#how strange is essos

[mightyisobel]

Wearing the floppy ears -- A 1910 antecedent to the Meereenese Knot (repost from 2018 r/asoiaf)

Daenerys Targaryen in Meereen is not the first ruler of a fantasy realm to chafe under the burden of ruling rabbits while wearing unsuitable headgear.

You may know that that the 1939 film The Wizard of Oz was an adaptation of Book 1 of a 14-book series by author, playwright, and filmmaker L. Frank Baum. The series was extremely popular and their author became famous from writing them.

Book 6 of the Oz series, The Emerald City of Oz (1910), is a great read. It follows two converging point-of-view narratives with Dorothy on a cutesie-pie walkabout through the realm while the Nome King, Roquat the Red, prepares a subterranean invasion of Oz. The invasion story is wholesome fun, but I want to focus on one of Dorothy's encounters, during her visit to Bunnybury.

Here's her description of the place:

Dorothy now found herself in a city so strange and beautiful that she gave a gasp of surprise. The high marble wall extended all around the place and shut out all the rest of the world. And here were marble houses of curious forms, most of them resembling overturned kettles but with delicate slender spires and minarets running far up into the sky....

But the rabbit people were, after all, the most amazing things Dorothy saw. The streets were full of them, and their costumes were so splendid.... Silks and satins of delicate hues seemed always used for material, and nearly every costume sparkled with exquisite gems.

Yes, Dorothy goes to the land of the rabbits, and lunches with their King (Chapter 20).

And check out what he says to her:

"I've often thought," said Dorothy, who was busily eating, "that it would be fun to be a rabbit."

"It is fun—when you're the genuine article," agreed his Majesty. "But look at me now! I live in a marble palace instead of a hole in the ground. I have all I want to eat, without the joy of hunting for it. Every day I must dress in fine clothes and wear that horrible crown till it makes my head ache. Rabbits come to me with all sorts of troubles, when my own troubles are the only ones I care about. When I walk out I can't hop and run; I must strut on my rear legs and wear an ermine robe! And the soldiers salute me and the band plays and the other rabbits laugh and clap their paws and cry out: 'Hail to the King!' Now let me ask you, as a friend and a young lady of good judgment: isn't all this pomp and foolishness enough to make a decent rabbit miserable?"

So many elements of Dany's desolation in Meereen are laid out right here. The complaint about uncomfortable showy clothes and of feeling confined in splendor befitting a ruler. Also the fatigue with ceremony and attention, all "pomp and foolishness" making the monarch "miserable".

By the way, after luncheon, the king presents an acrobatic dance show for his guest (Chapter 21):

"It is our royal duty, as well as our royal pleasure," he said, "to provide fitting entertainment for our distinguished guest. We will now present the Royal Band of Whiskered Friskers."

As he spoke the musicians, who had arranged themselves in a corner, struck up a dance melody while into the room pranced the Whiskered Friskers. They were eight pretty rabbits dressed only in gauzy purple skirts fastened around their waists with diamond bands. Their whiskers were colored a rich purple, but otherwise they were pure white.

After bowing before the King and Dorothy the Friskers began their pranks, and these were so comical that Dorothy laughed with real enjoyment. They not only danced together, whirling and gyrating around the room, but they leaped over one another, stood upon their heads and hopped and skipped here and there so nimbly that it was hard work to keep track of them. Finally they all made double somersaults and turned handsprings out of the room.

Compare their frisking with this moment from ADWD Dany III:

As the drums reached a crescendo, three of the girls leapt above the flames, spinning in the air. The male dancers caught them about the waists and slid them down...

On second thought, best not. L. Frank Baum was definitely not thinking of topless dancing bunny pornography here and neither should you.

Look, I'm not saying that GRRM was explicitly or intentionally referencing this scene or that we can know for sure he ever read it, without Word of GRRM one way or the other. But I do think the books can be read as a delicious gumbo of all kinds of cultural influences beyond his deconstruction of Tolkien-inspired epic fantasy like Tad Williams's Memory, Sorrow, and Thorn tetralogy. Reminders of ASOIAF scena are everywhere; some of my personal favorites are: The Godfather, The Court Jester, I, Claudius (short version), I, Claudius (long version), and Gone With the Wind.

GRRM has an uncanny ability to remix motifs from across multiple genres, formats, and cultural eras into something that feels both familiar and startlingly original, something with the capacity to constantly reinvent itself anew. It's an ability that he happens to share with the original Wizard himself, an entertainer and storyteller writing over 100 years ago about strangers in strange lands and the magic and wonder that they find there.

What do you think? Have you noticed other elements borrowed or referenced from the original American fantasy realm, the marvelous Land of Oz? Or other cultural references that seem underappreciated?

originally posted at https://www.reddit.com/r/asoiaf/comments/8laanv/spoilers_adwd_wearing_the_floppy_ears_a_1910/

[howdoesagrapewrites]

𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐉𝐚𝐰𝐬

Plot: Imagine being the legitimized bastard of Daemon Targaryen, and having a very devoted family.

Cw: fem!reader, cisgender female reader (I'm sorry mascs and nbs, I'll make something for you later) incest/targcest implied for later, platonic and romantic yanderes, yandere EVERYONE x reader, here's a list of every character that will be featured (not all of them are romantic):Rhaenyra Targaryen, Daemon Targaryen, Rhea Royce, Alicent Hightower, Otto Hightower, Viserys I Targaryen, Aegon II Targaryen, Aemond Targaryen, Haelena Targaryen, Daeron Targaryen, Lucerys Velaryon, Jacaerys Velaryon, Laena Velaryon, Laenor Velaryon

Notes: I go by a very strange mix of the series and the books, I haven't seen the series in a while so the timeline will most likely be a mess. I'd like this to be a series but I've been incredibly busy. Extra: at first I thought about making reader Mysaria's daughter, but this is a self insert, so it's best that you look however you like, leaving the mother anonymous. The only physical reference I'll make will be reader's silver hair

>After Rhaenyra was declared the heir of the iron throne, Daemon, insulted, flew away with his mistress, the white worm, who he would conceive a child with, even asking for a dragon egg for the prince or princess to come

>However, Viserys demanded him to go back to his home and wife, he sent Mysaria off to lys, where the stress of a storm in the trip back made her lose the baby

>Daemon never fully forgave his brother, and this left him less than eager to have another child anytime soon

>So imagine his surprise, when 7 years later, there's a rumour spreading in flea bottom like wildfire, about a girl carrying Daemon's bastard

>Many women had claimed to carry a royal child before, thinking this could give them any sort of prize, so Daemon didn't think much of it at first, but when he heard her name, he recognized her as one of his previous "favorites" who disappeared without a trace months ago

>She was said to have taken residence in Essos, and Daemon went on dragonback to find her. She was from the free cities, five years older than Daemon, and a heart as cold as a northern winter, or so they said. She was not expecting Daemon, running away to have the child in peace

>"They said I was too far along when I found out, moon tea would've only harmed me. Besides, it was lucrative in its own way" said the woman. Daemon did little to suppress the disgust on his face when thinking about her being defiled by other men while carrying his dragonseed babe

>She wanted no part in the baby's life, and Daemon, in his particular fashion, informed her he'd take the youngling as soon as it's out of her, may even pay her a few coins to make sure she won't do much as think about keeping it

>A few months passed, and he returned to king's landing with a babe in arms. Demanding an egg in honor of the birth of princess Y/N Targaryen

>This egg would later hatch into the dragon Dagahrion, the princess' bound dragon

>The court was a hot mess, according to Otto, he wouldn't be surprised if the young creature lost its left ear because of all the gossip and ill-speaking of her, just like her father. This was a scandal, considering he was still married to Rhea Royce, who he gravely dishonored time and time again, Daemon was always shameless, but this was crossing a limit, even for him, to call his bastard a princess while refusing to lay with his own rightful wife, disgraceful

>Daemon tried to use you as yet another attempt to get his brother to annul his marriage to "the bronze bitch", but even when he failed, he did everything in his power to legitimize his daughter

>Despite everyone on the council telling Viserys how foolish it'd be to do it, making enemies out of the Royce house, further insulting Rhea, and putting a whoreborn on the line of succession (no matter how far from the throne), all it took was a little yawn and the bright twinkle of your eyes to make him melt, he is fully committed to his role of uncle, even as a doting grandfather, considering his father passed long before her birth

>Viserys sent Daemon back to the Vale, saying he should do his best to give lady Rhea an heir, to make up for the slip and avoid causing the Targaryen house any more trouble. Viserys, for totally not selfish reasons wanted to keep the princess in KL, saying Rhea should not be made to raise his bastard

>Daemon said he'd rather be exiled again than to leave his daughter in Hightower hands to go try to fuck his wife. Viserys was greatly offended by the implication that the Hightowers truly ruled and schemed while he reigned

>To his outmost displeasure, he finally had to let his niece go to the Vale with her father

>Rhea loved you as soon as she set eyes on you, completely separating you from your father's actions, and seeing you as a pure angel in this horrible situation

>But it was so difficult with Daemon around, she just wanted to whisk you away and love you, she'd pray to the mother to be able to breastfeed you, crying when she heard you wail in frustration of your hunger, since it took several wet nurses to get you to drink milk

>But Daemon was always around to remind her you were not hers, that he considered her lowly, not worthy of you. He'd correct you when you learning to speak, and dared to refer to her as "mama"

>It was said the ground of the vale would shake upon them yelling when fighting over you

>But this joy to Rhea was short lived, as Daemon sent you to KL when he had to fight in the war of the stepstones, saying the "nest of vipers" was more deserving of you than she was. When you were three, your step mother had an accident while hawking, many said Daemon orderded for her to be poisoned when she was bed bound, others said the distress of your parting made her lose skill

>It was Viserys greatest pleasure when you were left at his care, his adorable baby niece was now an infant, and somehow you were even more charming, being able to speak, sing and walk

>To no one's surprise, Viserys' reaction was not generalized, with many not being keen on having a bastard running around the castle playing with the princes, by that point, Aegon was 8, Haelena was 7, Aemond was 5, and Daeron was 1, and almost all of them could see people treated you differently

>Rhaenyra was welcoming, baby Lucerys had just been born, and she was delighted to have a girl to spoil, it only helped that Jacaerys loved you as well, and would often fight his uncles for the chance to be with you

>Alicent in particular was not pleased with your presence, thinking you were an uncomfortable conversation to have with her children, especially resentful of the fact her youngest son would be attached at the hip with you

>To Otto, you were an annoyance, a living proof of Daemon's pure disregard for the norms, however, he could rest at night knowing you were ninth in the line of succession, and a girl, who would someday marry a son of a minor house and be too busy bearing children to present a claim to the iron throne

>Even though the Hightowers were tougher than the king, they did eventually succumb to your spell, and became just as enamoured with you as everyone else, in their minds, you were almost a product of spontaneous generation, completely ignoring your shameful father and prostitute mother

>Your arrival also caused the birth of Lucerys (who was again, born with a striking resemblance of Harwin Strong, just like his older brother) to be less gossiped about, after all, your case was much more interesting

>Some people in court starting referring to you as "The princess of flea bottom", this title costed quite a few tongues around the castle, ordered by Viserys, happily approved by Otto

>The Hightower hand was careful not to show too much affection to you, as it was improper and he knew how zealous was Viserys when it came to you

>Aegon was "already too old to be playing" in his words, and kept his distance from you, you reminded him to much of his sticky handed little brothers

>But as if you knew, you chased him around and praised him for his knightly demeanor (in your eyes) and how he's just like the heroes in Viserys' stories. It was not a long time before Aegon now appointed himself as your guard, watching like a hawk over his brothers and nephews when he thought they were being too rough on you

>Haelena loves you from the start, sees you as a little doll, she loves showing you her bugs, you're the only one who listens to her attentively

>Jacaerys and Daeron are only a year old, but always search for you, you think they're cute, something that spikes jealousy on Aemond, he wants you to think of him as someone worthy of admiration, like you see his older brother, he'd even accept being cute in your eyes, but he has none of those traits to appeal to you. You love him and love playing with him nonetheless, but he thinks he needs something else to win your favor

>The Velaryons dote on you too, with Laenor married to Rhaenyra and once your father marries Laena that same year, they are maybe too eager to become part of your family, and regard you as theirs

>Especially Laena, who Daemon allows (unlike with Rhea) to pamper and care for you, but still corrects you when it comes to remembering your origins, Laena may love you, but she's not your mother

>Maybe Daemon does this as a way to imagine you're only his, he doesn't care for the woman who abandoned such a precious treasure, she has been wiped away from your life and memory, you're only familiar with your father, you only belong to him

>You have his silver hair, you have his name, no matter who your mother was, you are his true valyrian heir, his dragonseed

>Unfortunately, Daemon is not the only one whose eyes light up when thinking of owning you

[just-some-random-blogger]

Street Rat

Aegon was too quick for Aemond. The day he fled him in the town square, he managed to get on a boat to Essos. He finds himself living as a slave, and even, dare he, feels content. Alas, all good things end.

Aegon Targaryen x Reader | 3k+ | cw: gender neutral!reader, canon divergence, fluff, DD;DNE - violence (assault, war, etc), rape, slavery, death, classism, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: please consider donating €5 to Farah's GoFundMe so that she and her family can evacuate from Palestine.

Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @deniixlovezelda @ceoofyearning @risefallrise

Aegon did not believe in gods. One of his earliest memories was evidence of their inexistence. It was still just him and his mother then; he was still a star in her night sky and not the thorn at her side.

There was not a day in Aegon's life that he did not see his mother worry. If gods existed, how could seven not grant one of their most devoted a day without worry? Alicent had taken him to the temple to pray. She prayed for many things, for him, for the hand, for the king. She prayed for peace of mind most.

He remembers watching her weep that day. He remembers wiping her tears off her cheeks in a panic.

No, Aegon does not believe in gods, but remembers the day his brother was upon him and he had barely managed to evade his claws. Aemond would have shredded his arm along with his cloak had he been caught, he just knew it; he might have even extended a generous fist to Aegon's face. Yet under his voice, Aegon prayed to the Seven. He prayed to be delivered, he prayed to he escape somewhere the crown could not touch him.

He does not remember much else, save for the sound of his drumming pulse in his ears, but he somehow managed to get on a boat to that somewhere. As he took his first steps on the foreign land, he thought to himself, this must be why his mother prayed so much.

Again, he does remember what happened next, all he recalls is hunger, thirst, and desperation. He remembers gawking eyes. He remembers someone stroking his 'strange colored hair'. He remembers how this someone followed him around trying to convince Aegon to sell him his hair. He vaguely remembers how much he got after his hair was cut, but he clearly remembers the smell of the first meal he had after selling his hair.

What he can tell you, in great detail at that, was the feeling he felt when he heard someone scream-

"DRACARYS!"

Aegon toppled to the ground, falling back into mud. He lifted his eyes, searching for his executioner. His heart raced as he anticipated Vhagar's fury to burn him down. But the sky was clear, and instead a hand reached out to him.

You spoke in a foreign language, and yet he was confused when he understood... barely. He took your hand and you pulled him up. You told him to be careful of... something, then motioned to the street. Then you smiled at him, kindly and softly, and he felt... renewed.

All Aegon could think of in that moment was how such a being, with skin that shined and eyes that glimmered, could be clothed in rags. How could you be filthy yet immaculate?

"DRACARYS!"

Aegon tensed once more, but then you broke away and responded to the call. He watched as you floated down a rubbishy alleyway and the word dracarys was called once more.

He followed after you. He trekked through the garbage and mud in the street, realizing you were more graceful than you appeared, considering his boots stuck to the muck and your shoes did no such thing.

He finally spotted you through an open door. You were speaking to someone, or more accurately you were arguing. In spite of this, he so badly wished it was him you were speaking to.

The next thing he knew, a large man was growling threats his way. It was then he realized he was not the only person gawking at you from outside. You were popular to the peasants, it seemed. He was not surprised. Aegon did not feel compelled to move more than a few steps however.

The meaty man screamed and pointed, ordering him to leave.

The commotion caused you to look outside, and in that moment, he was inspired to speak.

"I want a job," Aegon says in High Valyrian, "I will do anything asked of me. I can clean. I can keep the peasants away from here. I can-" his words go dry when you step outside and tilt your head at him.

You come to the large man's side and raise a brow, "can you read?"

"Yes," Aegon answers instantly.

He realizes when you give him a skeptical look, it perhaps was not the wisest thing to do. Aegon backtracks. After all, he hated reading anyway, "a-a bit. I am not very... good."

You knit your brows, then place a hand on the hulking man's shoulder. He steps away and you beckon Aegon over. Aegon doesn't have to be told twice.

He follows after you, and you take a piece of parchment from the man you had been arguing with. You hand it to him then cross your arms, "can you read this?"

