy though she liked you. Perhaps it was because Talisa had always been kind to you, at least to your face.

“the maester tells me you are pregnant” he spoke, as he moved to lie beside you.

“what?” you asked in shock. You had only just found out for yourself this morning.

He sighed, turning to look at you, “he said you were pregnant, about three moons” he said as he moved to make himself comfortable in your bed. “i..yes I am…I only just found out this morning”

“as did I”

It was awkward, neither of you knew how to talk to the other. Neither of you had cared to try until now.

you too moved to make yourself comfortable, tucking your self into bed, and turning your back to him. He sighed before moving towards you, blowing out the candle and wrapping his arms around your waist.

“what are you doing?” you asked.

“sleeping with my wife” he said as if it was obvious. You had never shared a bed with a man, and feeling him pressed against you felt strange. It wasn’t comforting, nor was it uncomfortable.

“oh”

“oh?” he mimicked.

“why?”

“well…we are husband and wife it is time we started acting as such”

You huffed, “ we have been husband and wife for nearly six years now and not once have you slept in my bed.

“well that’s going to change” he said, and before you knew it you were both fast asleep.

The next few months had been so different from the previous years.

Though you had not stopped your previous duties as lady of Winterfell. It seemed now with Robb instant on being a dotting husband you had more duties.

He had moved into your chambers, though you supposed they were rightfully his.

He insisted on taking all your meals together, walking in the gods woods every day together.

He had become kind, and for those few moons you thought perhaps you could grow to tolerate his misgivings and be husband and wife.

Then he called you, “Talisa”

He had said it in passing, not even noticing it at first. And then he saw how your froze and realised his mistake.

He had sighed your name in apology.

But you had ignored him. And realised that perhaps it would be better, not to have hope that you were more than a duty to Robb.

That to him you would never be her. Never be the wife he wanted, only his duty.

It didn’t matter how much he liked to play pretend. Giving you flowers and sweet kisses on your cheek. Deep down you knew you could never forgive him, never find the love and happiness you had long craved, that you deserved.

That you would be a wife of duty, and love was always the death of duty, and duty is the death of love.

And he would never stop loving her.

authors note: this took me 3 weeks to write because i couldn’t figure out to make it have a happy ending. it was far to angsty and i couldn’t justify her forgiving him.

taglist

@now-i-have-a-new-obsession @apollonshootafar @flrboyd @theanxietyqueen17 @dark-night-sky-99 @zillahvathek @leavesmealobe @winter-soldier-101 @bunbunbl0gs @ka1afbr @tesha-i-guess @aemondwhoresworld RAYNETARGARYEN2 @littlebirdgot @eddieslut69 @beebeechaos

to be added to taglist

[j-k-writes]

The Bronze Targaryen - 5

Summary - Two and a half moons after (Y/N)'s arrival in Kingslanding he must grapple with his new title as a dragonlord, wedding festivites, his grandsire's sudden illness, and his relationship with his father. The prince tries to balance all of this as the royal wedding looms over him.

Warnings - minor injuries, general HOTD warnings, drinking, canon character death, consummation scene (its minor and a fade to black)

I have decided to mold the lore to my own desires because there is almost next to nothing on House Royce during this time period. Also was going to break this into two parts because its so long but wanted all the wedding festvites to take place during one chapter.

(Y/N) winced as the maester prodded at his nose, the maester made humming noises as he examined the prince’s injuries. He applied a few plaster’s to (Y/N)’s nose, before wrapping it in soaked wool. 

“His nose shall heal fine, my prince.” 

Daemon nodded, “Thank you, you may go.” 

The maester bowed to the two princes, gathering his supplies and leaving (Y/N) alone with his father. Daemon watched as the man left the room, and waited until the doors were shut before turning on his son. He crossed his arms leaning back against a chair, and (Y/N) braced himself for a lecture. 

“How are you feeling?” 

(Y/N) blinked, “What?” 

Daemon pushed himself off the chair, making his way over toward (Y/N). He slowly reache

d his hand out, gently tracing the scratches and bruises on (Y/N)’s face, and (Y/N) was too shocked at his father’s actions to react. “Are you in pain?” 

“I’m fine,” (Y/N) said, looking up at his father. “I’ve had worse.” 

Daemon frowned, and (Y/N) wondered how much his mother had told him of his childhood mishaps. “What were you doing so far off Rosby Road?” 

(Y/N) flushed, “I- uh, snuck out.” 

“You snuck out?” His father’s face lit up, and he took a step back laughing and shaking his head. “How did your uncle react?” 

