#i refuse to choose between two kings

[dragons-and-handcuffs]

Aegon Targaryen x Targ!wife!reader

Summary: The aftermath of prince Jaehaerys' death

A whole day has passed since your son was murdered right in front of your eyes. A whole day has passed since you were forced to choose between the death of your son, the heir, or the death of all your children. And only a few hours have passed since the public parade of your poor son's body before the funeral. Aegon is devastated and heartbroken, blaming himself for not being there to protect you and his son. He didn't have the heart to talk to you, let alone meet your eyes. He could only imagine the unbearable pain you are going through. All he could do is punish the ones who murdered your son and declare war. 

Aegon didn't bother to wipe the splatters of blood from his face as he exited the jail cell after bashing the head of one of the men who killed his heir. Hours before dying the man also informed that his partner for the murder was a rat catcher who worked in the palace. By Aegon orders now all the rat catchers in the city hang dead around the castle walls. With both the murderers dead, it still isn't enough to take the excruciating pain away from you and Aegon. 

“Your grace, I am worried about the queen,” Your most trusted and loyal handmaiden voiced her concerns to the king. “She hasn't eaten anything since last night and…and she refuses to leave the nursery.”

Aegon couldn't look more defeated. He just gave her a nod and walked away, ordering the others to not follow him. He didn't have the heart to face you but he is somehow pushing himself to go to you. He dreaded every step he took towards the nursery. He only went there once last night after the murder and the horrifying scene was still fresh in his mind, and to think that you are currently in that room mourning your son destroyed his heart even further. 

The door was slightly open, Aegon could see the candle light through the cracks. There were no guards near the door. His hands were shaking when he pushed open the door. 

You didn't hear your husband come in. In fact, you have been feeling numb since the moment you lost your first born. Constant tears running down your face as you hugged your son's favorite blanket which you made for him with your own hands. 

Aegon could see you are still in the black dress which you were forced to wear for the parade. He hates himself for listening to his grandfather and making you go through with the public funeral. 

He almost thought of turning back, thinking you will hate him. But he decided otherwise. 

You slightly jumped and turned around when you felt Aegon's hand on your shoulder, thinking the murderer came back. The terrified look in your face broke his heart. 

“Our son…our son is…” You broke down in tears once again. Aegon reached out to you at the same time you reached out to him, not caring about the blood on him. “He is dead, Aegon. Our son is dead.”

You both cried in each other's arms. Only you two can understand each other right now, only you two can understand the pain. 

“I want them dead,” You broke the hug and looked at your husband, tears still rolling down both of your faces. “I want them all dead. Rhaenyra, Daemon, anyone that's on their side…I want them all to meet the same fate they bestowed on our innocent son.”

Aegon nodded, feeling the same rage as you. 

“They will pay. They will all pay with their blood,” Aegon gently cupped your hand with his bloody hands. “I will rain fire on them.”

“We will rain fire on them,” You corrected him. 

Aegon nodded before pressing his forehead against yours. His hand found the blanket you are holding and immediately grasped it tightly, thinking it will disappear just like his son. His thumb gently felt the soft material. He remembered how happy the prince was when you tucked him under the blanket for the first time. He remembered how the prince talked about sharing the blanket with his dragon once it hatched from the egg. The memories only brought tears. 

The next morning you were nowhere to be found. Aegon was panicking and so were anyone who cared about you or were scared of Aegon's rage. 

Aegon panicked even more when a guard came running and informed him that he saw you in full armor early in the morning  and that you left with your dragon. No one knew where you went. 

Soon news came that six Velaryon ships were burned to ashes and no one was left alive. Aegon knew it was you. It's your rage. It's the beginning of the revenge. 

The small council was not pleased by your actions, especially Otto Hightower, and when the hand voiced his disappointments Aegon immediately removed him from his position and from the council. 

All Aegon could do was either wait for you to come home or join you with his dragon. He chose the latter. There is no way he will let you avenge your son alone. 

[number1mingyustan]

Up To You ☾

boyfriend!wonwoo x virgin!fem!reader

Warnings: established relationship, explicit smut, kissing, cursing, fingering (f.), oral (m.), brief handjob, cum swallowing, mild praise kink, mentions of virginity loss, this is so dirty yet so cute, oc is confused and horny

Summary: up to you - nct dream & prettymuch

Word Count: 3k

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(a/n: he’s so bf i can’t)

"Stop it!" You scream, giggling out loud as your eyes remain fixated on the colorful screen in front of you.

"I'm not doing anything baby," Wonwoo smirks.

You huff out in frustration as you hold the Wii remote in your hand. Your boyfriend has hit you with another banana peel in Mario Kart and is nearing the finish line of the third and final lap.

You're no longer trailing right behind him, and two cars has already sped past you. You start driving again, rushing toward the nearest mystery box. It spins before giving you a King Speed. You spam the button, passing the two characters that sped in front of you. You're quick, but not quick enough to pass Wonwoo, who has already zipped past the finish line before you.

Your body slumps into the couch with exhaustion. He's just too good.

"One more game," You demand.

Wonwoo lets out a chuckle. "You said that two games ago."

"I mean it, one more game and I'm gonna win. One more."

Wonwoo shrugs, refusing to wipe the smirk off his face before selecting 'New Game' on the screen. He leans back against the couch and reselects his favorite character, Toad. You choose Toadette and a pink motorcycle. Your glider and wheels match in the same bright shade of pink. He even lets you choose the map just to "give you an advantage."

The screen counts down from three and both your characters start racing across the screen, leaving behind all the NPCs as you focus on the race between the two of you.

As expected, you're no match for him the second his character touches his first mystery box. With each passing lap, the distance between your characters on the mini-map grows further.

You throw out red shells, skillfully aiming the green ones, and the person in ninth place even throws a blue shell at some point during the race. But he holds his spot in first place nonetheless.

As expected, he wins, ranking himself first and you second. He leans back into the couch with the same stupid smirk plastered on his face.

"You cheated!" You exclaim, hitting him playfully.

"This isn't even the kind of game you can cheat in baby, either you got it or you don't.

"Not fair," You mumble, childishly dropping the controller onto the couch.

"Aw don't be a sore loser," He grins. "You almost beat me a few games ago."

You ignore him, pouting harder and crossing your arms.

He leans over, holding you by the sides and begins tickling you. You can't help but react, squirming in his arms and laughing. "Stop!"

He doesn't let up and you continue squirming in his arms. You climb on top of him, pinning him down and interlocking your fingers with his. "You've made your point," You say breathlessly.

"Sure you're not mad at me anymore?" He grins, pushing his hands against yours lightly.

You chew the inside of your lip, eyes looking up and to the side as you contemplate. "Mostly."

His hands unlock from yours and rub up and down your sides lightly. He tilts his head up, allowing his soft lips to meet yours. The kiss is slow and sensual, reflective of the intimate position the two of you are currently in. He can feel himself growing hard beneath the fabric of his sweatpants in the intimate position. "Want me to make it up to you?"

Your lips curve up at the sound of his words. "Only if you do what I say.

He sits up, holding you securely on his lap.

"What is it that you want baby? Tell me," He whispers against the shell of your ear.

It's a bold question, not that you mind it. But it's still pretty early in your relationship and you and Wonwoo are still taking things fairly slowly. It's been a few months, but you haven't had sex yet.

You've gone further than kissing a few times, but things have remained relatively innocent between the two of you. Touching beneath the belt wasn't off the table, but it certainly was a new thing in your relationship and it didn't happen often. He's usually more hesitant about being suggestive around you since you're still a virgin and he doesn't want to rush anything.

Nonetheless, your body goes warm at his suggestive tone. You feel yourself throb and shift yourself on his lap. The little bit of friction causes a soft moan to slip from your lips.

"I want you to make me cum," You whine. Your voice is quiet but filled with desperation.

He's holding himself together, but his head is spinning. His heart starts beating faster as anticipation runs through his veins. There's a small wet patch forming on your panties and he can feel it pressed against his hard cock.

"You want my fingers?" Wonwoo asks.

You nod in response to his question eagerly. His cock twitches beneath you knowing that you want him, need him. You look up at him with round eyes. They're so innocent yet filled with lust and desperation.

His thoughts are flooded with you. You're always on his mind, to tell the truth. But you're clouding his mind even more and making his head spin. You have such a strong effect on him.

He lifts your hips up, pulling your white cotton panties off and tossing them onto the living room floor. You bring your bare crotch back down onto his lap, one of his oversized jerseys covering your body

Silently, you guide his hand into your mouth, sucking on his fingers and making them wet. His breath catches in his throat as you suck on his fingers.

He turns you around on his lap, pressing your back onto his chest. He holds you still with one of his arms wrapped around your frame.

He wastes no time plunging his soaked fingers into you. His digits slip into your folds easily, curving up deep into you. Your back leans further into his chest. His broad frame supports you from behind and his cock twitches in the fabric of his sweatpants.

"Ah fuck–" You gasp, moaning out.

Your back arches as his fingers stretch your cunt.

"Motherfucker–" He groans lowly.

He withdraws his fingers slowly from your folds. You whine and shift uncomfortably in his lap. You can't see, but his brings his fingers to his lips. He spits onto them, lubricating his fingers more. It drives you crazy. He really didn't need to, not with the way you're soaking his fingers and sweatpants already. But there's something so lewd, so filthy about it. It's turning you on so much.

A smack lands on your cunt as his damp fingers return to where you need him. You shift in his lap again, brushing against his hard cock. He slips his fingers back into your wet cunt, this time thrusting his fingers into you faster than before.

He's restless, curving his fingers perfectly and sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. You let out a squeal, resting your head back against his shoulder as your back arches.

You gasp for breath, moans getting caught in your throat as he fingers you. The squelch of your cunt fills the living room. It's filthy, and you fucking love it. Your eyes roll back and you cry out when his fingers press against your g-spot.

"You still with me gorgeous?" He asks.

"Hah– mhm," You nod.

Your body tenses in his lap as your hips roll into his fingers to their own rhythm. You struggle to control your body, overwhelmed with pleasure and rapidly chasing your approaching high.

He hums in satisfaction. "Gonna give you want you want now." He mumbles against the shell of your ear.

He doesn't need a response to know how badly you want this. His fingers pick up in pace, continuing to brush against the sweet spot inside of you.

A groan escapes his lips as you continue rolling your hips against his fingers desperately. He wants to ruin you, so badly. The sight of you in his lap right now is sending his mind racing. The thoughts clouding his mind alone could make him ruin his sweats untouched.

Your nails dig into the couch as you desperately squirm to find something to hold onto. Your eyes screw shut as you gasp for breath.

"Wonu–fuck–ah!" You groan. He places more pressure on your inner falls, wrist movements coming to a halt. He presses his fingers into your sweet spot, allowing you to continue fucking yourself on his fingers as your high has your head spinning.

You clench around his fingers tightly. You whine and cry out, vision going white as your pussy throbs around his fingers. You take a deep breath, exhaling shakily as you come down from your high.

He leans his head back against the couch and sighs. His adam's apple is prominent and he uses his middle and ring finger to push his glasses up on his nose.

You climb off his lap, face growing hot when you see the wet stain on his grey sweats. "Sorry," You apologize.

He looks down, eyes drifting to where yours seem to be focused on. He lets out a breathy chuckle. " 'S okay baby, I don't mind."

He leaves a playful smack on your butt as you walk away toward the bathroom. He adjusts himself in his sweatpants, thoughts of you still flooding his mind.

You enter the bathroom, closing it behind you. You clean yourself up, but the sight and feeling of his hard cock flood your thoughts. You'd be lying if you said he didn't satisfy you, but you're still undeniably horny. You splash your face with some cool water to distract your mind.

You make your way back to the living room, sitting next to him on the couch. He pulls you back onto his lap comfortably and changes the tv setting from the Wii to Disney +.

He scrolls mindlessly through the options. "You hungry? I was thinking we could order in."

You're having an even harder time focusing now. He's still sprouting a semi beneath you

"I wanna return the favor, Wonu," You blurt.

"I was thinking Thai–oh," Wonwoo clears his throat.

He shakes his head and presses a kiss on your cheek from behind. "It's okay baby, you don't have to worry about me."

"No I want to," You admit. "I'm still horny, and I wanna make you feel good too. Please?"

He's having an internal battle with himself. It feels like things are moving a little quickly, but who is he to deny you? Especially when you're in his lap practically begging him.

He licks his lips slowly, contemplating a response. Thoughts of you have been clouding his mind doing exactly this and he can't help but be selfish and indulge.

"Fuck... okay," He agrees.

You tug at his sweatpants excitedly. You lifts your hips, pulling his underwear and sweats down to his knees in one movement. You sit back down on his thighs, eyes fixated on his dick.

He's only sprouting a semi, not nearly as hard as when he was fingering you early. No biggie.

You tilt your head down, spit falling down onto his cock from your mouth. You start stroking him. He's big and heavy in your hand, it's a little intimidating at first.

But you adjust quickly, finding a steady rhythm. You feel him breathe out in relief at the feeling of your hand. You feel a newfound sense of confidence build inside of you.

Your hand runs along his length, feeling the thick veins on his cock. You can feel the way he grows in your hand, twitching as it rises to full length and hardness.

The tip is flushed pink and dribbles out precum. He lets out a soft curse.

You couldn't help but let your mind imagine how it would feel inside of you. You knew you weren't ready for it yet, but you couldn't help but imagine it. If it was anything like his fingers earlier, you could most certainly consider the possibility of taking your relationship to the next level.

Although, you know it'll hurt. Wonwoo is big, incomparable with his fingers. You know he'd take good care of you, do everything in his power to ease the pain and make you feel good.

His hips jerk when you swipe your thumb across the sensitive tip. He spurts more precum and groans at the sensation. You're practically drooling at the sight of him.

Wonwoo is never this reactive. He's always been more of the calm stoic type. But you're bringing out another side of him, and it's turning you on like crazy.

"Wanna suck it," You breathe out.

Wonwoo tilts his head back into the couch. His hand covers his face as he holds himself back. "Holy fuck..." He breathes out shakily.

You climb off his lap, dropping down to your knees.

"Take your time... Don't wanna hurt you–ah" He moans.

You open your mouth, wrapping your lips around his cock. You taste the precum on your tongue, swiping it across his sensitive tip. He holds himself back from thrusting his cock all the day down your throat. He grips the couch tightly, sinking deeper into the leather beneath him.

He's trying so hard to be a good guy and do the right thing. But fuck, you're making it so hard. He doesn't wanna give you more than you can handle, but the sight of you right now makes him want to ruin you.

Your hand doesn't leave his cock, continuing to stroke him as you take the tip into your mouth. You start off bobbing your head slowly, running your tongue along the bottom side of his length.

He groans, gathering your hair into a makeshift ponytail and helps to guide your head. You're careful not to let your teeth drag, focusing on making sure he feels good.

"Fuck, gorgeous," He groans. "What are you doing to me?"

His words shoot straight to your core. You press your thighs together and take his words as encouragement. You take more of his length down your throat, allowing his tip to touch the back of your throat.

"Holy shit–" He moans. "You're so good, fuck ah–"

He grips the leather of the couch harder, digging his nails into the material to restrain himself from fucking your throat. He gasps and moans, allowing a few curses to slip from his lips.

You continue stroking him, taking more of his into your mouth. You bob your head a little faster, saliva thoroughly coating his length. His tip continues to touch the back of your throat, causing you to gag and tear up.

You stop for a moment, coughing as you wipe your tears and catch your breathe.

"You good?" He asks.

You nod. "I'm good."

"Take your time baby," He coos. "Don't need to rush it."

You nod again before taking him back into your mouth.

You pace yourself, starting slow and progressively growing quicker and more confident with your moves. He guides you using the makeshift ponytail, making sure you don't get ahead of yourself again.

Your other hand cups his balls, making him let out a throaty groan. His cock twitches and throbs in your mouth and hand. "I'm close, baby" He warns you.

You remain steady in your movements, prioritizing his pleasure. His cock throbs once more before his body jerks. "Oh shit–"

He lifts your head off of his cock with your hair and grabs his cock with his other hand. He strokes himself to finish, shooting his load into your mouth. Even overwhelmed with pleasure, he doesn't spurt any of it onto your face.

He groans once more as he comes down from his high. He lets out a breath. "You can spit it, don't feel pressured to–"

Before he can finish his sentence, you swallow his load with ease. His cock twitches at the sight, but he prioritizes you. He dresses himself properly and lifts you back onto his lap. You face him, resting your head on his chest.

He holds you securely, rubbing his hands along your back softly.

"Was that okay?" He asks, continuing to draw circles on your back.

You nod. "Yeah, I'm okay."

He looks down at you, seeing you nibble on your bottom lip pensively.

"You sure?"

You nod hesitantly.

He can tell there's still something on your mind. You've just got that look on your face.

"What's bothering you?" He asks.

You shake your head, burying your head in his chest. He lifts your head, softening his tone with you. "Hey, talk to me."

You frown. "I don't know.... like I feel like I'm ready, but at the same time I'm not sure."

"To have sex?" He asks.

You nod. "I don't know if I'm just getting ahead of myself or if it's really what I want. I'm just a little scared, but I think I want to."

"I get it, but we won't do it unless you're 100% sure. I don't wanna jump into anything prematurely and have regrets. Doesn't matter how much you're on the fence, it won't happen unless you're in it 100%. You hear me?"

You nod. "Thank you Wonwoo, you're the best."

He kisses your cheek. "Just for you."

"I think I'm just overthinking it cuz I'm still horny," You confess.

He leans back into the couch and lets out a breathy chuckle. "Shit Y/n, you're insatiable."

You grin. "Just for you."

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© number1mingyustan - Do not repost without permission.

[vaokses]

How long this love can hold its breath

Series Masterlist / General Masterlist

Pairing: Aegon x Rhaenyra's Daughter!Reader

Summary: It has been years since your mother took you from King's Landing to join her in Dragonstone. Years since you and Aegon have seen one another. Years in which he has refused, time and time again, to marry, even as you tour Westeros meeting suitors in search of a husband of your choosing. That refusal can easily be undone with a few words: it was you she chose, Aegon.

Word Count: 3.1k 

Warnings: Alicent's abuse of Aegon. Alcohol/drunkenness. Mentions of sex/prostitution. Usual Targaryen incest stuff. Arranged marriage stuff. Angst. Hurt and kind of no comfort for now.

Some AU/Setting stuff: Reader is a bastard of Daemyra (claimed by Laenor of course), firstborn child of Rhaenyra and heir to her mother's claim. She rides Vermithor. As you'll figure out thorugh this one shot, she and Aegon had a thing when she was still in King's Landing. How relevant or impactful that 'thing' was depends on who of the two you ask. I've stretched the timeline a bit. Rhaenyra spent a few years more in King's Landing (making Aegon around 16/7 when she leaves, and the Reader, the eldest of the Velaryons, around 14/5). Instead of six years in Dragonstone, the Blacks have spent around three there in this story. Viserys still lives (and is rotting slightly slower), Aegon and Helaena did not marry.

A/N: My first work in this fandom, so i'm a bit nervous. This is a bit of a prologue/alternate PoV for a series I have in the works, but I wanted to share it as a one shot since I think it also works as one. I hope you like this!

Title is from the quote "I've hoarded your name in my mouth for months. My throat is a beehive pitched in the river. Look! Look how long this love can hold its breath." - Sierra DeMulder

It feels as if he has just rested his head on his pillow when he hears the heavy doors being pushed open, and the familiar hurried steps of his mother as she enters his apartments. 

He isn’t sure why he bothers by now in telling the guards not to let her in, since she insists on overruling his orders whenever she wishes. 

