#misogyny towards the character of rhaenyra targaryen

[darklinaforever]

So... something I absolutely need to talk about ; It's all the “ASOIAF” / “Fire and Blood” fans complaining about misogyny (especially for Laena, Nettles, or even Sansa, or Alicent from what I saw), but conveniently calling Rhaenyra by her nickname “Maegor with teats”, in the first degree.

A name, which I remind you, was given to it by the people, solely because it increased taxes. And why did she increase taxes ? Because the Greens have emptied all the coffers, leaving nothing behind. And being in the middle of a war, Rhaenyra had to find a solution to have money.

You're not telling me that this is comparable to all the atrocities that Maegor has committed ? If ?!

Even in terms of war crimes, the Greens did worse than the Blacks team. There was no equality between the two during that war !

This nickname simply reflects the fact that people will naturally be quicker to judge a sovereign woman, much more severely, than a male counterpart. So the existence of this nickname itself stems from misogyny.

So by using / endorsing this nickname, you are validating the misogyny done to the character of Rhaenyra. Quite simply.

Which is hypocritical, and that irritates me.

Even more so when these same people try to make people believe that the war / story of the dance is about Rhaenyra and Aegon II being two people who are not worthy of the throne and made a mess to still get it...

But no.

It's about Rhaenyra having her throne stolen, something plotted against her as soon as she was named heir as a child of 7 / 8 years old, simply because she is a woman !

I'm tired of people spitting on my queen for saying stupid things.

Obviously there are imbeciles who attack the characters of the books that I cited with misogynistic remarks, but Rhaenyra is also, sometimes moreover by the fans of these same characters who ironically complain of misogyny. And that's what annoys me.

You can't complain about misogyny towards the female characters you like, then denigrate a female character you don't like with misogynistic remarks or call her by a nickname that refers to the misogyny that this character is a victim of.

[shesjustanothergeek]

The Gods We Can Touch Chapter Eight: The Lord of the Tides

Masterlist of Series

Summary: The older twin of Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, you were a picture of the maiden, untouched and untainted by man's sins. At least, that was what Alicent Hightower believed when she held you in her arms moments after her old friend's labors. You were her shining light, her dream. Though you were never hers, she believed you were meant to be.

What will become of you as time passes and the Queen's shining light grows within the blackened darkness? Will her eldest son's morbid fascination with the light burn the realm? Or will her second son's obsession with the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen change the course of the Seven Kingdoms as we know it?

Author's Note: Hello, everyone! I'm posting a chapter within two weeks and not a month? What sorcery is this? Anyway, thank you for staying with me through these chapters. We're getting to the juicy stuff here soon, which will be very angsty. I also want to remind everyone that this is a dark fic that deals with suicide, SA, and severe mental illness. You'll hate some of these characters and their actions and have questions about them as the story progresses, but everything has a reason, and it'll all tie together eventually. Just have faith, babes.

Chapter Warnings: misogyny, eugenics, mentions of and trauma related to COCSA, suicidal ideations, severe mental illness, self-deprecating thoughts, and sexual harassment.

The Great Hall echoed with the clamor of anxious voices. The petition summoned all the court members, seemingly attempting to embarrass your family publicly. Although hearings like these did not necessitate the presence of all the Lords and Ladies, they were all there, rendering the open space oppressively stuffy and cramped. The Iron Throne commanded attention with its imposing presence. Fashioned from the melted swords of Aegon the Conqueror’s enemies, it formed a seat that threatened anyone who ventured too close to its pointed metal surface. 

Daemon was conversing with your mother, and his strong fists clasped over his stomach as he leaned in to speak into her ear. Luke stood by her side, picking at his slender fingers while cowering beneath his cloak. You felt sorry for your younger brother. He didn’t want to be the Lord of the Tides and despised the idea so much that it became a fear of the sea. Part of you believed that Jace should inherit the Driftwood Throne since he was the second-born, but your mother’s advisors pressured that if Jacaerys married you, he wouldn’t be able to rule the Seven Kingdoms and High Tide, so Luke was next in line.

Your stepsister Rhaena was seated on the other side of you and Jace. You glanced at her slender form, noticing her white hair knotted into thick, cylindrical locs piled atop her head. She nodded toward your brother, who looked at his shoes with an undignified pout. You stepped forward, wrapping an arm around Jace’s body. He tried not to show how your gentle actions comforted him in front of the onlookers, subtly leaning into your side.