“Well he doubled my guard for one.” (Y/N) said, remembering his Uncle’s fury when (Y/N) showed up the next morning, face covered in blood and dirt. He had some choice words for the young heir, and (Y/N) was confident Daemon had heard his brother’s opinion on the matter as soon as he stepped foot into the keep. “But he was more interested in the dragon than my misbehavior.” 

“Ah,” Daemon smirked. “Yes, it must have been quite a shock.” 

(Y/N) rolled his eyes at his father, “I know you did something.” 

“What did I do, (Y/N)?” Daemon asked, raising an eyebrow at his son. “I did not drag Vermithor to you, or you to him for that matter. Vermithor made his choice.” 

“And it’s just a coincidence that as soon as you leave for Dragonstone, Vermithor leaves and seeks me out randomly.” 

“Perhaps it was fate.” Daemon shrugged. 

“You don’t expect me to believe that.” 

Daemon approached (Y/N), placed his hands on his shoulders. “It does not matter what you believe, all that matters are the facts. And the facts are that you have claimed Vermithor, you should be proud.” 

“I did not wish to claim a dragon, I never have.” (Y/N) said, and his father’s face hardened. 

“You are my son.” Daemon said, and (Y/N) hissed as his grip on his shoulder tightened. “You are a dragon, you cannot escape that.” 

His father’s face softened at (Y/N)’s expression. He released the boy, and seemed to hesitate before smoothing his hair back out of his face, “You should rest, you have had quite the number of shocks these past few days.” 

(Y/N) watched as father turned on his heel, and exited the chambers gently shutting the doors behind him.

“Lykirī.” (Y/N) smiled, as Vermithor pushed his snout into his chest. He pet the dragon with a gloved hand, laughing as the dragon continued to push him. “You must relax if you wish to fly.” 

(Y/N) had spent almost a week avoiding Vermithor after the dragon chased him down in the woods. Hoping that if he ignored him long enough the dragon would take the hint and leave, but eventually the Dragonkeepers sought him out, telling him that Vermithor had been untamable since he’d arrived in the Dragonpit. So (Y/N) resigned himself to the life of a dragonrider. He’d spent every day since then with the dragon, slowly but surely adjusting to his presence, and Vermithor had calmed drastically with (Y/N)’s visits. 

(Y/N) had taken to flying easily, much to his father’s delight and, as much as he hid it, his own. Although he had felt sick at the idea of claiming a dragon at first, he had come to find pride in the quick developments in his relationship with Vermithor. 

Rhaenyra too found delight in her betrothed’s new life. 

Anytime (Y/N) was free Rhaenyra was dragging him to the dragonpit, insisting Vermithor and Syrax go flying together. Viserys, at first happy to have another dragon in the family, soon grew inpatient with the two teens. Irritated at their constant absence from court, but (Y/N) paid him little mind. (Y/N) had no real place in his court, and he had not yet raised Rhaenyra, his heir, from the role of cupbearer. 

(Y/N) saddled Vermithor, leaning down to whisper to the dragon, “Sōvēs” 

The wind was cool against his face, blowing the strands of hair that had escaped his bun around in his face. (Y/N) had been wishing for clean and open air since he’d arrived in Kingslanding, this just isn’t how he expected to find it. Vermithor rumbled under him, and he laughed, leaning down so that he could rub the dragon’s neck. 

“I know,” (Y/N) spoke, almost shouting to be heard against the wind. “I am sorry I was late.” 

He’d been stuck in court all day, listening to his father and uncle bicker over details of the upcoming royal wedding. His uncle, ever the peacekeeper, had wanted Rhaenyra and (Y/N) to be married in the faith of the seven, as he was to Aemma and later Alicent, his father had other ideas however. 

“I do not worship the New Gods, uncle.” (Y/N) pointed out. 

“It is the tradition of the royal family.” The Grand Maester spoke up, as the other lords of the chamber had gone silent as soon as the tensions started to rise, seemingly fearful of angering any member of the royal family. Not that (Y/N) could blame them, he’d heard stories of his father’s infamous fits of anger. 

“(Y/N) follows the Old Gods like his mother,” His father looked pained to speak the words, but (Y/N) gave him an appreciative nod all the same. “And I have not known Rhaenyra to spend her days in the sept. We are Targaryens, they should marry in the tradition of Old Valyria.” 

“The faith-” 

“Fuck the faith.” Daemon spat. “I will not ask my son to forsake his gods so that some fat septon is comfortable, and we cannot bring a weirwood here so this is the only equitable compromise I see.” 

His uncle and the members of his council had grumbled at the idea, but eventually they conceded knowing this was an argument they could not win without insulting someone. His uncle dismissed them all, brows pinched in frustration. (Y/N) had caught his father’s arm on the way out, stopping him from walking away. 