Still half-asleep, Aegon reaches for the bedsheet covering his body, wary of any attempt she might make in her anger to pull it off him. Surprisingly, his mother stops a few steps away from the foot of the bed. 

Aegon feels her piercing gaze on him, and aware the choice is between caving and chasing after her, asking her what it is she wants; or waiting for the anger at his unwillingness to follow the unspoken command -and the thrown object, or the stinging hit, that comes after said anger-; he drags his hands over his face in an effort to wake himself further and asks,  

“What is it, mother?” 

“Where in the Father’s name were you? Three days, Aegon,” He winces at the reprimand. In his defense, he truly didn’t think they’d notice. Helaena would, perhaps, but she wouldn’t seek him out either way. “You were gone for three days.” 

“I wasn’t…far. I didn’t even leave King’s Landing.” 

She starts letting out a sigh, laced with disappointment and annoyance, but stops herself short, instead turning her back to him and pacing a few steps away. 

“I know where it is you go to…to satiate your vices, caring not for the shame it brings to your name and mine, behaving most unlike your station.” 

“Then why did you ask?” 

His mother won’t turn to look at him, her back turned to him and her hands joined in front of her. 

“Your sister was here.” 

His brow furrows in confusion. 

“My sister is always here.” 

“Rhaenyra was here, Aegon.” 

“Oh. What for?” 

Alicent turns on her side, considers him with eyes widened in afront and mouth curled in disgust. The question leaves her lips slowly, a threat and a dare all at once. 

“Are you still drunk?” 

He mulls over the question for a few moments, and realizes his thoughts are entirely too calm for him to be already sober. The numb haziness of the night before remains, a comfort. 

“I think I might be,” He admits, eyes darting to the side and lingering on the pitcher of wine on a nearby table. He wonders if it is empty. “Slightly.” 

When it seems his mother is intent on merely staring at him in disappointment, he motions for her to turn away and gets dressed. 

He can’t help but feel unseemly, standing before his mother in rumpled clothes and disheveled hair, while she stands tall with not a strand of hair out of order, not a speck of dust on her dress. Then again, even at his best he hasn’t managed not to feel small, unsuited, by comparison. 

Instead of letting those thoughts linger, aided by the comfortable haze the wine from the previous night -or nights, rather- provides him with, Aegon moves to sit on a table in one of the darker parts of the room. 

Alicent follows quietly, but she doesn’t sit. 

“I come here with news. You are to be married, n-…” 

He shakes his head with a mocking laugh, the defiance as easy as breathing, after four years of holding the same stance. He might not have a say in much, but he does in this. 

“No, I’m not.” 

“Your father has approved of this union. As have I.” 

He shrugs his shoulders. 

“Then you are welcome to marry her yourselves. I shall hope for a long and happy marriage for you three.” 

Sometimes, perhaps in foolish hope, in some hollow fantasy, he thinks his impertinence amuses his mother. He might imagine it, he’s quite certain he does, but sometimes he swears she furrows her lips to hide the faintest of smiles. 

But of course, she shows no give, betrays not a flicker of amusement, of softness, of anything. Try as he might to earn any of them. 

“I did not come here to entertain insolence.” 

“Why did you come here, mother?” He asks, not able to reign in the restless movements of his hands, fingers tapping an irregular rhythm on the table. “My stance hasn’t changed. And it won’t.” 

The restlessness building within her is betrayed in the small movements of her hands that increase in intensity the longer she looks at him. With a sudden movement, she slams a hand on the table between them and leans closer. 

“You cannot go on like this, Aegon, shrinking your duty because of the denial of a caprice of your youth.” 

“It was the one thing I asked for. I haven’t asked for anything since, nor did I ask for anything before.” 

His mother scoffs in response, looking away. 

“And that is reason enough for your wish to be granted?” She asks, derisive, almost jeering. Alicent leans back, straightens her stance again. Not too unlike Aemond adjusting his posture to strike with his sword during training, he supposes. “You have gone through your entire life doing as you please, not considering the cost to your family, to your House, to me, and you expected to be rewarded?” 

But he has considered the cost, has had no choice but to consider it, when every choice, every action, it seems almost every thought, is heavy with the impact it might have on his name, on his family. He has considered the cost, but try as he might no choice, no action, has been enough. 

“It would have…It would have changed things. If you had said yes,” He argues, an argument repeated, in his head if not aloud, a thousand times over in these passing years. And yet restlessness builds within him regardless, and he finds himself grasping at the table to keep his hands from fidgeting. “It was the smart choice. You know father would have been for it. You could have kept Vermithor on our side, and given them no choice but to play by our rules with their daughter here. We might have won this war you want so b-…” 

“All I have wanted is to make sure your lives are not forfeit when your father dies. It is not war I want.” 

“Then why did you say no?” 

She shakes her head as she looks away again. 

“The matter is settled. Long settled.” 

“Yet you never told me why.” 

He wants to hear it. More than an apology for denying him a chance at happiness, more than an admission that beyond the feelings of any involved it was the smartest choice, more than anything, he wants to hear her tell him why. 

She didn’t even hear his reasons, she didn’t even consider proposing the union to your mother, or Viserys. She dismissed him, and denied him, without even a second thought. 

He wants to know the reason why. If it was because she knew of you something he didn’t, and was certain you would have rejected him even at the cost of your home and life as you knew it, he wants to know. If it was because she believes him so monstrous that she wished to protect even the daughter of her lifelong adversary from him, he wants to know. 

If it was because in his weakness and his failings he has made himself into something even his own mother wishes to see punished, or because there was something he did -because it had to be something he did, there cannot be so many that were supposed to love him and refuse to for it not to be something he is doing wrong, something about him that is wrong- that not only managed to make his mother’s love for him vanish, but also earned him her scorn, he wants to know. He thinks knowing that to be the truth would splinter him in a way he isn’t sure he’d be able to recover from, but he is tired, and alone, and he wants to know why. 

He searches his mother’s gaze, desperate for an answer, any answer. She looks back, and yet all that is reflected back at him is contempt, disappointment, and what he fears is disgust. 

“It has been years, Aegon. You are being senselessly stubborn, holding onto this…this grudge against me.” 

He makes a face at her words, and grabs the pitcher in the table before him only to find it empty, the only wine remaining being that still in the half-filled cup. 

“It is not a grudge, I-..”  

“Weakness, then,” She sentences, and he doesn’t bother hiding the flinch at her words. His gaze lowers to the table before him. “You’re being a fool, if you think after all this t-…” 

His eyes are set on the half-full cup of wine before him, and he doesn’t dare move his gaze as he interrupts, “I am not marrying, mother.” 

She considers him in silence, and though for a moment he thinks a hit is to come -he doesn’t usually get away with interrupting her-, followed by her footsteps leaving the room, his mother takes a deep breath and insists, 

“It is not me or your father who request this of you. It is your King who commands it.” 

“The King, or his Hand?” He retorts. He grabs at the cup and downs the remaining liquid, making a face at the taste of stale wine, and presses on, “I’m guessing a Baratheon, to earn Borros’ support? Or a Tully, to secure the Riverlands?” 

For the briefest of moments, when his mother’s lips press into a thin line, hands fidgeting where they rest joined before her, he thinks he finally got the upper hand. That he proved he isn’t as blind to their plots and their increasing panic at Rhaenyra’s influence as he may appear. That he proved her wrong, that he showed he isn’t as incompetent as they’d like to think, that he… 

“A Velaryon,” Alicent admits, and any pride, any satisfaction, die out like flames in a room without air. His lips part, he knows not for what since all that leaves them is a choked breath, the beginning of a question, of a name. Aegon searches his mother’s gaze, attempts to find any truth, any certainty, but Alicent looks away. Her next words sound as if heard from underwater. “To keep you from certain execution when your sister ascends the Iron Throne.” 

“Do not toy with me, mother,” He means for it to sound like an accusation, like a demand, like anything but a plea, and yet that is what leaves his lips. Betrayed by the waver in his voice, by the iron grip on the glass, he goes on, “She’s touring the whole of fucking Westeros in search of a husband as we speak.”  

“She has made her choice, Aegon. It was you she chose,” She promises, and her voice is low and warm and almost comforting, so why does it feel wrong? Why does it make him want to crawl out of his own skin? “As for the tour, it will continue as scheduled. Rhaenyra deserted her own tour before time was due, she knows better than to repeat her mother’s mistake.” 

Breathable air is lacking by this chair, in this room, and he stands up, wincing at the too-loud sound of the chair scraping against the ground. 

He eyes a pitcher of wine in another table, and crosses the distance with quick strides, refilling his cup and draining half of it before turning to his mother again. 

“Why tell me now? I-If the tour is to continue,” If she can still change her mind, “Why tell me now?” 

“Your grandsire and I believed you might take this opportunity to amend your behaviors,” Alicent tells him, “So you might save your future wife the embarrassment, so you might protect her honor, seeing as you do not care for ours or your own.” 

She hasn’t said your name yet, he notices.  

Neither has he, but he has forgotten when it was the last time that he said it aloud. Intentionally, that is, he doesn’t count any time he let it slip past his lips when deep in his cups or buried inside some whore with the wrong shade of silver in her hair -and the wrong eyes, and the wrong voice, and the wrong smile, and the wrong touch-. 

Aegon can’t even remember when it was that he decided he wouldn’t utter your name again, all he knows is that through the years what started out of spite, as a way to deny the wound and the absence; has become something else. It has become to him something like a secret, something to be hoarded, to be kept his alone. 

Because there’s pride, and satisfaction, and something rotten but his, in having known you in ways no other did. In remembering you how he is certain -he has to be, it is of the few things he has left- no one has known you. 

And so he doesn’t speak your name. Lest in sharing any of the warmth of a bond long gone he loses it, dying embers to a strong wind; lest in admitting old truths he is left behind also by the part of you that he keeps safe, a secret only his. 

But now in his head resonate so loudly that they drown anything else -like thunder, like the beat of Vermithor’s wings taking you far up into the sky- his mother’s words.  

It was you she chose. 

Thinking of you has always meant the resurgence of the memory of the goodbye you refused to grant him, of waking to the reverberating cry of Vermithor as he took to the skies with you on his back and flew you away to Dragonstone; or the memory of your disappointment and your sorrow as he avoided your gaze and your words when you met again in Driftmark.  

Yet now the memory that comes forth in his mind is another. 

You smiled at him, daring and entirely too proud. But how could you not be, when you both knew he would oblige? How could you not be, when he hadn’t been able to tear his gaze from your lips since you had asked him for something as simple as a kiss? And your voice was softer than he’d expected -or perhaps he remembers it softer than it was, perhaps he sees something else when desire was all there was-, warmer than it had ever been, when you whispered, I want it to be you. 

And what harm can your name do that his own mind hasn’t inflicted upon him already? What ruin can the uttering of such a familiar word bring that the memories haven’t wrought already? 

So he says your name. Willingly, rationally, for the first time in years.  

He thought the foolish refusal to utter your name aloud kept you distant, kept the memory of you, the idea of you, as something far from him, gone from him. But he realizes now, with the shape of your name parting his lips and the taste of memories staining his tongue like ash; that you have been a distant memory, a distant dream, for a very long time. 

And the knowledge that you chose him, the helpless hope that blooms somewhere in his chest, they cannot do a thing against the horrifying certainty that the future he wanted, the future he mourned, is lost to him regardless of your choices now. 

What can he give you now, that that Tyrell knight the rumors say you were so enamored with cannot? How can he not fail whatever expectations you have of him, as he has failed all others? How could you want him now, as what he has made out of himself in these years you’ve spent apart? 

It was a comfort, he realizes now, thinking you lost. The comfort of knowing he couldn’t fail you, couldn’t earn your scorn when he had merely your indifference. 

A bitter, wretched little laugh leaves his lips then, and he turns his head -to hide, perhaps, the tears brimming in his eyes, the weakness his mother so loathes to see from him- and looks out the window towards the distant skies. 

Alicent doesn’t move, merely stands taller, prouder, and presses, 

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” 

Of course, this is what he fucking wanted, but nearly four years have gone by since he asked to be allowed to marry you and was refused. Even if some part of him wants it, wants you, still, it matters not. 

It is what he wanted, before. Before everything got worse, before everything got louder, harder. Before he got worse. Before you forgot about him. 

His mother approaches him then, and though he jumps when he sees her reach for him out of the corner of his eye, she grabs onto his forearm and speaks again, forceful, determined, 

“Listen to me, Aegon. Your sister has secured her hold on the Seven Kingdoms, both through the strength of her dragons and through her eldest children’s diplomacy with the noble Houses,” His mother tells him, but he cannot hear her, not over the warring thoughts of finally, finally, finally, and too late, too late, too late. “Rhaenyra has allowed for this to happen because she wishes to extend an offer of peace, and you cannot squander this opportunity.” 

He turns to her and asks, quietly, forlorning, “Why now?” 

“What?” 

“Why now?”

Why now, that everything is worse? Why now, that he has become this? 

For a moment, a flickering moment gone in the blink of an eye, he thinks he sees sadness, sympathy, in his mother’s warm gaze. For a moment, he believes she will offer words or touch in the way she hasn’t before, in comfort or in reassurance. 

But her gaze falls from his, and her grip on his arm -too tight, almost bruising, yet wanted, needed, if it is all he can get- loosens as she lets go of him. 

“The betrothal will be announced when the tour is over. The wedding in a week’s time from then.” She tells him, detached, not unlike a messenger delivering a missive. 

And with that she leaves his apartments. The door closing echoes in his mind, and he is left behind with a loneliness he doesn’t know where to put, and a hope he doesn’t know how not to fear. 

Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it, and I would love to hear your thoughts!

I am endlessly fascinated by the greens and their deeply weird dynamics, and I hope I did them a modicum of justice, even when changed in this AU and despite the influence of fanon in my interpretations of them.

[oneeyedlove]

Ash heart.

summary | The blissful months you and Aemond shared after your secret marriage come to an abrupt end as the news of his kinslaying reach your ears.

pairing | Aemond Targaryen x niece!oc

word count | 2.8 k

note | I am new to writing and very unsure about this tbh. Also, english is not my first language so bear with me. Any thoughts are appreciated!

Find part 2 here

---

Princess Aelora Velaryon, second born child to Rhaenyra Targaryen, was perfectly aware of the divide in her family for as long as she could remember. Her mother's claim to the iron throne questioned at any opportunity, the bastardy of her and her siblings birth constantly whispered about the realm, not to mention the animosity displayed between the queen consort and the queen to be. She wasn't blind to it in any shape or form.

Nevertheless, Aelora ignored her instincts when it came to Prince Aemond. The pair held a soft spot for each other ever since they were children, the brown haired girl defending the boy from her brother's and uncle's cruel jests and him opening himself up to her like he never had before, not even to his mother. But even their childish affections couldn't stand the test that the incident brought upon them. The loss of an eye molded Aemond into a resentful man and Aelora stood by her family. Their feelings turned to ash upon a dragon's ire.

Or so was thought.

Despite years that lacked contact betwixt the two sides of House Targaryen, the arrival of Aelora and her family at King's Landing shifted a previously undisturbed passion. Aemond's heart ached in her presence but the prince disguised himself through vile insults and meaningless threats. He could never hurt her, not like she hurt him. The brown haired princess did not feel guilt for choosing her own blood over him all those years ago, after all he had said and done monstrosities she never thought her once sweet uncle capable of. But she did feel sad for him, he lost the most that night. All the anger that resided in the surface could not stand the longing she felt.

After Rhaenyra and Daemon decided it was best to reside in the Red Keep due to her grandsire's deteriorating health, Aelora and Aemond grew closer in their twisted relationship, challenging each other and throwing insults was almost a synchronized dance for the pair. Although appearances showed disdain and anger between uncle and niece, none knew that secret encounters were also their routine. Stolen kisses in dark corridors, comforting looks in public, late night adventures through flea bottom and passionate sex in empty chambers immersed their strained relationship.

The prince and princess knew their love was either destined to mending the bonds their family broke or destroying them completely. And against their better judgment, they got married in secrecy, the only witness being Haelena. They shared their vows under the moonlight in a traditional Valyrian wedding ceremony, like their ancestors. Delusional as the King was due to his illness, he was the only other family member to approve of their union, their parents and siblings confirmed their fears and voiced their disapproval loudly. Aelora's side of the family went as far as demanding her move back to Dragonstone alongside them but she denied the request.

Aemond was now her husband, her moon, her prince.

She was sure she would make peace with her parents and siblings soon, for there was no way of breaking the couple apart.

But that was before the King's death.

Before Aegon was crowned.

Before she realized she needed to choose between green and black.

...

"Aemond, issa hūra (My moon), please listen." Her pleads echoed through their chambers as her husband refused to look at her.

"I must fly to Dragonstone. I need to see my mother and make things right."

"Issa vēzos (My sun), are you aware of what your status will become if you indeed fly to meet Rhaenyra? You would come to be a traitor to the Realm. You must understand it, you would be imprisoned and killed upon your return to King's Landing." Aemond finally spoke, turning his head towards her, his eyes glistening with the light emanating from the thunderstorm outside the window.

"I would lose you." His expression was a sorrowful one as he whispered the words, as if he would conjure them to reality if he spoke clearly.

Aelora let out a long breath and walked towards him, holding onto his arms that now stood at her waist. Her gaze flickered from his chest up to his eye, tiredness emanating from the woman's form as she continued to quarrel with her husband.

"Then what must I be? We cannot refrain from participating in this war, Aemond. You have already taken your place by your brother, making yourself into one of his trusted dragon riders and ally. I am not fit to be both wife of Prince Aemond of the Greens and daughter of The Black Queen."

He placed a strand of hair behind her ear as she spoke, her words were true but he could not bear to be of opposing sides with his one true love. All they had gone through to achieve this could not have been in vain, their marriage couldn't be just another tragedy in the midst of this war, he wouldn't let it.

"My mother must know I have not betrayed her." Aelora continued her sentence frantically.

"She will not be the first to spill blood, I am certain of it. You could convince Aegon not to do so either, we can try to stop the real war before its control slips from our fingers. There must be a way to mend things."

"You are optimistic, my darling. I only wished we hadn't got this far." He said as he got closer and touched her forehead with his.

"I will do my duty as commanded by the King. I shall fly to Storm's End tonight and secure the Baratheon's allegiance to the crown, it will be my last action before we discuss our plans. I promise you, we will find a way out of this."

As she opened her eyes to look at him, anguish poured out of her gaze. Aelora's heart held such love for Aemond that she could feel it tightening at the thought of losing him, as if two ropes were tugging at it from opposite directions.

"Issi īlon vēdros naejot jorrāelagon isse se midst hen vīlībāzma? (Are we mad to love in the midst of war?)" She asked.

"Lo ziry iksos, nyke'll sagon hakossiarzy ondoso aōha paktot. Syt sir se forever. (If it is, I'll be insane by your side. For now and forever.)" With his answer, he took the sides of her head with his hands and kissed her deeply.

It was a passionate kiss, both of them holding each other close as if they would vanish at any moment. Aemond was determined not to lose the thing he held dearest to anyone nor anything in the chaos about to engulf them. No, his sun was his light, she gave him purpose, she gave him devotion, she gave him life. He would fight his way through the Seven Hells for her. He would burn the world to ash.

Certain as her lover was, Aelora dreaded the future as he broke their embrace. He lingered at the link of their hands as he made his way towards the door, but left her even so. The sound of heavy wood clanking ringed in her head, unable to suppress the growing pit inside her.

"Gods be good."

They wouldn't.

...

Aemond's return was filled with misery. His temper, his damned temper, conquered his thoughts completely and the consequences would drown him. He had killed Prince Lucerys. Her favorite brother. He ensured catastrophe over them. He broke his promise.