The hairs on your neck prickled as if someone was watching you closely. You caught a glimpse of your eldest uncle’s sullen face meeting yours. Aegon’s looming stare was fixed on you and your connection with your brother, his lips curving into a frown. Some of you wanted to return his stare with mockery for his audacity, but you held your decorum, fearing what his anger could entail if you went too far. Years ago, you experienced his kindness, leaving an irreparable scar on your soul.

You sensed the anxiety rising at the mere thought of having to confront your eldest uncle once more. Despite six years having passed, the wounds still feel fresh. Clutching Jace tightly to your side, you battle the overwhelming temptation to seek solace within his luxurious robes as a torrent of memories came rushing back as the petition commences.

“Though it is the great hope of this court that Lord Corlys Velaryon survives his wounds,” Otto Hightower spoke, his voice booming across the Great Hall, “we gather here with the grim task of dealing with the succession of Driftmark. As the Hand, I speak with the King’s voice on this and all other matters.” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. 

“The Crown will now hear the petitions.”

Aegon felt a surge of frustration as he watched you avoid making eye contact, unable to bear the sight of you being affectionate with someone else. You had been his closest ally until Aemond’s actions shattered everything. With a scowl, he directed his gaze toward the ground and decided to converse with you about the years past. The eldest Prince was resolute in his determination to make you see that he was not the one at fault.

“Ser Vaemond of House Velaryon,” the Hand spoke, announcing the challenger to the room.

The individual accountable for this incident stepped up, adorned in an opulent doublet of rich velvet in a deep navy shade, almost black. He briefly acknowledged the presence of Lord Corlys’s wife. As he drew nearer, you found yourself in the presence of Ser Vaemond for the second time in your life. His facial hair displayed a striking blend of salt and pepper, evidence of the many decades of life experience that distinguished him from you.

“My Queen,” he greeted with a nod, “my Lord Hand.” Luke visibly bristled at his Great Uncle’s voice, retreating further into his cloak and your mother’s comforting presence. 

If the Gods were fair beings, they would strike Lord Vaemond down where he stood for daring to spout treasonous lies before the Court. The mere petition was a ploy to publicly embarrass and cast doubt upon your mother’s claim as heir to the Iron Throne. This was why he chose to pounce like a lion in wait for its prey onto the opportunity of his older brother getting injured. It was as if Lord Vaemond had already declared his brother dead before he returned to his bed. You were raised by a second son and understood too well of their lusts for what the eldest sibling had. 

As you tightly gripped Jace’s hand, you made a solemn vow to take the necessary action, not just to protect your family but also for the greater good of your kingdom. This would be the first time you would employ your extensive knowledge of herbs and medicinal practices for a malevolent purpose, but you were willing to do whatever it took for their sake. Throughout history, many distinguished individuals have fallen victim to choking on wine or food, which has proven fatal for even those of lesser stature.

“The history of our noble houses extends past the Seven Kingdoms to the days of Old Valyria. For as long as House Targaryen has ruled the skies, House Velaryon has ruled the seas. When the Doom fell on Old Valyria, our House became the last of their kind.” You glanced at your mother while Vaemond droned eloquently, her regard downcast with a disapproving smirk. “Our forebears came to this land, knowing they would fail; it would be the end of their bloodlines and name. I have spent my entire life defending my brother’s seat. I am Lord Corlys’ closest kin, his blood,” the second son petitioned. 

Out of the corner of your vision, you spotted Princess Rhaenys, her stare boring holes into the back of her good brother’s skull. Your worries that the Queen Who Never Was would not side with Luke and his claim lessened as you noted the irritation on her face, the fury at Vaemond’s claim that he had the right to be Lord of the Tides and not her, as if her rule during Corlys’ absence meant that the Driftwood Throne was not in safe hands until Luke was ready.

Otto stared at the man with a neutral expression, but his eyes betrayed his genuine emotions. Arrogance and pride shine through, revealing his bias. “It’s a true, unimpeachable blood of the House of Velaryon that runs through my veins.”