In a quick glance, Aegon can tell it was a list of items written in Valyrian, some he could identify, some he could not. He gives you a quick look then reads out the list slowly. He adds in High Valyrian in the end, "I do not know what some of these are."

"It does not matter," you reply, taking the list from him. You turn back to the other man, "you. Out."

Aegon watches as the man scurries off.

"You," you turn back to him, "you will help me."

That was the day he became a slave to a spice merchant. He was paid a slave's wage but he did not care because he worked the whole day with you.

Not only did you glisten under the sun, but you as well shone from the inside. He would learn soon enough that the cries of dracarys were for you; that was what you were called. When he asked about it, you explained your master named you this because he says there is a great fire inside you. You told Aegon the name was the greatest honor bestowed upon you. He would realize then that slaves bore no names.

Aegon, though unaccustomed to working, would do his best in assisting you. All he did anyway was read out anything you needed him to, and run some errands. In truth, it was harder when he had to vie for your attention from the other slaves. Luckily, he seemed to have earned your favor by doing his work well.

You would share your meals with him, little as they were, because it was clear his own meals were not enough for him. You spoke kindly to him when he could not understand certain words, unlike the other slaves. You somehow even saw potential in him and asked your master to give him a higher job.

Your master-- his master, was known as Veseves the Hard. He did not smile. He did not speak, save when he needed to, and when he did, he consistently sounded irritated. You were unphased by him however, and it was clear it was because your master favored you the most.

You and Aegon stood before Veseves. You explained to him that Aegon's skills were better suited in another job. He looked Aegon up and down then threw a book before his feet. He could barely make out what he says after. Aegon turns to you when you give him nudge. You motion to the book and so he picks it from the floor.

"Come, Dracarys," Veseves says, reaching a hand out to you.

You walk towards him and take his hand, kissing his ring. The man strokes your cheek and says something under his breath.

After this, you both leave, and you tell Aegon to copy all the contents of the book had into a blank one. You usher him into an isolated room and leave him there.

At first, he simply rewrote everything quickly and came to you after, but that was his mistake, as he was rewarded with more work. Eventually, he does not even get to see you, and it drives him mad, mad enough to come knocking at your door in the darkest hour of the night.

"Dracarys," Aegon whispers your name into the corner of the closed door, "it's me, Ae-" he stops himself when he realizes you don't know his him; he has no name here.

The door slowly cracks open. Your face is revealed to him.

Aegon steps back and gawks at you for a moment.

"What is it, book boy?" you groan in Low Valyrian. Your face tells of your exhaustion, and yet Aegon cannot find sympathy to let you sleep without saying what he came here to say.

"I want my previous job again."

Your brows furrow.

"I do not enjoy rewriting hundreds of pages alone in a room," he tells you, stepping forward, "I prefer working with you again."

"It took much for me to get you that position," you open the door wider, "you are paid more now."

"I only want to work here because of you," Aegon retorts, "I will do any job no matter how hard, so long as I see you everyday."

You tilt your head and cross your arms. Your eyes slightly crinkle in amusement, "you speak as if you a hero in a tragedy."

"My life is tragic," Aegon steps into your room, "but I am no hero."

His breath hitches as he pushes his luck and comes close enough that your bodies nearly press together. He does not resist his desires; he reaches out to you, hands landing on your waist, nose brushing against your cheek. He grips your clothes, bunching them in his fists with apparent eagerness to pull them off.

He stomach rolls at how you whimper when he kisses your neck. He is further encouraged when you brush your hands up to his neck.

"Skoros issi ao?" you whisper, hands clutching his cheeks.

Aegon pulls away, dazed.

"What are you," you ask again in Valyrian, thumbs rubbing skin, "if you are not a hero?"

Aegon is too distracted by your lips to respond.

"A spice merchant's slave?" you tilt your head, "or..." your hands brush his ill-cut, short hair and finish off in Westerosi common tongue, "a lost prince without a crown?"

He pulls away from you, as if he burned his hands. He is bewildered, in fact, beyond it.

The both of you stare at each other for a moment. Aegon realizes the mistake in his impulsive reaction.

You speak before he can think of anything to say, "you would be wise to listen to the chatter of rats. Many know there is a hefty prize for one who can hand over a man with violet eyes and silver hair.

"You did well to chop your tresses short, but I doubt the one eyed man, violet eyed and silver haired, would not recognize the blood of his blood."

Aegon's soul is shaken out of his flesh. He steps away from you. His insides churn and his breath grows heavy.

You offer him a pitiful look, "I know what it feels like to run and hide," you reach out to him and take his hand, "I know what it is like to taste freedom... and to fear someone will steal it from you."

Aegon's eyes glisten with fear.

"Do not make your life more tragic by daily fearing getting caught," you swipe the tears that wet his cheeks.

He looks upon your face, searching for signs of treachery, of deception, but your face reflected nothing but the same light it had the day he met you.

So, he listens to every word that spills from your lips. He takes it in like wine and basks in your taste. He listens to your gospels and follows them like a devout worshiper.

The day you let him taste wine directly off your lips, he's remade into an alcoholic. The day you let him taste the salt on your skin, the day your breath mingled with his, he's remade into a new man.

No, Aegon did not believe in gods, but he did believe in you. You were his religion, his compass, his keeper, his love.

At some point, you feared him getting caught more than he did. And as Aegon basked in the feel of your bare thighs straddled around his hips and flush in his palms, you cut his hair to its roots, though in much less ill-manner than the one who cut his hair before.

"Perhaps we should color your hair black," you say between snips.

Aegon examines the line that formed between your brows and can't help the way his lips curl, "shall we?"

You halt cutting.

Aegon chuckles and squeezes your thighs, muttering in High Valyrian, "no one will recognize me."

"I recognized you, prince," you finish off trimming his hair, "you too much give yourself away with how you act. In fact, I wonder if black hair will be enough."

Aegon notices how the worry on your face deepens, he is sobered by it, thus why he confesses the thought that came to mind, "unless I disfigure my face, Ae-- my brother will know me. Tis pointless to color my hair, my love"

You place the tool in your hand on the table nearby. You sigh as you turn back to him, scratching the skin on his shoulders in agitation.

Aegon huffs though his nostrils. He cups your cheeks, "he will not find me."

You say nothing.

"And even if he does, he will take me and you back to Westeros."

You chortle and shake your head before leaning into his touch. You rub your cheek into his hand, lips pulling downward, "I am nameless."

"You are ca--"

"I am a slave, prince," you cut him off, grasping his wrists. You rub his pulse, "it matters little where I am. I will live and die like this, nameless. Better I die in my own land."

He shakes his head, "you are mine. My name shall be yours."

You chuckle, then frown, "I do not know your name."

"Then let me tell you what it-"

"No!" you tighten your grip on him.

Aegon's throat tightens at how your eyes water.

There is frustration in your sigh, there is desperation in your voice, "the less I know about you, the safer we both will be," you whisper. You stare at each other for a moment, then you push yourself off him. You get dressed for the day and mutter in Low Valyrian, "I already know too much."

But the truth was, keeping yourself oblivious did not keep you safe.

Too soon it was clear that you were not safe at all, not even under the roof wherein you resided, for it was your own master that inflicte you the greatest harm.

The horrific part of it all was that Aegon could not do a single thing as it happened.

Veseves was upon you. He laid his hands on you like you were an object and not a living being. He struck you hard, you flung across the room, then he picked you up from the ground which you crumbled, forcing you to your feet by your hair. He was enraged because of Aegon. His murderous intent was because you kept his truth hidden.

"Did I not show you mercy? Did I not let you live in my home? Did I not let you earn your place in the world, slave?" your master asks you in an unnervingly calm manner, all while ripping at your hair.

You sob in agony. You grip your master's wrists, begging him to release you.

"You hid my prince," Veseves points across the room. There, Aegon was being forced on his knees by two large men who had his arms caged in their grip. The slave master continues, "each day the price on his head went down, and each day, you knew this, yet you not give him to me--"

Aegon screams when you are harshly shoved onto the floor. The impact makes your head pound and your vision spin.

"--you disloyal slut," says Veseves before kicking your felled body.

You are winded. You clamour for air as tears fog your eyes.

There was no sound uglier than the Valyrian coming out that man's mouth. Veseves continues to speak in that cursed language, "you desire having your holes filled more than pleasing your master-" he begins to undo his trousers, "-then why don't you do both, whore!"

Aegon's voice pierces through the room as he screams and threatens. He vows to torture the vile creature, to cut off his cock and feed it to him, to imprison him until his last breath, but it falls deaf on Veseves' ears.

You shriek as your master defiles you. He pins you down and abuses your helpless body.

Aegon looks away.

"Oh, prince!" calls the slave master.

Aegon's face is grabbed and turned back to the awful horror.

"If you turn away again-" Veseves pulls out a dagger, "-I will make sure to paint my floors red with the blood of your whore."

In pure desperation, Aegon shakes his head, "please. Stop. Ple-"

Your scream cuts his pleas of short. Aegon's face is released, but his fear for your life pushes him to watch the unwatchable.

And when it was done, Aegon is released. He crawles towards your limp body and fixes your clothes as much as he could. He cradles your body in his arms and weeps in anguish and remorse. You are unresponsive. Your breath is short.

Veseves had no desire to keep you. He meant to throw you out in the streets where he found you after this, but seeing this display enraged him all over again. As Aegon rocked you and kissed your forehead, ire, treachery, jealousy stoked hateful flames inside the man.

With one look at his goon, the slave master orders, "kill Dracarys."

The two men obliges, but not without Aegon putting up a fight.

He did his best to safeguard you from any more violence. You knew you had to move, but the pain in your body was too great.

In the end, you and Aegon were destined to lose, for as the prince heroically took on the two men, your master was the one who delivered your final tragedy through a jagged cut.

The last thing Aegon sees is your tear stained cheeks and the blood that rushed out to stain the floor before he's made unconscious.

When he awakes, it's because of the strong wind whipping against his face. His eyes struggle to take in the brightness of the sun, and it becomes quickly clear to him that he is on dragon back.

Aegon's arms are bound to his torso, his torso is bound to that of the rider in front of him. The long, silver hair hitting his face assures him that he was now a captive of his brother.

Judging by how he had to lean to keep his center, it would seem that Vhagar was still ascending, which meant they just got airborne. A few seconds later, another realization hits him: it was just him and his brother. You were not here.

His body tenses and he begins to wrangle in his spot. Aegon's panic causes Aemond to look over his shoulder.

"Oh, good," Aemond speaks over the wind, "you-"

"STOP! TURN BACK! WE CANNOT LEAVE-" Aegon screeches, wriggling in his bounds.

"We are not turning back!" Aemond hisses, "you've caused more trouble than you're worth! I would have left you a slave, had it not been for our mother who wants you home!"

The one eyed man's vexed chastising falls deaf on Aegon's ears. In fact, he talks over Aemond as he speaks, begging and pleading frantically. His voice cracks as he presses for answers. He asks if Aemond was the one who retrieved him, he asks if he took him and left you, he asks if you were alive, though he knew it was in vain, he asks if he even saw your body, he asks him to turn back and retrieve you. But in truth, Aegon's grief was too great for any of these questions to come out intelligible.

Aemond scowls, "what are you talking about?!"

"DRACARYS!" Aegon cries, "YOU CANNOT LEAVE DRACARYS IN THAT HELLHOLE!"

Aemond quickly gathers that Dracarys was the name of whomever Aegon was so worried about. Clearly, you became his person within the dragged out time he spent away from home.

"TURN BACK, AEMOND," Aegon cries out speak in High Valyrian, "WE CANNOT LEAVE WITHOUT DRACARYS."

Aemond snaps, "I care little for your whore!"

Just as he says this, Aegon catches sight of the city inching towards them, tiny and distant. It completely sets Aegon off.

He screams at the top of his lungs, "UMBAGON! KELIGON!"

Vhagar knew the voice of his master well, but the words 'wait' and 'stop' were unmistakable to her. The dragon screeched in acknowledgement, but did not obey.

Aemond tenses at his ride's reaction. He leans forward and commands, "DOHAERIS, VHAGAR!" Obey.

Vhagar roars as they fly over the city.

"KELIGON!" Aegon's cry rips at throat, "DRACARYS! DRACARYS! DRACARYS, SHIJETRA NYKE!" Forgive me.

The brothers looked in horror at the destruction. Quickly, the sky darkened with smoke. Vhagar roared in delight of her work and Aemond angrily berated his brother, telling him to bask in the hell he delivered upon an entire city.

Aemond elbows him, ordering him to shut his mouth, but Aegon's cries for Dracarys were so visceral and desperate, Vhagar could not deny the command.

And so she parted her jaws and breathed fire upon the entire city beneath her. Aemond could not control her as she circled around the area, assuredly setting ablaze to every building and street until nothing remained.

Aegon goes numb as his senses are bombarded with death. The smell of smoke further encourages his tears, but then, the next moment, his thoughts soothe his guilt. If you were not allowed to live, no one in your city should be either.

Aegon did not believe in gods. He did not believe in anything.

If the atrocities in this fictional story affect you, consider donating €5 to Farah's GoFundMe, as the people in Palestine are living similar atrocities in real life.

[bonniebird]

Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Requested by Anon

Masterpost

Support me on Ko-fi

Make a request

Request: Anonymous asked: Hey B! Can I please get an Aemond Targ imagines. Aemond has a crush on a highborn lady that lives in the keep or in kingslanding but his cousin from essos arrives and starts stealing her attention from him. Aemond x fem reader plz. Jodie Cormer and Viserys dany's brother for the face claims please.

You watched quietly from one of the landings of the large castle halls as everyone rushed around. Nobody seemed to notice you today. It wasn’t strange for highborn lords or ladies to look at you as if they had no idea why you were standing near them. Ordinarily, if you passed the king you would curtsey, perfectly, and he would smile and nod to you, sometimes asking how Helena was. You would answer most loyaly, a staunch defender of all Helena did. 

But today no one stopped to greet you or ask after the princess. It felt strange that no one wanted to hear what you had to say about Helena. That was, after all, why you were there. Your father had set his ambition upon residing in the Red Keep at the king's service. But having achieved his goal, he found that he wanted to return home. Your mother, who hated Kings Landing, had been more than happy to leave. But you had managed to befriend the princess. She was a few years older than you but you were both quieter and gentler than those that typically lived in the city. The pair of you had started a shy friendship and soon, finding yourself invited to her side at every occasion you found yourself following her around during feasts and dances. 

The two of you became so attached that she threw a fit when you left with your family. So much so that gold cloaks were sent to fetch you from the Kingsroad as your family began their return home. Helena had greeted you at the gates of the keep as if you had just returned from war and it was quickly agreed that you would be taken under the care of House Hightower and stay at the keep with Helena. 

Footsteps behind you and rushed talking broke you out of your thoughts. Blinking a few times you turned and found the Queen whispering to one of her maids, gesturing for them to leave her. 

“What is happening?” You asked as she approached. The cold sternness on the queen's face left as she looked at you and smiled, reaching for you. She wrapped arms with you and the two of you walked the halls together.

“The king has relatives from Essos arriving. He is… beginning to worry the keep is not grand enough.” She sighed in a tone of voice that made it clear Alicent thought the fuss was ridiculous.

“But… He is the king. Why should he care what someone else thinks?” You asked and she scoffed and smiled.

“Exactly what I said. According to my father, there has always been some sort of contest between the king and his… cousin… uncle. I think his cousin. Though with these Targaryen marrying customs…” Before she could finish she trailed off. The two of you had walked towards the entrance of the keep where a group of people were hanging Targaryen banners. Aemond was walking towards the two of you, dragging Aegon behind him so quickly that Aegon’s feet skittered over the smooth floor as he helplessly tried to find his footing.

“There you are!” Alicent said as she dropped your arm and went over to greet them.

“Why do I have to be here? I hate him.” Aegon grumbled. He gave you an uncomfortable grin which fell from his face when Alicent scolded him, pulling him away towards his rooms. No doubt hoping to sober him up before the ship from Essos arrived.

“Who is it that everyone is so upset about?” You asked Aemond. He had taken a moment to answer a question for one of Alicent’s maids. Nodding to her she scurried away as he turned to you.

“My cousin's father.” Aemond said stiffly. While Aemond turned away to instruct a group of men, carrying a statue on which was the correct corridor to take, you went over all the Targaryen’s you could name and tried to figure out just which relative it could be. Finding the list too complicated to keep track of, you nodded slowly and fell into step with Aemond as he began to walk down the long corridor away from the stairs. 

“We are to greet them at the docks this afternoon.” You muttered as you recalled Helena informing you of the trip to the docks over breakfast. Aemond grumbled to himself and he sighed.