The prince's mind raced as he sat in the coucil room, it had been almost two hours since he told them what had transpired. Otto and Alicent spent every breath of theirs berating him whilst Aegon congratulated and rejoiced at the news. He had no care for any of their words, but he deeply feared hers. He was sure all of the qualities she bestowed upon him vanished. He was a weak man. Pathetic and evil. He should have stayed away for he never deserved her. Aelora's reaction would destroy him.

"How are we to tell her?" His mother's despair could be seen in her eyes as she spoke.

"I will." That was the only phrase the one eyed prince uttered since he disclosed the events of what had happened.

Aemond stood from his seat and walked away, ignoring the pleads for him to stay and discuss what he was to do. He had no plan to disguise his actions to his wife, she deserved better and he wouldn't pretend to be worthy of sympathy. The promise he made was shattered. Tragedy was about to struck over their marriage and he had no one to blame but himself. As he made his way through Maegor's Holdfast he could hear parts of the whispers spoken about him.

"His dragon ate him."

"Revenge for his eye."

"Kinslayer."

Standing in front of the same doors that witnessed their love from the beginning, Aemond opened them ready for the end. And yet he wasn't prepared for the sight before him.

Their chambers were wrecked. The sheets that used to embrace the couple in their cherished nights were ripped to shreds at the foot of the bed. The dressing table where she readied herself as he watched was tumbled to the side, its mirror shattered into a million pieces. The matching set of chairs and table where they used to have their meals with laughter and love were scattered across the room. The candles that allowed him to study her figure during the countless times they shared intimacies were blown out, the only light being the one emanating from the fireplace.

And there she was, on her knees as she watched the fire. Her beautiful brown locks disheveled in the braids coming undone atop her head, her golden dress was crinkled and burned at the hem. The princess held a small paper on her right hand, the other one placed on the stone floor.

She already knew.

"Aelora..." Aemond tried to speak but his words were buried by guilt.

The woman before him turned her head in an ungodly slow speed, clutching the letter in her hand until her knuckles turned white. Her eyes were puffy and red from crying, the tracks of dried tears still on her face. Yet, she displayed no sadness in her expression, only a dragon's rage.

"You." She growled, her tone making a shiver run down his spine.

"My love, ple-" He started.

Despite Aemond's efforts to plead with his beloved, he knew no words would be able to repair what he had destroyed. The once familiar pet name left a bittersweet taste in his mouth but it was nothing compared to the sourness it brought to her heart.

"Do not address me that way." Her words were low but stabbed him in the chest all the same. He watched as she got herself up from the floor, her fury burning like wildfire.

The princess could not believe what she had read in her stepfather's letter an hour ago, Daemon had to be mistaken. Her husband had promised to avoid the carnage of war, he wouldn't have been so disloyal. She knew Aemond had arrived, for she saw Vhagar flying over the Red Keep, and assumed he had been discussing Lord Borros' response with the council, but she had grown far too anxious as time passed. It had taken too long for it to be a mere coincidence. Lucerys had been killed by her husband. The man whom she loved with all her being, for whom she defied her own flesh and blood, had proven himself the beast all feared him to be. As the tears fell from her face and destruction noises flooded her senses, her love turned to ash.

"You killed him!" Aelora yelled as she strode up to him and pushed his chest back, he made no move to stop her.

"I did." He looked down at her as he spoke.

"You murdered an innocent child!" She mustered all her strength to slap him this time, her chin raising in a defying manner.

"I did."

"Have you no shame? No regret?" She pushed him to the side as she screamed, making him stumble.

Aelora could not believe him. He had broken his promise, broken her family, broken her heart and yet he found it beneath himself to explain anything to her? All the resentment and rage he harbored for Luke had been stronger than his love for her, betrayal falling upon the pair over a childish mistake. His stoic expression mirrored his soul, Aemond had no guilt to convey.

"Do your depraved actions give you pride? Do you relish in your revenge?" She shouted till her throat hurt. He couldn't do this to her, to wreck world and then leave her stranded. No, she would hurt him, she needed to.

"You disgust me. Murderer!" She spat those words as she hit his chest again, receiving no reaction from him other than his eye staring ah the darkess that consumed the chamber.

"Liar!" She pushed him again.

"Cunt" And again.

"Kinslayer!" And again.

Finally Aemond looked at her, the insult landing deeper than her other words. That was his title now. He was everything she claimed him to be and worse, a man to be hated and struck until the end of his days.

"Fight back you traitor!" She swung at him in all the ways she could to no avail, he only stared at her with his arms behind his back as they slowly moved across the room.

"Too righteous to hit a lady, are you Aemond?" Aelora stopped shouting but her voice remained as piercing as a spear.

"I could never hurt you." He answered, his breath shaking.

She could only stare at him in response, a twisted smirk and a scoff the only acknowledgment se could form. The princess scanned him with her eyes until she found his dagger at his waist. In one swift move, she grabbed the blade and threw him onto the wall, placing it on his throat.

"Hypocrisy runs deep in your blood, doesn't it? Worse than your mother, you murder Lucerys and yet claim not to maim me. You think yourself so pure, a true perfect prince of the realm. A Strong bastard's life is nothing compared to yours, is it? I should slice your neck from ear to ear and watch as life flees from your body, see if red stains your honor." She whispered whilst looking into his eye, he had no fear but sadness and regret in his expression.

The prince's death would be a mercy he longed for, the thought of life with only her hatred to call his wasn't worth living. Knowing her light was never to shine upon him again, Aemond was ready to be drowned by darkness once more. His lip trembled as he looked for words, any words, to ask her for his end.

"How could I ever had loved you?" Tears began to form in Aelora's eyes, she couldn't contain them anymore. The pain she felt in her core was almost tangible, how could a love like theirs have now become such a wound? A cut that would never heal, destined be with her forever.

"I was such a fool! To think a twisted soul like yourself would be capable of anything but wrath and violence!" She let the translucent pearls of water run down her face and threw his head against the stone wall as she ripped the side of his eyepatch with the dagger.

Aemond was in the verge of tears himself, watching as the woman he loves so deeply tear him to shreds. He could withstand any torture, suffer any injury and it would never compare to the torment of her loathing. His sapphire eye was exposed now, a drop of blood dripping from the side of his face where the blade touched his skin.

"There. Let everyone see the monster you truly are, inside and out." She backed away from him slowly, her voice trembling just as her legs did.

"Nyke jāhor va moriot jorrāelagon ao, issa vēzos. (I will always love you, my sun.)" The one eyed prince whispered as he leaned into the wall, a single teardrop fell from his eye as he accepted defeat.

With a loud thud, Aelora burst through the chamber's door, leaving Aemond behind. He fell to the ground as he cried, but he knew it wasn't over. As he heard the screech of her dragon echoing through the skies, he knew they would meet again on the battlefield, fighting for different sides. Yet there would be no need for war to ruin them, he already did.

Maybe fate had decided this would be their path all along.

For her blood was black and his was green.

[hyperfixatinator]

Where is the line?

In the comics, Tim Drake's moral code is an enigma to me, particularly his stance on the Batclan's no-kill rule. For all the fans who say he's always one step away from full blown villainy, there are even more saying he's a strict goody two-shoes who could never stoop that low.

Then there's the different takes on where Tim draws the line between these two extremes. Personally, I find that line hard to pinpoint. Digging for canon demonstrations of his morals has lead me to more questions than answers. My biggest question right now is:

What counts as breaking the no-kill rule in Tim's eyes?

Luckily, the Robins 2021 comics shed some light on this. In issue #3, "Tim", or rather an imposter of him, said that choosing not to save someone isn't the same as killing them, and that letting a villain die can be a way to get justice. Normally, this point would be moot since it's not Tim himself who said it. However, at the end of issue #6, the real Tim clarified that what the imposter said WAS his real opinion on the matter.

Not only that, but Tim has shown this belief through his thoughts and actions before. Twice.

The first time goes all the way back to Robin 1991 #5. During the fight against King Snake, Tim kicked him through a nearby window, fifty stories above the ground. As King Snake's life hung in the balance, Shiva appeared and commanded Tim to kill him.

Tim refused. He walked away, leaving King Snake entirely at Shiva's mercy.

What gets me is that Tim made no move to save King Snake from falling. And he made no effort to stop Shiva from committing the murder, either. His only thought as he heard the man's scream was "Fifty stories is a long way to fall."

The second time was in Red Robin 2009 #26. Tim orchestrated a whole plan to manipulate Captain Boomerang into getting killed by Mr. Freeze. The whole time, Tim blamed Captain Boomerang for making all those bad choices, despite Tim being the one raising the chances of them being made. Tim believed he was innocent because he wasn't directly participating.

Tim then stopped that plan, but not for any noble reason. He decided that he couldn't let anyone else kill Captain Boomerang but himself.

Tim couldn't bring himself to do that, either. So he had to spare his father's killer in the end.

This seems pretty cut and dry so far, right? Tim believing that letting villains die is alright as long he doesn't do the deed himself? I'd think so too, if there weren't other moments contradicting this.

In Robin #35, Steph insisted on leaving an enemy who got buried under the snow to die. Tim chastised her for it.

Neither of them were responsible for the snow, or for the enemy getting trapped in it. Plus, that guy tried to kill them with a chainsaw moments prior, so he's not exactly an innocent damsel in distress.

Maybe it was because this enemy wasn't a big enough fish to fry. We didn't really get confirmation that this guy has actually killed before, and he's around goon status at best.

But then in Robin #46, Tim chose to save another enemy who got himself into a deadly situation. That enemy was a murderer known as Young El. This time, Tim wasn't telling anyone else why they should save a murderer's life out loud. These were his private thoughts.

Notice how Tim's inner monologue sounded kind of on-the-fence. He contemplated justice finally catching up with Young El as the floorboards gave way, bringing a support beam down on him in the process.

However, Tim immediately switched gears to rescue Young El from under that beam before the water rose too high.

But Tim, as he told Young El the reasons he's saving him, asked himself "Do I even believe what I'm saying?" He could be asking this about two different things he said here. A) "Maybe it's not too late for you to learn something, Young El.", or B) "Death's easier for you when it's the other guy. Death's never been easy for me."

For Tim to doubt his belief in either of these statements is very interesting. He could be questioning if Young El is already too far gone for redemption, or he could be questioning if seeing someone die has never been easy for himself. For all we know, it could be both.

Unfortunately, Tim never got to see if his choice to save him would pay off. Tim wasn't strong enough to lift that beam, and Young El drowned.

There's a question on my mind as I read these pages. What makes this murderer's death different from when Tim let King Snake fall to his "death"? Sure, King Snake didn't actually die, but Tim didn't know that until later when the man came looking for revenge in Gotham.

Tim was once able to simply walk away from what he was certain would be a killer's demise. But then he's consumed by guilt over not being able to prevent a different killer's death down the line, to the point of hallucinating.

On top of that, what changed Tim's mind later? Red Robin #26 and Robins 2021 #3-6 still happened in the future. The only significant difference I can tell is that these two comics involved the killer's of Tim's parents, making it personal. But if the Imposter from Robins 2021 got his beliefs from his profile before his mother's killer got involved, then does that still hold up?

Maybe we should put a pin on it for now. There are other things Tim's done that brings the details of his no-kill rule into question.

Such as that one time Tim actually killed someone with his bare hands.

In Robin issues #51-52, Tim accidentally killed Lady Shiva while drugged on amarilla, a plant that enhances the user's speed beyond human limitations.

It may be argued if the amarilla altered Tim's mind enough to excuse him of fault or not. However, I want to focus on what happened after Shiva was revived. Here's another question to go with the first one:

Does Tim believe the kill still counts if the victim was revived afterwards?

From what I've gathered, yes and no. It's kind of complicated.

After Tim killed Shiva, he was understandably distressed about it, about how he can never take it back.

But after Shiva came back to life? Nothing. He didn't dwell on the fact he broke the vow to never kill. For something that devastating to happen in his life, it's odd that Tim didn't bring it up ever again, privately or otherwise. Especially considering what happened later in Robin #123, when Tim thought he killed Johnny Warlock.

Tim was utterly inconsolable. He lost all faith in his abilities as Robin, and in himself as a whole. It also contributed to his decision to quit being Robin after his dad found out. In general, he seriously dwelled on that "kill" for a much longer time than he had after killing Shiva. The difference being that he knew Shiva was resuscitated immediately afterwards, while Tim didn't know Johnny survived until issue #141.

But there's the fact that Shiva really did die. Her heart and breathing both stopped. So are we to believe Tim moved on from that so easily because she's alive now? What happened to never getting that back?

Come to think of it, not long after Tim killed and revived Shiva, there was someone else who landed in that same boat. Dick.

In Joker: The Last Laugh #6, Dick brutally attacked the Joker after believing he killed Tim. Dick ended up accidentally killing Joker instead, before the clown was resuscitated.

Here's the thing. While Tim was trying to comfort Dick, saying that it's ok because Joker's alive now, Dick didn't believe so. He was still distraught that he killed someone. The fact Joker came back to life afterwards didn't matter to him. To Dick, it still counted. So what does that say about Tim?

Before we move on, there's another person Tim knows who also died and came back from the grave. Jason.

Tim openly acknowledged Jason was killed before coming back, too. Multiple times. For example, when they met up in Red Hood and the Outlaws 2011 #8.

Tim hadn't shown any signs that he thinks Jason's murder doesn't count anywhere, except for maybe once.

In Knight Terrors: Robin #2, Tim and Jason had a heart-to-heart, and Tim said something strange.

"You survived."

Except Jason didn't survive. He died. To say Jason survived that night would've meant he never died to begin with. Him being alive now doesn't change that. Was this Tim telling a white lie to make Jason feel better? Or does Tim see being revived after death as "surviving"?

Ok, now we can move onto the next question. Or rather, bear with me as we go back to the first question. It's a broad topic with plenty more to talk about.

What does Tim count as breaking the no-kill rule?

We already asked how Tim feels about bringing villains back from the dead after killing them. And we asked how Tim feels about leaving a villain to die without getting directly involved. However, we still don't know how much involvement Tim needs to have in an enemy's death before he'll take responsibility for it.

We can confirm he won't mercy kill in Red Robin #21, even if it means giving someone a fate worse than death. No exceptions.

Tim also doesn't allow anyone he's actively teaming up with to kill, especially if he's the one in command. He's been amicable with known killers before (Huntress and Pru, for example), but only when they remain non-lethal while working alongside him.

Apart from that, though, it becomes less clear. However, I think this is a good place to expand on when Tim blew up a lot of League of Assassins bases in Red Robin #8.

I'm not going into whether or not those explosions actually killed anyone. I've seen evidence supporting both sides of this debate, so I'm just going to say it's up to interpretation. What I AM talking about is whether or not Tim would've felt responsible if they had killed someone.

Before overloading every generator in the LOA database, Tim gave a warning to the Wanderer. He told her that he couldn't be held responsible for what would happen to her if she didn't leave.

After initiating the explosions, Tim warned the White Ghost that they had fifteen seconds to leave before it was too late.

Fifteen seconds. That explanation on the mistake of letting him in might've taken roughly another fifteen to twenty seconds. Did the other bases even get a full minute head start? The way some of the people were already running away could imply they at least got a warning, but it's possible they might not have.

Even if everyone in every base received a warning, would that be enough for Tim to avoid holding himself accountable if they didn't make it out in time? Tim's the one who rigged the bases to explode, but I guess giving someone a warning means it's now their fault for not heeding it?

We can't be sure he even considered the possibility of those explosions killing anyone. Tim knew they were dangerous enough to bring the whole Cradle down, and the other ones we saw looked pretty powerful (except the ones in Ra's hideout). But Tim also called Ra's a murderer right after that happened, which would've been very hypocritical if Tim himself thought he committed murder.

So, my guess is either A) Tim relied on sheer luck for those explosions not causing any casualties and chose to believe they hadn't, or B) Tim didn't believe the deaths of anyone caught in them would be his fault.

Again, this isn't about whether or not blowing up the LOA bases killed anyone. It's about how willing Tim was to take that risk, and if he would've blamed himself for anyone getting killed from it.

Either way, it's canon that Tim had no guilt for the explosions he caused, or for anything he did before Red Robin #22. Just ask the Sword of Sin.

This is an exerpt I got from the Fandom DC Database on the Sword of Sin:

"The Sword of Sin can be ignited with the mind of the wielder, if the person is powerful enough. The sword has the ability to conjure in the mind its victims all of the sins for which they are guilty or have not atoned for."

When Tim was stabbed with this sword, he was immune. The Sword of Sin decided he was innocent. Although, I have to ask how reliable this sword was in making that judgement. If the sword is judging others based on its own set principles, then something's not right here.

The Sword of Sin was also used on Dick, and he wasn't immune. It dug into Dicks subconscious and unearthed memories he'd long since repressed. Memories of himself watching a boy get beaten to near death, and then doing nothing. He just walked away.

Now, tell me why the sword brought this to light, but not the time Tim left King Snake to die!

It wasn't an accident. Tim deliberately chose to leave instead of trying to save this man from the murderous Lady Shiva. Sure, Tim was no match for Shiva and he might've not been able to stop her, but the same could be said for an eight year old Dick not stopping a group of much older kids. Neither of them tried to stop the attackers.

Tim didn't atone for it, either. When King Snake returned in Batman #469, Bruce told King Snake that it wasn't Tim who left him to die. We know that's a lie, but Tim never corrected this. He let Shiva take all the blame.

We have two instances of a boy choosing not to prevent someone from having a near death experience. One guilty, and one innocent.

Did the Sword of Sin think Tim was justified because King Snake was corrupt? That doesn't sound holy to me.

Was it because Tim didn't feel any guilt over it, while Dick did? Can the sword's judgement be thrown off by the victim not feeling any shred of guilt over their actions, even subconsciously?

That could make sense given what we know Tim did in the past: King Snake falling, the vandalism (explosions), and ALL the lying over the years (Tim reviving Shiva might count as atonement, so I'm not including that). If the sword based its judgement on God's will alone, then odds are high it would've picked up on one of these.

Even so, I'm not going to sit here and say this is definitely the case. I'm not familiar enough with how the sword effects other characters to make that call.

If this is indeed false, then did the DC universe's version of God decide to pardon Tim of his sins when he prayed earlier that same issue, despite him not believing he had any? I mean, who knows, right?

You can probably see why there's more questions than answers. The point is Tim didn't have any guilt for the things he did before Red Robin #22. Tim was canonically convinced he had nothing to atone for.

So then why did he say the opposite later in Knight Terrors: Robin #2?!

In the heart-to-heart between Tim and Jason, Tim tells him this:

"You have a lot to atone for...We all do..."

Tim knows that the words "we all" include him, right? By saying this, Tim admitted to also having things he needs to atone for, right?

Is this another white lie to make Jason feel better? Is it one of those slight changes the New 52 made to the canon? If not, then why did he change his mind? Did his no-kill rule change and make him feel guilty for some past actions? Is it not the no-kill rule, but something else?

What changed?!

Where does Tim draw the line?

I don't know. We've narrowed it down to a general area, but it's kinda hard to see a line when it's so blurred it could be a gradient.

Tim baffles me. He acts as a steady moral compass for others when he can't even seem to stay consistent with his own. You're free to call it poor writing (and honestly, fair), but I find his hypocrisy fascinating.

That's what it is, isn't it? Tim's a hypocrite who's completely oblivious to being one. And it's not like this was never mentioned in the comics before. Damian called him out on it!

In Batman & Robin 2011 #10, Damian confronted Tim about his near-murderous reaction when Fist Point killed Artemis (Teen Titans Vol 4 annual #1). Damian then accused Tim of constantly rejecting him because they have more in common than Tim's willing to admit.

It's debatable how accurate that accusation was, but Tim had a pretty volatile reaction to it.