“Thank you.” He did not meet his father’s eyes. “I know faith is not important to you, but it is to me so- just- thank you.” 

His father gently cupped his cheek, bringing (Y/N)’s eyes up to meet his. His father smiled at him, “You do not have to thank me. It is no secret that I hold no love for your mother’s house, but you do, and you are my blood. I will always defend you.” 

His father’s words still hung over his head by the time (Y/N) and Vermithor had returned to the Dragonpit. 

Rhaenyra was waiting for him as he dismounted, accompanied by a slew of Kingsguard and a royal carriage. The Kingsguard watched Vermithor warily as he grumbled, huffing as though he could sense (Y/N)’s apprehension at the sight laid out before him. 

 “Lykirī.” (Y/N) whispered, urging the bronze beast to return to the Dragonpit. Vermithor huffed one last time at the men, causing (Y/N) to chuckle, before returning. (Y/N) walked over to Rhaenyra, untying his hair and letting it tumble down to his shoulders. “That is quite the party, Nyra.” 

She sighed, “Our presence is required at the keep. We must be readied to greet the lords arriving at the court.” 

A Kingsguard opened the door of the carriage, and (Y/N) offered his hand for Rhaenyra to take. She took his hand, using it as leverage to step into the carriage and (Y/N) followed suit, taking the seat across from her. 

“What troubles you?” 

Rhaenyra blinked at (Y/N), “I am not troubled.” 

“Rhaenyra,” (Y/N) said, smiling slightly, “I can tell something is troubling you. Is it tonight?” 

“No,” She shook her head, leaning forward and placing her hand on (Y/N)’s knee. “No, it’s not tonight, it is this morning. My father is still blind to the schemes of some of those present in his court, they seek to undermine our family in favor of the Hightower children.” 

“Your father will not claim Aegon over you. You are his heir, you will be Queen and no scheming lord can change that.” 

Rhaenyra smiled, squeezing his knee slightly before releasing him and sitting back. (Y/N) turned to look out of the carriage, leaning back into the cushions and closing his eyes. He heard Rhaenyra chuckle softly, before the exhaustion of the day overtook him and he slipped away to sleep.

“You seem nervous.” (Y/N) turned, coming face to face with his cousin. He gave his best attempt at a smile, he fiddled with the collar of his shirt, and Gerold stepped forward. He adjusted the leather jerkin, allowing (Y/N) to breathe easier. “It is odd to see you in such formal attire.” 

(Y/N) laughed, “At least they don’t have dragons on them.” 

“No? I have heard a rumor that you’ve become quite the dragonlord in your absence.” 

(Y/N) reddened, ducking his head slightly, “It was an accident.” 

His cousin laughed, patting him on the shoulder, “There is no need to be nervous, cousin.” 

His cousin smiled at him one last time before joining his other cousin in the precession line. (Y/N) frowned at the sight of Gunthor, he’d been informed when his family and their court had arrived that his grandsire had fallen ill not long after (Y/N) departed, and in his heirs absence his cousin Gunthor, second in line, had taken his place as regent. His grandsire had been too ill to make the journey to Kingslanding, sending (Y/N) his well wishes and Gunthor in his place. 

A sudden hand on his shoulder startled him out of his thoughts. He turned his head to catch his father smiling, he squeezed his shoulder. “The tailors did well, you look like a prince.” 

“I am a prince.” (Y/N) said, and his father’s smile widened. 

“Yes, you are. Remember that, as there are those that would hope you forget.” His father nodded in the direction of Gunthor, and (Y/N)’s expression soured. 

“I do not trust him, I cannot say why but-” (Y/N) frowned, staring at his cousin’s interactions with the Valemen around him. “He did not write to me to tell me of my grandsire’s illness. I am the heir, I should be regent, not him, and yet in my absence he swooped in.” 

His father nodded, “Good. You must recognize the snakes before they strike.” 

His father stepped in front of him, blocking his view of the Valemen. “I am aware that we do not have the best relationship-” 

(Y/N) snorted, and Daemon laughed rolling his eyes. “Yes I know, but you are my son, my blood. And I would like to be not just your sire, but your father as well. I was not there in your youth, let me be there now.” 

(Y/N) frowned, hesitating. He swallowed before finally speaking, “May we speak of this after the feast?” 

“Of course,” His father lightly touched his cheek, “Come we should join the others.” 

He and his father took their places at the front of the party, Gunthor to (Y/N)’s left and Daemon to his right. (Y/N) took a deep breath as the doors opened, keeping his gaze on the two banners bearing the sigils of House Targaryen and House Royce hung in the back of the Great Hall as his family entered. 