“I had hoped he would come by himself. He’s bringing his son. The eldest one.” Aemond said as he stopped at a window and glared out towards the sea.

“You do not get along?” You asked. Aemond sighed and said nothing as a boat came into view in the distance. A maid called you away before you could talk anymore and ushered you to Helena’s rooms. Alicent entered a few moments later with dresses for both of you. Helena’s was a light grey velvet with pale green adornments stitched over the back, down the sleeves and around the neckline in a style that the princess favoured. Your own was similar though less grand than the princesses. Once Aliencet had approved of you both the three of you trekked through the halls to a small carriage. 

“Why he could not dock at the private docks…” Alicent grumbled to herself as she wafted herself with a green hand fan. Helena reached for your hand and squeezed it encouragingly.

The carriage ride was short however the three of you were left in the carriage while it was secured and the heat began to build. When the door finally opened the breeze was bracing. Cole helped Helena and the queen out, walking away and leaving Aemond to quickly hurry over and help you down the step out of the carriage. 

“This must be your young wife!” You heard a loud booming voice over the crowd that had gathered to see the king and the visitor. Looming over the crowd you could see a huge ship, larger than even the ships Lord Corlys would travel in.

When Helena became nervous and looked for you to link arms with someone tugged you forward and away from Aemond who had managed to hide the both of you from sight behind three lords each taller and wider than the last.

“I hope we can leave soon.” Helena whispered to you as her arm twisted with yours and she clutched your hand.

“With such a grand feast prepared I can not imagine we will be here long.” You said quietly as you turned away from the procession that passed. One of the white-haired young men stopped and looked at you both. Helena groaned under her breath as he began to come closer. Her grip on your arm tightened and she looked at him with such a stern expression it was a wonder he had the courage to come closer.

“Cousin.” He drawled out sweetly. Helena said nothing but bowed her head slightly in a jerked nod. His eyes flicked to you and then he did a double take as he smiled. “You… you are new.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, my lord.” You said quietly and dropped a little in a small curtsy. Helena’s grip on your arm refused to loosen and when you rose again you could see several of Cole’s men over the boy's shoulder. They looked rather worried.

“I wish to get out of this heat.” Alicent’s voice called out over the crowd. Helena took this as an opportunity to yank you backwards as she moved towards the carriage. You crashed into Aemond who kept you steady. He gave you a look that you imagined was an attempt at encouragement before seeming to realise he was still holding you by your shoulders and letting you go so that Helena could continue her retreat.

“Ridiculous performance.” Alicent complained as she joined the two of you in the carriage. Cole slammed the door shut and shouted for the queen’s guard to escort the carriage back to the keep. She looked over at the both of you and reached across the carriage to touch your forehead. “We shall be resting today. I do not care what that beast of a man wants. We’ve been out in this heat too long.”

******************

It quickly became obvious why everyone was on edge about the Targaryen’s for Essos. The father, Maehagor Targaryen, was a foul man, rude, lude and greedy. He seemed to be in constant competition with the king, so much so that Daemon was sent for at the request of Viserys who, to you had always seemed rather gentle and kind, had lost his temper one evening due to Maehagor’s comments about bedding Alicent. Daemon responded with a letter refusing to appear until Maehagor returned to Essos. Alicent refused to be alone with him due to his constant remarks towards her and she barely tolerated him during group dinners.

Luckily you didn't have to put up with Maehagor. You did however have to deal with his son, Daelon. At first, he had seemed rather charming and you didn’t mind helping entertain him as he joined you and Helena for walks in the Keep gardens or warm afternoons lazed in the cool shade. But once Aegon and Aemond joined the group things changed rather quickly. It seemed that Daelon took after his father in more than just looks. He out drank Aegon and antagonised Aemond so that they argued every time they saw each other. 

 It was early evening and everyone had reached their limits with the guests. Helena had retreated to her rooms claiming that she needed to rest. The queen had vanished into her rooms as well leaving you with little to do. 

“Aemond?” You asked gently as you found him. He was sitting alone in the courtyard looking up at the Weirwood tree. He glanced towards you and, upon seeing it was you, made little effort to move on the bench he occupied.

“I needed a moment's peace.” He muttered. You walked closer and sat, forcing him to scoot over on the seat.

“Why does your father not send them home? Everyone is so unhappy.” You asked and he huffed. There was a tense pause before Aemond answered bitterly.

“My father does not think enough of me to share such decisions.” He stood and then stopped as someone walked to the entrance of the courtyard. Daelon spread his arms wide as he sauntered over to the two of you.

“Cousin… Are you joining us for the meal this evening.” Daelon immediately turned his attention from Aemond to you. You felt Aemond step closer and his stare fixed on Daelon who seemed unphased.

“I… have been invited by her grace, the queen.” You said hesitantly. He smiled and reached out, squeezing your face between his fingers. You winced and tried to pull away but his grip squeezed until Aemond intervened. 

“You know perhaps I shall ask my father to have the king give you to me. You will like Essos.” He grinned as he let Aemond pull his hand from your face, turned on his heels and left as quickly as he arrived. You stared after him and blinked a few times.

“Are you alright?” Aemond asked without looking at you. Aemond had always been rather kind to you so it surprised you when you found yourself unable to find words without letting out a small sob and nodding instead. He looked worried as you turned and fled to find Helena.

Dinner quickly approached. Despite her best efforts and objections, Helena couldn’t stop you from being herded down to the dining hall. “Mother! Grandfather! What he said was upsetting, you cannot expect (Y/N) to join us!” She whined, having given up on all else but their sheer devotion to her.

“Helena I am sorry…” Alicent started. Finding nothing new from her mother Helena whipped her attention solely to her grandfather who seemed rather startled by the girl's ferocity, gentle and nurturing as it was, it was still quite the challenge.

“I have tried to have (Y/N) sit between you and Aemond or next to your mother. I can make no promises though.” Otto admitted. This for the moment placated Helena. She took up your hand and clutched it tightly as everyone filed into the room. You felt the Queen’s nervous grip on your shoulder as she squeezed before letting you go as she moved to be greeted, taking her seat beside the king. Helena rushed you all to your seats, which was met with no objection from Aegon as he liked to be bearishly drunk before even setting eyes on Daelon. Seeing silvery hair from the corner of your eye as you sat beside Helena you turned with a smile to thank Aemond for coming to your rescue in the courtyard only to find Daelon. He had slouched down into Aemond’s seat seconds before Aemond couldsit. Judging from the clutch Otto had on Aemond’s wrist and the way he pulled Aemond’s hand from the back of the chair, Otto had prevented Aemond from tipping Daelon onto the floor.

“We meet again.” Daelon said. His voice was smooth and charming though it had a tone to it that made you tingle unpleasantly. Making you feel rather like a rabbit who had just realised its companion was a wolf. Your smile became so strange and twisted that even the king glanced at you with a frown. You found that even with your best effort. You could not improve the grimace on your face.

Having spent a long time as Helena’s most adored guest at the Red Keep you had endured a great many awkward dinners. Though the Targaryen house enjoyed celebrating their triumphs, you were never actually sure if any of them liked each other. This dinner, however, made all of the ones before seem like casual, even joyous occasions.

It began with everyone sitting. After Daelon has stolen Aemond’s seat Otto guided Aemond to sit opposite his mother, he then took up a place at the end of the table leaving a large space beside Aegon on the other side of the king intended for Maehagor. 

Maehagor, in a moment of great wisdom or madness, decided to squeeze on the corner of the table between Otto and the queen instead.

There were three courses to the meal. During the first Maehagor called Otto an old fool and said that it was his turn to be the hand which was met with a round of awkward laughter. During the second round, the queen accidentally stabbed Maehagor’s leg with her fork when he scooted his chair too close for her liking. At the same time Helena, having been helpfully passing you sauce in a hot serving dish, dropped it on Daelon’s lap which caused him to let go of your hand, which he had taken up and refused to let go of, despite a polite request from you and a rather rude comment from Aegon, hop up from his chair and shout before hurrying out of the room. The final course was never actually served. In fact, the maid that brought it to the table was sent right around the room and back out like an animal on a race track. The poor woman seemed rather glad to flee the room. You were all excused by Alicent who was trying to mediate a fight between the king and Maehagor who began shouting at each other so loudly that Cole had to come in and escort Maehagor out. 

Having had enough for the evening you slowly made your way to your rooms. The air in the corridors was cool, a light breeze followed you through the halls. The faint sounds of the last birds settling for the night filled the air and you found yourself smiling as you dawdled to enjoy the moment a little while longer. You stopped when you heard low talking. Leaning closer towards the corridor that opened up into a balcony, overlooking one of the courtyards you listened carefully after glancing around to make sure no one would catch you.

“I won't let you.” Aemond’s voice came out sharp and clear.

“Let me. Your father will do anything for us to return to Essos.” You cringed at the sound of Daelon’s voice. Aemond scoffed and there was some shuffling. Curiously you crept round the corner and peaked down into the courtyard. You could see Aemond stepping closer to Daelon in a threatening manner.

“Why not find yourself some girl in Flea Bottom?” Aemond’s tone was harsh as if he were holding himself back. You couldn’t see Daelon’s face but you could see his shoulders move as he laughed.

“You see it is not the girl I want. It’s revenge. The moment I set eyes on the two of you I could see it. So I'm going to steal her away from you.” Daelon’s words were sharp and spat out at Aemond who was stirred to anger before you could wonder who they were talking about. Daelon flinched as Aemond swung at him and Cole rushed across the courtyard. 

“You will do no such thing!” Aemond shouted as he escaped Cole to dive for Daelon who had laughed as he practically danced his way out of Aemond’s reach. 

“I’ll take all the girls I want. That (Y/N). A fine treat for myself when I return to Essos.” Daelon said wickedly. You felt panic prick you and for a moment you froze.

Had you been foolish enough to believe that your friendship with Helena, that your mother’s friendship with the queen would protect you from the desires of the dragons? Cole glanced up at you as you jumped back to avoid being seen. You weren’t sure if he saw you or if he stopped Aemond from swinging again. You had already turned to flee as your mind swam with fear. The king wouldn’t really send you to Essos. Not when he went to such great lengths to negotiate with your family to have you stay. But he was the king. Had your father led when he said he’d negotiated? Had the king demanded your presence and it was given? If so… would you be able to find a way to avoid being sent off?

The fear of your own thoughts had your breath angrily clawing at your throat as a painful tight feeling built up. Hurrying past the door to your rooms you continued to Helena’s.

When you reached her rooms you burst in and flung yourself down on one of her bench seats. 

She fussed while you tearfully tried to explain what was said. Alicent was fetched by one of the maids who, unable to decipher your sobbed distress, were convinced something dreadful must have happened. You faintly heard Cole’s voice as the tear-blurred figure of Alicent hurried towards you, hugging you tightly to her chest as you blubbed and sniffed.

“Mother? What happened.” Helena asked after a few moments when she realised that you were too upset to find words that could give her any sense of what you’d gone through.

“From what Cole has explained to me… Daelon has threatened to take (Y/N) back to Essos with him.” Alicent explained which started you crying again. Helena gasped and clung to you. Alicent had warned you both during the carriage ride home of what she heard Daelon did to his women in Essos. All were dreadful, so much so that Alicent had only informed you of the list of tragic and terrible summing everything else up with a simple warning. 

When she had managed to calm and settle you Alicent stormed from the rooms. She made her way to the King’s quarters, knowing Viserys and her father were still in a deep discussion on what to do if Maehagor decided to stay in Westeros. She threw the doors open, startling everyone who looked overly nervous. When she saw Aemond she understood why.

“Alicent.” Otto said as he gestured to Aemond. His tone was pleading.

“That is not sufficient!” Aemond bellowed and for a moment she feared that the boy might strike his own father. Alicent raised an eyebrow and stepped forward.

“Aemond. Calm yourself.” She cooed but she shook her off. His breath was hard and heavy, his hair tangled and messy. There was a smudge of blood running down from his nose and a wild look in his eye.

“No! He has admitted what he plans to do! (Y/N) has served our house well. Does that not earn her protection from being sold off to stop someone annoying you?” Aemond barked out. He glared at his father who looked as if he himself thought Aemond might lash out. Viserys eventually held his hands up.

“If she agrees then…” Viserys said and glanced at Otto. Alicent scoffed and shook her head as she gripped Aemond’s arm, pulling him back so she could take a turn to unleash her own fury.

“Agrees? She weeps in your daughter's arms for fear of being shipped off across the seas to some dreadful monstrous boy because of a petty rivalry that the two of you have with your kin.” Alicent glared at Viserys and then at Aemond whose expression softened.

“What would you have me do?” Viserys asked as if he was at his wit's end. Alicent sighed. She had told Viserys several times what he needed to do.

“Summon them! You know how he feels about Daemon. Demand his presence and Rhaenys’ too. She will keep him in line. We all know Maehagor is afraid of her.” Alicent was stern as she spoke and Otto did his best to agree with her. He had suggested something similar days ago as had most of the council. “You are the king and you let this man come here and torment your keep.” With that Alicent left, storming from the room with a fury that seemed more ferocious than the fire Viserys was sat before. Aemond hesitated and followed her.

“Mother.” He muttered as he hurried to catch up with her.

“You will need to defend her.” Alicent said as she stopped. She had her back to Aemond and he stopped a few paces behind her, hesitant to approach.

“(Y/N)... I…” Aemond started to say but she turned, gripping him by the shoulders.

“Maehagor is the kind of man who will do anything. You know he has been trying to interfere with your father's rule since it began. He is so shameless he had no choice but to retreat to Essos. His son is worse. (Y/N) is strong and brave. But she is gentle-hearted and sheltered. I swore to her mother I would take care of her. Seven help me if that beast of a man takes her.” Alicent spoke in a harsh tone he hadn’t heard for many years. She was almost as furious as she had been the night he lost his eye. It made his stomach turn with nerves.

“Daelon. He said he wants revenge.” Aemond said nervously. She frowned at him and let him go. For a moment, just one, there was a glint of fury in her eyes as if she were accusing him of a great many wrongs. All the ills man had caused her, Helena and you were thrust at him with that look and he withered under the glare.

“Revenge for what?” She asked.

“There… there was a tourney. The one I was in after Rhaenyra left Kingslanding. The one for Aegon’s name day.” He muttered and stared down at the floor. She said nothing and even without looking up he could feel her anger burning into him. “I ignored Cole’s advice to let Daelon win and… humiliated him.”

“A tourney… I have sworn to defend that girl as if she is my own and she may be snatched from our protection because of a tourney contest between boys!” Alicent’s tone was sharp and Aemond shrank back as if he had been struck. She said nothing more to him, her dress storming around her, whipping the fabric into a furious sea of soft swishing sounds as she furiously walked away. 

Alicent’s fury remained. So much so that when Daemon and Rhaenyra arrived with their brood of wildlings they had given Aemond sympathetic looks and mildly friendly gestures when they greeted the travellers. 

You had been summoned to dinner by the king. He had sent Otto himself to invite you along with his word as king that you would be safe. When you walked down the hall two bluish figures seemed to float out of the semi-dark corridors around you and fell into step on either side of you. 

The Velaryon twins. Stony guards at your side that didn’t budge and were so stern in their defence even Daelon kept his distance. Jace hurried forward to help you to your seat and he sat on one side with Baela and Luke sat with Rhaena on the other. Rhaenyra sat with Alicent talking quietly while Daemon watched Maehagor from across the table with a neutral look that made him all the more menacing. Rhaenys sat beside the king while the rest of the family scattered around the table. Helena was opposite you and gave you a hopeful smile. You returned one to her and she beamed in relief.

“Thank you.” You said quietly into the air before you. Baela reached over and gently squeezed your arm for just a moment before reaching for her cup while Rhaena smiled to herself and nodded. The meal was consumed with awkward silence. Broken only by murmurs between Otto and Corlys at one end of the table and Rhaenyra and Alicent at the other.

When the meal was finished Daemon loudly dismissed ‘the youngsters’. No one objected though Maehagor clearly wanted to. Luke and Jace rushed to sweep up Daelon in conversation and stopped his approach as Helena joined her Velaryon cousins in hurrying from the room with you.

“I am sorry you were so upset.” Helena said to you as you stopped by her door. She kissed your cheek and hugged you tightly.

“It is alright Helena. It wasn’t your doing. I am grateful for…” You trailed off and smiled awkwardly. You weren’t as close with the twins as you were with Helena and you weren’t sure if thanking them for their aid would offend them. After all, they seemed like the sort to think defending anyone from the likes of Daelon was part of their duty. Baela, sensing your dilemma cleared her throat before saying.