"I believe in every choice I make!"

Does he? I don't think someone who's so sure of what he believes in would contradict himself to this extent. Especially if he wasn't doing it on purpose.

He wouldn't vehemently push Bruce's no-kill rule onto others and berate them for bending that rule, only to go and bend that same rule himself when the Batclan isn't around. He also wouldn't exploit what he thinks are loopholes, decide later that those loopholes broke the no-kill rule, and then earnestly claim he never broke it.

Why is he like this?! He's had arguably the most normal childhood out of the whole Batclan before becoming Robin! What could've made him so fickle about this?!

Where does he draw the line? And how will he know when he's crossed it?

[thestoryden]

Changing Winds Aemond Targaryen x Strong!Reader Jacaerys Velaryon x Strong!Reader Warnings: Angst, Cheating, Violence, Cannon Divergence Words: 2.1k HOTD MASTERLIST

Summary: In a world much different from our own King Viserys has yet to leave this world, but tensions still rise at the capital between Rhaenyra and Alicent. In a battle for truth and legacy you find yourself caught in between two princes. The only question now is: Who will you choose?

As you arrive back to the Red Keep from weeks on the road your mind lingers on the last time you saw Jacaerys. The thought of his soft smile twists your insides with excitement; his lips soft as fresh snow. His body pressed against your, his warmth biting back the cool summer breeze. You cannot wait a minute more to see him. You think to yourself his hair must have grown out in the few months you were apart. You wonder how it will frame his face now. Your carriage comes to a jerking halt, making your dreamy thoughts of him fizzle as you nearly fall out of your seat.

“Hey! I am supposed to make it back to the castle alive.” You shout to the coachmen.

You are helped out of the carriage and there in one person of nobility there to greet you. Aemond Targaryen. You roll your eyes. This blonde fool had been following your around nonstop the last time you were at the castle. Any moment that he was not in court, you could find him trailing behind you. He stands there with a slight smile; he is always up to some scheme. You huff out some kind of greeting as he extends out his hand in invitation. You reluctantly take it.

“A pleasure to see you again, Lady Strong” Aemond muses.

His kisses your hand gently and you retract it as quick as lightning. You look up at him. If he were not a prince you would even bother to greet him. Unfortunately, your fantasy does not match the reality of the present situation. His one eye focuses in on you. Whatever was left of his other eye, he keeps tucked behind a simple leather patch. You purse your lips. He is as unnerving as ever.

“Why is my father not here to greet me?” You ask bitterly.

You already know the answer, the Lord Confessor is always too busy to see you unless he needs something from you. He dealt mostly in information and would scrape out any kind of knowledge you had on the family’s inner workings whenever he saw you. Aemond lips curl in to a devilish smile.

“The Lord Strong is preoccupied at the moment.” Aemond replies, “The queen sent me to greet you in his stead. She said you should have a warm welcome home.”

Of course she did. She had taken a liking to you before she even officially met her. She had summoned you to court once she had come by news of your mother’s passing. As a child you could not refuse her request, so you were uprooted from your family’s home and sent to Kingslanding. From that day forward you were raised with the royal children. You were meant as a companion for Helena, but when you took more to Jace and Luke she did not complain.

Aemond leans down closer to your face, “Did you hear me?”

You snap back to reality and take a step back nearly stumbling into the carriage. Aemond swiftly laces an arm underneath you, and pulls you to his side. Your face burns with embarrassment. You can feel his muscles cradling your waist.

“What is it?” You scoff, as if you could make the tumble seem intentional.

Aemond’s face softens, “The queen would like you to join her for tea after you have settled in.”

You find your footing and push him away. He only releases you once you have steadied. He relaxes and lightly brush his hair back over his shoulder.

“Yes, of course I will.” You reply as you dust off your gown.

Aemond quiets his voice, “I am delighted my dear.”

Your face contorts in disgust at what must surely be a poorly timed jest. Aemond smirks in response, and makes his way in to the keep. You wait till his behind shut doors to stamp your feet in irritation.  

“By the Seven, that stupid boy won’t leave me alone.” You seethe.

You head to your room and try to mentally prepare yourself for the upcoming tea. The thought crosses your mind that Jace may have left a note or gift to welcome your home coming. You urge your feet to move faster. When you finally see the familiar room, you check everywhere only to come up empty handed.

“Has anything been left for me?” You question a maid.

She shakes her head no in response.

After all the dirt and grime of the road is scrubbed off you finally look like a proper lady. A blue dress with green finery makes the cut for your tea gown. With your hair styled you head towards the castle gardens. At the far end, a table is set, Queen Alicent and the two of the greatest annoyances in your life are arranged around it.

“Greetings, Your Grace, the seven’s blessings be upon you.” You say softly.

“And to you Lady Strong,” Alicent replies with a cheerful smile.

You shift to an almost dreary tone, “Aegon, Aemond, glad to see your dragons didn’t shred you to pieces while I was gone.”  

You bow to the Alicent and take the seat closest to her. Your eyes drag over the dishes and goblets. You are starved for decent food after the dried meats and oats of the journey to Kingslanding. There is a suspicious lack of tea at the table.

“Pardon me, Your Grace, but I thought I would be joining you for tea.” You question lightly.

Aemond voice sounds in a sullen tone, “As did I, but there were circumstances”

His words are cut short by Aegon’s slurring, “What my boorish brother means to say is, I wouldn’t come unless there was wine.”

You straighten your face as to not upset the queen and take a deep breath in. You had only left them for a few months and these two had some how gotten worse in your absence. You decide to move on to something more tasteful.  

“Will Helena be joining us?” You ask trying to smooth over Aegon’s words.

The queen smiles, “Helena was her already. She grew tiresome of the boys’ antics and is now wondering the garden as we speak.”

“Bugs. She is searching for hideous insects rather than enjoying my company.” Aegon says in disgust.

Aemond quips back, “Well it is certainly more stimulating than speaking with you, Aegon.”

“Boys!” Alicent’s tone shifts, “She has not taken news of Jacaerys’ engagement well.”

Your mouth drops open, “His what?”

Aegon bursts into laughter, “They didn’t tell you?”

The next few moments are a blur. Aegon says something but in blends in with the horror engulfing your body. You find yourself leaving the table without any pleasantries and running off to in to the palace doors. The dark doorway like a gaping maw, you plunge yourself into the darkness of the keep’s halls.

Your dark brown curls cling to your sweaty face as you rush through the halls of the Red Keep. Step after step the words the Aegon had said to you burn into your brain. He’s engaged to Baela. It happened while your away. Your chest felt like it might explode out of your body. Soon you were pushing open the doors to the training yard. The cool air hits your face and you are frozen for just a moment as Jace smile beams with a laugh.

At first the sight of him cools off any irritation you may have felt, but then you realize that smile is not for you. It is for the white-haired girl standing opposite of him. Baela. He take her hand in his and gently kisses it. It is far too intimate to be considered a regular greeting. The fires inside you are once again stoked. You cannot imagine why he would embarrass you like this, and so publicly too. He deserves to feel your pain.

“Jacaerys!” Your voice rings out over the clanging of blades.

Everyone pauses and looks to you and then to the man you called upon.

His face goes ghost white, “You weren’t supposed to be back yet.”

The words dribble out of his agape mouth. You can feel the red-hot anger boiling just under the surface of your skin.

“Seven Hells!” You shout, “Is that all you have to say to me.”

You unstick your feet and plow through the muddy yard. Your colorful dress soaks in the damp earth turning it into a swampy discolored mess. He drops Baela’s hand as you lunge towards him, tackling Jacaerys to the ground.

“I am sorry.” He whines, “It was an accident.”

“An accident! An accident!” You yell back, “Breaking a glass is an accident! You broke my heart, that takes effort.”

You raise your hand and ball it in to a fist, bringing it down hard on to Jace’s face. The motion sends you forward a bit, giving Jace enough time to shield his face from more blows.

“I didn’t mean for it to end up like this.” He begs, “You have to believe me!”

You grab on to his mud-caked curls and pull his head up before slamming it back down. The force of it shoving the crust of the training field into Jace’s mouth.

“Collecting ladies’ maidenhoods!” You screech, “You are nothing, but a bloody bast-”

You are cut short by massive pair of arms wrapping around you and tearing you away. You still clutch on to a few of Jace’s curls that come up with you. Leaving him yowling in pain.

“That’s enough.” The deep voice rumbles through you.

You recognize it immediately as your uncle, Harwin Strong.

“You wouldn’t want say anything more you would regret.” He chastises.

He carries you out of the training field and back in to the castle. When Harwin sets you down he looks you in the eye.

“You mustn’t fault the boy for doing he duty.” He says gently, “There is still love in his heart for you. I am sure of it.”

Your purse your lips. You can’t think of the words you are hearing. Everything is drowned out by a blinding rage. How could he do this to you. After everything he promised, after everything he said. Tears well up in your eyes.

“I am sorry uncle, I must leave.” The words come out in a half blubbering.

You stagger down the hallway. Before slumping down in to an alcove. You let loose a sob and the tears begin flowing down your face. You tuck your head into your crossed arms. Your sleeves become a sticky, gross, sopping mess.

“Gods why,” You cry, “What have I done to deserve such cruelty?”

You feel a hand rest on your shoulder. You look up and try to pry open your swollen eyes.

“Here let me help you.” A voice whispers.

You feel a soft piece of linen move over your face. Clearing away the snot and wetness of your emotional devastation. You blink your eyes till they clear and see an unexpected face. Aemond. He sits down in front of you.

“Is it true?” You sob.

Aemond sighs, “Yes, my brother tells true, for once in his life.”

“How did it happen?” You beg him to tell you.

“After a feast, they were found tangled together in the dragon pit.” Aemond’s voice trails off, “The arrangement came after.”

Your heart dropped. You did not want to believe it true. If it were because of duty, it would be one thing, but Jace having desire for someone else broke you. Water drips from your lashes and runs down your cheeks. When suddenly your thoughts were cut short. Aemond’s hand slips under your chin and tilts it back. He touch is light and cool against your fiery skin.

“Let me take your pain.” He whispers.

You look at his parted lips and close your eyes. Your body guides you closer to him. You feel his lips press in to yours. They were as soft as heather. He moves nearer to you his hair falling to the sides of his face. His scent washes over you. You raise your hand and cup his face with your palm. He pulls back. You whimper at the comfort slipping away from you. A soft blush spread across his face.

“Aemond, I had no idea you felt that way about me.” You say in shock.

He laughs lightly, “After everything I’ve done?”

“I thought it in jest.” Your reply honestly.

He brushes his hand through his hair, “And now?”

“I venture to say your intentions are more serious than I thought before?” Your words have the air of question to them.

Aemond rolls his eye. You have never considered there might be truth to the prince’s word before, but now you saw an opportunity. Revenge. A devious smile creeps up on your face.

“What is it?” Aemond tilts his head.

You lilt your voice, “Aemond, would you be so kind as to escort me to the next feast. I wish to dazzle Jace with the brilliance he has now lost.”

Aemond grins, “It would be my utmost pleasure, Lady Strong.”  

[the-monkeies-girl]

Hello, I've never made a request before but I really like your writing and was wondering if you could do number 29 with Caeser? You're and amazing writer so you know

29. kisses when they're mad Screams into the void.

It was obvious from Caesar’s disposition that he was tearing himself from the inside with aggravated irrationality. Not rare; your eyes were ample as they watched him pace in front of the nest. The stagger of his gait, so hard against the floor in the way that his spaced out toes grasped at the thatches of wood that were bunched together to create a sustained levitation of the home in the air. The way of the Apes, you tried to ignore the push and pull in your stomach that you were indeed lifted so far off the ground when you slept as it caused greater anxiety than you were willing to admit.

Not as much as the moment, you were dragged back into it at the way that Caesar’s fur slowly raised against his shoulders. Recognizing it closely as terse irritation, your mouth parted before running dry at the small shifted growl that came from his throat. Something happened, you figured. Something had to have happened in the Council meeting he just dispatched from. 

The Politics of the Colony were rarely ever discussed between the two of you unless it were something pertaining strictly to the causes of Humanity. You chose it that way, it confused you otherwise the one or two meetings you had been invited to and were unable to keep up due to the mixture of sign language and speaking. “Caesar---” ‘Do not understand.’

 That was clear in the way that he used inflictions between his fingers to sign towards you. Anger coated at the very fingertips of Caesar as he flickered his blown dilated eyes towards you for only a moment before a rocketed growl, this one resting more from his chest, hit your eardrums. ‘Why they… are still unwilling to see my authority in choosing you. My mate. My choice!’

The exclamation came from the way that the Ape King threw his hands towards you, not directed but in frustration at something he could not fix with his word and will power. Koba, you understood that much and brought your legs over the nest and picked your body upwards. You could hear inside of your mind; the alarm bells ringing at the fact that you were approaching an angry Chimpanzee, someone who could rightfully tear off your face without reserve or remorse but there was the other tug. That this was Caesar. This was… Caesar… 

Drawing a deep breath in, you caught the large frame of him with your cusped hands on his upper biceps, mid-pace as he was just turning around and nearly toppled both of your bodies over with the sheer tenacity he was using to catapult his body in annoyed contemplation.

Caesar refused eye contact that you initiated, truly intent on dragging this situation out longer than needed by refusing to acknowledge that maybe speaking to you was a better option. Sure it was, he muttered inside his mind and let his gaze lock onto yours for just a split second. But this was such a drawn out conversation regardless, it felt like Caesar was pulled one direction in the loyalty he proved to Koba and his fellow Apes and the love and affection he proved to you, his Mate. Chosen from so many others after the death of Cornelia, enlightened and… Human.

‘Not just Koba anymore.’ Caesar could feel the prickling of his fur against your fingers as you carded them upwards against the grain of his fur and to his shoulders were you grabbed more finitely. ‘My Son… Asks… Questions I do not have answers for---’

Sighing, your shoulders sloped forwards as you tried to urge Caesar to look at you with the stare that was so familiar, usually so alight with interest but all you were able to see was darkness under his hardened browline. “Blue Eyes? R-Really? I thought we were making good progress---” “It is Koba, I know it…” Caesar’s voice came out gritting, your stare widening at the fact that… This was the first time you were hearing him speak that day, and it was hard and not full of the affection you had so closely associated with him for he rarely ever spoke to you in moments of self-introspection that bordered closer to minor self-deprecation.

It was not offensive to you anymore; the first time something like this had happened and you had taken offense to it, it caused Caesar more inner turmoil that lasted even longer as you refused to even see him for a week. “Koba… Speaks… to Blue Eyes about you, about the things… He learned from Humans. The ones who hurt, the ones who… Caused him…” Caesar’s hackles were incredible to see, the fur that hit around his shoulders rising right under your fingertips as you reached to cup his face, no hesitation with the fact that he was able to eat off your fingers if he so chose that. “You need to calm down---” “Koba needs to listen when I tell him that you are not a threat!” “Caesar---” 

“He is selfish,” Caesar drifted his gawk to stare at something off to the side instead of meeting your stare. Ashamed of himself for getting so angry, for letting Koba’s words slide under his skin despite his conscious mind knowing otherwise and that it was Koba who was ashamed. It was Koba who was afraid. “Nothing but a selfish Ape.”

“Aren’t we all a lil’ selfish?” You offered and catapulted yourself into your tippy toes. “Caesar, you need to listen to me.” Silence. The brooding form that you were leaning against for balance was stagnant, his beautifully torn irises bouncing with exasperation. Fine, you cocked your body forward and closed the gap between your two forms. If Caesar wanted to play the game without words, you were very much allowed to do the same thing. The hands that were holding so tenderly to his face in a bid to get him to look at you shifted downwards as you grasped his muzzle and brought your mouth square onto his own.

Such a Human element to an Ape situation, you fluttered your eyes shut and let yourself linger against the thinned nature of his lips. This was not the first time you had done this, captivating him a few times here and there with spotted pecks when you were in the throes of pleasure and this was the first time you were using it in the throes of anger. 

“You really need… to calm down… And think about this rationally.” You muttered, your words ghosting themselves over his mouth as Caesar finally looked down at you, semi-cross eyed from how close you were. Levering his long arm to cup at your back, you let him drag you inwards almost to the point where your feet left the wooden ground below. “Caes---” There was no more argument to be had, the Ape moved forward himself this time, capturing your mouth halfway open and without reserve, your tongue was pressing against the flatter nature of his canines, eyelids falling shut as Caesar was quick to pull you with him to resume the position you had been in in the nest before he arrived. He’d figure it out, he knew that.

He had known that since the moment he arrived home to complain, his mouth detaching from yours and admiring the slickened saliva that trailed between your lips before Caesar broke and shattered the spit into the air, “Will talk to Blue Eyes tomorrow… Will you… Join me?”

“Always.”

And with that, you were dropped onto your back and allowed to take in the delectation of the Ape King crawling himself up your body. From your feet, his hard frame allotted itself against you, and with a small moan escaping lips, Caesar ate it up and brought his own mouth back down onto yours.

[anxious-witch]

Part three of height/stance analysis of DBDA character. This part is about the Cat King, mainly in regard to catwin, but I will briefly touch upon his few scenes with other characters too.

Charles's version, Edwin's version

So, the Cat King another character that take a dominant position in most of his scenes. Immediately, when we meet him, he is sitting on a throne, above Charles, Edwin and Crystal, which is meant to intimidate them and to show off his power over the situation. Focusing on that specifically, now we can notice a pattern-Charles gets lowered when he is feeling helpless, Edwin when he feels out of control and the Cat King when he actually loses the dominant role of the scene, aka the events aren't unfolding as he planned. Which are similar, but not exactly the same, which tells us a lot about each of them.

The Cat King is a magical being of unknow origin, so it makes sense his sense of self is tied into power. From what I noticed, that power comes from either intimidation or desire, or sometimes both.

So let's go back to the first scene where he appears. Crystal and the boys are naturally, intimidated by him, which is further exemplified by the fact that the Cat King doesn't even rise from his chair, and yet keeps his high ground.

When does he rise? When he is about to offer Edwin a private conversation, taking control more directly that way.

But notice the camera angle in this scene. Not only does it not show the Cat King and our trio(because we know very well both Charles and Edwin are physically taller, but it also shows him from a slightly lowered angle of the camera, so he appears bigger. Almost as if he is looming over them. Then, once he and Edwin are alone, we get to this.

The first time where the Cat King looks smaller than Edwin. BUT, take a look at Edwin, who is usually standing oerfectly poised and straight, looming over everyone and everything. Here, he looks almost slightly hunched down instead. But why is the Cat King smaller here, you may ask? Because he is trying to find Edwin's weak spot. He even says here "What should you punishment be?" Only when Edwin counters with "I don't see the harm in one little spell" does the Cat King resume his dominant position.

Looking at this two shots, Edwin looks almost timid, his usual height deemed irrelevant when he is alone in the shot, almost bledning in with the dark background. In contrast, the Cat King is illuminated, appearing bigger and more threatening, further highlighted by his satisfied expression.

This is followed by a scene where CT slaps the bracelet on Edwin.

When the Cat King leans in, die to the angle it looks like he is taller than Edwin. Because he figured Edwin's weak spot-his repressed sexuality. And here, Edwin is giving in to it, giving the Cat King the power to put the caging spell on him.

What I found interesting is that immediately after, the Cat King willingly sits down in his chair, leaving Edwin standing. He seems to work under a careful set of rules so once he brands Edwin with his bracelet, he briefly gives the power back to Edwin, in giving him a choice to give in to his desire. I talked about this in another post here, but the gist of it is that the Cat King forces him to choose between giving in to his desires(accepting his homosexuality) or face his flaw(his dismissivness of creatures and ppl he finds irrelevant to him).