“Ser Gunthor of House Royce. Acting Lord of Runestone, Keeper of the Gates of the Moon. And Prince Daemon Targaryen. And his son and heir to Runestone Prince (Y/N) Targaryen the future King Consort.” 

The guests of the hall stood, clapping as they walked down to the high table. The amount of eyes on him made (Y/N) uneasy, but he kept his head high, posture exuding the confidence expected of one of his station. (Y/N) made eye contact with Rhaenyra at the end of the hall who offered him a comforting smile, he nodded to her. 

They paused at the beginning of the steps, bowing to the King, before Rhaenyra stepped around the table making her way toward the crowd. (Y/N) stepped forward, meeting her halfway, he took her hand as his father had instructed him when going over the etiquette required of him at the feast. 

“You must act every bit the king you will one day be, no matter how unused to these events you may be.” His father had told him. (Y/N) scoffed at the advice, he was raised to be the Lord of Runestone, he knew how to act at a feast. 

As (Y/N) pressed a chaste kiss to Rhaenyra’s hand, and claps echoed around the hall, he cursed himself for not taking his father’s advice seriously. He had never known a feast quite like this, hosting the most important lords of the whole of Westeros. Lords he’d never met before like the Lannisters, Hightowers, and Velaryons. He took his place by Rhaenyra’s side at the table, his father and cousin taking the seats by his left. 

He let out a breath as he sat down, scanning the crowd as his uncle started to speak. Rhaenyra grabbed his hand under the table, squeezing it in reassurance, it was only then that he allowed himself to relax, if only slightly. 

"Be welcome,” His uncle smiled out at the crowd, “As we join together in celebration. Tonight is only its beginning. We honor one of Westeros' oldest houses, and a fierce ally to the crown, House Royce. Just as House Targaryen reaches back to the blood of Old Valyria, House Royce reaches back to the blood of the first men. With House Targaryen and H-"

Viserys paused, and everyone averted their gaze to where his lingered. (Y/N) tensed once more as Queen Alicent Hightower made her entrance into the hall. The color of her dress a clear statement to anyone who knew any of the histories. Reluctantly (Y/N) made his way to his feet with the rest of the guests, he shot an amused glance to his side where his father still sat, eyes narrowed at the young queen. 

Alicent addressed Rhaenyra, “Congratulations, step-daughter. What a blessing this is for you.” 

Rhaenyra gave no indication of thanks, and Alicent kissed Viserys on the cheek before taking her seat beside him. 

He’d not yet had any real interactions with the young queen, only knowing things told to him by Rhaenyra and Daemon. He had taken them with a grain of salt, wanting to make his own judgment of the girl, but with the blatant display she’d just shown to the lord’s of Westeros, (Y/N) decided that maybe Rhaenyra and Daemon had been right in their worries. Perhaps the Hightowers did have their own intentions with the crown. 

“Please be seated.” 

(Y/N) traced the rim of his empty goblet as his uncle stood silently, only picking his eyes up from the table when he started to speak. 

"With House Targaryen and House Royce united, once again, I hope to herald in a second Age of Dawn and Dragons in Westeros.” Viserys spoke, and the hall erupted into applause.

“And after tonight’s small affair,” Laughter sounded through the halls, and (Y/N) had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. “Seven days of tournament and feasting! And at the end of it all, a royal wedding. Between my daughter, my heir, your future queen. And Prince (Y/N) Targaryen, heir to Runestone.” 

As Viserys sat, and everyone else followed suit, Rhaenyra and (Y/N) rose from theirs. They approached the middle of the aisle, and began their dance. (Y/N) had never been much of a dancer, and suffered through the lessons given to both he and Rhaenyra. 

“I feel like a fool.” (Y/N) whispered as Rhaenyra and he side stepped each other. 

“You are doing wonderfully.” Rhaenyra whispered back, taking her place back to back with him. “Ignore everyone, pretend it is just you and me.” 

When they finished, bowing to one another the halls once again erupted in applause. (Y/N) took Rhaenyra’s hands in his, kissing them softly as she gave him a knowing smile. As the rest of the courtiers took their places on the dance floor, (Y/N) tried to escape back to the high table, longing for a cup of wine. He was stopped before he could reach the table much to his dismay. 

“My Prince.” The lady, who (Y/N) did not recognize, blushed, bowing to him. “May I have this dance?” 

(Y/N) gaped at her, before remembering who and where he was. “Yes, yes of course Lady-” 

“Reyne.” 

“Lady Reyne. (Y/N) smiled, mourning his cup of wine. He gestured toward the lords and lady’s dancing, “Lead the way.” 