“As it does in my son’s, the offspring of Laenor Velaryon,” your mother interrupted, causing everyone in the room to direct their attention to her. “If you cared so much about your House’s blood, Ser Vaemond, you would not be so bold as to supplant its rightful heir. No, you only speak for yourself and your own ambition-”

You sucked in a nervous breath, your gaze flickering to your mother as you scratched at your scalp. She knew better than to interrupt during a petition to the Crown. She would have scolded you for such an act. Perhaps since it wasn’t her father, she felt the ability to speak out of turn was appropriate. Even the daughter of the King wasn’t allowed such liberties.

“You will have a chance to make your petition, Princess Rhaenyra,” the Queen interrupted, causing your simmering vexation to spike into a rolling boil. “Do Ser Vaemond the courtesy of allowing him to be heard.”

You understood Queen Alicent’s opinion but couldn’t quell the rise of frustrated tears at her words. It was not her place to order your mother. She was a wife to the King, a consort, and whatever jurisdiction she had was given to her by a man. She held no real power, and remembering that would do her well.

As if Alicent heard your thoughts, her amber eyes flicked to you. You felt your stomach lurch as the bread you had earlier threatened to decorate the stone floor. You did not like the Queen after what she did to your mother and her obsession with you. Her possessiveness was something you never understood, nor did you want to. Whatever the Queen had twisted and distorted you to be inside her mind was not something you desired to give fruit to, disregarding her pleading looks as you focused on the Lord before you. 

Ser Vaemond turned to stare smugly at Rhaenyra, continuing with his rant of blood purity and superiority. “What do you know of Velaryon blood, Princess? I could cut my veins and show it to you, but you still wouldn’t recognize it.”

A tugging at your bell sleeve brought your attention to Jace, noting how you unconsciously scratched at your scalp. Suddenly, you realized that in the moment’s intensity with Aemond, you had dropped your headpiece in the hall. Swiftly nodding that you were all right, Jace began to stroke the back of your clenched knuckles in a silent gesture of support. Your hand had long forgotten its comforting touch as it blanched from ire.

“This is about the future and survival of my House, not yours,” Vaemond finished, staring hard at your Luke as you cringed.

Jace did not let the Lord or the three people frighten you for long, subtly shifting to block him and all other stares from view like the moat of iron spikes surrounding Maegor’s Holdfast. Why were they all looking at you? The Lords and Ladies. Alicent, Aegon, Aemond, and Helaena. You silently willed them to stop, but it was for naught. 

The Lord turned from Luke, his prideful grin duller as he addressed the Queen and Hand. “This is a matter of blood, not ambition. I place the continuation of the survival of my House and line above all. I humbly put myself before you as my brother’s successor,” Vaemond finally concluded, taking a few steps back, “the Lord of Driftmark, the Lord of the Tides.”

“Thank you, Ser Vaemond,” Otto concluded atop a throne that was not his as the second son gave one last grimace toward your family.

With the retreating of the Lord, you were given the perfect view of the Green children, the eldest still very much disinterested in what was happening around him, shifting on his feet as if he was itching to leave the room, which you supposed was true. The second child was attempting to dissociate from the world around her, uncomfortable with the animosity between the two houses, her golden dress the opposite of her appearance. The third and final member seemed to match his Mother and Grandsire, an air of superiority radiating from his toned body that sent shivers to your core. 

“Princess Rhaenyra,” the Hand called, “you may now speak for your son, Prince Lucerys Velaryon.”

Your mother approached before the steps of the Iron Throne, her body language openly depicting her ire at the whole matter. Her complete disregard for the seriousness of the situation caused you to crack a smile, looking at Jace in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“If I am forced to grace this farce with some answer, I will start by reminding this court that nearly twenty years ago in this very room-”

Your mother’s remarks were cut short by the creaking of hinges, the grand doors to the Great Hall opening to reveal the rhythmic tapping of a cane.

“King Viserys of House Targaryen, the First of His Name, King of The Andals, the Roynar, The First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm.”

Gasps echoed through the expansive room as all eyes turned to your mother. She gazed in astonishment as her father appeared in public for the first time in years. The King of the Seven Kingdoms, half his face concealed by a golden mask, made his way across the grand throne room, causing a stir among the onlookers.

You recalled that six years ago, there was only a tiny sore on his cheek, such a minuscule gash that festered and grew to eat away at his flesh until you could see the rotting teeth within his skull. Tears pricked at your eyes as you listened to the steady tapping of your Grandsire, your heart unable to watch the hunched figure.