Only when Edwin refuses to reclaim him power in accepting his inital offer does the Cat King rise again and assumes his dominant stance.

Now, let's analyze their second meeting. When Edwin arrives, the Cat King is lounging on the wall, lying down. He is still on a higher ground, but I find it interesting that he again, gives Edwin a chance to reclaim his freedom first. And he does so twice. Firstly, by giving Edwin a chance to tell him how many cats there are, and when he is wrong, to go along with his flirting. And when he doesn't, then the Cat King rises once again.

When he gets close to Edwin, we have, again another shot where CT looks taller. Because Edwin feels out of control when he is around, because he feels small in the face of his own desires. And the Cat King is aware of it.

Now, the firest scene is when things TRULY get interesting. By this point, we see Edwin gain much more confidence in himself and his feelings, partially due to accepting he has feelings for Charles and partially bc of his friendship/situationship with Monty. So when they meet each other in the woods, we get this shot.

Not only is there a very noticable height difference we weren't show before, but the Cat King is actively leaning down, leaning towards Edwin as he reveals Monty's betrayl to him.

Why? Because he realized Edwin was well on his way in winning his game. So here, he is trying to find his footing again, trying to appease Edwin. And I'd say he almost suceeds, because for a brief moment, when he is talking about Edwin owning him a thanks, they are on equal ground, height wise. But then, CT brings up a second kiss and that balance shatters. We get this shot:

Of Edwin cockying his head up and making himself appear taller, despite the camera angle not working in his favor. And of course, we then have Edwin walking away, with the camera showing how small the Cat King is in that moment as he makes his threat. Edwin turns back and then he is the one lowering himself on the Cat King's level to show off the bracelet and remind him that's all that he is to Edwin.

Reminding him that while Edwin can stoop to his level, they are not equal, and that Edwin understands his game now and that he is done with it. He took his power back.

I find the fact that their power dynamics are shifting sm throughout these soo fascinating, honestly. Their rs is so dynamic and it's shown so plainly through who is appearing bigger in that moment. But! Let's shift from catwin for a bit and take a look at another character that manages to be more dominant in a scene with the Cat King. Which is, of course, Esther.

Cat King tries his usual approach with her, with him sitting on his throne and not paying attention to her entering, but Esther clearly doesn't fall for that intimidation tactic, instead grabbing him by the throat and forcing him in a position where she is in control. It's not only violent, it feels almost degrading, given the way she does it and given what we know of the Cat King thus far.

And the thing is, even when he escapes her grip, he relinquishes the power to her, leaving her up on his throne while he is left standing down next to it, as people who usually visit him do.

I don't think I need to get into her literally killing him with her cane, and how he is literally at his lowest when he is lying on the floor. And even when he is resurrected, from then on, he seems noticably smaller in every other instance he appears in. Like he lost a fraction of his power. And even when he snarls at Esther and tell her to keep her hands off Edwin, the shot he is in purposefully makes the warehouse seem much bigger around him, while the shot of Esther is much closer up. Because she is a more threatening figure here now.

When Crystal and Niko come looking for his help, at first he appears behind them, as if he had to sneak in to his own warehouse. He gets back on his uplifted position later, when he does decide to help them and when he realizes he holds the power of having the information they want. But notice how he orders them to sit, so he can loom over them more. I'd guess that he has been made aware of his own vulnerability and powerlessness by Esther and he tries desperately to reclaim it in that moment.

Which is why his last scene with Edwin is so impactful! They have both been irreparably changed by circumstances. Where Edwin now stands taller, his confidence and power regained, Cat King looks almost comically tiny in comparison!

Look at that wide shot of the alley! Edwin's height is not only shown fully, it's amplified, and the Cat King's tight fitting clothes are making him seem even smaller and more vulnerable here.

Because in that moment, the illusion is fully shattered. Edwin calls CT out on his own loneliness and they are both aware he lost the game, because he is the one that fell for Edwin and he has nothing to keep him with anymore. But Edwin has grown too. He doesn't gloat in his power and in fact, when he kisses Cat King's cheek, he lowers himself on his eye level, so they are equals once more, in that brief moment. This time not doing it to hurt the Cat King, but rather to show affection and forgivness. He understands him now and he holds all the power.

Honestly, if we get a Cat King reappearance in S2, I'd love to see how their relationship would change. They are the ones whose relationship is the most dynamic and it's constantly about who will gain the upper hand.

As always, if anyone has anything to add/think I forgot something, olease feel free to add it

[insomniakisses]

Unexpected News and Welcome Additions

Character: Aemond Targaryen (HOTD)

Warnings/notes: swear words, mentions of pregnancy, pregnancy, aegon being an ass, aemond being a sweet baby, daemon flipping his shit, protective momma rhaenyra, happy alicent, your rhaenyras daughter u can choose adopted or not, ooc daemon? Slight ooc aegon?

Taglist: @introverbatim, @neobanguniverse,

Part one.

“We have some news.” Aemond grins, standing abruptyly silencing the chatter at the table.

All eyes direct towards him and you can see the confusion on your mother’s face, her eyes darting between the two of you. Never the less you accept his hand allowing him to pull you up next to him.

“We, well..” you pause looking at daemon how his eyes seem to stare into your soul. “We are engaged!” You cheer awkwardly.

You can see otto smiling with a nod, while alicent seems to be piecing everything together and u know she knows with the dart of her eyes towards your stomach. Helaena smiling softly at you seeming excited to have someone to talk to about married life.

On the otherside if the table you see your family, your mother gaping at you while your brothers hold blank faces and you can see the clenched jaw of daemon. Yet, the king seemed to be joyfull. “Wonderful news my dear! You have made me a very proud grandsire!” He chuckles.

Thats when shit breaks loose, aegon just had to speak up. He snickers rolling his eyes saying “Dear brother is such a pushover isn’t he mother?” You see her give him a look to shut up but as always he pays it no mind “I mean fucking the whore is one thing but to marry her once pregnant? God what kind of hold has she on you?”

You’re eyes water when all eyes turn to you, closing them and flinching into Aemond’s hold when Daemon stands. Slamming his hand on the table claiming you must have been forces that the greens were taking u hostage that it was all a plan.

It seems your mother had had enough of the dramatics, sending the children to bed including Helaena and Aegon. Before clearing the room of her husband and the hand stating this was a matter for her, Alicent, Viserys and the two of you to navigate.

—

“So.. you are to be married then?” Your mother asks tentatively causing you to bow your head in shame.

“I planned to explain to you.. But we didnt know how to tell everyone and-“

“Its okay sweet child,” the queen hums grabbing your face and kissing your head. You can’t help relax in her hold, “I can’t say i am upset to be made a grandmother again!” She grins.

“And i a proud grandsire of another fine knight or beautiful princess” the king adds, looking at your mother as if to ask for her opinion. It’s only then that you realise shes crying, the sight making you well up to.

“My baby is all grown up” she chokes out wrapping you in her arms and leaving several firm kisses to your head. Her hand unconsciously rubbing your stomach.

“Your… not mad?” You ask cautiously and she chuckles and says “how, my sweetone, could i be mad at you for falling for a mischievous second son thats also your uncle” and you cant help chuckle at the similarity between you.

—

“I cant! I can’t! FUCK! OW! Make it stop-“ you screamed squeezing your mothers hand tight as the maesters told you to push again. Your body felt like it was on fire. But your mother and Alicents soothing words lessoned your fear, slightly. You had been in labour for almost the full day and the babe seemed to refuse to be born and despite your please they seemed reluctant to let Aemond in.

Well, your mother was. You knew why deep down she was afraid that if the choice was given he would sacrifice you to save the baby. You however, knew that he would not. The thought would never cross his mind. So you begged and plead once more for him stating you would not give girl until he was with you. A task they knew you very well might do so they sent for him and the second he held your hand kissing your head and telling you he was there, was the most safe and relaxed you had felt all day.

Your son came quickly after that, a heavy and healthy baby your mother had remarked kissing your head and leaving with Alicent after she muttered her own praises of her newest grandson.

—

“We should call him Aemond.” Your husband grinned, causing you to slap his shoulder.

“No, I’m not calling him after you.” You groaned.

“And why not!?” He huffs clearly disappointed and you give him a look, “do you want me to be moaning our son’s name while we fuck?”

He shudders audibly gagging at the thought. “Perhaps not.” He sighs.

The two of you had been arguing over a name for hours, your son sound asleep in his arms as he gently rocked him.

“We could call him after someone else though”

You muse, the thought making him look up at you quizzically. “Who?”

“I was thinking Laenor…” you whispered afraid he may reject the idea but he hums nodding in approval. “A fine name from a honourable namesake, a fitting name for our little knight.”

You smile up at him, thanking the gods you got such a loving gentle husband.

“Should I let the maesters know then?” He asks, setting Laenor in your arms gently. “Yes, and could you send my mother in on your way? Id like to tell her first.”

—

“LAENOR GET BACK HERE!” You hear from your place by your husband, both of your turning to see the young prince holding what seemed to be a dragon egg while your Aegon chased after him.

The sight making you laugh, especially when Aegon reaches for the egg only for your son to dodge and throw the egg at his father. Aemond catching it with ease.

“Bested by a 3 year old, brother?” He taunts him, Aegon rolling his eyes in response snatching the egg back and placing it into the pot of hot coals by your bed side.

“Well excuse me for picking an egg out for my future nephew!” He defends, rolling his eyes when Aemond corrects him saying that he is to have a girl this time. The notion making you smile, hes always wanted a daughter to spoil.

Your silence is broken when your son pulls Aegons pants down running off in a bout of laughter.

“OI YOU LITTLE-“

—

“She’s beautiful” your mother coos, her finger moving to softly stroke the babes cheek. “That she is” Alicent joins placing a kiss to your head as she congratulates you.

“Have you thought of a name?” She quizzes looking at her son and then you.

You smile, telling them that their was really only one name that came to mind when you found out you had a daughter. You smile at your mother as you say it, “Visenya.”

She lets out a soft gasp, leaning over to kiss your cheek her heart touched that you would name your daughter that. You embrace her softly before placing the babe into her arms letting her and Alicent fawn over her as you lean back into your husbands arms.

“She’s Perfect” he whispers kissing you sofly. “Plus… Aegon’s gonna be pissed” he chuckles.

ANNNNNND DONE! i doubt there will be a part three :)

[fairyhaos]

❍ the 2k event: junhui + castle

vote for this fic in the poll!

alternative title: you are my kingdom

pairing: crown prince!junhui x royalty!gn!reader

genre: historical royalty au, arranged marriage, strangers to lovers

word count: 1167

warnings: none

event taglist (send ask to be added): @slytherinshua @rubywonu @pepperonijem @amxlia-stars @weird-bookworm @hannyoontify @my-moarmy-heart @suminsfav @minhui896 @haocovr @lockburn-castle @sweet-like-caramel @horanghae8 @graybaeismytae @karionice @hopetiger10 @shuabby1994

The wind whistles through the castle, seeping in through under the heavy wooden doors, in through the windows that aren't quite sealed enough to keep away the small squeals of air. You hold your breath, trying to not make a sound, curling up even tighter in your spot in the wardrobe. 

"Y/N?" A voice singsongs, and you stiffen at the sound of footsteps echoing on the stone floor outside of the room. "Where are you?"

The door to the room you're in creaks open, and you try to pretend that you're not there.

It doesn't work, though, because not even two seconds later, the wardrobe door swings open and a man grins down at you, dark eyes glittering. 

"Aha! I found you!" Junhui declares, bright and happy, and you groan. He offers out a hand to help you to your feet, and you accept it, brushing off your clothes as you step out of the wardrobe. "Why are you even hiding in these rooms, anyway? You're never gonna need to come to the visitor's wing."

"Hey. We're playing hide and seek for me, you know. Because I don't know the layout if your castle. You never gave me boundaries!" you point out as Junhui leads you out of the room. "I wouldn't have known the boundaries, anyway. Because again. I don't know the layout of your castle."

Junhui laughs. "That's true. Well, anyway, now you know. These are the visitor wings, where we place the visiting royals or Lords who are coming to make relations with the King."

"Your father," you correct. 

"The King," Junhui says again, smiling. "They don't come say hi to my father just because he's my dad, do they? They come because he's the King."

You shrug. "Fair enough."

"Do you wanna play another round of hide and seek?" Junhui asks. "We have some time before some duties we need to carry out. And then Father wants us to eat with him for dinner."

"Yes! Let's play another round!" you say, clasping your hands together. "I think I almost have down the important parts of the castle."

Junhui grins, and takes your hand. "Okay, let's go back outside! I'll count to one hundred again."

As Junhui drags you through his castle, laughing as you stumble over uneven cobblestones and barrel past surprised servants, you can't help but marvel at how different he is from any other Crown Prince you've ever met. 

You can't help but marvel at how you're married to him. 

It hadn't been a love marriage, but rather an arranged one, as most marriages between kingdoms' royal children were. You had little say in who you were going to marry, and Crown Prince Junhui had been chosen for you purely because your father had wanted to maintain peace with a newly emerged kingdom that showed potential to one day be powerful. 

You were a pawn in the grand scheme of petty politics, to say the least. And you had hated it. 

You had done your utmost to sabotage the engagement, refused all of Junhui's courting gifts, fiercely denied meeting him right up until the day of your marriage, insisting that if your freedom to choose who you were going to marry was being taken from you, then you were going to fight for every other little bit of freedom that you could. 

The marriage had been a whistlestop affair, feeling more like a treaty signing with mildly more fanfare than the wedding it was meant to be, and that had infuriated you even more. 

You'd vowed to despise Prince Junhui and his kingdom forever, especially when you'd been whisked away from your home to go live in his castle with him. 

That is, until the day you walked in on Junhui in tears. 

It had been an accident, with you still unaware of the castle layout having only been there a week, and your maidservant was little help, a snooty young lady who seemed to despise the fact that their "attractive young prince was marrying a person who could hold no candle to his beauty". 

You were trying to search for the stables and had gotten hopelessly lost, wandering around the edges of the castle until you accidentally stumbled upon Junhui, hidden in the long grass in a dip in the stones where a turret met the straight walls, wiping his eyes. 

It had startled you, to see him look so sad and lost, and in that moment it struck you that Junhui was in the same position as you, that he was stuck in a loveless marriage just like you, and here you were, snapping at him and avoiding him and being utterly horrible when his life surely wasn't looking any nicer than yours. 

Silently, so as not to be noticed, you had stepped backwards and left him alone. And three days later, you sought him out in his chambers, hand outstretched and tentative smile on your face, asking for a truce. 

And that leads you to where you are now, many months later. Running through the castle. Playing hide and seek to help you understand the layout of how your new home works. 

"Your Highnesses!" the Head Knight yelps, practically throwing himself into the wall as the Crown Prince runs past, with you in tow. "Please be careful!"

"Sorry, Cheol!" Junhui yells back. "You're getting slow in your old age, though!" he adds, and you laugh. 

There's something so youthfully beautiful about Junhui's face when he smiles like that, you think, as he rounds the corner and throws open the doors that lead outside into the courtyard. 

He's so beautiful. 

"Oh my God," you gasp, leaning against the wall, panting. "I think I'm getting slow in my old age."

Junhui laughs again, dark eyes twinkling. "Nonsense. You're young and fit and beautiful, nothing at all like the old hag that is Seungcheol."

You stifle a grin, trying not to focus on how his words make your heart thump oddly in your chest. "Sure, sure. I bet he could still run you through in the blink of an eye, though."

"Oh, definitely," Junhui says instantly, and you laugh at the promptness of his answer. "But our Court Physician? Wow, Jeonghan is even more of a hag, I swear. He never leaves his room."

You tilt your head. "Jeonghan?"

Junhui's eyes widen. "I haven't taken you to meet Jeonghan, have I? Don't worry, we'll do that first thing tomorrow."

It makes your heart warm, really, the amount of effort Junhui is putting in to make you feel comfortable in his kingdom. Ever since that incident those several months ago, he's been the one friendly face you've found comfort in within this new place. He's been your friend. 

But as he beams at you before turning to face the wall, rambling on about how's he's going to count to 100 really slowly to allow you to choose the best hiding spot ever in this castle, a realisation hits you in the chest so hard that your eyes widen. 

Oh, no. 

"Junhui."

Junhui turns around, his face open, and he looks so beautiful that your heart thumps even harder and you're blurting out what you're thinking without even stopping to reconsider. 

"I think I'm in love with you."

[hllywdwhre]

Dreamer, Queen, Prince - Chapter 1

Pairing: Daemyra x fem!OC

Warnings: Please check masterlist for warnings. This work is 18+, MDNI

Masterlist

*112 AC

Viserea leaned down low against the saddle of Tessarion,

“Aderī! (Quickly.)” She shouted, smiling as the wind whipped in her face. Rhaenyra and Syrax were close behind them as they neared the dragonpit and Viserea was determined to win their race. As the four came dangerously close to the pit, Viserea called out to Tessarion again,

“Paerī, nepot. (Slow, to the pit).”

The dragons touched down at the same time and Viserea waited until the two dragonkeepers had Tessarion’s attention before dismounting. Giving her dragon one last loving pat on her neck, Viserea made her way over to where Rhaenyra stood with Lady Alicent Hightower.

Viserea bit her tongue and forced a polite smile onto her face as Rhaenyra and Alicent spoke for a moment more. They boarded the carriage together and Viserea kept her eyes out of the carriage window while they rode through the streets of King’s Landing. She didn’t bother joining in on the conversation. She and Alicent had never seen eye-to-eye on most things and she wouldn’t be the one to make Rhaenyra choose between her two closest friends, so staying quiet during the conversations between the two was the best thing she could think to do. Mayhaps it was jealousy, but Viserea refused to let her mind wander down that path. Every time she thought about it, she was left even more confused than before.

After exiting the carriage, Viserea stayed in step with Rhaenyra and Alicent, participating in their conversation just enough to not be considered rude. They approached Queen Aemma’s door and all three were swiftly let inside the Queen’s chambers. Alicent greeted the Queen, then gave a small bow to the Princesses, excusing herself to allow the two to visit with Aemma.

“My girls,” Aemma greeted with a warm smile which the Targaryens returned. “Must you two continue flying while I am in this condition? You know I do not like it.”

“Your Grace-” Viserea started, only to be stopped when Aemma held her hand up,

“Viserea, you have been my daughter for years now. Unless you wish for me to only address you as Princess, I ask you to stop referring to me as your Queen. Aemma will do fine,” Aemma told her, causing the girl to smile and nod her head.

“You don’t really prefer us flying while you're in any condition, mother,” Rhaenyra pointed out, causing her mother to chuckle, “Did you sleep?”

“I did,” Aemma answered.

“For how long?”

“You know I am the mother here, I do not need looking after.”

“Well all the attendants surrounding you seem to be focused on the babe, I can only count on myself and Viserea to attend to your needs.”

“Soon enough you two will both be going through the same discomfort. It is our duty to the realm,” Upon seeing both girls grimace, Aemma continued, “The knights ride into battle and we fight a battle here, ensuring our legacy lives on, and doing so with a stiff lip. Now go bathe, both of you. You smell of dragon.”

Viserea and Rhaenyra both bid the Queen goodbye and placed a kiss on her forehead before exiting the room.

“I know it is our duty, but I do not want to become a slave to that bed,” Rhaenyra said once they were far enough away that they could not be heard.

“Neither do I. I do not wish to become a slave to my husband either. Only viewed as a title with a womb that can give him and his house more power,” Viserea replied. This was a topic the two had discussed multiple times at depth.