He had to dance with five young ladies before he finally found his escape. He flopped, very unprince-like into his seat, immediately grabbing the cup of wine laid out in front of him. His father laughed, waving over a servant to refill the cup once (Y/N) had finished. 

“Not a fan of dancing?” Daemon smirked, “Or is it the ladies asking you to dance you are not fond of?” 

“Both.” (Y/N) spoke over the rim of his cup, “They only wish to dance with me because I am to marry Rhaenyra, if I were just the heir to Runestone they’d pay me little mind.” 

“I don’t know about that,” Daemon said, “You are a comely young man.” 

(Y/N) smirked, “Ladies don’t wish to dance with comely young men.” 

“Neither do lords.” His father raised his eyebrows, humor sparkling in his eyes. 

(Y/N) shrugged, smiling at his father’s tone, “You have been talking to Rhaenyra.” 

Daemon leaned close, patting his son on the leg, “I am just glad you two have made this match work for the both of you.” 

“We are not married yet, father.” (Y/N) reminded, “Things may yet just fall apart.” 

Before his father could speak, another lady made her way to the table. She bowed to both (Y/N) and Daemon. “Prince (Y/N), may I have this dance?” 

Daemon snickered, taking (Y/N)’s cup out of his hand. “Well go on, dance.” 

His father had disappeared from the table when (Y/N) had finished, and his cousins were wrapped up in conversation with a lord (Y/N) did not recognize. He made his way to the sidelines, stealing a full cup of wine, and pressing his back against the wall to avoid being spotted. 

He spied his father in the middle of the dancing, twirling Laena Velayron around, and (Y/N) frowned. His father’s wife, (Y/N)’s own mother, had died only three moons ago, and as far as (Y/N) knew Laena Velayron was engaged to some Brasvosi. 

“You would never know this feast was in your honor the way you frown.” 

(Y/N) turned to face the owner of the voice, smiling as Ser Harwin took a place next to him. “Ser Harwin.” 

“Are you not enjoying the feast, my prince?” Harwin smiled, leaning closer to the prince. 

“I am enjoying the wine, some of the company less so.” (Y/N) said, and Harwin laughed. 

“I understand the sentiment.” 

(Y/N) brought the cup up to his lips, smiling around its rim. Harwin grabbed an empty cup, flagging down a servant who filled both of their cups. (Y/N) watched as his father continued to dance with Laena, and Rhaenyra moved through the crowd, followed closely by Ser Laenor. 

Harwin raised his cup up, and (Y/N) followed suit, “To your marriage.” 

“My marriage.” (Y/N) and Harwin laughed as their cups met. 

(Y/N) spent the rest of the feast by Harwin’s side. Harwin had stopped drinking by his fourth cup, watching in amusement as the prince got drunker and drunker with each cup of wine. As the feast died down, and the lords and ladies took their leave, Harwin had found (Y/N) a seat, and was watching him ramble fondly. 

“I do not care for this court, Harwin.” (Y/N) sighed, leaning his head back. “It was simpler on Runestone, but here, here there are too many lords I do not know. I do not trust them.” 

Harwin laughed, patting the prince’s leg, “Perhaps a hall filled with those lords is not the place to have this conversation, my prince.” 

“(Y/N).” (Y/N) said, straightening. He looked Harwin in the eye, placing his hand on top of the knights. “Please call me (Y/N).” 

Harwin’s eyes softened, “Of course, (Y/N).” 

(Y/N) smiled at the knight, keeping his hand where it was before two twin coughs behind him startled him. (Y/N) jumped, spilling his cup of wine onto himself. Harwin laughed as (Y/N) turned to look at the people behind him. Daemon and Rhaenyra stood above him, both with twin amused smiles on their faces. They had never looked more related, (Y/N) mused. 

“Having fun?” Rhaenyra asked. 

“I was informed that this feast was for me, and that I should try to have some fun.” 

Daemon laughed at his son's words, grabbing his shoulders and pushing him up out of the seat. “I think it’s time you take your leave.” 

Harwin stood, grabbing (Y/N) to help Daemon keep the prince upright. Rhaenyra sighed, a smile still gracing her face. 

“I am glad you enjoyed yourself, (Y/N).” Rhaenyra said. “But perhaps next time you can entertain yourself with less wine.” 

(Y/N) stepped forward, stumbling slightly and both Harwin and Daemon’s eyes widened as he moved. Freeing himself from the men’s grasps, (Y/N) approached Rhaenyra pressing a kiss to her cheek. 

“I am sorry that I left you on your lonesome.” (Y/N) said, letting his hand rest on her arm. Rhaenyra smiled, at his words or his drunkenness (Y/N) could not tell. 