“Well, Daelon is a beast, more so than Aegon and all who come across him deserve protection of their own.” She spat out Daelon’s name as if it disgusted her to say it. Rhaena shyly agreed with her sister and said their goodbyes to Helena who hurried off into her room to see her children to bed. Aemond approached you shortly after. Baela and Rhaena waited to see if you wanted to speak with him before relinquishing your safety to him.

“I hope you find good rest.” Rhaena said cheerfully to you while Baela and Aemond stared at each other until Rhaena pulled her sister away.

“I am sorry.” Aemond said awkwardly. You frowned then sighed.

“That your cousin is a beast?” You asked and he chuckled then, quickly, looked rather guilty. He shuffled and fiddled mindlessly with the dragon fastings on his shirt. He walked with you down the corridor, the short distance from Helena’s door to yours.

“He would not be so fixated on you if it were not for me.” He stopped outside your door and gave you a rather shameful look. 

“Your mother said why he was doing this. Because of the tourney. She was very angry about it but mostly because of Daelon.” You explained and he winced. You reached out for his hand but he pulled away slightly. “It is not your fault he can not let that go.”

“That is one reason he is interested.” He said quietly and his hands dropped down by his side. You waited, wanting him to go on and explain but Aemond’s mouth was firmly shut and he simply gestured to your door. Realising that for tonight at least there would be nothing more from Aemond you retreated to your rooms. 

“Oh sweet (Y/N)! I am so in love with you that my cousin plans to kidnap you in vengeance for a childhood slight.” Aegon sang out loudly as your door shut and cackled as Aemond turned on him and wrestled him away from your door, his hand over his brother’s mouth as Aegon continued.

[lovedreamer11]

About how Rhaenyra remained recorded in historical chronicles as a princess after her death

How else? This is Westeros, guys. A patriarchal and at times misogynistic society in which a woman's purpose is to bear heirs and be submissive to her husband.

Read about how the chronicles write about women who differed from the norm of the Seven Kingdoms and Essos.

Rhaenys and Visenya. Both were queens, both fought in battle, both sat on the Iron Throne and ruled in Aegon's absence. Visenya wounded Aegon with her sword. How many women in Westeros could, in the presence of witnesses, draw a sword from its scabbard, attack their husband and challenge his opinion? And that's how it all ended. Rumors were spread about Rhaenys that she allegedly cheated on her husband, and her only son was a bastard. Visenya was allegedly a dark witch and was involved in the death of her husband.

During the reign of Meria Martell, Dorne did not fall to the dragons. Yes, Dorne turned into a desert during the war with the Targaryens, but centuries later, the Dornish are proud of their origins, proud that they remained rebellious, proud that their ancestors were able to kill one of the Conquerors' dragons. But nevertheless, in historical chronicles they write about Meria as a liar and a coward, and her enemies spread rumors that the princess had intercourse with a stallion.

As a teenager, Rhaena Targaryen was not as outgoing and charming as her sister Alysanne. She loved to fly on a dragon wherever she wanted, and did not hide her affection for her ladies-in-waiting. While on tour with her parents and brothers, Rhaena didn't want to waste her time cozying up to a horde of strange lords. As a result, she was not popular and people began to spread rumors that the princess had lost her virginity to a commoner, which was not true.

Daenerys began to conquer Essos and abolish slavery, and remember how many vile lies people told Quentyn Martell about her.

And Rhaenyra? She was to be the first woman to be a full queen rather than a consort. They began to slander her from the very moment it became clear that Viserys would not make Aegon his heir.

Alicent began to spread rumors about twelve or thirteen year old Rhaenyra's affair with Criston, and she also disputed the parentage of Rhaenyra's eldest sons, and her green supporters eagerly supported her. Eustace constantly talked about how Rhaenyra had become a fat ugly creature that no one wanted, and she, dressed in armor, was allegedly cut by the Iron Throne. Mushroom shared his depraved fantasies about Rhaenyra with those around him. Have you noticed that when Mushroom said something unpleasant about Aegon the Usurper, people remind him that Mushroom was a court jester and you shouldn’t believe everything he said, but nevertheless all his stories about Rhaenyra were supposedly “the pure truth” .

If you want to know my point of view, Aegon the Usurper could live a long life, eat babies, turn the castle into a brothel, sacrifice virgins, but people would still remember him as a king because he was a man. I'm sure that even if Rhaenyra had come to the throne peacefully and her reign had been successful, there would still be people arguing that Rhaenyra should not have been queen and that she stole the throne from her younger brother.

[axelsagewrites]

My dear author, I just read "Daemon Targaryen*In Charge" and omg it's amazing! That said, if you're taking requests could I get a part 2, extremely fluffy focused on their married life (how they support each other and are completely devoted to each other, stuff) please?

Daemon Targaryen*My Moon and Stars

Pairing: Daemon x essos!reader

Summary: The reader experiences a peaceful day of married life since moving to Westeros for love

Word count: 1419

This is a fluffy sequel to In Charge. Can be read by itself

Warnings: just pure fluff

Masterlist Here

Translations:

Kirimvose - thank you

Ñuha qēlos - my star

Ñuho glaeso hūrus - moon of my life

It was easy to miss Essos, the smell of its spices, the music that rang in the streets like church bells, and the hot summer sun. Moving from the depths of the East to the capital of the West had been a big adjustment, to say the least. The lords spoke differently here, the streets were busy but somehow not as loud, and the air was cold even when others said it was warm. A foreign land with strange people yet for some reason you kept choosing to stay.

Daemon was the reason why. He was the reason you didn’t pick a ship and sail back. He was the reason you smiled, the reason you laughed, the reason your body felt warm even during the winter season. He was also currently laying behind you, arm lazily draped over your waist. His fingers drew light circles over your hip bone.

“We must wake dear husband,” you said, stifling the yawn that threatened to spill. You had gone to bed later than usual last night and the reason why lay behind you.

Daemon brushed the hair off your shoulder, placing a kiss on the nape of your neck, “Not yet ñuha qēlos,” my star he called you. The star from the east to guide him home he would call you.

“ñuho glaeso hūrus,” you said back slowly, the pronunciation feeling tight on your tongue. “Did I say it right?” You asked, turning your head at first but soon moving to lay on your back to gaze up at his face.

“Yes qēlos,” he whispered, leaning down to place a soft kiss on your lips. While you were the star, he was the moon. Moon of my life. He’d taught you the phrase after he taught you qēlos. “Your Valerian is almost as good as mine,” his lilac eyes gazed into yours and sometimes at night you wondered if the moon would be prettier in purple.

Later that day once you had finally managed to pry Daemon from his marriage bed you decided to walk the grounds while Daemon trained in the courtyard. The red keep had been quiet recently, perhaps too quiet, but nonetheless, you decided to enjoy the rarity to its full extent. As you walked you noticed all the other wives gathered in clusters with their sewing or their embroidery or occasionally a book.

While the wives may have smiled at you and asked polite questions it had yet to go further. Lady Beesbury smiled at you from her embroidery group, even lifting her hand for a small wave. “They’ll love you once they know you. Like I have, “Daemon's words rang in your heads as you took your first step over. “Ladies,” you greeted the three as you approached.

“Princess,” all greeted, bowing their eyes down before looking back up. You found the curtseying and bowing and titles of Westeros all so painful, but you did not want to correct them yet. “Have you come to join us princess?” Lady Harte asked, glancing around the group.

“If you would like me to my lady,” you said, daemon having spent many a night with you teaching you how to speak to people at court.

Lady Beesbury grinned as she shuffled over on the bench she sat on, “It would be an honour princess,”

“Thank you,” you said, sitting down next to her, glancing at her embroidery, “But please we are in our own company, call me by my name,”

“Very well,” Lady Beesbury said, a smile eating up her face, “Well (Y/N) I’m Alice and these are my friends,” as Alice began to introduce you to your new group you didn’t notice the watchful lilac eyes from the windows above.

Daemon stood silently, leaning on the balcony watching how you smiled as you spoke, how your hands moved with each word, with a relaxed grin on his face. He wasn’t sure how long he had been watching you until he saw Lady Beesbury finger-pointing him out to you. When your eyes met, he noticed your smile widening. Daemon didn’t want to ruin your fun however so left it at a simple wave.

As he walked through the corridors, he noticed a face that he knew would soon become familiar, “Lord Beesbury,” Daemon greeted, suddenly approaching the slightly bumbling man that had been roaming court for the past month. “Do you and your wife have planned this evening?”

“N-not my prince,” the man stuttered out, his cheeks pinking at the edges, “Can we be of service to you in anyway?”

Daemon chuckled lightly at this, “You can help us polish off the plates if you’d like. Would you both like to join us at dinner?” Daemon even managed to have him track down the other wives and their husbands and you were shocked to find out about the sudden dinner party you were hosting.

“Not that I’m complaining,” you told daemon in your chambers as you finished getting ready. Your hands sneaked around his waist, pulling him into you, “But what’s with the sudden want for company darling?”

“It was nice to see you making friends,” he said, brushing the hair out of your face, “and see you smile of course,” he added when he saw the grin spreading across your cheeks.

The dinner had been a success and Daemon even managed to enjoy himself somehow, but he was thankful that it was over. “I forget how much I hate to share,” he mumbled into your neck.

You laughed as you pushed him off of you. “You were right by my side the whole night my moon,” you said as you stroked his cheek, “Besides I cannot have my bath with you clinging to my hip like a wanting child,”

Daemon grinned, his eyebrow-raising, “A bath you say?” He said as his hands grabbed your waist, pulling you flush against his chest.

“My bath,” you said pointedly, your hand pushing against his strong chest, “For I smell horrible,”

“You’ve never smelt horrible,” Daemon said but finally he relinquished his grip. As you turned to finish the touches on your bath, Daemon moved to sit on a chair close by. You worked silently, filling the bath with milks, honey, salts, and flowers as daemon watched each move. When you moved here impromptu you had left much of Essos behind, but Daemon was soon to send for all the salts and dried flowers you needed for these baths.

The water had turned a milky lilac once you’d finished and the steam from the water smelt like a sweet flower in spring. As you reached for the laces of your dresses Daemon stood silently. Without words he moved to stand behind you, pulling on each lace gently until he slipped the dress over your shoulders to pool on the floor.

You stepped out of the dress, moving over to step in the bath when you looked up to see Daemon carefully folding the fine silk dress away into the correct chest. You let yourself enjoy the sight, your husband oblivious to your gaze, before allowing yourself to enter the hot water, sighing as the warmth enveloped your body.

You let your eyes flutter shut as you rested your head on the edge of the bath. When heard footsteps pad across the floor, the sound of a chair scraping stone, then felt soft fingertips trail along your scalp. Your eyes fluttered open and when they looked up you saw Daemon looking down. “Relax ñuha qēlos,” he said gently, his voice not far above a whisper.

Allowing your eyes to shut again you let Daemon continue his movements. His fingers slipping into your hair, scratching gently at your scalp at first making you groan in pleasure. He continued his work silently, grabbing a hair oil from your chest of smells and pastes. His fingers stroked through your hair, using the oil the way he had watched you do many times. You let yourself enjoy the silence, enjoy his touch.

After he had finished with your hair daemon had you sit further forward to massage your back, working out any tension Westeros had caused. “Thank you,” you whispered into the near-silent room as Daemon worked out a knot in your shoulder.

Daemon paused for a moment, holding your shoulders in his hands. He leant forward, pressing a kiss to your cheek without caring that he got his shirt wet. None of that mattered to him right now, “Anything for you ñuha qēlos,”

“kirimvose ñuho glaeso hūrus,”

Taglist: @clairacassidy @valeskafics @starkleila

[yunamedkostobot]

Jacegan week 2024: Day One, Ritual

AU, where instead of training the dragons, Valirians were taught to turn into them, albeit the Doom still happened. However, instead of conquering Westeros, they decided to concentrate on Essos and create their kingdom at former Slaver’s Bay lands. So by the canonical Dance of Dragons time, Westeros is divided between Hoar’s kingdom(which includes not only the Iron Islands, but the Westlands, Reach and half of Riverlands)(another half is held by Arryn kingdom). The North is still an independent kingdom and Cregan is its king, newly got rid of his uncle Bennard. One day, Cregan decides to take a ride to Deepwood Moot with his half-sister Sara and lord Servin, his friend. The Hoar still attempts to conquer the North, and the castle is still the stronghold against them. 

Once they get near the castle, it seems that a big shadow flies over it, but it disappears as soon as Cregan looks away. 

And the next day, a young man appears at the village nearby. This man looks quite ordinary - dark hair, grey eyes, slender build - and wears simple clothes but no weapon but a simple knife. He wanders along the shore and village, chats with smallfolk, exchanges drinks with guards and relentlessly asks if some strange things happened here. 

At first, Cregan doesn’t notice him - until he notices that the boy’s clothes are not really made for North’s weather. They are made of linen, and not of wool or leather and totally are not suited even for summer in the North, yet the man seems not to give a damn about this. He doesn't even seem to feel cold.

Cregan is overcomed by curiosity and, despite Lord Cervin’s and Lord Glover’s objections, calls him in, while at the same time attempting to dig where this man comes from. 

At first, it seems it’s necessary, because the man(whose name is Jace) seems to wear his heart on his sleeve. He simply talks that he came from the Bay of Free Men in Essos, where he lived with his mothers, father, four little brothers and baby sister and he just came to travel the world. He tells of high pyramids and earthly gray rocks, of deep blue sea, orange trees and the dragons living among the people. He is ready to tell about long channels of water built and the gardens of thousand trees and flowers blooming in the places where there was nothing but sand one hundred years ago. He tells how the family running from the Doom of Valyria had taken these places for themselves and rebuilt these Bay from nothing.

From the distances of thousand miles, the story of the place is like a fairytale or a legend dating back to the Long Night, and maybe it is hard to believe it here, but Cregan finds it interesting. So, he starts to spend more time with the man from the Free Man’s Bay. He is still interested in why this man came to the North.

When he asked Jace about it, he just shrugged his shoulders and said:

— I need to complete one ritual here.

Cregan doesn’t understand. He knows of rituals people practice: of blood oaths and self-sacrifice, which was used by heathen priests of the Old Gods until the said priests were caught and executed. But what type of ritual does this man want to complete? 

It does not help that Jace is actually a very interesting person to speak with. He is smart, knows a lot of things, is ready to talk a lot about everything including the history of different lands and their legends, and nevertheless, never seems like he wants to boast about everything he knows. He is ready to allow other people to express themselves and listens to them patiently before starting to speak. He does not seem the man who is ready to immolish himself for unknown reasons. And so he soughts to spend as much time with him as possible.

One day, the Ironborn of Hoar attack the coast. Cregan, of course, can’t just stand and watch and enters the battle alongside Cervin. However, since the forces of Hoars are stronger than canon Greyjoys(because their kingdom is bigger and richer), the battle ends up being bloody and Northern men lose a lot of their men. 

Until the green dragon arrives. He flies over Ironborns ships and burns them, and then attacks and starts to kill those Ironborn, who are standing nearby them. The remainings understand what that means and start to throw themselves at Northern positions and one of them hits Cregan into his head and the latter loses his consciousness.

He wakes up at the cave. Nearby, the sea hums. The first man he sees here is Jace, with part of his clothes torn and the green-grey scales on the cheekbones.

Cregan asks for answers.

And Jace - who reveals himself to be Jacaerys Velaryon, son of the ruler of the Dragonmen of the Bay of Free Men - tells him everything. Tells  not only about the kingdom, which is ruled by his mother now, but about his relatives as well, about his brothers and little sister, about his uncles and aunts. He also explains what brought him to the North. The Dragonmen have their special initiation rituals and the young dragonman should make his 12 feats - 6 by his own volition and 6 by another’s choice. He already completed 11 of them and now is doing another the last. He came to the North to complete his ritual and rise to full-blown member of Dragonmen society.

Cregan remembers the stories coming from Vale about dragons kidnapping young maidens, and asks if it is a ritual too. Jace laughs and says that they do not kidnap only the maidens but the handsome knights too - it is how his mother meets his father. However, they do not cause them any harm and the only dragon who burned them alive was his great-granduncle Maegor, who is considered a monster by their tribesmen.

Cregan doesn’t remember, for how many time they kissed eachother after this. 

After that, Jace suddenly gets more serious and tells Cregan about the reason he came to the North - to stop one of the sea snakes terrorizing the costs of the islands. The sea snakes are the bitter rivals of Dragonmen like the fireworms(From whom they descend) and unlike them, are pure animals. He says that those creatures crave human blood and arrive at the places of battles to eat it and leave them after catching humans to be eaten alive. He says that smallfolk believe that giving a young woman to them to fend it off and bring prosperity in winter. For a lot of them this is the ritual. Cregan suddenly understands what those implications mean, gets what to do with it and gets up to rush to the shore to help. Jacaerys understands and goes with him.