“What is it you wish for in a marriage?” Rhaenyra asked Viserea, looking to her with genuine curiosity written across her features. Viserea blushed lightly as she answered,

“A marriage to rival Aegon, Visenya, and Rhaenys’. We would be wed in the Valyrian manner with cut lips and palms to bind us to each other. Someone who looked at me and did not view me as just a Targaryen Princess, but looked at me and recognized the power Targaryen Princesses truly held. Aegon did not lock Visenya and Rhaenys away to their bed chambers and force them to provide him with heirs. He had them fight alongside him and gave them a voice in his court by always taking their opinions into account.”

“You seem to have thought about this before.”

“And you have not?” Viserea asked, already knowing the answer.

“I am to be wed to Syrax and cake alone. Never to a man,” Rhaenyra joked, causing both her and Viserea to burst into a fit of laughter.

The two told each other they would meet at the Godswood and Rhaenyra made her way to the Small Council room as it was her day to be the cupbearer for the King.

It was one of the first things Viserys did. After making Viserea a member of his family, he declared both her and Rhaenyra to be cupbearers, saying they could each spend a day by his side, and that if there was a matter of extreme importance being discussed, there would simply be two cupbearers in the chamber.

While Rhaenyra carried out her duties, Viserea was bathed, redressed, and her hair was freshly braided. Ser Ryden met her at her door when she went to exit and begin heading to the tourney.

“Princess, there is someone here that wishes to see you in the throne room,” he informed her as he began guiding her to the throne room.

A wide smile came across Viserea’s face, already knowing who awaited. When she entered the throne room, it was to no surprise of hers that she saw Daemon seated upon the Iron Throne, though she could hear Ser Ryden behind her gasp at the disrespect.

“You play a dangerous game, Uncle. One might think your actions disrespectful and let you feel the wrath of a dragon,” Viserea greeted in their mother tongue of High Valyrian.

“Are we so sure that the Queen is to have a boy? This throne might end up mine yet,” Daemon said, a playful smirk on his face as he looked down at the Princess from where he sat.

“The King said he had a dream that it was a boy. Though he also said the boy was born wearing the crown of Aegon the Conquere so I am unsure of how much faith to place in his dream.”

“Is it not possible that the babe being born with a crown is a metaphor for him being crowned king later in life?” Daemon asked Viserea. She gave a shrug in response,

“Every dreamer is different. My dream of Rhaenyra and I was straightforward, but I do not know what Danys saw. It is alway possible that her dream was not actually of Valyria burning and she was left to decipher the meaning of her dream.” The limited knowledge on dragon dreams was something that had driven Viserea to tears many times; unable to tell if nightmares were just bad dreams, or if her family would truly face the fates she dreamed of.

“Describe the dream again,” Daemon commanded with a voice full of curiosity.

Viserea had explained the dream to him multiple times over by now, yet he asked to hear the story of it every time. She had no qualms with explaining it again and again to Daemon, for he seemed to be the only one, aside from Rhaenyra, who seemed curious about the dreams. Others seemed to be in a state of awe after hearing it and many at court used “meeting the dreamer” as a bragging right to their peers. Daemon and Rhaenyra were the two that helped her look at every possible angle with her dreams, prophetic or not, and decipher if there was another meaning to them. So Viserea retold the story of her dream and the events that had taken place the next day.

“If the whispers are to be believed, I will be gifting you a new saddle for your dragon, soon,” Daemon said, apparently not being able to come up with any other meaning for Viserea’s dream and changing the topic of conversation.

“The dragonmasters say she will outgrow the pit at the rate she is growing and possibly grow larger than Meleys and Caraxes in the coming years. There are many adult dragons down there that Tessarion has grown larger than,” Viserea spoke in the common tongue now, though anyone could have told she was proud of her dragon by the look on her face.

“It seems fitting that the Targaryen princess named for Visenya would hatch and bond to her own dragon that is bound to reach the same size as Vhagar.” Daemon wore a proud look on his face as he spoke.

“I believe Tessarion will outgrow Vhagar and that we are looking at the next Balerion.”

The voice came from behind Viserea and she turned to see Rhaenyra approaching her. “Nice to see you again, Uncle. What has brought you back?”

“The tourney in my honor, Princess,” Daemon answered, stepping down from the Iron Throne.

“He still is not sure that mother's babe is the heir,” Viserea told Rhaenyra, to which she nodded.

“And until she brings forth a son, you are all stuck with me.” Daemon stopped in front of the two girls, looking down at them.

“Then Viserea and I shall both hope for a son,” Rhaenyra said, smirking up at Daemon and causing Viserea to giggle.

Daemon smirked back at Rhaenyra then looked to Viserea with the same fond expression before pulling something out for each of them.

“I brought each of you something. Do you know what they are?”

Viserea and Rhaenyra each reached for the object he held out towards them. He had brought Viserea back a ring and earrings, which she gently took. The steel felt cold in her hands and she realized what it was at the same time as Rhaenyra.

“Valyrian steel,” they said at the same moment.

“So we can all have a piece of our ancestry. Turn around,” Daemon said to Rhaenyra.

Viserea took out the earrings she wore currently and put in the earrings Daemon had brought her while Daemon helped Rhaenyra fasten the new necklace. After he had fastened Rhaenyra’s necklace, he took the ring from Viserea and gently placed it on her hand.

“They were intended to be worn together, but I do believe you two are one of the same. If both of you wear it, the set might as well be worn by the same person,” Daemon remarked, causing both of the girls to look at each other and exchange smiles. “I’ll see you both at the Tourney.” He said, dipping his head respectfully to the girls before leaving the throne room.

Rhaenyra and Viserea looked at each other after they had watched him leave, then began making their way to the Godswood, where they were both due to go over their studies with Alicent.

“How was the Council?” Viserea asked, reverting back to speaking in Valyrian so that the matters handled in the council would stay private.

“The Maester asked about the Rogue’s progress on the City Watch, father brushed it off and said he was ‘occupied’,” Rhaenyra started, distaste clear in her voice and it was obvious to Viserea that Rhaenyra was giving her the nice version of what was really said, “the Sea Snake is worried about a Triarchy in the Stepstones being led by a man who calls himself the Crabfeeder and what it could mean for our ports. No one paid that any mind because soon the Tourney was brought up.”

Viserea interjected before Rhaenyra could continue, “The trading ports? If there is danger near them, I side with the Sea Snake. Those ports cannot be lost.”

Rhaenyra gave Viserea a look that said she agreed, “The Tourney holds father’s attention over the ports. Who wants to think of war when the future king is supposed to be born?”

Viserea did not reply, knowing the question was a rhetorical one. Her thoughts raced everywhere as they continued walking to the Godswood; some of them on Aemma’s labors, others thinking of the Tourney, others thinking of the ports in the Stepstones, and a small portion of her thoughts thinking of the ring on her finger, the necklace around Rhaenyra’s neck, and the earrings adorning her ears.

For once, Viserea was happy to see Alicent. She offered a distraction. Viserea could focus on the stories of the rulers before them instead of the matters at hand. She answered all of Alicent’s questions, and helped Rhaenyra answer the ones she tried to simply play off. Viserea watched as Rhaenyra laid her head in Alicent’s lap and continued brushing off all of Alicent’s questions, even as Alicent grew frustrated.

She stayed seated when Alicent stood up and let a smirk play across her face when Rhaenyra recited Princess Nymeria’s tale of fleeing across the Narrow Sea. Viserea knew Rhaenyra could recite most of the book, and that she was much smarter than she let on, and in the moments she showed it, pride would flow through Viserea.

As they walked back to the castle, the three of them laughed as Rhaenyra cussed the Septa, and let their topic of conversation change to that of who was attending the Tourney.

Viserea was awoken early the next morning, the light of day not even shining through her windows yet. Groggily, she stumbled to the door of her chambers, opening it and finding two handmaidens standing there.

“The Lord Hand sent us to ready you, Princess. A Small Council meeting has been called.” Stepping back, Viserea allowed the handmaidens to enter.

They dressed her quickly, and one of them styled her hair in a simple braid, given the short amount of time they had. Neither of them spoke to Viserea, knowing she was not talkative in the mornings, and Viserea was grateful. She thanked both of them once they were finished and stepped out of her room, being greeted by Ser Ryden.

“You look as lovely as ever, Princess,” he greeted, walking beside her as they made their way to the Council room.

“I do not feel it, Ser. I feel as though I have just been called out of bed before the sun has risen,” Viserea said bitterly, though the knight knew none of the bitterness was directed towards him.

The two met with Otto and the King as they neared the room,

“…it was an unprecedented roundup of alleged criminals of every ilk. Your brother made a public show of it, meting out the summary judgments himself. I'm told they needed a two-horse cart to haul away the resulting… dismemberments when it was done,” Otto said, paying no mind to Viserea as she joined them.

“Gods be good…” She heard Viserys mumble as the entered the Council room.

“The Prince cannot be allowed to act with this kind of unchecked impunity,” Otto continued before being interrupted by the Lord Commander, Redwyne.

Daemon’s presence sent a jolt through Viserea and it took her a moment to remember her duties. She walked to the side of the room and picked up the wine, beginning to fill the cups of the attending council members, though Daemon and Corlys were the only two to acknowledge her with a thanks.

Viserea stopped behind Otto’s chair, her eyes on the blood streak that stained Daemon’s gold cloak.

“Do not let me interrupt, my Lord Hand. You were saying something about my impunity?” Daemon spoke, both he and Viserea watching as Otto looked to the king to continue the conversation.

When he stayed silent, Otto moved to his seat, causing Viserea to have to quickly step to the side to avoid being hit by the chair. Lyonel Strong reached for Viserea’s arm to steady her and Daemon’s look towards Otto turned to a glare.

“You are to explain your doings with the City Watch,” Otto said, paying no mind to Viserea.

“What about them?” Daemons questioned. He sat down along with the rest of the council when the king sat down.

“Your new “gold cloaks” made quite an impression last night,” King Viserys finally spoke.

“Did they?” Daemon replied, causing Viserea to force back a smile.

“The City Watch is not a sword to be wielded at your whim. They are an extension of the crown,” Otto continued before being cut off.

“The Watch was enforcing the crown’s laws. Wouldn’t you say, Lord Strong?” Daemon and Viserea both looked to Lord Strong, who looked taken aback. He stuttered out a “My Prince” before Otto was speaking over him again.

“Making a public spectacle of wanton brutality is hardly in line with our laws,” the Hand said.

Viserea couldn’t help herself as she stood still between the Hand and the Master of Laws and let her eyes flicker between Otto and Daemon.

“Nobles from every corner of the realm are right now descending King’s Landing for my brother’s tourney. Do you want them to be mugged, raped, murdered?” Daemon’s face looked bored as he continued speaking to Otto, “You mightn’t know this unless you stepped out of the Red Keep, Lord Hightower, but much of King’s Landing is seen by the smallfolk as lawless and terrifying. Our city should be safe for all its people.”

“It’s true,” Viserea spoke, causing all heads to turn towards her. The blush that graced her cheeks matched the red in the gems of the jewelry gifted to her by Daemon which she currently wore. “The smallfolk don’t allow their children to roam the streets as they once did.”

“And how would you be aware of this?” Otto asked, looking up at her.

“Princess Rhaenyra and I notice it when we fly above. The children used to chase our dragons through the streets and now their parents keep a hand on them to prevent them from doing so,” She replied confidently, the lie coming easy to her. She would not tell them how she truly knew, though Viserys and Daemon both knew the truth and she could tell by the look the King was giving her.

“I agree that the city should be safe for all of its people, I just hope you don’t have to maim half my city to achieve this,” Viserys said, trying to calm the tension in the room.

“Time will tell,” Daemon answered easily, still looking up at Viserea.

Viserea looked away when Corlys voiced his support for Daemon and made her way around the table to top off anyone’s cups that needed it. She came to a stop next to Daemon when Otto brought up Daemon’s marriage. A sour taste filled Viserea’s mouth but she forced her face to remain blank.

“We understand from Lord Yorkers that you’ve not been seen in the Vale or at Runestone in some time. Queen Aemma was very proud to have arranged your union with Lady Rhea,” Otto continued on.

“I would think my bronze bitch is happier for my absence.” Daemon’s statement caused Lyman Beesbury and Lord Strong to both take sips of their wine, while Corlys and Viserea made eye contact and exchanged similar looks of amusement.

“Lady Rhea is your wife, a good and honorable lady of the Vale-“

“In the Vale, men are said to fuck sheep instead of women. I can assure you, the sheep are prettier.”

“You took a vow before the eyes of the Seven to honor the Lady Rhea in marriage.”

“Lady Rhea doesn’t seem to enjoy the Prince’s company either, is he to force himself on her?” Viserea quipped, an eyebrow raised toward the Hand.

Before Otto could reply, Daemon cut in again, seeing that Otto’s temper was about to turn on Viserea.

“I’d gladly give Lady Rhea to you, Lord Hightower, if you’re in need of a woman to warm your bed. Your own lady wife passed recently, did she not?”

Viserea nor Daemon flinched when Otto jumped from his chair, sending it toppling over.

“Perhaps you aren’t ready to move on just yet,” Daemon said, causing Viserea to cover her chuckle with a small cough.

“You know my brother makes sport of provoking you, Otto. Must you indulge him?” Viserys asked, his own exhaustion at the dynamic evident in his voice.

As Otto utters an apology and picks up his chair, Viserys looks up at Viserea, silently reprimanding her for aiding in Daemon’s comments. The King turned to Daemon and spoke once Otto had sat back down.

“The council has, at great expense, bettered the City Watch to your exact standards. Enforce my laws, but know that any further performances like last night’s will be answered.”

“Understood, Your Grace,” Daemon said, standing up from his spot, “Was there anything else?”

“That is all. You and Viserea can both be dismissed.”

Viserea was not surprised at her early dismissal, knowing it was the response to her comments and to her admitting she was sneaking around the city again.

She placed the wine down on its table and walked to the end of the table, where she took Daemon’s arm that he offered to her. She looked up at him as they left the room, clear confusion written on her face but no answers were given until the doors of the room were shut behind them.

Daemon answered her unspoken question, “I really do enjoy getting under our dear Hand’s skin, and offering the Princess my arm to escort her from the room and show that I do know how to use my manners is a great way of doing so.”

Viserea forced herself not to let the laughter consume her body, though the broad smile she wore showed just how amused she was at Daemon’s actions.

“I am glad I’m not the only one who enjoys watching his face turn red. It was worth being dismissed from the meeting early and any stern words I’ll receive from the King about my sneaking into the city if it means taking him down a peg.”

“You should be more careful, Princess. I am watching how you handle yourself in these meetings, and I cannot offer such a rebellious person a place in my council,” Daemon teased.

“Your council?” Viserea questioned, “Going by the King’s word, it will not be your council. It will be his son’s. I will be promised no place on the future King’s council so I might as well make sure my place is noted in the books. I do not wish to just be remembered as another Targaryen Princess married off to a Lord in order to further whichever King’s political gain.” Though her tone was light, her words held some weight.

“I shall see to it that you are remembered as more than that,” Daemon told her, his words completely erasing the joking atmosphere between the two. Viserea doesn’t doubt his words for a moment, looking up at him and offering him a small smile.

“I look forward to seeing how you carry out that promise,” she told him.

The rest of the day flew by uneventfully for Viserea. She had attended another council meeting of little importance later in the day, and recited the events of the two meetings to Rhaenyra in her chambers before they went to bed.

She did well when the Septa tested her on the histories and the Septa rewarded her with another book from the North, specifically from Winterfell, though this one was clearly written for her. It was a detailed history of the Starks and must have been written by the Starks own maester. The book was heavier than most, but Viserea knew some of that weight was mental. She had learned what she must about her family in her classes, but couldn’t bring herself to study more about them. It made her feel closer to her mother, but she found the cost to be just as large as the reward.

Viserea was never ashamed of who her mother was, in fact, she frequently wore dresses of Stark grey intertwined with Targaryen red to honor her mother and her mother’s family. However, she could only sometimes bring herself to do more than that. She loved Aemma as a mother figure, and she knew that Aemma loved her as if she was her own. Viserea was grateful for the love she received from her father’s family, but that did not fill the hole she felt of not having her own mother there with her. Learning about the Starks made her feel closer to her mother and farther away at the same time.

Viserea was more than grateful for the afternoon dragon ride she was able to take with Rhaenyra, though they kept the flight short in case Aemma’s condition changed at all. The short time in the air helped clear her head and she was back to her usual self by the time they returned to the pit.

That night, after Viserea had told Rhaenyra of the council meeting and they had bid each other a good night, Viserea fell asleep quickly. The sleep did not last long though.

She did not remember what the dream started as, but it quickly turned to one of horror. Aemma in pain, blood soaked sheets, and two pyres being burned by dragonfire at Rhaenyra’s command. She was shaken awake by Ser Ryden, concern written on his face as he checked her over for injuries and started to call for the maesters.

“No, don’t!” Viserea commanded, through a tear soaked face. “It was a dream, nothing is wrong with me.” She said, falling against Ser Ryden and sobbing into the cool metal of his armor.

“I need Nyra and Daemon.” She told him, pulling away. There wasn’t a single protest from him as he left the room to retrieve the two, coming back less than a moment later with a disheveled and concerned Rhaenyra.

“The Prince is not in his chambers.” Ser Ryden said, “I checked them myself on the way to the Princess’.”

Rhaenyra quickly made her way to Viserea’s bed and the two hugged each other tightly.

“Is it bad?” Rhaenyra asked her after a couple minutes of their embrace. Viserea took a shaky breath and nodded,

“Horrible. The other nightmares were nothing like this, they weren’t prophecies, this was.” Viserea told her, pulling away to look at Rhaenyra.

“What is it about?” Rhaenyra asked. Viserea tried to reply, but felt the tears start again and took a couple deep breaths to calm herself,

“I feel like if I say it out loud, it will make it come true and you will hate me for it.”

“I could never hate you.” Rhaenyra said quickly, taking Viserea’s hands in her own. “You see prophecies. They are already set in stone, you do not make them.”

“It’s mother.” Viserea said.

She gave Rhaenyra a moment to decide if she wanted to hear more and, once she nodded for her to continue, told her of the prophecy. She left out the gruesome details, telling her only that she saw Rhaenyra giving Syrax the command to burn their pyres.

“There’s more.” Rhaenyra wasn't asking, she knew that Viserea was withholding part of the dream.

“Trust me and hear me when I say that you do not want to know. It is not something you need to be haunted with.” Viserea’s voice was cold and serious, making Rhaenyra nod.

“Do you want me to stay with you?” Rhaenyra asked her, though she had already begun pulling the blankets back for herself.

“Please.” Viserea replied.

The two girls laid down next to each other, with Viserea pulling Rhaenyra into her side. Neither of them said another word. Neither of them knew what to say. They simply took what little comfort they could in each other’s presence.

Rhaenyra nor Viserea slept much the rest of the night, the two waking each other up due to a bad dream or anxiety the moment the other fell asleep. When their handmaidens saw to them the next morning, both girls looked as exhausted as they felt and neither of them wanted to attend breakfast.

The Princesses’ late arrival to the tourney did not go unnoticed by Viserys, who threw both girls a sidelong glance. Viserea and Rhaenyra both apologized to the nobles they had to climb across and Viserea sat on the side of Rhaenyra not occupied by Alicent.

When Viserea nor Rhaenyra showed much interest in Alicent’s gossip of Lady Elinor being secretly pregnant, Viserea saw her curve her body to face them and she dropped her voice.

“Are you feeling well?” She asked with a voice of genuine concern.

“Rea was sick last night, I stayed with her.” Rhaenyra lied quickly, though Viserea shook her head.

“She can know.” Viserea said, dropping her voice down and turning herself to the two girls beside her. “I had another dream last night. It was… gruesome to say the least.”

“Might I know the subject?” Alicent asked the two.