She pressed her palm to his cheek, “You are fine. I enjoyed myself plenty.” 

(Y/N) nodded. “Good, because this is for both of us. So we should both enjoy ourselves.” 

“(Y/N),” Rhaenyra laughed, shaking her head. “Let us get you to your chambers.” 

Daemon and Harwin grabbed one of his arms, ignoring (Y/N)’s protests that he could walk by himself. Rhaenyra followed the three men, laughing at (Y/N)’s attempts to break free from the two men, and his drunken rambles to all three of the people accompanying him. When they finally reached the room, with some incident much to Harwin and Daemon’s dismay and Rhaenyra’s delight, Daemon turned to Harwin. 

“I have him from here, Ser Harwin will you please make sure the princess makes it back to her room.” 

Harwin nodded, and Rhaenyra pressed a kiss to (Y/N)’s cheek. “I will see you tomorrow at the tourney.” 

“Goodnight, (Y/N), Prince Daemon.” 

(Y/N) and Daemon bid the both of them goodnight, before the guards at (Y/N)’s door open the doors to his chamber and Daemon practically dragged his son into the room. Daemon instructe (Y/N) to lift his arms, and when he did he undid the jerkin and brought the tunic over his head, tossing it to the side. 

“Undo your boots.” 

(Y/N) complied, and when he was done Daemon led him toward the bed. When (Y/N) was seated on the bed, Daemon turned to leave, but (Y/N) grabbed his arm and stopped him in his tracks. “We have not had our conversation.” 

Daemon smiled, “Rest, we will have it tomorrow I promise.” 

(Y/N) nodded, “Alright.” 

Daemon pressed him down into the bed slowly, pushing the blankets back so that (Y/N) could get underneath them. He brushed (Y/N)’s sweaty hair out of his face, smoothing it down not unlike his mother used to do when he was ill. (Y/N) leaned into the touch, and Daemon smiled. 

“Sleep.” 

(Y/N) closed his eyes, slipping quickly into rest. But not before he felt the ghost of lips pressed against his forehead.

(Y/N) hated himself the next morning. 

He closed his eyes as he bathed, letting the warm water alleviate some of his migraine. He dressed slowly, groaning as a loud knock sounded throughout the room. 

“Come in.” 

Daemon strolled into the room, taking a look at his son’s appearance before chuckling. “How are you feeling?” (Y/N) just glared at him, causing Daemon to laugh again. He held his hands up in mock surrender. “Sorry.” 

Daemon placed a small vile in front of him, and (Y/N) raised an eyebrow. 

“It’s watered down dreamwine,” Daemon said, “For your head.” 

“Oh,” (Y/N) took the vial, opened it and sniffed it a bit before downing it. “Thank you.” 

Daemon nodded, turning to leave. 

“Are you not here to continue our conversation?” (Y/N) called out, and Daemon turned back to face him. 

“I just wanted to see if you were well.” 

“I am.” (Y/N) smiled, “I just have a headache, I will live.” 

Daemon nodded, taking a seat across from (Y/N). He looked nervous at the thought of continuing their conversation from before the feast, it endeared (Y/N) to see his father’s usual tough exterior come crumbling down at the idea of a conversation. 

Giving his father some respite, (Y/N) changed the topic of conversation, “I saw you dancing with Laena Velayron last night. Is she not already betrothed?” 

“A man cannot dance with a lady?” Daemon asked, although his expression gave him away. 

“Not when that man is you, father.” (Y/N) said. “Do you wish to get remarried? You have no real need for any more heirs.” 

Daemon shrugged, “Perhaps I wish for company.” 

“You are lonely?” (Y/N) almost laughed at the thought. He could not imagine the so-called Lord of Flea Bottom wanting for the comforts of a lady. 

“Well my only son prefers to spend his time at Runestone pretending I don’t exist.” 

(Y/N)’s mood soured, and he frowned. He turned away from his father, crossing his arms like he wasn’t a man of seven and ten and instead a boy of nine. “You did not give me a choice. I was just saving myself from the pain I would feel when you inevitably wouldn’t arrive.” 

“I know.” Daemon ran his hand down his face. “I did not mean that I apologize.” 

“You know you have missed my last ten name days.” (Y/N) whispered. 

“I know.” Daemon said. “I sent you presents but I know that does not make up for my absence.” 

“I never received any gifts.” 

Daemon looked up in confusion, his expression contorted before he let out a bitter laugh. “No, of course you didn’t. Your mother probably never gave them to you. She never held any love for me.” 

“I remember you did not hold much for her either.” (Y/N) spat. “She told me that you fled Runestone the night after I was born, and did not return until my first name day only to flee that night as well.” 