And they turn out to be right. After the sea snake comes to the battlefield, the smallfolk uses the usual panacea - Sara ends up as the sacrifice for this sea snake. She ends up chained to the rock formation. 

But as the day closes, and the nobles and smallfolk meet an unlikely couple - a dragon and thought to be a disappeared young lord - who come to rescue the chained lady and get rid of the attacking sea monster forever. 

[bucknastysbabe]

For the kink bingo image aegon with an innocent wife!reader just teaching her the pleasures of life and loving how innocent she is compared to the whores

So for some reason I forgot to make them married. So I pulled ye old make this even spicier by betrothing her to Aemond and Aegon is already married. Lmk how you feel, xoxoxoxoxo

Kink Bingo - Innocence

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Dry humping, first orgasm, incest, infidelity, innocence kink, alcohol consumption, possessive Aegon, subby behaviors/implied subspace

They lounged in the Godswood. You had dragged your sullen elder brother out to get some sun. He was a creature of the night now and you missed your favorite sibling. Aegon was flopped on his belly, head tucked beneath his arms. You plucked a grape and threw it at his pale bed head.

“Stop it, m’head hurts,” he grumbled.

You rolled your eyes and replied, “Your head is always going to hurt going out to the pillowhouses every night.”

Sunken violet eyes glared at you, his lips set in a pout. He scoffed, “I don’t go to the Street of Silk every night!” You laughed, “So, Flea Bottom pit fights then? Flying to Essos on Sunfyre for a night cap?”

He rolled his eyes, grumbling, “Very funny. I happen to enjoy a good time, what’s wrong with that?”

He rolled over to expose a sliver of pale belly, continuing, “Might do you some good to get out sometimes. Life has much more to offer than lectures with your betrothed and needlepoint with our strange sister.”

You narrowed your eyes in confusion, popping a grape into your mouth. While chewing Aegon snorted, “I’m talking about drinking, carousing, letting loose! None of the stuffy shite Cole and Mother forces on us.” He waved his hands around wildly, “Aemond will have you wearing white before long!”

Suddenly you felt stupid. No wonder he went out. Your older brother had better things to do than sit with his silly sister who still reads about the Others and Children of the Woods. A sister who was betrothed to the spare. A warm hand clasped over your arm. Aegon had leaned closer, a worried tilt to his brow.

“What? Why do you look like a sad kitten?”

You muttered, “You don’t have to spend time with me if I’m boring. I get it.” Embarrassed tears welled in your purple eyes, blinking them away harshly. Aegon cooed and pulled you into his arms. The prince laughed, “You might be more oblivious than me. If I thought you boring then why would I be out here?”

You sniffled, “I don’t know- I just miss you.”

He grinned down at you, thumbing away a crystalline tear. He kept the thumb there, swiping against soft skin. A gleam came to his eyes, Aegon cheering, “Why don’t I teach you a lesson or two on how to live a little. Does that sound good?” You nodded eagerly, wide eyes searching his own.

“Where do we start?”

Aegon clapped his hands together and chirped, “Wine of course. Loosens the body and mind.” He yelled at a nearby servant to bring a couple of flagons. They scurried away with a bow. You giggled, “Criston says wine makes people stupid.”

“That’s exactly the point, Princess.”

Aegon had played around the Godswood with you for hours, feeling like a child again. Not an heir with an expecting wife. He laid with you on the blanket set out earlier, intertwined with your body. Aegon beamed at you, all flushed and giggly from the wine.

He noticed you had took to it easily. Only a pinched look at the first swig but drank with him. Aegon stopped you after the fourth— lest you’d be sick. He hummed, “I changed my mind. I don’t want you to see Flea Bottom.”

His violet eyes gauged the thought bubbling through your hazy mind, achingly wide doe eyes spearing his wicked heart. You hiccuped and laughed, “Why not? Wanna have fun w’ my big brother.” Aegon groaned at the innocent response. You had precisely exhibited why he would not do that.

The prince carded fingers through your pale locks and replied, “It’s too dirty for you. You’re too pure. I’ll throw all the parties here at the keep.”

Aegon knew he was in deep when you whined, “Okayyy- but not even a tour? Daylight atleast! I want to know what has you so enraptured besides the drink.” The elder wasn’t sure if you were playing dumb or the drink had muddled your mind.

You leaned closer into his face, wine stained lips tantalizingly, torturously, close. “Is it the pretty painted girls?” Aegon gulped in fear. He hoped Aemond was somewhere on Vhagar far, far away because he was about to do something bad.

“It is the painted whores is it not? That’s what Aemond says.”

Aegon snapped, “I don’t care about them or what the prick has to say.” Then he cradled your face to smash his lips against your own. Your eyes widened in shock before returning the kiss, pressing the line of your body closer. The rational part of your brain was screaming, but this was exhilarating. Your big brother always knew best.

His tongue flicked along the seam of your lips, coaxing them open. You obliged and gasped in excitement when Aegon’s tongue entered your mouth. All you had gotten was a peck on the cheek from Aemond.

He rolled on top of you, pinning your wrists up above the halo of silvery blonde hair. Aegon didn’t relent, lips sensually sliding against your own. You felt hot and itchy, a need to crawl ever closer into Aegon arising. Your…core was aching and becoming wet. A confused whine ensued.

Aegon panted, cheeks cherry red, “What, baby?” He looked frenzied, eyes wild and hair mussed. You couldn’t figure the words so you pulled Aegon back to your mouth with a moan. The elder giggled and suckled on your tongue, making you clench in need. Everything was so heightened, you aware of every sensation on your flesh.

Eyes lolling around you whimpered, “A-Aegon, I want- I need, oh Aegon!”

Aegon looked like he was going to eat you alive. You weren’t aware of his thoughts, but the prince was delighted with how lovely your innocence was. Sweating and smelling sweet with wine and desire. Simply confused with all the feelings screeching.

You whined into his mouth again, begging for anything. Aegon shushed, “Hold on baby, dear sister, I know what you need.” He dragged a stiff length, oh gods his prick, across your own heated slit. It sent a bolt of pleasure so strong up your spine you clamped your legs around Aegon.

“Smith’s steel balls!”

Aegon guffawed then crooned, “This is why I won’t take you anywhere. I want this all to myself. You’re so cute and pure. You’d faint hearing their swears down there.”

He rutted against you more, talking like he wasn’t sending you into a tizzy. Aegon rasped against your ear, nipping the flesh, “Have you even touched your sweet cunt, sister?” You writhed and babbled, “N-no!” Your hips jerked against Aegon’s need in a sloppy rhythm, seeking out more pleasure greedily.

Aegon grunted and angled himself to strike that more sensitive part of you— getting a pretty cry as a reward. You trembled and begged for his lips. Aegon nipped at your swollen bottom lip and shared a couple of messy, overexcited smacks. The prince groaned, “I’ll show you how on lesson two, fuck you’re soft baby!”

You blubbered, “Oh- oh- Aegon, I think, I’m, what?!”

Darkness enveloped your vision— trembling and twitching all over. Your ass was wet with something now. Aegon rutted a few more times before groaning and falling to his side. You laid like a dead starfish, unable to comprehend anything.

Aegon’s grin appeared from above. He snarked, “Baby sis’s first orgasm. How beautiful. Couldn’t pay the finest whore in Lys to recreate that.” You mewled nonsensically, reaching for his frame. Aegon bundled you into his arms, cooing, “Nope. Not going anywhere. They can’t have my pure pretty angel. Even Aemond.”

“When- is- lesson two,” you croaked.

[a0random0gal]

If you had the chance to change something about the dance of the dragons (TV show or book), what would it be? For example, how a character dies, which team a house is on,or an entire character personally. How would you change it to make the story better, in your opinion?♥️🖤💙💚

Ohh anon i've got a list.

When it comes to the tv show there are a few choices the writers made that just don't sit right with me.

Laenor

I do like the characterization they went for, he's a pretty cool dude who really loves his weird, dysfunctional family. What I really don't like is how they handled his death.

See I truly can't stand it when a character is sugar coated just because they're the protagonist and thus must be righteous and always objectively correct.

So to witness the writers white wash his murder, having him flee to essos instead of being killed by Rhaenyra pisses me off. I get that after showing them being good friends it would be very odd to have her kill him.

But that's the thing, they should have opted for a more ruthless Rhaenyra in the first place!

Laenor's death in the books (at least for me) was the first instance of Rhae Rhae making morally wrong choices in order to pursue her ultimate goal. It was compelling! Here she just takes the easy way out, without having to make a tough choice.

Also his survival really fucks her up when you really think about it. Now all her sons are bastards since her marriage to Daemon isn't valid, and for the upcoming season 2, how are they going to handle Addam and Seasmoke? Laenor is still alive, his dragon won't accept a new rider. This doesn't make any sense and just causes plotholes what the actual fu-

Sidenote: After Laenor's very moving speech on how he was done goofing off and was now willing to really step up for Rhaenyra and their family it's super strange to imagine him ditching them all immediately afterwards Lol.

Rhaenys

My gosh, where do I even begin with this woman?

She too is pretty cool at the start, but then episode 9 rolls around and I roll my eyes.

She's so hypocritical. She tries to shit on Alicent for "toiling in the service of men." When that's all she does in the goddamn story!

She wants Baela to get Driftmark, tells Corlys about it, he shuts off the whole plan cause he wants a kid who he's not even related to on the driftwood throne, and when she complains about it he dismisses her.

So what does feminist Rhaenys do about it?

She... submits to her husband, something she conveniently forgets about when talking to Alicent. My god. Just remove this entire exchange, it hurts to watch.

And the coronation scene, Jesus Christ! It was so cool in the books, why did they have to ruin it? Had they replaced it with something better I wouldn't have complained, but this is just, the worst.

Rhaenys shows how badass she is by.... Brutally crushing hundreds of small folks to death and almost slaughtering the greens.

Cool, cool, absolutely necessary. Thanks Sara.

And you know what's even more infuriating? When she flees to Dragonstone to inform Rhaenyra of all that happened. She says she didn't kill the greens cause she didn't wish to start a war. I'm sorry what?

That would have ended the war at the start! As glad as I am that Rhaenys didn't barbecue them it makes absolutely no sense!

If she had killed them there would have been no dance in the first place!

I hate these dumb show only moments. They needlessly complicated an already complicated story and just mess everything up.

There's probably other stuff I could rant on, like how Aegon was made a rapist sorely to make the audience think:

Oh look! The greens are so baad, they believe a rapist alcoholic douche should be in charge instead of our empowered dragon queen, they sure do suck!

Or how house Velaryon was disrespected and mistreated by D*emyra but still somehow decided to support Nyra's claim.

They didn't really have a motive to be greens though, so I think they should have stayed neutral. Their fervent black support makes no sense.

The writers really should have given them more reasons to back up the blacks or had their beloved queen treat them better so that their loyalty made more sense ( I mean holy hell I wonder how they will handle the two betrayers and Corlys's arrest lmao).

But other greens have already shat on these awful decisions and I won't beat a dead horse.

Book

When it comes to fire and blood I surprisingly have very little complaints, except of course, the Jaehaera situation.

My poor baby deserved better, I've made a post about it in the past

(where I ranted and said stuff I kind of regret now, don't post while very angry guys I don't recommend it)

tackling how the little queen was unnecessarily killed off and how her death genuinely adds nothing so why was it added? God I get upset just thinking about it lol.

Some people say George did it cause he needed Aegon's kids to be born after Viserys's, and apparently he couldn't fathom a married teen not having kids until her 20s, which is veery weird.

The more plausible theory is that he got rid of her cause he wanted more Velaryon queens to showcase how close they used to be to the Targs.

Which is something I had understood already thanks to Alyssa, the sea Snake and all the Velaryons who were masters of ships but whatever.

[lunarmoonanons]

The Second Mother

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕  

Pre-Conquest (they are Aegon, Rhaenys and Visenya parents)

Yandere Aerion Targaryen x Reader x Yandere Valaena Velaryon

Reader tried to Runaway but was caught by the Dragons of her stepchildren and brought back. A Boat vs Dragon would not end well, Aerion choose to get her pregnant as a way to force her stay with them.

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕  

Masterlist

YN didn’t know how, but she was able to smuggle herself on a boat sailing for Yi Ti. Her home. For the past few months she had been kept prisoner by her employer and his family who had all grown a strange obsession for her. 

YN was a tutor from Yi Ti. She had been the emperor's top educator for his children and the tutor for many noble families back home. When she received a request from one of the last Valryian families to tutor his children, YN was excited for a chance to see a new land and meet the last remains of the Valyrian empire. A choice she would soon regret. 

She didn’t know what it was, but ever since she started working for Aerion Targaryen, he and his wife had been trying to entice her into an affair between the three of them. When she said no and very publicly (as public as you can be on an island) denounced any affection and attempt at romance there was a visible shift in her stay at Dragonstone. Her freedoms became less and less, and soon the few people she was allowed to see became fewer and fewer. Soon, even the maester on the island was forbidden to speak to her. 

The only people who remained in close contact with her were Aerion and his wife Valaena as well as the three children she was tutoring. 

The obsession didn’t just end with the parents. Instead it extended to the children as well, if their father or mother were not at her side, then one or all of them would be. They idolized her, loved her, and demanded her attention at almost all hours of the day. The only normal child seemed to be Orys, the bastard son of the head of the Targaryens. 

YN had planned her escape with great detail, everything down to the letter. What boat would smuggle her, what route she’d take, what provisions she would have, and what she’d pay the captain. Her escape was escalated by the death of Valaena just over a few weeks ago. The whole family was in mourning and that meant they were distracted. Rhaenys was so distraught over her mother, it took all of her siblings to calm her down. And though Aerion still tried to seduce YN, he too was distracted by the death of his wife to notice YN planning her escape. So in the breaking hours of dawn, with a bag of her belongings and help from the Maester, YN escaped onto a ship bound for Essos. 

YN bit her thumb and paced about the ship, the swaying of the craft not bothering her. Her hair shifted slightly by the sea air, but nothing seemed to calm her from the pit in her stomach. She was worried and slightly regretful. Even though they scared her with how much they loved her, she would miss the children. Visenya with her wild ways. Aegon with his strong personal morals, Rhaenys’ sweet nature, and Orys’ with his curious mind. They might have also contributed to her capture, but they were her students and she couldn’t place all the blame on them. 

When the sun was high, YN decided to ask the captain how long it would take. They had stopped at an island at the stepstones for a bit and YN wanted to pay half of her pay now. She barely made it a few steps when large shadows had started to over take the sky. 

Two large beasts had started flying toward them. Dragons. 

YN had seen them on the island, and had kept her distance. The beasts were monstrous and frightening, especially the large one. It seemed too big for its own good, large and scary. So seeing two of them flying toward her, put the fear of the Lion of Night into YN’s heart. Once they landed, YN’s heart fell to her stomach when she saw Aegon and Visenya dismount from the two dragons. 

“Mama. I knew you wouldn’t be far” Aegon smiled and walked up to give her a hug. YN was frozen for a second before she gained sense and pushed him back. 

“I’m not your mother, Aegon. I’m sorry but she’s dead, you cannot replace her with me.” YN stuttered, eyes wide and frantic. Aegon merely smiled a terrifying smile tilting his head as he looked at her. 

“But you are my mother. Father said you two are to be husband and wife, now we must get you back. He’s waiting for us.” Aegon was calm, too calm. 

Visenya looked with a scary grimace and kept a hand on her sword. She was not as peaceful as her brother, and she would drag her “confused” mother back if she had to. 

“You will come with us. Aegon may be willing to negotiate, but I will draw blood if I have to.” Visenya stated, glaring deep into YN’s eyes, not with hatred but annoyance. “In fact, Aegon and I will burn this entire island to smolder if that’s the only way to get you.”

“We’ve already killed the Maester for helping you. Do you want more blood on your conscience, Mama?” The 14 year old sweetly smiled, but his eyes held a terrifying glance. 

YN gasped and held a hand to her mouth, swallowing her sobs at the pain she caused the maester. She didn’t want to go back, but she couldn’t be responsible for everyone else dying too. She took a look back at the crew who stood frozen in place, terrified at what she would say, begging with their eyes to spare them. 

“I… I will go with you, Just let them live.” YN stuttered. 

Aegon’s smile grew as he held out his hand for her to take. YN’s shaking hand held his, her legs wavered as she climbed the black dragon. Her hands didn’t stop shaking as she stared down in horror at the beast. 

“Do you like him? I claimed him today, in search for you.” Aegon said, but his words fell on deaf ears. 

It was quiet trip back to Dragonstone. Once they were back on the island, and back to the castle, Yn’s hands had finally stopped shaking. She steadied and reminded herself to be strong. Rhaenys was the first to greet her. The 12 year old bounded her way to the woman and wrapped her arms tightly around her waist. She was very excited to see YN. 