Viserys stood from behind the three of the girls,

“It has just been told to me that Queen Aemma has begun her labors!” He announced, smiling widely as the crowd cheered loudly.

Upon seeing Rhaenyra and Viserea exchange glances with clear worry written on their faces, Alicent quickly realized what the dream was about.

“Is there a way to stop it?” Alicent asked, but quickly backtracked “Apologies, you two would have already done it if you could.” She told them, taking one of their hands in each of her own.

“I won’t discuss the details of what I did see. They aren’t pleasant.” Viserea looked to Alicent, whose face was laced with curiosity and a sad look.

“She would not even tell me, only that she saw me burning the two pyres.” Rhaenyra said, her voice still dropped low, though all eyes were on the knights dueling below.

The three girls’ attention was drawn away from each other for a moment as the Master of Revels introduced Daemon and watched as he and his horse passed along the knights lined up.

When he pointed his lance to Gwayne Hightower, Viserea forced herself to keep the amused smile off of her face. Alicent was okay sometimes and Viserea had grown used to her presence due to Rhaenyra’s close friendship with her and she trusted her not to wrong them, but that was the nicest she could speak of the Hightower family.

Daemon dismounting Alicent’s brother caused all of the nobles and royals in the box to lean forward and Rhaenyra to gently rub Alicent’s back in a calming manner once her brother stood up.

“Nicely done, Uncle.” Rhaenyra told him.

“Quite a skilled performance.” Viserea said.

“Thank you, my Princesses.” He tells them both, smiling at them after removing his helmet. He lowers his lance towards Alicent, “I’m fairly certain I can win these games, Lady Alicent. Having your favor would all but assure it.”

The same feelings of jealousy that Viserea had spent hours in solitude debating rose as a bile in her throat as she watched Alicent blush and stand up before placing the favor on Daemon’s lance.

“Good luck, my Prince.” Alicent wished him.

Viserea looked to Rhaenyra who was already looking at her. Both of them had frowns on their faces that they forced away when Alicent returned.

As the tourney continued on, Viserea’s favor was given to her cousin, Rickon, who invited her to see Winterfell.

Upon seeing Ser Criston Cole dismount Lord Boremund Baratheon, Rhaenyra called over Ser Harrold and Ser Ryden and questioned if either of them knew of the Cole man.

“We have been asking the same thing, Princesses and my Lady. I’m told Ser Criston is common-born, the son of Lord Blackhaven’s steward. Other than that, and the fact he has now unhorsed both the Baratheon lads, I could not say.” Ser Harrold told the three girls.

The three move to the guard-rail when it is announced that Ser Criston has chosen Daemon to tilt against. Viserea’s attention is drawn away from the fight and she grips the guard-rail tight enough that her knuckles turn white due to the strange feeling taking over body.

“Prince Daemon Targaryen wishes to continue in a melee!” The voice barely breaks through Viserea’s trance while she concentrates on taking deep breaths to steady herself. She hardly registers the rest of the world, only noticing from the sound of the crowd that Daemon had apparently been bested by Ser Criston and feeling Rhaenyra’s hand rest on top of hers.

“Sit.” Rhaenyra commands her, leaving no room in her voice for argument and Viserea doesn’t try to.

She begins to make her way to her seat, but is waved over by Princess Rhaenys, while Corlys stands and allows her to take his seat.

“Thank you, my Lord, but you did not have to give up your seat.” Viserea tells him.

“Nonsense. You looked as though you were about to faint.” Corlys spoke in Valyrian to the Princess, avoiding drawing any concern to them.

“Are you that concerned for your uncle’s wellbeing?” Rhaenys asked though she knew that was not the cause for Viserea’s episode.

Viserea looked to her cousin, her dark hair and lilac eyes complimented each other and the rare combination radiated power that Viserea had nothing but respect for.

“I always worry for my uncle, but no, that is not the reason for my… unease.” Viserea struggled to find the word that fit exactly what she was feeling.

The three of them turned their heads when they noticed Viserys and Otto leaving the box, and though she had not eaten anything since the night before, Viserea still felt she might be sick. She looked back to Rhaenyra and Alicent and was grateful neither of them had seemed to notice the absence.

“It is the Queen. You’ve had another dream and the Princess and Lady know of it.” Rhaenys’ declaration did not surprise Viserea; Rhaenys was a smart, strong, and observant woman.

Corlys’ looked down at Viserea when she nodded,

“You can feel the dream happening?” Corlys asked and Viserea shook her head.

“I don’t feel her labor pains, but I feel that the dream is happening. It did not happen when I predicted our first dragon ride, though I was still a child and the excitement of my first flight was the only thing I noticed.” Viserea looked between Rhaenys and Corlys as they exchanged glances.

The three of them stood as more cheers and screams of the crowd suddenly grew louder. They glanced down and saw that multiple fights had broken out which brought a sneer to Rhaenys’ face.

“Some way to celebrate the birth of our future king.” Corlys said with distaste.

“Their lords sent them to the tourney field with fists full of steel and balls full of seed. None of them have known real war. It is a wonder that war did not break out at first blood.” Rhaenys spoke in the common tongue now and moments later Otto returned to the royal box.

He whispered something into Corlys’ ear and went to the next member of the small council. The unease Viserea felt was gone, washed away by grief. She did not need to hear the Hand’s words in order to know the message he delivered.

A flurry broke out in the royal box and Viserea stood quickly, pushing her way through until she stood just outside of it, awaiting Rhaenyra. Once Rhaenyra joined her, Viserea immediately took her hand, letting Rhaenyra lead the way as she wordlessly followed her.

As they arrive at the Queen’s chambers, Viserea bites her tongue to avoid letting any tears fall. They both step into the doorway but neither cross the threshold. Aemma had already been taken out of the room and Viserea’s grip on Rhaenyra’s hand tightened as the short flashes of blood and pain from her dream began flashing through her head. When Viserys does not move from his spot, Rhaenyra is back to pulling Viserea down the hallways, not stopping until they reach Rhaenyra’s own chambers where she begins pacing in front of her bed.

“I was never good enough for him. A daughter with a womb, never a son with a cock.” Rhaenyra’s words shocked Viserea, but not because of what she said. The anger in her voice was surprising.

Viserea stepped closer to Rhaenyra, stopping her from walking and hugging her tightly. She felt Rhaenyra’s tears soak the shoulder of her dress and the two sat on the foot of her bed and her own tears soon began soaking Rhaenyra’s dress.

The tears eventually stopped flowing and the two of them moved to lay in the middle of Rhaenyra’s bed. Each of them had their arms wrapped around each other while Viserea laid on her back with Rhaenyra’s head on her chest.

“I feel selfish. I was able to know my mother and I grieve the loss of only one. You have now grieved the loss of two and it is you who comforts me.” Rhaenyra spoke, her voice gravelly.

“Our losses are not meant to be competitions, Nyra. You comforted me last night and I was delivering news of Aemma’s and your brother’s loss.” Viserea said, playing with a strand of Rhaenyra’s hair that had fallen.

“I will have to give the command?” Rhaenyra looked up at Viserea as she asked.

“I saw you give the command and since your father’s dragon has passed, the responsibility would fall to you. However, you are the Princess of the Realm. If you wanted me to give the command to Tessarion, I would oblige… and I am sure Daemon would offer Caraxes.”

“No. I will not pass off my responsibilities to someone else so that I may wallow in my own pity.” Rhaenyra said with a firm tone.

Viserea nodded and the two sat up when they heard a knock on the door. Rhaenyra cleared her throat before saying,

“Enter.”

Viserea’s favorite handmaiden, Amarda, entered followed by one of Rhaenyra’s. They each carried a tray of food and gently sat them on one of the tables of the room.

“I thought you two would enjoy your dinner in the Princess’ chambers tonight. The King had his delivered to his own chambers.” Amarda explained, offering a hand to each of the girls to help them stand.

“Thank you, Amarda.” Viserea offered her a small smile which she returned.

Rhaenyra and Viserea ate what they could stomach of their dinners and were briefly separated long enough to bathe and dress in their nightclothes. They joined each other in Rhaenyra’s room again afterwards and eventually received the news that Baelon had also passed.

A second sleepless night was spent together and the handmaidens offered no surprise to see them in Rhaenyra’s room together the next morning as they brought them their breakfast. The two were soon dressed in black dresses and cloaks and being ushered to the funeral.

It was late afternoon by the time everyone was brought out to Rhaenys’ Hill, the morning being spent inside and dealing with nobles offering well wishes to the remaining Targaryens. Viserea did not bother wiping away her tears as the Septon spoke. She kept her posture straight and her head high, her free hand by her side and the other laced with Rhaenyra’s. She did not know if she had offered her hand in an attempt to comfort Rhaenyra or herself, but she was glad when Rhaenyra took it. She could force herself to maintain a regal posture and not be ashamed of her tears, but she could not force herself to stand without the other princess.

The crowd turned to look towards Rhaenyra, signaling it was time for her to say the word, though she made no move.

“They’re waiting for you.” Daemon spoke gently from behind the two.

Viserea saw Rhaenyra’s jaw clench in anger and she ran her thumb across the other’s knuckles. Daemon stepped to stand on the other side of Rhaenyra and offered his arm to her.

“Come. We’ll go together.”

“I wonder if, for those few hours my brother lived, my father finally found happiness.” Rhaenyra snapped, her breathing getting deeper.

Viserea kept quiet, agreeing with Rhaenyra’s words, but knowing her input would help nothing.

“Your father needs you… more now than he ever has.” Daemon said, looking to Viserea next, “Both of you.”

“We are not sons.” Rhaenyra said, dropping Viserea’s hand and stepping forward.

Daemon takes a step towards Viserea so they stand shoulder to shoulder. They both watch as Rhaenyra raises her head to speak and then pauses. Viserea can sense it before it happens and grabs Daemon’s wrist, stopping him from going to her again.

“Daor. (No.)” Viserea said, stopping Daemon. She knew Rhaenyra needed to do this on her own and that she would not appreciate the help.

“Dracarys.” Rhaenyra spoke. The dragon stepped forward, letting out a low moan, as if feeling Rhaenyra’s pain herself. A moment later and the dragon’s fire was cascading over the two pyres.

Viserea did not move from her spot as others began leaving the hill. She reassured Rhaenyra she would be inside soon and saw from the corner of her eye Alicent and Rhaenyra walk off together. Daemon did not move from Viserea’s side. When the hill finally emptied and the last of the smoke rose from the ashes left of the two members of their family, Viserea finally spoke.

“The gods are cruel. I have now attended four funerals for my family, and there is no positive to outweigh the grief. Rhaenyra and I both grieve the loss of a mother, I grieve the loss of a father, and the father Rhaenyra so desperately needs has never learned to appreciate her. ‘The Realm’s Delight’ they call her, and he has never opened his eyes to see how true those words are.”

“He loves her, loves both of you-“ Daemon started, though he was cut off by a harsh laugh from Viserea.

“I have no doubt in my mind that he loves us, but he does not love us the way he would have loved Baelon. He does not love me the way he loves Rhaenyra. He has already begun discussing possible future betrothals for Rhaenyra, but does not mention any for me. He may love us, but he treats her as no more than a political pawn and he does not even treat me as that. His first royal decree on the very day he was made King was that I was part of his family and I was to be treated in the same respect as Rhaenyra, and it is he himself who failed that.” Viserea’s words were laced with bitterness as she stared ahead with a few more fresh tears flowing freely down her cheeks.

“The two of you do not see how much he truly loves you.” Daemon replied, his voice sincere.

“He did not notice anything was wrong with me at the tourney. Princess Rhaenys and Lord Corlys noticed before he did. She was the one who put it together that I had another dream. Alicent noticed that something was wrong before he did! Alicent whom I do not speak to unless I must! The man who I am supposed to view as a father saw nothing wrong with me or his blood born daughter!” By the end of the rant, Viserea was shouting through tears and grateful that the hill was empty.

Viserea felt Daemon pull her towards him and she allowed herself to melt into his embrace and wrap her arms around him in return. After a couple minutes, Viserea had calmed down and she pulled away from him, wiping away any sign of her tears.

“You had another dream?” Daemon asked her, not commenting on her previous show of emotion.

“Yes. I called for you and Rhaenyra last night, but you were not there. I did not tell Rhaenyra the full extent of it and I never will. She doesn’t need to know what her mother went through in her final moments.” Viserea said, her tone surpassing its previous bitterness and turning to one bordering hate by the end.

“What was the full dream?” His voice was cautious, as if he was afraid that asking would only make her angrier.

“The babe was in breach. They were both going to die no matter what, but Aemma was never told that. He held her down like a pig for slaughter as the Maester suggested a new way being practiced in the citadel. She died terrified and in pain. Her screams will not leave my nightmares anytime soon.” Viserea told him.

“You do not plan to forgive him for this.” It wasn’t a question that Daemon asked. He already knew the answer.

“You and Rhaenyra are the only Targaryen family I have left.” Looking up at him, Viserea’s lilac eyes were cold and Daemon understood that her words were true to her.

[allgirlsareprincesses]

I am Venus: Folktale Motifs in Queen Charlotte

Adapted from my 2023 Twitter thread

How the love story of George and Charlotte subverts the classic animal bride and groom tales for a new generation:

We begin with clear swan maiden motifs, with Charlotte as the captured bride betrothed against her will. When the dowager princess refuses to allow her to wear the wedding gown she selected, this is stealing the animal skin (or power) of the animal bride.

What’s more, George’s mother insists she wear an English wedding gown. Clothing the bride claims her for the mundane world, separating her from her otherworldly home. In a typical swan maiden tale, she would flee the moment she recovers her stolen skin.

Then comes the first subversion of the tale: George gives her the option to leave, symbolically returning her animal skin and her power. And Charlotte chooses not only to stay, but also to wear her own wedding gown, thus claiming his world as hers.

Next we see Fruit Maiden motifs, as Charlotte is twice prevented from picking her own oranges. In these tales, the prince cuts open two oranges before discovering his true bride in the third. When Charlotte finally picks her own orange, she once again claims her power.

Later, we see hints of Star Lovers. George has already mentioned his interest in astronomy, but now we see his observatory. This fascination with the heavens and his role as monarch suggests that he is a star husband and Charlotte is his mortal bride.

However, Charlotte also originally called him a beast or troll, and as we see more of George’s mental health struggles, we realize that he does indeed see himself as the animal husband, unworthy of his celestial bride.

When she discovers him in the garden calling to Venus, Charlotte explicitly associates herself with the planet and thus with the goddess of the same name. It turns out SHE is the star bride after all, and George is the mortal husband.

In fact, as the king associates more and more with his "Farmer George" persona, even using this knowledge to assist Charlotte in birth, it becomes clear he is the earthly husband, always digging down while gazing up.

He allows himself to be practically buried in the cellar under the doctor's horrible "treatments," and hides under the bed to escape the sight of the heavens. His only light is his wife, descended from the sky of her own choice.

Mythically, the monarch is the conduit between heaven and earth. When Charlotte the Star Bride meets George the Earthly Husband in the middle, two halves become whole, and they are able to rule together.

Swan Maidens, Star Brides, and Fruit Maidens are nearly always captive brides. Their agency is not a factor in most folktales, but Queen Charlotte turns this on its head by making its heroine a goddess, giving her the power and choice to love as she wishes.

This story's thesis is vital in today's world where nothing seems certain: that life is lonely, so if you are fortunate to find your person, you choose to love them even when it's hard and painful. That feminine desire matters at every age. And that love can work miracles.

[icedragonlizard]

Headcanon: Kirby hugs everyone

Kirby is a very huggy boi. He loves giving hugs.

Pretty much anyone that is Kirby's friend is going to get hugs from him.

Hugs is one of Kirby's ways to try to provide comfort for someone. He's not good with words of encouragement as he's kind of nonverbal a lot of the time anyways. He'll give you a hug to try to make you feel better, and he also does it just to make you appreciated and cared about, since he wants that for pretty much everyone more or less.

Generally, this works out very well. Even people such as Meta Knight, Magolor, and Daroach that generally aren't huggers on their own are glad to accept hugs from Kirby. It's the least they can do after how lovable and endearing he is, and after everything he's done as a hero.

Every dream friend has received hugs from Kirby. Even Dark Meta Knight, who is generally the most reluctant out of them to accept a hug, has relented to Kirby hugs. Nobody can deny Kirby his hugs.

A lot of Kirby's friends love to return the favor and give him hugs! The most prominent examples of this are King Dedede, Adeleine, Ribbon and the animal friends. Out of the animal friends, Rick, Nago and ChuChu are the most happy to have hugs with Kirby any time. Nago in particular is just a straight up cuddlebug, he's a big hugger too!

ChuChu, Kine and Gooey may not have great skin texture for hugs, but does Kirby care? No. He gives them hugs anyways! Even though Kine and Gooey aren't able to hug back, it's not like they care, they enjoy getting hug by Kirby regardless! They appreciate him so much.

Marx rarely gets hugs in his life. Generally, he doesn't really care for hugs. That being said, Kirby has given him hugs... and he appreciates it! There's a part of Marx that does think it's rather amusing that Kirby chooses to give him hugs considering what happened between the two before, but he figures that the least he can do is accept those hugs! Kirby caught him by surprise one time by hugging him while he was bouncing on his beach ball, which then caused him to fall.. Marx ended up laughing after that because Kirby sure got him there!

The mage sisters normally aren't suited for hugs considering their elements cover their bodies (i.e. Francisca feels icy to touch, Flamberge feels very fiery hot to touch) but I headcanon that they're capable of turning off the elements inside their bodies to where they're capable of giving hugs. And they do that for when Kirby asks to give them hugs. They love hugging with Kirby! They owe it to him after he saved them and Hyness, who likes to hug him as well!

Out of all of Kirby's friends, though, the two that are definitely most needing and deserving of hugs are Taranza and Susie, considering the things that have happened in their lives. After Kirby reconciled with them, he's sometimes been going out of his way to act as emotional support for them. He's made sure to give them both tons of hugs... their grief makes him sad and he wants to them to still feel cared about and appreciated despite losing the people they loved.

Taranza needs hugs for obvious reasons. Dude is just heartbroken from all the things that happened to him. He's so grateful to Kirby whenever he gives him hugs, it often makes him cry happily. Kirby is effective at acting like an emotional support dog for him sometimes.

Susie has gone a very long time without any hugs. When she got banished to Another Dimension, she didn't have anyone that she could've given hugs to, and when she finally returned to her mind-controlled father that forgot her existence, he refused to accept hugs from her... tragic. The first hug that she's gotten ever since the Another Dimension incident was from Kirby when they reconciled.

Because Susie went so long without hugs, it's made her not used to physical affection for the most part. When Kirby hugged her the first few times, it made her flabbergasted, and it even made her cry when she tried figuring out how to respond to it. But eventually as she got more used to it, she really likes Kirby's hugs! Even if she's still not really one for physical affection otherwise, she's glad to have hugs with Kirby any time... she's grateful for it, as it's indeed helpful for her.

That's basically all I have for this post! As this post highly establishes, I headcanon that Kirby loves giving hugs, and will give a lot of hugs to those that need it. It doesn't really get more huggable than Kirby.

Kirby is such a softie. He has so much love and care in his heart. He cares so, so much. Whenever he befriends someone, he's going to act like a real friend to them. He might not talk very often, but it usually doesn't even matter because of how endearing he is. He wants his friends to feel cared about and appreciated, and giving them hugs is probably his best method of making them feel cared about.

Thanks for reading! More Kirby headcanon posts will come later!

[suzyandthefox]

Golden King

Help I'm running out of motivation and ideas

Anyway, Soft safe Sfw M/M G/t vore story, Unwilling prey.

Tag list: @pineappleparfaitie

Tailor has served the Golden king for as long as he knows, he had always looked upon the golden titan with admiration, more than admiration,even.