“I was a boy, no older than you are now.” 

“That is no excuse!” 

“No it’s not and I have regretted my decisions every day! I was scared, (Y/N)!” Daemon stood. “When I found out your mother was pregnant I was terrified. We held no love toward each other, and I feared that our hatred toward each other would impact you. I was an idiot boy so I fled. Then you were born, and I was still just this boy, and you were so pure and I could not corrupt that with my hatred so I feld again. I fled again and again, because I was scared I could not be a good father to you, as I could not be a good husband to your mother and she could not be a good wife to me. When I finally realized what an imbecile I had been it was too late, you had no idea who I was.” 

(Y/N) remembered the day of his fourth name day vaguely. 

“(Y/N),” His mother gestured to a skinny man with pale hair and eyes like (Y/N). “Your father is here to see you.” 

The man approached him, and (Y/N) stepped back, placing his mother between him and this stranger. The man’s face fell, and he stumbled back. 

“Perhaps it would be best if I left.” 

“Daemon-” 

“It’s fine.” The man handed a wrapped package to his mother. “Give this to him.”

"You're running? Again?"

"Look at him Rhea-"

"No, run. Like you always do."

The man opened his mouth to speak, but he seemed to think better of it. He turned on his heel and left, and (Y/N)'s mother scoffed.

He had seen his father only a few times after that day, and their meetings had always been brief and curt. His mother had certainly not helped (Y/N)’s view of his father, only ever nodding and staying silent when (Y/N) would complain. He had once asked her why Daemon did not stay for more than a night, and his mother had replied that his father hated the Vale and many of those who resided there. It had crushed (Y/N) to hear, but after learning of the gifts his father had sent that he had not received he could only wonder how much of his own hatred for his father was just what he learned to feel from his mother. 

“I am sorry for my absence.” Daemon said. “I can never make up those lost years, and I know my youth and stubbornness is no excuse but-” 

His father took a deep breath, “(Y/N), I wish- if you would allow, for us to start again. I know I cannot ask you to forget the years I was not there for you, but allow me to start again.” 

“I understand.” (Y/N) said, “I cannot forgive-” 

“-I wouldn’t ask you to-” 

“-but I understand. I understand more than I did at the very least.” (Y/N) said, and the tension in his father’s shoulders eased. (Y/N) smiled, it was probably a bit pained, (Y/N)’s head throbbing even more with the revelations of the morning. “We can try to start again. I make no promises, but we can try.” 

His father smiled, a genuine smile that (Y/N) had never seen across his father’s face before. “Thank you.”

“You are not participating, (Y/N)?” 

(Y/N) looked at the queen from where he was seated next to Rhaenyra, shaking his head politely. “I am not a knight, Queen Alicent.” 

Alicent looked him up and down, the motion making him squirm a bit. She did not respond but she nodded, turning her gaze back to the tourney fields. 

His father was not participating in the tourney either, instead taking a seat in the stands. Ser Harwin was participating though, much to Rhaenyra’s delight. (Y/N) did not find much delight in tourney’s, bloodshed was not a game to be played. 

In all honesty, (Y/N) was bored watching the tourney. Ser Criston had won, wearing Alicent’s favor which (Y/N) could tell irritated Rhaenyra. By the time the melee rolled around the next day (Y/N) was dreading spending the hot day in the stands of the tourney grounds. 

“May I have your favor, princess.” 

Rhaenyra laughed, giving Harwin a small piece of cloth. He tucked it into his armor, turning to (Y/N) who smiled. 

“I don’t have a favor,” (Y/N) said, and Harwin smiled, cheeks reddening slightly. “But I wish you luck.” 

“Thank you, (Y/N).” 

Their luck and favors did Harwin no favors in the melee. Rhaenyra had shrieked when Cristion’s morningstar made contact with Harwin’s collarbone, shattering it and his elbow. But the worst injury of the day had been to Ser Joffrey, and (Y/N) could not get Laenor’s cries out of his mind even as he fell asleep that night. 

There were no more tourney’s after that as a solemn mood had fallen over the royal court. Ser Harwin would live (Y/N) and Rhaenyra discovered, but Ser Joffrey was not likely to. And as it happened six days later, Joffrey passed, and Ser Laenor was inconsolable. Rhaenyra and (Y/N) both tried, even if (Y/N) was not as close with his cousin as Rhaenyra was, but in the end the knight took his leave back to Driftmark before the wedding even happened. 

(Y/N) spent the night before the wedding with his father. His father told him the story of his wedding with (Y/N)’s mother, describing how (Y/N)’s grandfather, Baelon, had to drag Daemon to Runestone. 