“Mama! You’re back! Did you hear the great news?! You and father are to be married tonight!” Rhaenys squealed and bounced on her heels. YN merely patted her hair absentmindedly. 

“Where is your father Rhaenys?” YN asked. 

“I am happy you have found your way back.” Aerion stated, making his way over to the woman. He shooed his children away and made his way closer to the woman. When he was close enough he placed a hand to the woman’s cold cheek and smiled at her, ignoring the tear that fell from her eye. “We shall be married. You cannot deny me what I want anymore. It is what Valaena wanted. We have to honor her in death.”

“You are grieving, you do not love me. You are just trying to replace your wife’s memory with me.” YN tried to reason, but to no avail. 

Aerion Ignored her and placid a kiss to her lips. That night, YN was frozen in shock at what future her life would hold. YN cried during her ceremony. Her clothes from Yi Ti were taken and she was placed in Targaryen garments. Her life would be as a Targaryen wife and mother to Targaryen children. And she would be forced to carry Targaryen children. A life doomed to be a Targaryen.

Whoo! Two requests in one day. 

[agentrouka-blog]

Hey I have a question that you might find interesting. Don't you find it strange that literally no one in this fandom questions whether the Valyrians (including the Targaryens) really were that beautiful and perfect, or whether this is actually part of some „propaganda” in the asoiaf universe? Because it seems strange to me that centuries of incest have not affected anyone at all, and supposedly it can be explained by the fact that "genetics work differently in this universe", but I don't buy it. The other thing is also that Valyria is described as the most advanced, but is it really? Throughout history we have instances where propaganda was used to make a given country or empire seem as good as possible, while the truth may always seems different. So I'm seriously surprised that I've never meet a person who would question the old valyria or even the Targaryens…

Anyway I hope you have a good day and take care!!

I wouldn't say that it has never been questioned in fandom at all? Plenty of fans are critical of the Valyrian empire, especially those who like Dorne and the Rhoynar, and take a look at asoiaf history from that angle.

This post is particularly concise on the subject of exactly why Valyrian looks seem to be considered beautiful by default. (Hint: it's imperialism.)

GRRM himself absolutely lampoons the idea of this universally adored ethereal Valyrian beauty when he gives us Arianne's reaction to a person with Valyrian looks:

"You look… " She hesitated. "…like a woman?" He laughed. "That I am not." " …like a Targaryen," Arianne insisted. His eyes were a pale lilac, his hair a waterfall of white and gold. All the same, something about him made her skin crawl. Was this what Viserys looked like? she found herself wondering. If so perhaps it is a good thing he is dead. "I am flattered. The women of House Targaryen are said to be without peer in all the world." "And the men of House Targaryen?" "Oh, even prettier. Though if truth be told, I have only seen the one." (TWOW, Arianne II)

It doesn't get much more damning than that.

As for their advanced society, they are still famed for their magical steel, which can't be replicated likely because most societies aren't knee-deep in peninsula-destroying blood magic. Which is also where the dragon bites its tail: if your "advanced" technology is essentially all rooted in blood magic that likely had a role to play in obliterating your entire "freehold", your people, and almost all dragons, is that advanced or is it just living large on borrowed time and stolen lives?

Because:

None can say how many perished, toiling in the Valyrian mines, but the number was so large as to surely defy comprehension. As Valyria grew, its need for ore increased, which led to ever more conquests to keep the mines stocked with slaves. The Valyrians expanded in all directions, stretching out east beyond the Ghiscari cities and west to the very shores of Essos, where even the Ghiscari had not made inroads. (The World of Ice and Fire, Valyria's Children)

Seems like whatever they had going for them was bought with the lives of those they oppressed. Either through enslavement or through literally trading their lives in blood magic rituals.

[aphroditelovesu]

i guess once rhaenyra marries daemon this man takes it upon himself to think he's the father bby!reader, his thought is "only i can be the father figure to this perfect baby, fuck criston and laenor" . In addition, he would surely say that his natural talent with dragons and the Valyrian language come from him, Daemon has no filter when demonstrating his pride and affection for bby! reader.

Once Daemon entered the life of the reader bby things would be even more interesting! I mean, this is The Rogue Prince we're talking about, we can't expect anything more than what we've come to expect from Daemon.

Daemon was already well aware of the intrigue around bby!reader, but he didn't know you yet, for during your birth he was with Laena in Essos, but he has heard of you. Laena already knew you and adored you, she was always talking about you and how she missed you. She really wanted to go back to Westeros and see you one more time.

Daemon was curious to hear so much from you, but it wasn't until Laena's funeral that he finally met you and he was immediately smitten. You were introduced to him by Rhaenyra and Laenor as their child, and for a moment Daemon really thought you were Laenor's child, given the way you looked, but it didn't take long for him to discover the truth. And that didn't make him happy at all. Don't get him wrong, he's not angry that Rhaenyra had a bastard child, he didn't mind that one bit, but he was upset that your father was one of the people he hated the most.

It's a shame, you were so pure and perfect. So it's a shame your father is Criston Cole. He doesn't even have valyrian blood running through his veins and yet he was able to father you and that made Daemon very angry.

He wanted to be your father, so why?

But this is Daemon we're talking about, he has a way of taking what he wants and this time he wanted you. Fuck Criston and fuck Laenor, he would be the one to take care of you the way you should be. After Laenor's death, he married Rhaenyra and he took a more active role in your life. After all, he was bby!reader stepfather now, in this case, your yan!stepfather.

You are right anon, Daemon is very proud of you and he will praise you every time you ride your dragon so deftly or speak High Valyrian so precisely, you are so perfect and smart. Gifts of your Valyrian heritage.

You're his favorite and he doesn't even try to hide it, why should he? Daemon has no reason to hide how much he loves and admires you, his praise is not for nothing or without reason. You deserve them and more. All of this would infuriate Criston to the core, he hates that, he really does, and now he has to deal with Daemon's strange affection for you.

It's inevitable that these two end up fighting and even trying to kill each other. They would do it without a second thought, both are fighting for your love and admiration and neither is planning to back down.

~ Lady L

[feyhunter78]

Trials of Tributes (11/?)

Description: Your studies begin to pay off, the fate of Rhaenyra's youngest child is revealed, and a court session goes awry.

Series masterlist

Aemond sighed heavily as he strode into his chambers. The rebuilding of the dragonpit was a lengthy project, one that would take much time and gold.

He thought back to y/n’s words from a few nights ago. Why is Vhagar so much bigger than the other dragons?

He had a few theories, which he shared with her, but he was surprised when her own suggestion had been so simple yet so brilliant.

Perhaps since she did not live confined in the tunnels, she was able to reach her natural size? Much like the tales of the wild dragons, how they are so large compared to the younger dragons.

He sent word to Dragonstone, requesting more information on the original habitats of dragons. If her words rang true, the dragonpit would need more than rebuilding, it would need to be completely redesigned.

Y/N was laying in their bed, her back against the headboard, her head buried in a thick tome.

“Good evening, ābrazȳrys.” He said, pulling her attention from the book, as he shed his clothing freely. Drawing pleasure from the way her eyes quickly darted away in an attempt to preserve the veil of modesty, she insisted on drawing between them.

“Good evening, husband, how goes the dragonpit?” She closed her book but kept her eyes down.

He changed into his nightclothes and slid into bed, pulling her into his side. “I have written to the dragonkeepers on Dragonstone, asking them to look into your theory.”

She brightened, blooming like a radiant flower. “Truly?”

He hummed an affirmative tone and brushed the hair back from her face.

“Your sister came to see you, I gave Jaeheara the toy you had made for her, I hope that is alright?”

“Of course, she is your niece, you are more than welcome to provide her with any toys you see fit.”

Y/N nodded, a pensive look on her face.

“What ails you, sweet wife?”

“Where are the youngest of Princess Rhaenyra’s children? I heard naught of their fate when the war ended, and I still have not…” She wouldn’t look at him, her eyes on the simple embroidery of his nightshirt.

“Aegon and Viserys attempted to escape to Essos, they were caught, and in his inexperience Aegon took flight on his dragon. They were shot down and perished in the sea.” He said, telling her a half-truth, wishing to spare her the gory details.

“And the young Viserys? He must have been merely six years of age.” She said, raising her gaze to his.

“Why do you wish to know their fates?” He asked, a voice that sounded oddly like his grandsire’s whispered that he should take caution, that he had allowed her too many freedoms.

Y/N shifted, and his heart stuttered when he saw a lone tear slip down her cheek. “I must admit I have sympathy. I know the pain of being forced from your home, of losing family and feeling adrift.”

Aemond closed his eye, gathering his thoughts. He did not enjoy the moments he was forced to remember that y/n was not here of her own free will, that she was an object offered to him in lieu of gold.

He felt her fingertips brush the skin of his scar. “I do not wish to stir any thoughts of disloyalty in your mind husband, but I cannot control my heart, and it bleeds at the thought of a child alone and scared in a strange place.”

He hummed lowly and leaned into her touch. “I will take you to see him in the morn, I cannot promise that it will stanch the bleeding though.”

“He is here?”

He nodded. “In a locked wing, watched by guards and a maester. Mother and I agreed it would not serve us to kill him, not would it be right. He is a child, he had no dragon, no part in the war.”

“And he could wed Jaehaera.” She ventured, sitting up and pulling the book from her nightstand. “I have read that it in Targaryen tradition to wed blood to blood. One would think that by uniting the two houses it would lead to a greater stability.”

He sat up as well, a thrill running through him at the prowess his wife was demonstrating. Soon he would introduce her to the court, and all would see his strength as king.

“The children have never met, but I have considered betrothing them.”

Y/N pulled a sheet of parchment from the book and made a note, adding another set of lines to the branching family tree she had created.

His little wife seemed to be learning much quicker than he had hoped, and he tilted her chin up, kissing her gently. “Let us sleep, tomorrow you may revisit the idea of betrothals.”

You buried your free hand in your skirt, the other caught in the tight grip of Viserys’ hand. Aemond had made good on his promise and slowly, but surely, you had gained the young boy’s trust. It had been a slow start; he was skittish and flinched at the sight of Aemond. But you persisted and with the help of the maesters began to identify Viserys’ favorite toys and books.

Soon he raced to the door when you appeared, and quickly after that you had been able to convince Aemond to move Viserys into your wing. Every moment Aemond was not by your side, Viserys was, and you developed a deep fondness for the boy. Once he had broken from his shell, he was jovial and charming, with a love for reading and swordsmanship.

King’s Landing was deep in winter’s grip when Aemond had decided to introduce you to the court. It had gone well, your fervent studying had not been for naught, and Aemond had gifted you a ring of gold carved to look like a dragon as a reward. The eyes of the dragon were flecks of sapphire, and you wore it proudly.

Your initial warm reception did not prevent rumors from forming, though. Soon after many saw the young prince, born of Rhaenyra and Daemon, trailing after you, they began to talk.

Some claimed Viserys was truly yours and Aemond’s, that Rhaenyra had stolen him. Others claimed you had been one of many whores Daemon had bedded, and, in the insanity, Daemon had driven her to, Rhaenyra claimed the child as her own, banishing you to your home.

You were partial to the former rumor, if it distracted the court from the fact that you had not produced an heir, despite the fact that you had been wedded to Aemond for over a year now. He had yet to bed you, and no matter how desperate you felt, you would not shame yourself nor him by begging him to do so. Even though an inkling of doubt began to grow in your mind. Perhaps he no longer desired you, or he had found another.

“Muña, I do not wish to go.” Viserys said, his voice small as he clung to your skirts. His dark purple eyes were fixated on you, his lower lip trembling.

His habit of calling you, mother in Valyrian did not dissuade any rumors, but you would never correct him. You had sat with Viserys as he cried over his lost family. Laid by his side when his night terrors gripped him and sent him back to the waking world with agonizing screams ripping from his throat.

Viserys was your son now, he had burrowed into your heart and made a home there. You would never voice this, though, in fear that it would give rise to the Lord Hightower’s whispers. The previous Hand of the King believed you to be a spy, a whore, a traitor, an assassin, or any other foul title depending on the day.

You knelt down and adjusted Viserys’ cloak, a deep green color with gold trim. It matched your own. “I know ñuha tresy, it will be quick, and then you may join Jaehaera in her mother’s chambers.”

You had asked Helaena how to say my son in Valyrian, begging her to keep it quiet. You had practiced the two words in secret, and the joy on Viserys’ face made any worries disappear. It was a name you seldom used in the company of others, but in these private moments it fell from your lips with ease.

Your Valyrian had improved greatly, but it was still not yet fluent. Aemond seemed to feel no urgency to teach you his mother tongue, just as he seemed to feel no urgency to sheathe himself inside you and give you an heir.

“Why does Jaehaera get to stay in her mother’s chambers, and I do not?” Viserys asked, squeezing your hand tighter as you approached the throne room.

“Because Jaehaera is not as brave as you, ñuha tresy, which is why you must be brave for her.”

Viserys puffed up his chest, a comical look of seriousness on his youthful face. For a boy of six, he possessed a great ability to understand the duties placed upon his shoulders.

“Queen y/n, and Prince Viserys.” The crownsguard announced as you entered the hall.

Aemond was seated on the Iron Throne, his father’s crown on his head today, a symbol of wisdom and peace.

You held your head high, and approached the throne, curtsying to your husband before ascending the steps and standing beside him, Viserys tucked into your side.

“Bring in the petitioners.” Aemond called, already sounding bored.

You stood still, letting Viserys fidget with your fingers and rings to entertain himself as petitioner after petitioner made their plea.

Finally, the last man stepped forward and you felt Viserys tugging on your arm. You knelt down, too distracted by his whispered words to notice who stepped into the hall.

“Lord Vaghn of House Garrot.” The guard called.

You stiffened, and Viserys gave you a concerned look. “Muña?”

You looked towards the gathered guards, catching Sir Criston’s gaze. “Go with Sir Criston, Viserys.”

“What? No, I want to stay with you.” He tightened his grip, and your heart dropped when you heard Aemond repeat Vaghn’s name.

“Go, now.” You ordered, untangling your hand from his and pushing him towards the Lord Commander.

Sir Criston took Viserys out of the room, and you let out a shaky breath before rising and turning to face your husband and Vaghn.

“Lord Vaghn, I must admit, your name sounds vaguely familiar. Have you appeared before my court before?” Aemond’s voice was calm, his expression smooth and emotionless.

You intertwined your hand with his, and he pressed it to his lips.

“I have not, My King.”

“Interesting, well, state your case.” Aemond said, nodding his head towards him.

“It pains me to no end to do this, but I bring an accusation against the queen.” Vaghn said, his eyes settling on you.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you tightened your grip on Aemond’s hand. “Aemond…”

Aemond raised an eyebrow, his free hand settling on the hilt of Darksister. “An accusation?”

Vaghn nodded, eyes wrenched back to Aemond. “Of bigamy, My King. She was already married when her father gave her to you.”

Aemond’s eye flickered to you, and you shook your head. “What evidence do you bring to back your claim?”

“I am her husband, her father wedded her to me in exchange for my family’s support.” Then he turned to you. “Y/N, I know it has been many moons since we have been together, but I have not forgotten you. I was furious when I heard what your father had done.”

“Take care when addressing my wife so casually, lest I take your tongue.” Aemond said, his voice cold as the bitter winds that rattled the windows.

“She is my wife; I will address her as I please.” Vaghn snapped, digging out a piece of parchment and approaching the throne.

You shrank back, silently begging Vaghn not to do this, your eyes boring into his.

Aemond stood, towering over Vaghn and took the parchment, scanning it. “This is not a valid claim. Septon Yannis whose name is upon this, had been cast out of the faith three years prior to the written date.”

You leaned forward slightly and scanned the parchment. You recognized nothing, and your head began to hurt, fear coursing through your veins. “I do not know this document, nor do I have any recollection of marrying another.”

“You were quite ill and could not attend, your father gave me your hand.” Vaghn said, reaching for you.

You shrank back further, and Aemond nodded at a nearby kingsguard who brought him a lit torch.

“My wife is my own, she came to me untouched, I have witnessed it myself. Even if this marriage was valid, which it is not. It had gone unconsummated, and thus is easily annulled.” He said, holding the document over the flame.

You watched as it caught fire and dissolved into ash. “My father’s word does not replace my own, not in a marriage ceremony. If I do not say the words myself, it is not binding.”

“Y/N please, I know that you love me, ours is a star-crossed love, one that will last for ages, all you must do is return with me.” Vaghn reached for you once more, and Aemond extinguished the torch in Vhagn’s chest.