The Hand seemed more shocked than any. His stoic face of pride morphed into one of stunned surprise as your Grandsire made his way to the bottom steps of the Iron Throne. 

“I will sit on the throne today,” the King rasped, his entire weight resting on the dragon head of his walking stick.

“Your Grace,” Otto reluctantly acknowledged, gaping wide as he took his place next to his daughter and her children.

A kingsguard quickly rushed to the side of his ruler, briefly assisting before Viserys weakly shoved him away. You couldn’t watch this—watch someone once so full of joy and love for his kin struggle to walk the stairs of his ancestors as you nestled your face into Jace’s shoulder. The sound of fallen metal echoed in the room, bringing your attention upward. Your Grandsire’s crown had fallen onto the stairs before the throne as a quiet grunt of discontent puffed past his chapped lips. Daemon was behind his brother before anyone was the wiser, assisting the last remnants of his late parents’ love to his ruling seat and placing the golden Crown of Jaehaerys on the remaining tatters of silver hair.

While you indulged in a lavish meal of quail and lamb on the breathtaking island of Dragonstone, you could aid him, but unfortunately, you were unaware of his plight. Overcome with remorse for not setting aside your troubles to support your Grandsire, you shed tears uncontrollably.

“Sister, you’re crying,” he whispered below the shell of your ear. You nodded silently, whipping away the stray water that collected on your warm cheek.

Jace knew your strong aversion to displaying any hint of vulnerability through tears. He recognized that you viewed it as a manifestation of a perceived girlish weakness that you deemed incompatible with your role as heir to the Seven Kingdoms. He felt helpless as he witnessed you, unable to offer the solace he longed to provide.

Staring at both of you with a fierce scowl across his narrow pink lips, Aemond believed you deserved to experience pain. However, he struggled with his emotions, attempting to quash the pang piercing his dark heart. Aemond envisioned himself as the unyielding pillar, braving the tumultuous waves during a tempest at sea. He saw himself as your shelter from the salty waters, ready to wipe away any tears that adorned your skin. Jacaerys was far from being a man deserving of a princess, unlike…

The Prince’s chest rumbled with a grunt of discontent as he resisted completing his thought despite knowing the truth in his heart. Upon hearing the sound, Aegon glanced at his brother with a perplexed expression and followed his line of sight with a mix of understanding and bitterness, forming a frown on his face.

“I must admit my confusion,” your Grandsire spoke, his frail voice reverberating through the high walls of the hall. “I do not understand why petitions are being heard over a settled succession.” You did not need to look at Vaemond to see his outrage. You could sense it from where you stood twenty paces away, your tears slowly drying as you gazed at the disappointed Queen. “The only one present who might offer keener insights into Lord Corlys’ wishes is the Princess Rhaenys.”

Everyone turned to the woman as she processed her cousin’s words. “Indeed, your grace,” she nodded, taking a moment to look at her brother-in-law. 

Eyes followed the Queen Who Never Was as she spoke, her voice so smooth and elegant you felt envy for it at the back of your mind. “It was ever my husband’s will that Driftmark passes through Ser Laenor to his trueborn son, Lucerys Velaryon. His mind never changed.”

The atmosphere in the room was charged with a tumult of emotions. Anger, betrayal, shock, and relief swirled around the Great Hall like a powerful storm. Ser Vaemond was furious, deeply hurt by his good sister’s words. To him, being a true Velaryon meant everything, and he couldn’t bear the thought of his bastard nephew, born from a woman pretending to be virtuous, tarnishing his family’s name and the honor of the realm. He was resolute in his refusal to accept this situation. Vaemond’s bloodline was solid and pure, unyielding like the sea.

“Princess Rhaenyra has informed me of her desire to marry her son Jace and Luke to Lord Corlys’ granddaughters, Princess Baela and Rhaena. A proposal to which I heartily agree.”

The speed at which your head whipped towards Jace was almost otherworldly, nearly causing you to stumble. His face reflected your shock, his mouth hanging open like a fish before he turned to glance at your mother. A serene smile graced her pink lips, and she quickly lowered her gaze while placing a protective hand over her swollen stomach.

Apart from your mother, no one else seemed to share the same sense of pride. The Queen’s expression soured even more than you thought possible, and the Hand remained stunned by the sudden turn of events as you withdrew your hand from Jace’s.