“If it is any comfort,” (Y/N) mused. “You had to drag me to Kingslanding.” 

Daemon laughed, “I did. But you will have a much happier marriage than your mother and I.” 

(Y/N) lifted his cup, “One can hope.” 

The wedding itself snuck up on (Y/N), the events of the week leading up to it not allowing him to worry about the ceremony. It was only now that he was dressed in red and gold Valyrian robes, standing atop Rhaenys’ hill, surrounded by the lords and ladies of Westeros, that the nerves started to reach him. 

He could hear the distant roars of the dragon’s in the dragon pit as the priest spoke. (Y/N) lifted the dragonglass blade, handed to him by the priest. He made quick eye contact with his father, who only nodded, before slicing Rhaenyra’s bottom lip. He gathered the blood from the cut, dragging his thumb down her forehead. Rhaenyra took her own blade, repeating the action on (Y/N) before slicing her palm.(Y/N) dragged the blade against his palm, taking Rhaenyra’s hand in his. They joined their blood as the priest spoke. 

(Y/N) took the cup handed to him, drinking from it, before handing it to Rhaenyra who did the same. The priest finished his rites, and (Y/N) cupped Rhaenyra’s cheek, he could taste the blood as he brought her lips to meet his. (Y/N) rested his forehead against Rhaenyra’s as cheers were sounded around them. When they pulled away and faced the crowd, he could see his father and uncle smiling. 

Their hands were wrapped by the priest, covering the open wounds, and they descended down the hill. Rhaenyra did not let go of his hand as they went, smiling at him as he helped her into the carriage waiting for them. “Thank you, valzȳrys.”

Both he and Rhaenyra were dressed in their small clothes separately. He’d been offered food and wine before he was brought over to Rhaenyra’s chambers, but he turned them down. He did not wish to spend his wedding night addled by wine. 

Viserys had insisted on a bedding ceremony, and Daemon had no qualms with the idea. But both (Y/N) and Rhaenyra protested. The meeting had ended unsuccessfully, but (Y/N) suspected Rhaenyra had private words with her father, as by the next meeting the topic had been dropped completely and it was agreed there would be no such ceremony. 

The doors to Rhaenyra’s chambers were opened by the guards, and (Y/N) stepped into the room. Rhaenyra was sitting by the vanity, brushing her hair in a velvet dress that hung loosely from her body. (Y/N) felt like a hedge knight in his plain cloth clothing. 

She smiled at him, placing the brush down on the vanity. She glided across the room, coming to stand in front of him. “Valzȳrys.” 

“Ābrazȳrys” 

Rhaenyra gently grasped the laces of his tunic, undoing them slowly. She kept eye contact with (Y/N) as she did so, letting his tongue wet her lower lip as the laces were fully loosened. (Y/N) grabbed the bottom of his tunic, bringing it up over his head, and placing it on a chair next to him. 

Rhaenyra took a deep breath as she watched (Y/N), she brought her hand up and gingerly traced the contours of his abdomen. (Y/N) took her hand in his, bringing it up to his mouth and pressing a kiss to the back of it. 

“Turn around.” (Y/N) said, and Rhaenyra complied. 

He stepped forward, brushing her hair to her front so that he could see the back of her dress. She shivered as his breath touched the back of her neck. He undid the laces of her dress with careful precision, causing her to laugh and joke. 

“Done this before?” 

Instead of responding, (Y/N) let the dress fall down her shoulders, leaving her bare. She stiffened as he pressed a kiss to her shoulder, before relaxing as he moved his mouth up her neck. She turned around and (Y/N)’s mouth went dry at the sight of her bare in front of him. She grabbed his neck, leaning up and connecting their lips. She grasped the laces of his trousers, undoing them in haste and shoving them down his legs. (Y/N) stepped out of them, groaning into Rhaenyra’s lip as she grasped him. He could feel her smile against his lips, and he pulled away bringing his mouth to her chest, eliciting a gasp from the princess. 

“(Y/N),” She gasped, and he kissed up her chest to her collarbone and back up to her lips, swallowing her next words. 

He pulled her close to him, lifting her so that she could wrap her legs around his waist and carried her to the bed. He gently set her down, and she smiled up at him. He returned the smile, before reconnecting their lips. Rhaenyra gasped as (Y/N) pulled away to mouth at her neck, she tangled her fingers in his hair pulling him up from where there would inevitably be a mark on her skin the next morning. 

“Stop teasing.” 

“Hen rhinka, ñuha ābrazȳrys.”

---

Translations -

Lykirī - be calm

Sōvēs - fly

Valzȳrys - husband

Ābrazȳrys - wife

Hen rhinka, ñuha ābrazȳrys - of course, my wife