Vaghn screamed and stumbled back, and you turned your head, hand flying to your mouth, the smell of singed flesh filling the air.

“There is no love between yourself and my wife. Your words are traitorous, and vile.” Aemond growled, unsheathing Darksister.

You squeezed your eyes shut and let out a fearful sob when you heard the heavy thump of Vhagn’s body hitting the floor.

“This session is finished, leave us.” Aemond ordered, his voice echoing off the looming ceiling.

You kept your eyes closed and prayed to The Seven, he would show you mercy.

Tag list: @nyctophilic0vitnir, @svtansdaddyx, @fan-goddess, @dc-marvel-girl96, @shintax-error, @bellameshipper, @the141bandicoot, @the-phantom-of-arda, @haydee5010, @partypoison00, @serrhaewin, @issshhh, @pax-2735, @malfoytargaryen, @sahanna, @dellalyra, @mxrgodsstuff, @jkhomes, @unusual-raccoon, @boofy1998, @kravitzwhore, @caribbeangel, @krispold, @issshh, @afro-hispwriter, @ryswritingrecord, @prettykinkysoul, @elissanatok, @sahvlren, @its-sam-allgood, @happinessinthbeing, @8e-h-e8, @feyres-fireheart, @just-emmaaaa, @crazylokonugget, @hedahobbit98, @devils-blackrose, @mercedesdecorazon, @snh96, @imjustboredso, @izzicle, @hiatuswhore, @aslanvez, @devils-blackrose, @yentroucnagol, @queenofshinigamis, @partyposion00, @cryptidsrcool

[selfproclaimedunicorn]

Who's Gonna Love You In The Middle Of The Night

Just a little side thing that happens between some forthcoming chapters of my HOTD fic: Sins Of The Father. We're not really gonna see any of the stuff surrounding this in-text because it's side characters that don't have the most to do with the main plot (not atm, anyway, & not in a way we'll ever see their POVs in the main fic), but I talk about Ser Yarwyck Royce & Cassana Strong a lot with @emilykaldwen, & we're both incredibly soft for them. So enjoy some Caswyck because I needed to write Them™️. Main Fic [ship context] | Fic Art | Projects Page With Other Links | Title Song

Cassana startled when the door opened again, Yarwyck pushed unceremoniously through by the throng of Valewomen who had half stripped him during the procession to his apartments. Their apartments. She had a room adjoining his now instead of the private rooms afforded her as the only young woman in The Hand's tower.

Ser Yarwyck’s short ringlets were disheveled, and his belt and white, dagged bliaut with bronze studs had been pilfered by the grabbing hands of the procession. The pale gray tunic he'd worn underneath clung tight to his broad chest, and it falling down to his knees was probably the only reason his trousers were still on. Their close quarters, Ser Yarwyck’s objective handsomeness, and the lingering specter of the giggling women who'd brought him here made Cassana self conscious. Everything made her uncomfortably aware of her own body; of its undoubted (and exploitable) inadequacies, of its limited assets that only counted to some.

She crossed her arms over her middle, then frowned when that made it look like she was propping her breasts up, and uncrossed her arms. Cassana twisted her hands in her skirts. The white and bronze gown fit strangely now, no longer holding her up and in due to the lacings at the back of her dress and holding her puffed sleeves to the low, scoop-necked bodice having been tugged loose. The dress was only still tied enough to hang on her because Ser Robert Tyrell noticed her discomfort and put a stop to the other men's revelry.

Cassana and Ser Yarwyck both opened their mouths to speak, words stumbling over each other before they stopped short. They were silent for a moment and the air felt thick between them, or at least it did for Cassana.

“You can go first.”

She tried to smile so Ser Yarwyck would know she was grateful, but the expression would not form. Cassana looked down so he would not see. “We do not have to do anything if you do not want to. I am under no illusions of being everyone’s taste.”

“Who told you to take my line?”

“Who’s taste would you not be?” her brows were furrowed over a disbelieving gaze when she looked back up at him, “There is nothing wrong with you.”

“I meant about not having to actually have sex if you do not want to, it is not like we’ve had some sort of desire for each other beforehand…right?” Ser Yarwyck looked suddenly unsure, as if the possible incorrectness of his words had only just occurred to him. Given he had spent nearly a full year in Essos with Lady Ella without even sparing a single letter to Cassana, they probably hadn’t. She wasn’t offended, he was right, but it was nice knowing that he cared enough to notice things now at least.

“We have not, but I have not had to want you since we met to notice what you look like.” She sat on the edge of the bed, toying with the clasp of her white under dress: a small brooch depicting the branching rivers of House Strong’s sigil.

A satisfied grin spread across his face, it was easy and charming and made his eyes half-lidded. Cassana snorted, it was an expression she’d seen on her eldest brother’s face more times than she could count.

“Do not get too smug. You had very little to do with how handsome you are.”

“Still nice of you to notice.” He replied nonchalantly before grabbing the collar of his tunic from behind his head and pulling the garment up and over till it slid down his arms and dropped on the floor. Heat flooded Cassana’s cheeks, and she glanced down at her lap. She had not seen a man this intimately since that night over three years ago, it was exciting and shameful and it made her heart race.

“So I take it you do not, since you said something about it first,” there was a soft thunk from one of his boots coming off, “that is fine by me. I’ve heard girls can be nervous the first time.” Another thunk.

“I am not nervous.” Not about something that had already happened.

“So you just assumed that I don’t want to have sex with you?”

“I am not worth such attentions, Ser Yarwyck! Not meaningfully, not romantically.” The words came louder than she meant them to, ringing out into the silence of his chambers as tears pricked at her eyes. Ser Androw Selmy had made sure she knew that when she’d had to threaten him with her brother to keep him from spilling inside her, when he’d left her uncared for, when he’d stopped being kind to her once he'd gotten what he wanted.

The bed dipped as he sat next to her, and he gently bumped her with his elbow. Cassana looked at him from the corner of her eyes, and his smile was softer now; warm and friendly and a bit crooked. “Who said that?”

“No one said it…”

“I’ll fight him.”

“I said no one–”

“Cassana, you would not come to these conclusions on your own. I’ll fight whoever made you think so poorly of yourself.”

“Why?”

He blinked at her, slow and a bit confused. “I know I was rubbish at sending letters to you, I was rubbish about it with everyone, but we were at least friendly at the hunt and at Yorick’s wedding. You know, until that mess happened and everything got called off…”

“You do not need to trouble yourself.” She mumbled, going back to fiddling with the brooch.

“I like troubling myself with my friends.” The bed shifted again, and Cassana fully turned her head to look at Ser Yarwyck now. He was leaned back with his weight on his hands, and his pale blue eyes were fixed on her face. She did smile this time, and a chuckle soft as a breath left her.

“As your friend, I am asking you for the favor of not troubling yourself.”

“Alright,” he sighed, resigned to accepting her request. Her smile brightened, and she dropped her hands to her sides, resting them on the bed as her fingers spread out over the soft linens.

“So, do I get to fuck a pretty girl tonight, or not?”

Cassana’s face felt even warmer, and she was sure she was red as a beet. She wanted to say something, but all she could manage was pointing at herself and mouthing “me,” obvious unsurety hanging between them.

“Who else would I be talking about?”

Lady Ella, or any number of the women who'd half undressed him. “You think I'm pretty?”

“You said yourself that I don't have to have wanted you from the first moment for my eyes to work properly.”

Cassana smiled, giddy and anxious, before standing up and fully loosing her sleeves and pulling them down to drop onto the floor with Ser Yarwyck’s tunic and boots. She stiffened when she felt his fingers on her upper back, arching away from him as a tickle ran down her spine. She glanced over her shoulder to see him up on his knees on the bed, tugging the final laces of her gown undone before sliding it off her shoulders to pool around her feet. Cassana stepped out of the dress, and shot him another nervous, excited glance before she unpinned the brooch from her under dress and placed it on a table near the bed. She shed her final layers, and her heart hammered in her chest now that all of her pale, ample flesh was bared.

“Come here,” Yarwyck’s voice was low as he took her soft waist in his hands and pulled her back onto the bed. She squeaked as she was brought flush against his chest, and his laugh filled her ears as he rested his chin on her shoulder.

“Do not laugh at me!”

“Don't squeak, then.” He teased, wrapping an arm around her as he did.

“I will not squeak if you kiss me.”

He brushed his lips against hers, teasingly light until, giggling, Cassana tangled her fingers in the curls at the back of his head and pressed her own mouth more firmly against his. Her lips moved easily against Yarwyck’s, and she hummed into his mouth as his free hand came to one of her breasts, his calloused fingers toying with the nipple. Cassana shifted against him as heat pooled in her belly, and he groaned when her backside brushed against his cock.

“Hold still,” Yarwyck grumbled as he adjusted how he sat, “this isn't about me yet.” She looked at him, confused and flushed. When she did not say anything, he continued.

“If I cannot fight whoever made my friend view herself so badly, then I will have to make her feel better about herself by taking care of her how she truly deserves.” His fingers trailed down from her breast and across her soft stomach, making Cassana giggle as gooseflesh rose on her arms. As his fingers dipped below her navel, she parted her legs, and his hand came to her thigh.

“A little more, Cassana.” He gently moved her leg further, hooking it over his. She swallowed and adjusted a bit to get her other leg over his. With her now fully exposed to the dimly lit, empty room, Yarwyck’s hand went between her thighs, and she gasped when his fingers swiped through her folds. His movements were slow and deliberate, and he pressed a kiss to her freckled cheek as her teeth sank into her bottom lip.

Cassana whimpered as his fingers circled the sensitive bud at the apex of her thighs, her hips bucking up in search of more. Yarwyck kissed her shoulder, and everything was soft and wonderful and much more fun than the first time had been. Her hand flew to her mouth when he pressed one of his thick fingers fully into her, and she moaned into her palm.

His arm came from around her middle and he gently took her wrist, pulling her hand away from her mouth. “Don't do that.” 

“What-what if someone hears?”

“Why should it matter? We are married.”

That was right. Nothing needed to be kept from her parents or her brothers; this was his bed and his home and Cassana shared them now. There was nothing wicked about what they were doing and no one would get in trouble for anything.

She let herself moan and whimper as the need came, unmuffled by her hands and unexpectedly loud when Yarwyck slipped a second finger inside her. The tension coming up from the heat in her belly grew, a rope being cut that was barely hanging on by its final few fibers. Cassana’s breathing was erratic, and her hips moved in time with his fingers inside of her until the tension finally snapped. She arched away from him as her toes curled and she cried out in wordless ecstasy. Slowly, Ser Yarwyck withdrew his fingers from her cunt, and she leaned her head back on his shoulder as she panted.

“Feeling better?”

She nodded, and closed her eyes when he gently brushed his lips against hers again.

“You can keep going if you want to.” Cassana’s voice was breathy.

“Do you?”

“I think it'd be fun.” She trusted him much more than Ser Androw. Yarwyck had actually cared for her, and had only said nice things.

“Alright, let me get up then.”

Cassana moved from her spot between his legs and laid down on the bed. She rubbed the backs of her fingers over the pillow as he stood back up. Was this the side he slept on? Would she have to move later?

When Ser Yarwyck’s trousers hit the floor, she propped herself up on her elbows to watch him turn back around towards her. He was thicker than Ser Androw had been, and curved. Cassana's dark eyes were wide and her lips were parted slightly as she regarded him, she had assumed all cocks were going to be more similar than they apparently were.

“You ready?”

Her gaze darted back up to his face, and she brought her lips together again. Cassana smiled up at him as she nodded. A mischievous grin spread across Yarwyck’s face, and he dragged her closer by her ankles. She shrieked, before descending into a fit of giggles as he crawled on top of her, laughing himself before quickly kissing her scrunched nose.

[fallenoftheromaempire]

In my opinion there are two main types of world building.

Society world building and Environmental world building.

Society world building is, as you can imagine, focused around the society of the world where the story takes place in. It explores cultures and social hierarchy, religions and politics. Good examples of this are Avatart the last Airbender and A song of ice and fire.

Environmental world building is more focused on the natural part of the world surrounding it. It explores the world surrounding us that has not been touched by man or that has been built in a very strange way. Some exemples are the two Avatar Movies (The blue people), Scavengers, and How To Train Your Dragon.

Of course the two aren't isolated there can be a bit of one in the other but most of the time when creating a world, writers and creatives often focus more one one of the two.

For example A Song of Ice and Fire and How to Train Your Dragon both have dragons in it. But How to Train Your Dragon is heavily focused on how the dragons live, the differences between species and why they are unique, and how to better take care of them while respecting those specific differences. Meanwhile ASoIaF while it does have dragons, it has no real focus on them. Dragons are mostly a monolith in their existence, there are varieties of look and abilities but they aren't treated as different breeds or different types. Actually very little is talked and known about their biology and nature and what is known has a mostly folkloristic feeling, even the order of the Dragon-keepers when it was still in place it's not really specified on how they operated. On the other hand we know all about the different houses and the individual cultures of many communities across Westeros and Essos.

[earenwen-leafwhisper]

He's first and only love part 3 (final)

Pairing : Daemon x chubby Fem readerAbstract: What will happen to the living? Who will win? Daemon and Y/n will manage to have a happy ending?

Trigger Warning: English is not my mother tongue, mention of: death, description of a corpse, scene of fights.  

 

 

----  

 

It was the singing of birds that awakened Y/n, she had not realized that she had fallen asleep. His mind was misty, as if lost in the thickest fog.  

 

Opening her eyes, she saw that she was not in Winterfell, the rays of the sun lit the place. Y/n looked around her, discovering a large room, with stone walls and an oak floor. Two large windows let in the light, an extinguished chimney took a considerable place on the wall in front of it. Moving to get up, Y/n noticed that she was in deep red sheets. When you removed them, you could see that you were not dressed, the way she was remembered. She was wearing a black night dress with gold embroidery.  

 

Strangely this place seemed both familiar and foreign. A part of her told herself that she should not be afraid, while on the other hand, her heart began to beat quickly, adrenaline in her veins, circulating quickly. Y/n moved the roof to put his feet on the ground. Said ground was cold, despite the sun radiating on it.  

 

Y/n began to walk around the room which seemed to be a bedroom in the end by the arrangement of the room and its furniture. Y/n walked to the window. She could see a landscape she thought she had only seen in her dreams. No building reminded him of the architecture of the cities of Essos. Essos, Westeros… Daenerys! Y/n looked more frantically through the window and around her, some recent memories returning to his mind. 

Suddenly, a wink of clinch made her stop, the door opened slowly to reveal a man with silver hair. It was him.  

 

 

 

“You are awake, Issa jorrāelagon”  

"Who are you?"  

“You know who I am, just as I know who you are.”  

 

The man walked slowly into the room. The door closed behind him.  

 

“I dreamt of you…” Y/n remembered him. “In this cave… But how? Where are we?”  

“The last place we were, before that dog separated us.”  

 

Y/n didn’t understand what the man was talking about. She had a sharp pain in her head, as if her memory wanted to remind her of past events. Y/n pushed her hands against her temples, gnashing her teeth. She thought she heard screams… Wrestling noises… Her voice. Y/n had a flash, a scene lived, she was in this same room, standing in front of the large mirror, putting on a long tunic. His vision was fogged up and another flash arrived, an unknown man was in the room… The panic had just devoured her, she saw herself defending herself, screaming for help… Screaming a name… only one. Y/n saw herself stabbed and lost her blood. She was told the same name one last time.  

 

“Daemon…”  

 

This pain in the head faded slowly, a deep sadness invaded him, how was it possible? When she opened her eyes, she could see that the man with the silver hair had come closer to her.  

 

“I should never have let them take your life so easily.”  

“How come… His memories are not mine…”  

“They are, jorrāelagon, just another life, but you are by my side, you have felt my call. I will never let them take you.”  

 

 

Daemon put his right hand on the young woman’s cheek. She felt the cold emanating from his hand, which made her shudder.  

 

 

“Nothing is stopping me now.” 

In front of her, Y/n saw the walls change shape, the Targaryen prince, had the color of his skin change, turning blue, his purplish eyes became a supernatural blue.  

 

Little horns that seemed to be a mixture of flesh and ice formed on the top of his head, his silver hair turning to a snow white.  

 

Daemon showed him what he had become, whispering to him not to be afraid of him, his lips were moving and in his voice she heard a small noise, like ice. If that voice was gloomy, part of it wasn’t afraid.  

 

Y/n felt even more alive, a part of her was found. She knew the night king wouldn’t hurt her. No. Never. This look of an ice blue, seemed almost sweet to her, it was Daemon’s words that made her understand that she was finally where she should be  

 

"My queen."  