But the problem was, he was a small,frail human, who barely does anything of importance without collapsing, and He,The Golden King,Midas, was a titan.

A behemoth of sixty feet, who, despite being generous and gentle with Tailor,has never appeared to be truly… present in the moment.

Poor Tailor assumed that His highness, Midas, had so many things on his mind, the last thing he would care about was an insignificant being like himself.

It was even more accentuated by the fact that he never saw what's underneath his golden armour, save for the occasional glimpse of two pools of gold that he feared to look at, no matter how inviting they were,in fear of being swallowed by their beauty, and forgetting whom they belonged to.

However, all of this changed one fateful night.

=============

Ever since the Cursed King has met Tailor, he has made the human his -he would say servant, but the rest of those in his domain only saw a pet-

It wasn't out of pity, quite the opposite, he loved the boy, he loved him in the way a king loves his servant, and in the way a father loves his son, and in-between these two was a special kind of love he could not name, but it made for the desire to protect the little one from anything and everything.

So from then on,Tailor has always been by the side of the king, in the literal sense, for the boy has not known a moment without Midas in his vicinity, holding him in the palm of his gold-coated hand or on his shoulder, and when Midas does leave him, if even for a few moments, he becomes filled with great distress, and the crushing weight of dread and vulnerability.

That night, it was one of these moments.

The boy’s legs could not carry him, as if he was going to collapse at any moment, exhaustion eating at his frail body.

 And yet, he refused even the idea of leaving his king, insisting that he could still be of use, that the fatigue was only a mere hindrance.

“Rest.” Midas ordered, as gently as a father would order his son, but it still had the firmness that proved he was king.

“I can't rest when you haven't rested yourself, your highness.”

“Boy, you would be the first to know there's no rest for me.”

“Exactly, your highness”

The Cursed King sighed deeply, and contemplated his next words, he knew how distressed -frightened even- the boy felt when he wasn't around, and he also knew that he had to choose his words carefully, or else he would cause even more fear within Tailor.

Words be damned then, if Tailor wouldn't rest by demand,then he would rest by force.

He narrowed his eyes and thought for a moment if what he was going to do was the right choice, it made sense in his mind, but it was the execution and the consequences of said action that made him hesitate for a second.

His hand rested idly on his armored torso as he thought a bit more about the idea of swallowing his small servant whole.

Meanwhile, the servant was equal parts confused and worried about his master's sudden silence. His highness was thinking for sure, but about what? What it is that made him silent all of a sudden?

“Tailor”

The sudden calling of his name shocked him.

“I order you to go to your own bed and rest there, and if you dare disobey…”

“I will have to take drastic measures.”

Tailor swallowed, Midas was… threatening him? He who was always obedient and never dared to defy? But after a moment he realized, yes, this is what he gets for daring to defy the Golden King, and between his desire to stay by Midas’ side, and to be the good servant he was always meant to be, he chose to defy.

“I'm sorry… I'm so very very sorry…” The boy said between bated breaths.

“But no, I have to disobey you this one time, I don't have it in me to leave your side…”

Midas narrowed his eyes again, and even if the helmet had obscured his face, Tailor could just feel the anger forming underneath it.

“You have left me no choice then.”

In a quick but careful motion, Midas plucked the boy in a firm grip, and brought him close to his face.

He waited another moment, for it was the first time he observed Tailor from such a close distance.

The boy was a frail,soft thing. Big, frightful eyes staring into his own and welling with tears, and now that he held him in his hand and looked at him with all attention, he realized just how small he was.

It felt even more right to devour the sweet little thing, to swallow him whole and make him his own, whether that was his instincts as a Titan or a dark desire that he only acknowledged now, he did not know.

“Your …highness?”

It was too late to go back.

He winced when he heard the faint sobs, but still brought Tailor to his mouth, despite the protests and the begging.

He made it as quick as it could be, constantly reminding himself that it was Tailor that he is swallowing whole, and it was for a good cause.

He had not spent a moment tasting the human, instead he went with it as if he was swallowing a pill, despite his instincts screaming at him to do the opposite. 

It scared him, how easy it was, how  natural it felt, to be doing this, like he was always meant to do this, barely a single swallow and the poor little thing vanished.

He couldn't help but rest his now empty hand on his abdomen, as if he wanted to feel Tailor within his depths-No, it was as if he feared that he will lose the boy inside him and be unable to sense him.

But the feelings of fear and sorrow that stirred in his heart, feelings that weren't his own, has proved to him that the boy was still alive and awake.

He sighed again, as to adjust himself mentally to the reality of what he had just done.

He should be up and going now, but he couldn't move until he was fully sure that Tailor was completely safe and trusting of the new environment, or at least until he was trusting enough to rest in there.

=============

Tailor was sure this is the end.

He knew there was going to be consequences to his disobedience, but as soon as he was held like  that , he wasn't sure if he was ready anymore.

For the first time in his life he found the courage to stare directly at the King’s golden eyes, and a wave of awe washed over him as he saw his own reflection in Midas' eyes.

Everything soon turned into a horrible nightmare as he realized what was going to happen, he broke into tears as the titan’s warm breath  sent shivers down his spine.

He closed his eyes and tried to deny what is happening to him, but it was far too much for him to ignore.

Tailor couldn't take it, and he sobbed in pain, not even able to find the strength in himself to fight against the titan’s overwhelming strength, so he let himself be carried to the final destination.

It, at first,felt like it lasted forever, and in that forever, Tailor had went deep in thoughts, a thousand why’s came to him.

Soft, slick flesh held him in the strangest type of embrace, and yet Tailor was far too lost in his own mind, why has His Highness done this? And if the intention was to devour all along, Why not earlier? Why have he not chewed, and opted to swallow his frail form whole instead?

The long journey ended faster than he thought, when he felt himself slip into a larger room, and finally he could breathe and move his limbs.

Between his fear, sorrow, and the tiniest bit of curiosity, Tailor was completely lost, both mentally and physically.

He felt that the innards of the titan were a maze, so he chose to stay where he is, where His Highness would want him to be, as a good little morsel.

He couldn't stop crying, however, and he constantly mumbled “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm very sorry…” over and over, as he shivered weakly.

=============

Midas bit at his lip, deep guilt clawing at his heart, he couldn't handle Tailor’s crying in normal circumstances, and now he was the very reason he was crying.

He wished there was an easier way, but he reminded himself that it was all for a good cause, and that his own body was the safest place on earth when he made his mind to it.

“Little one…” He first spoke in a whisper, fearing that he may be too loud for the boy deep within him.

But he soon realised that the latter was not listening to him.

He repeated, but only received frightful, regretful mumbles.

“Tailor!” He finally demanded, and as if the boy wasn't small enough, he shrunk in size, which caused Midas to feel even more protective of him.

“Y…Yes, Your highness?”

Midas took a deep breath, and gently spoke:

“Look around you, child, and listen, do you truly know where are you?”

Tailor listened as Midas ordered him to, he heard a powerful heart, steadily beating, every single beat shook him to his core.

He heard the breathing, now hitched and shallower than it was as it reflected Midas' emotions at that moment.

Tailor wanted to speak, but whatever he was going to say wasn't important at that moment.

“You are within me,closer than any being could ever be, safe and hidden within an impenetrable fortress of gold.”

“And you have always known, little one, I have never hurt you, I never will, and tonight is no exception.”

The servant was even more confused, yes, he always trusted his master, but how in the world is being eaten alive safe?! And if Midas' intention wasn't to hurt him, then what was it?

“It's… not a punishment?”

“Because I… Disobeyed you?” The boy squeaked.

“Well, it's both a punishment and a reward.” 

“You have been stubborn as a bull, you weren't going to be convinced to go to your chambers, and I knew you will refuse to leave my side, I had to keep you close somehow, while also giving you somewhere to rest,”

“It made sense to me then that I carry you in my stomach, for you will both be with me and within a safe, comfortable place”

“I…apologize for putting you through such an experience, I should have warned you about what I was going to do first, but…”

“I may have been eager, desperate,or impatient.” Midas finished, and got up to walk to his own chamber.

“You are dear to me,Tailor, the dearest. For you to be here right now, under my heart and within my ribcage, for me to hold you not unlike how a mother holds her child, it's a testament of my love for you, and how important you are to me.”

“It's something only I can only give to you, and only you can receive from me.”

His eyes teared as he said these words, for he only now realised how much he cherished the human, and yet never took the time to tell him that, or to tell him anything besides demands.

Meanwhile, Tailor began to acquaint himself with the new environment as he attentively listened to Midas.

He placed his hands on the soft inner walls of the stomach, reassuring himself that it was, as Midas said,safe.

That he himself was safe and sound.

He let out an understanding hum as he adjusted himself, now laying on his back instead of curling into a small ball.

But it was when Midas drew the comparison between himself and a mother, that Tailor couldn't control his tears and began sobbing again.

“No… Boy, what made you cry again?” His Highness asked with worry.

“It's just… You have been my family, your highness, before I met you, I never felt loved by anyone…”

“But it all changed when I met you, even when you haven't told me that you cared for me,I knew that you did…”

“And now…now that I'm here, with you, within you, I just…”

“I don't deserve any of this…”

The boy said as he turned to the walls and hugged them.

“But it already happened, Boy…”

“You may as well cherish it while it lasts” Midas said, in an uncharacteristic, tender tone that made the boy heavily blush.

“Yes, Your highness… And thank you.”

“Now rest as I told you, I shall let you out in the morning.”

“Yes…Your highness…”

Tailor wiped his tears, the darkness and humidity of the area around him made him realize just how exhausted he is, it was impossible to resist the gentle lulling of the organ.

“This is between us,Got it, Little one?” There was the slightest hint of playfulness in his voice, which made the servant giggle.

“Got it.” Indeed, this was their little, special secret.

[top-rhaenyra]

the contrast of rhaenyra's and alicent's experiences with motherhood is so fascinating

I’ve always argued the storyline of being wary of motherhood and childbirth would’ve worked better with Alicent than Rhaenyra.

Alicent doesn’t get to choose who the father of her children is, she doesn’t have access to contraceptives nor can she refuse Viserys when he calls for her.

The themes of forced motherhood and the consequences of this would work so much better with women like Alicent: struggling to love children forced on you, not understanding why you’re not overcome with maternal affection, suffering from undiagnosed postpartum depression etc.

With Rhaenyra it just doesn’t work because unlike Alicent she can choose her children’s father and she can decide when she wants to be pregnant. In the books she has three back to back pregnancies and then stops for 4 years, whilst in the show she has Joffrey eight years after Luke which means she intentionally had a third child. Either way it all comes down to Rhaenyra having bodily autonomy; if she didn’t want to be pregnant she wouldn’t be pregnant.

Also having Rhaenyra be the one who expresses her wish to not have children honestly feels more sexist because the writers are implying not wanting to be a mother isn’t normal, so once Rhaenyra gives birth to Jace she realises the error of her ways and happily has five more. This implication doesn’t sit well with me.

so i wasn’t fair to you anon, and i’ve let this sit in my inbox since may. the reason for this is because i wanted to see how alicent and rhaenyra’s relationships to their children were developed, explained, and expanded on in season two.

regarding alicent and her children:

i think we officially got your wish anon (mine too). while some people may be unhappy with her arc in season 2, alicent has always had a deep-seated love-hate relationship with her children. i’d argue that in season one we also got glimpses into the just…visceral revulsion that she cannot shake when she looks at her children, aegon in particular. but in season two i think she’s truly confronted, in a noticeable tangible way, with the facts of her sons.

obviously, i wish we’d been able to see more of this kind of dynamic back in season one, especially with a younger alicent. however, there are season constraints and we can only see so much in ten episodes (side note: 8-10 episode seasons with a two year wait in between is a rant for another time, but know i’m not being like “yay season constraints!”).

the problem with alicent’s arc and struggle is that so fucking much of it is internal. it is so incredibly hard to show on screen and i find the way its been done so far admirable. up until luke’s death, alicent is lying to herself over and over every day about her relationship to her children, aemond and aegon particularly. once the war starts i believe the tower of lies she’s told herself (this is morally correct, i’m just doing my duty, i was treated well, i’m protecting my children like any mother should) start to crumble. i hate so much that we never got her reaction to aemond killing luke for this reason.

also, to a certain extent she may not ever truly come to grips with her trauma. there are no words for what she went through—marital rape was not a concept then. it still manifests, obviously, but i think we can tell with her repeated insistence that viserys was a decent husband and man [loud incorrect buzzer] that she still thinks she’s the one who’s done something wrong. i’ll be interested to see if the writers ever actually have alicent come to grips with the fact that viserys was, in fact, not a good person or king. personally, i don’t believe they will, but we can always hope.

anyways, all this is to say that: i do believe the themes of forced motherhood and its lifelong consequences are well done and explored with alicent (thus far). people will disagree, perhaps even you, but her eventual rejection of aegon and aemond; her desperate, almost chaotic protection of helaena; her ideas about daeron; all of it really speaks to the struggle she’s had and is going through as their mother.

regarding rhaenyra and her children:

this is more difficult that alicent lol

before i get into my gripes with her story, i do want to push back just a little bit on the idea that rhaenyra truly has bodily autonomy. regardless of when or with whom she gets pregnant, she’s still expected to get pregnant and have children. while its unfortunately not explored, she does need to produce heirs.

now. i agree with you for the most part. rhaenyra’s relationships to her children really make no sense. the only one that’s fleshed out is jace, and while that is interesting in the “she’s doing to him exactly what viserys did to her,” it is not complex internally (in the same way alicent’s is). i also personally see joffery as an oops baby, but who really knows. i don’t even know how to explain her children with daemon. they were plot necessary i guess lmfao

the problem with rhaenyra and her children is that almost all of the critical moments in their relationships happen off screen during the time jump. its a structural tv show problem and it brings up these kinds of issues when looking deeper into the relationships she would actually have. i think the writers did a good job this season of making the internal conflict and intrapersonal strife within team black better, but this is just one of those things thats never going to be explored. in this sense we’ll never really know her true feelings or the development that could’ve happened—which is a massive shame.

my personal headcanon (so take with a grain of salt and don’t come for me), is that rhaenyra isn’t against the idea of children as a teenager, she’s against the childbirth. i believe this both because of the horrors of watching her mother’s repeated miscarriages and eventual death while in childbirth, and her consistent refrain of the desire to be a man. i think she wants, to her core, freedom and, as a woman, having a child requires much more sacrifice than having a child as a man.

i don’t personally see the change from not wanting children to totally wanting children as misogynistic, but i don’t blame you for seeing it that way because of the utter lack of canon explanation for it. again, i wasn’t really fair to you keeping this until season two was finished, but i think both alicent and rhaenyra’s relationships to motherhood were developed well.

[brisquad-unit-4402]

sitting with vox and the truth

(spoilers obvs)

happy the demon hungers everyone :D i did two watchalongs with my friends i hope we all show our appreciation to vox. he’s worked very hard and he’s very considerate of us his fans

this is all just to say that after a long, long, long two weeks i would like to rest so nicely on his chest. naturally i walked into this planning to write that but it turned into another vox breakdown fic which, really, couldn’t be a better description of unit 4402 if you tried

tags: gender neutral reader, angst, themes of self-hate, vox has a breakdown, spoilers for the demon hungers and the truth, ambiguous relationship (romantic intended but can be read as platonic; reader says “i love you”)

⚠️ spoilers for the demon hungers / the truth, vox akuma.

⚠️ contains self-deprecating dialogue

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

wings of melded leather and flesh writhe in the home of vox akuma. a dethroned lord, a wretched infernal. such a a wide reach. the talons of the wing threaten to scrape the ceiling with his greater height, while the membranous tatters hang loosely. if he represented Hell it would be a king’s robe. under wall and lamplight the sheet of skin is his chain.

gravity weighs down his voice all the same. it sinks his shoulders, drips off his hair and down his back. seven feet tall, with a shadow to cast over your body so small in comparison, and yet wind could knock him over as he stands his ground. the familiarity of gold within his eyes is gone but the guilt behind it is all the same, tainted in burning-coal. the smoke around his mouth and the embers along his tongue match the char. there is no fire. he’s put that out long ago. but what was scorched refuses to dwindle down to ash, remaining orange and red and that pink you swore you could see when there was nothing good on his mind.

nothing good, you thought, jokingly and enticingly. lightly. you see now that you were right, but without the fortune of intimacy.

he is scared, if he would be willing to admit it, and he is protective which he does. it’s why his hands are buried close to his chest, the swirling black-red, clasped together as if they were weapons. they are.

“do you understand?” vox asks. “i don’t deserve your pity.”

his frame is full with rage and power held dormant.

“i don’t deserve your attention, or your patience. or your love.”

a bead of ember rises from between his teeth. it fades to room dust as he grits them together.

when they snap apart an arc of flame accompanies it.

“It’s never been deserved. It’s never been okay. I have never been okay!”

the flames curl out of the air, following where the ember once went, room dust and hot air. without his hair in his face he can’t hide from the firing squad.

he can’t hide when you step forward, either.

“Don’t.” that’s what gets him to quit yelling. it’s replaced by inhaled cinder under his breath. “No, no, don’t. Don’t. Don’t.”

and quiet, you say, “you’ve held me before.”

“Don’t. Don’t. You can’t. No. Don’t.”

“and i’m nowhere near death.”

he backs away. “You don’t know that, you don’t know that, you don’t know, you don’t.”

“we don’t choose the bodies we’re born in. or the biology we function by.”

another step back. he doesn’t trip on anything. it’s the pure magma under his blood that sends him to his knees. “Get back.” a hiccup. “Get back!” his hands form tighter to his body. “Get away from me!”

“i trust you.”

“Don’t! Don’t! No! Away!”

“you aren’t hungry anymore. and i’m not in danger. i love you.”

vox’s back thumps against the corner of the wall. his hands tear apart. a prominent vein glides down the oil-slick arm. they tangle themselves into his hair. pale fingertips along bloodied streaks. white knuckles pulling at black locks.

he screams.

he screams again when you place yourself next to him, up against the wall, and bump your leg to him.

“if you could hurt me…” your eyes lower to where your legs are placed upon his. “then this would count. but i’m still alive.”

you look up to the ceiling. his talons didn’t scratch it but his horns certainly did. “and i’m still alive, and my soul is where it should be, with me.”

you cannot recognize the sound the voice demon emits.

“so i’ll stay with you. and we’ll figure things out.” with river under your hands you rub his arm. “do you remember this? it’s what i always do when you want me to help calm you down.

“that’s what i’ll do. just let it out. and i’ll be right here, and i’ll always be here no matter what.”

it’s a guttural, throaty cry across his register. a frog scratch.

“come on.” his blood twists under your touch. veins alight as live wires. “i have all the time in the world.”

“But I have been nothing but a blight.”

“i love you as you are.”

you place your head over his chest.

the first thing that happens is the draft from his wing wrapping around your face. your vision colors red. branches of uneven membrane along the wing’s flesh. so tight around his chest you don’t see a glimpse of the outside.

the next is how vox wracks himself over the lava within his throat.

your free hand takes over attending to him as much as you can, swaddled close to his chest.

through the wing, you can see how he forces his head away when he spits a flamethrower.

when the unpredictable flames raise to you and the wing-shield, it suffocates against the flesh. you don’t feel a shred of heat.

each fire is a bellow of pain gone unacknowledged for years. you don’t think he realizes his instinct to cover you. it would be a welcome validation if he weren’t lost in his own grief.

you spend the night beside the voice demon, listening to the shred of his screams. when he finds the courage to open his eyes, he shrieks for every moment that passes with your hand upon him, and soul within your confines.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

✧. ┊ masterpost ✧. ┊ kofi