 

---  

 

At Winterfell, the atmosphere was not at the meeting, the night persisted, the crops were no longer growing and dying for lack of sun and the bitter cold, fortunately the fort had food to hold a siege of several months. But if the night did not leave room for the day, famine was assured and their chances of escaping were very slim.  

 

All were on their guard, they no longer slept normally, their internal clock being biased by the perpetual night. Paranoia grew, although Y/N joined the army of the dead, it had not moved away from the ramparts. Everyone forgot that in the south, another war was waiting for them if Cersei did not decide to join them as an ally, if they did not survive in the north, then the south was lost.  

 

The sound of a crow echoed outside Winterfell, this sound seemed almost herald of good news, as the bird came from the south. 

A maester picked up the raven, taking the message he was carrying to Jon Snow. The king of the north was in the great hall of the castle of Winterfell, Daenerys seated in front of him raised his head towards the maester.  

 

 

“A raven from the south has just arrived my king.”  

 

 

Jon advanced in the direction of the maester, took the message and read it. He shrunk when reading the message.  

 

 

“Cersei has made the decision to withdraw his armed forces to King’s Landing. We will have no reinforcements.”  

 

 

Jon ragged parchment, desperate for such news. It meant two things, either she thought they were all dead and she was preparing King’s Landing for the Walker army or she was preparing to finish any survivors. Without allies and not knowing the enemy’s positions, Jon tried to keep morale, he watched Daenerys. They still had two dragons, Melisandre had arrived shortly before receiving the message from the south. They always had a chance to win even if they were thin.  

 

---  

 

Tormund stood on the fort’s ramparts when a faint, frightening noise echoed in the silence of the night. This sound sounded like the croaking of a great raven, staring at the darkness, watching for the slightest movement that might trigger this battle, which seemed to them all to be inevitable. The croa stopped for a few seconds, before a bigger croak echoes, a form breaks away from the darkness, rushing straight at it. A large raven flew towards Winterfell. He passed a few centimeters from the face of Tormund, spanking him. 

The bird circled around the inner courtyard of the fort, making frightful noises. In a few moments the bird was shot by an archer posted on the ramparts. The bird touched the wing and fell heavily on the ground, but continued to croak. A servant approached and saw that the bird was partially dislodged, one eye had gone out of its orbit and the other was hanging blue. The raven was finished with a dragonglass blade. A parchment was found at the level of what was his legs. The servant took the message and went towards the great hall. A message from the dead was something no one thought possible.  

 

---  

 

Daenerys read the parchment several times. Y/n seemed to be alive, she was both relieved but at the same time most worried. How long was she gonna be alive?  

 

In the parchment, Y/n asked the Targaryen to flee Westeros while this was still possible. She begged him to go to Essos and take with her as many people as possible. The attack was imminent and his king would have no mercy.  

 

Daenerys was ranting while reading her friend’s words, she was loyal and never would she have chosen to take a stand for the dead. She was his queen. Hers! Jon tried to bring reason to Daenerys, that was their chance to negotiate. But his queen refused. Daenerys began to write on another piece of parchment frantically. With a quick step, she went in the direction of the aviary, ordering a servant to send her message by raven in the direction of the north. The servant was hesitant, but Daenerys’s tone of voice made him understand that he would not have the right to refuse. The raven flew only about ten seconds. His cry died in the darkness, a hundred metres from the ramparts. The guards shivered. The dead were much closer than they thought.  

 

---  

Three long horns echoed in the night. The Dothraki, in the saddle, were the first defences of the city, followed by unsullied. Mélisande using an incantation lit up the blades of the warriors, illuminating the future battlefield.  

 

No one really had time to understand what was happening to them. Darkness surrounded them, horses were put on the ground while warriors were put down. One after the other, they fell. The few survivors who were the furthest away fled towards the fort, horses without their riders turned back, while several warriors fled running for their survival.  

 

Grey Worm, at the head of the unsullied saw the Dothraki return, cries of terror ran through them. He ordered his troops to stand in a defensive position, throwing by hand. The darkness was moving in their directions, carrying such cold air, that what he had experienced at Winterfell made him think of a sunny day. The first bone grunts echoed. Thinking one last time of Missandei who was in the catacombs of the fort, near the women and children. He tightened his spear. Ready to fight.  

 

---  

 

Fighting raged outside the fort, both armies had suffered losses, but it was not enough to stop the dead. 

Grey Worm, surrounded by his soldiers, defended the ramparts, but with each death two others came to replace him, like a hydra. He could hear knights and warriors from the north screaming for help, others dying, or some asking for help from the gods or their mothers. His heart was beating so fast that he could have come out of his chest, never had they been prepared for such a battle. From the dead, some bodies were in very bad conditions, these were the easiest to beat. But the children were the most deceitful and quick. He had lost several friends to his enemies.  

 

Round by round, flames of a red effervescent fall from the sky towards the darkness. Jon on the back of Rhaegon came to the aid. Daenerys on Drogon burned the other side of the ramparts. The army of the dead surrounded the fort. But their helpers were able to give respite to the warriors on the ground.  

 

Rhaegon howled, some warriors raised their eyes in his direction. The dragon had flames coming out of its side, it screamed twice before collapsing on the ground two meters from the great gate of the fort. The dead and the living who did not have time to escape were soiled by the dragon’s corpse. A spear had been thrown from the darkness, leaving Rhaegon no chance.  

 

Daenerys landing on Drogon’s back, seen are second «son» dying before his eyes. Drogon howled and prepared to rise. A tremor made Daenerys aware of the events, a grunt made her look to her left. The claws of hind legs ran down on her and Drogon. He no longer defended himself. Viseryon caught Drogon, tired him of his claws. Drogon was struggling, trying to bite Viseryon, flapping his wings to make a contrary grow. It was with a severe laceration on his left thigh that he managed to free himself, failing to make his mother fall in the action. 

Drogon flew into the sky, trying to get past the clouds. Taking advantage of this moment, Daemon rode Viseryon melted on the fort, burning blue flames, all in its path. Part of the eastern ramparts had just fallen into the blast. Daemon knew that his greatest ally was darkness. He could see what was going on. He could see where Drogon was.  

 

On earth, the fighting continued. Under the breath of Viseryon, part of the archès and warrior posting on the ramparts had died blowing by the infernal heat of the blue fire. The explosion of the wall threw many warriors, Arya who was in the compound of the fort seen men die before his eyes. Some dying from burns, which had not vaporized them.  

 

She was trying to focus on her mission. Helping her family survive the attack. Killing most walker present. So we can get revenge on Cersei. A new roar made her look in the sky, Viseryon was flying towards the fort, she started running, trying to avoid the new flame attack.  

 

The power of the explosion of the northern ramparts threw Arya into the air. In the meantime, she lost consciousness.  

 

---  

 

In the air, the fight was not the easiest for Daenerys. She had fought only weapons on the ground, the airs that they thought were her element, were much more dangerous. Daemon having fought more than once on Caraxes and having fought Vhaegar, knew several techniques to bring down and shoot down a dragon and its dragon tree. He thought that this would happen easily, it was without counting on the deceit of Drogon, who to save his mother was ready for anything. Until he rushes with all his weight against his opponent, destabilizing Daemon, forcing Rhaegon to spit on the ground. 

The night king unleashed Rhaegon, moving to avoid being crushed by the undead dragon. He looked around him, several weapons of walkers and living lay on the ground. Crackles made him turn, he saw Jon brandishing Longclaw there, so he had survived, he found in this young Snow a good opponent, he owed him that.  

 

"Dracarys!"  

 

 

Daenerys had just ordered Drogon. Orange red flames coming out of the dragon’s gaping mouth, igniting all around the Night King.  

 

Jon and Daenerys feel relief when they see the fire devouring everything in its path. All? No, a dark form was beginning to appear in the heart of the flames. The night king was still there, he slowly raised his smiling head. Jon and Daenerys as well as the few fighters who had lost sight of the scene had their hopes fallen. The dragons killed everything in their passages. Fire should have triumphed over ice.  

 

Jon in a final burst of suicidal courage, raised his sword with two hands, running towards Daemon. But he was stopped in his stride. Daemon raised his arms slowly, spanking the dead who had not succumbed to the flames. They began to look at the living, waiting. The door leading to the catacombs fell, spanking several warriors, women and children fled the place, in front of them stood Sansa and Missandei holding daggers, behind the group stood Tyrion a sword in hand, at his side was a ten-year-old boy, also wielding a sword. The group fled towards the survivors, the dead in the catacombs had awakened and followed them as they walked.  

 

Did any of them know what to do, attack or flee? Would he have the chance?  

 

Bran’s voice echoed in what remained of Winterfell, Théon helped him to move from the sacred woods. 

"We must flee! This is our only chance!"  

 

Little by little the survivors began to regroup, the army of the dead let them pass. Jon seeing them flee hesitated, if he did not kill the Night King, they would have died, if it were not today that would be the next day. Bran yelled at Jon, insisting that retirement was the best solution.  

 

"How can I believe he won’t attack us in the back?"  

“She’s connected to the Night King, he won’t attack us. I saw her.”  

 

Jon had learned not to question Bran’s gifts, but he remained puzzled, seeing the number of wounded dead, Daenerys clinging to Drogon who was wounded, Sansa reunited with Arya who was wounded, the cries of the children. Jon understood that he had to listen to his brother. And so he did.  

 

---  

 

The march of the living lasted a little more than a month, many of the wounded too seriously had died en route, they were not abandoned each being placed on a funeral pyre. But they finally reached the level of King’s Landing, the last great city before Dorne, not to fall.  

 

Cersei, seeing the eternal night advance, realized that the north had not stood. Worried for her own safety, she had considered fleeing Westeros, but her pride made her stop her project, her and Jaime’s return which miraculously (or more informally, with the help of Lady Brienne) had survived. His brother had managed to enter the city, fortunately he knew the said city very well and a good part of its passages. Jaime tried to persuade her to help the people coming from the north.  

 

"Cersei, for all the love I have for you, I beg you at least let the women and children take refuge in the city."  

"To end up stabbed in the back?"  

"If you do not help us we all die!" 

Jaime was angry with her sister, how could she be so selfish in the face of the misery that lay before her?  

 

Heavy clouds crossed the sky, covering the sky for several minutes. Cersei looked through the large windows.  

 

“It’s too late.”  

 

 

---  

 

The children and babies were crying in the sore arms of their mothers, Tyrion was talking to several commanders of the army of Cersei, he had met several of them during the battle against Stannis, he was trying to persuade them to bring in all the people who couldn’t fight. For long hours Tyrion argued that the north would have agreed to protect their wives and children by their honours.  

 

The cold became more and more biting, away from the group of survivors, Bran was installed in a makeshift wagon. Théon looked after him, and Sansa. For more than two weeks he had been trying to get back in touch with Y/n. But at every attempt, Daemon was there standing by his side. It had become dangerous for him to contact her but he still tried.  

 

Jon was looking away at his brother, the events of his last years had been most complicated and cruel and fate seemed to be picking on them more and more. Arya was standing by his side, she had been injured during the capture of Winterfell, but had recovered. They were all on guard, the war was not over. Not without the defeat of the Night King.  

 

That’s not counting Daemon’s plans.  

 

A violent gust of wind carried large quantities of snow, a heavy rumble was heard. People living in King’s Landing get out of their home, looking up, wondering what was going on. 

A blue fire crossed the sky, the mothers took their children in their arms, the men in front of their wives and/or children, others gathered. Suddenly, the ground trembled, a big boom appeared! Everyone began to panic. Smoke rose in the air, from the northern walls of the city. All fled, trying to take refuge in their homes or businesses. Outside the walls, warriors escorted the women and children back into the city through the ruins of the walls.  

 

Daenerys tried to persuade Drogon to steal, but he refused. Prefer to stay back, observe his brothers stolen in the sky, which did not prevent him from spitting fire on any walker who came too close to his mother. Sir Jorah and Missandei stood by their side, ready to protect each other.  

 

In the distance, anyone outside the city could see the army clearly for the first time. Hordes of living death would run from the darkness. Giants walked, horses rode the most powerful walkers, live bears, the vision of spiders made them shudder. They were the size of a large dog (German doge type).  

 

The final battle had just begun.  

 

---  

 

Y/n surrounded by Daemon’s army watched the scene in front of her. Théon took Bran and Sansa to the city, knights protecting them at the cost of their lives. Mélisande, who was still alive, ignited any allied weapons passing near her. Knights of Cersei would flee the battlefield leaving the northern warriors, Dothraki and unsullied still alive, fighting, accompanied by the rare knights in the colors of the Lannister brave enough to fight. 

Y/n walked slowly towards the city. She could hear the cries of Drogon, looking towards him, she saw Daenerys, Jorah and Missandei being surrounded. A pinch came to her heart. She was so sorry for her friends, but she knew Daemon’s plans and all this had to happen.  

 

The further Y/n went, the more the smells became foul. It was a smell of burning, charred flesh, dust, metal and blood, in large quantities. The snow fell and began to cover the ground, hiding in places pieces of bodies torn off or cut off from their bodies. The snow took on red colors, and charcoal depending on where it fell.  

 

The walkers did not spank her, protecting her even when swords or spears approached her too close.  

 

She looked one last time towards her queen, murmuring.  

 

“I am so sorry.”  

 

---  

 

The city was in ruins. Houses collapsed, blue flames crossed the city. The grunts of Vysereon and Rhaegon Came from the Red Keep, the blue flames had just started to ravage the castle.  

 

Around her, women holding their children and babies in their arms tried to protect them, while the dead approached them. Having no mercy at all.  

 

Y/n seen in the distance Tormund, Brienne and Jon trying to kill the dead around them, Potrick stood a little further, he and Gendry fighting together the horde of death.  

 

It was with a heavy heart that she saw all her horror scenes, a deep feeling of sadness overwhelmed her. But she kept moving, Daemon wanted her to be at the Red Keep when he won. 

The towers of the castle had collapsed, the roofs were burning. Y/n had just stopped in front of the collapsed doors of the castle. Sighing, she began to enter, flashes came to her in memory. She knew her places, each corridor seemed familiar to her, instead of the lion symbols she saw symbols of a trisepal dragon, instead of the servants trying to escape she saw other people, more serene. Instinctively, she knew which hallway to take, which staircase to climb.  

 

Vyserion’s heavy grunting made her understand that she was close to Daemon.  

 

Passing the shaky doors of the throne room. She saw that the upper part no longer existed. Blocks of stone were laid on the ground, the pillars had shattered on their tops, and the flow of glass ran through much of the room.  

 

Daemon was in front of the throne where Cersei was sitting, Jaime was in front of her, his sword in her left hand. Viseryon ignited a gigantic man, which startled him, a moan from Cersei’s mouth as Jaime tried to stand in front of her to protect her.  

 

Walker’s «leaders» began to move towards the throne, Jaime did not let himself be fooled. One of the walkers grabbed Jaime by the pass and projected him into the room freeing the passage for Daemon towards Cersei.  

 

Y/n had approached Daemon, one meter from the throne markets.  

 

Daemon advanced, pulling his sword out of his scabbard, Vyserion had gone back, helping Rhaegon to ravage the city.  

 

A noise made Y/n listen, the rubble seemed to have moved, a slight gust of wind put her even more on guard.  

 

In a few seconds, Arya appeared behind Daemon, who turned to catch him, Arya dropped his dagger ready to recover it with his other hand. But couldn’t do it. 

A blade pierced Arya’s head, piercing her eye. The tip of the blade in the direction of Daemon. He released the young felle to see his sweet Y/n splatter with blood. Breathing rampaged. His hands trembled. The king wanted to approach her but was restrained by the noise of Cersei trying to escape. The «leaders» walker the restraint, preventing him from fleeing the destiny that Daemon had chosen for him.  

---    

In a few hours, Cersei was thrown from the ruins of the castle, Jaime was also brought to this fateful fate. The few fighters were less and less noisy. The boats that had left the sea were chased by Rhaegon.  

Daemon looked Y/n before turning towards the iron throne.  

Its under the cries of the last survivors, the collapsed houses still standing. Let Daemon sit slowly on the throne, savoring every moment of this moment. The war of the succession of the seven crowns had killed many of the descendants of his enemies. His vengeance was slow and calculated.  

Daemon raised his hand in the direction of his queen inviting him to approach him. Y/n climbed the few steps separating her from her king.  

Daemon made her sit on one of his legs, a hand resting on the hips of his beloved.  

In front of them, King’s Landing was on fire, from the strangest blue coming from a dragon, snow falling in fine powder on the ruins of the castle as well as in the throne room. Daemon had everything he needed. There was no need to transform her queen so that she could live by her side, on her equal, ruling over the dead. Forever.  

Translation:  

My love / Issa jorrāelagon  

Tag list: 

@avalyaaa @noodle81937

@praline357

@thestartitaness

@applepie02