Aegon had suddenly perked up at the revelation, uncharacteristically grinning as he watched the drama unfold while Aemond observed your misfortune with barely concealed satisfaction. You couldn’t pinpoint why he had an abrupt interest in the conversation. He no doubt enjoyed the misfortune of others, even if it was his kin. 

“Well,” the King spoke, his breathing now calmed, “the matter is settled. Again. I hereby reaffirm Prince Lucerys of House Velaryon as heir to Driftmark, Driftwood Throne, and the next Lord of the Tides.”

The entire family breathed a sigh of relief, their shared sense of burden and responsibility slowly dissipating as they watched the weight of the future shift onto the Greens. In that moment, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of guilt for not shouldering the load yourself. Princess Rhaenys, with an almost irritated yet dignified stride, stood beside her eldest granddaughter, her presence exuding a complex mix of annoyance and pride.

Though you hadn’t moved from your spot beside your twin, you felt like a league away from him, gaping blankly at the glistening steel swords running over the steps like a river. The longer you studied them, the more they began to contort, seeing viscous crimson liquid melt down the blades. The future you had planned with your brother was impaled to the hilt. 

A scoff cut through the moment of joy, your head directed to the sound. “You break the law, centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir,” Vaemond spoke, venom laced within every syllable. “But you dare tell me who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon. No. I will not allow it.” 

Your brown orbs flickered from the man to the King. “Allow it?” Viserys echoed, testing the word on his dry tongue. “Do not forget yourself, Vaemond.”

The thick, oppressive silence enveloped the scene, defying even the sharpness of Darksister’s blade. Every individual present held their breath, their anticipation palpable as they waited to witness the outcome.

“That is no true Velaryon and certainly no nephew of mine!” the second son shouted, causing everyone to jump in fright.

“Go to your chambers,” Rhaenyra ordered you and your brothers before swiftly turning her attention to Vaemond. “You have said enough.” 

None of you obeyed.

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

“You,” Vaemond stated, taking menacing steps forward, “may run your House as you see fit, but you will not decide my future. My House survived the Doom and a thousand tribulations besides.” 

He turned to your family, feet firmly planted with the grip on his longsword. Your look stared fire at his, jaw clenched as he spat his vitriol. “And Gods be damned, I will not see it end on account of this…” 

You arched your head to the side, eyes widening in defiance as you silently urged him to speak the words that yearned to escape his lips. However, he disregarded you, considering you nothing more than a mere girl in a world dominated by men, a lost cause. You resolved to shed any lingering guilt about your intentions at that moment.

“Say it,” Daemon’s soft and menacing timbre whispered.

Onlookers scrutinized with bated breath as Vaemond considered his words, his gaze flickering from your father to you, Jace, your mother, and Luke. A sneer slowly pulled his lips, righting his posture as he bellowed.

“Her children are bastards!” 

You inhaled a near-inaudible growl from your throat as you took a charged step forward, only to be yanked back by Jace before you could do something you would regret. Soft murmurs sounded, the Greens all sharing the same look of begrudging disappointment. Jace seemed just as furious as you, his lips curling into a snarl.

“And they,” he glared at you, then at your mother, his jaw tensing, “are whores.” 

Your gaze immediately flicked to Aegon and then Aemond, your body independently moving as the crowd gasped. Aemond’s eye was no longer bright purple but a near black, shining like dragonglass shards. Despite this window into his soul, his outward appearance reached an unusual sereness. Thin lips parted as you noticed the faintest twitch, a tic you realized indicated his rage. 

“You have said your piece, Lord Vaemond,” Queen Alicent declared, fists humbly clasped over her clothed emerald green stomach. “The king has affirmed his decision, and you will do well to respect it without saying lies about the young princess.”

Did people know of what happened between you and Aegon and that of your brother? 

They couldn’t have. You took steps to ensure your image to the public aligned with their ideals. You studied in the Citadel, for Seven’s sake! Your mind raced with the possibility of your secrets being discovered, the chance that the realm would know of your sins before marriage. At the time, it did not seem to be a mistake as you and Jace believed you would be married, but now, just as it seemed like all things did, it slipped through your fingers like the sand that lined the shores of Blackwater Bay.

Aemond watched as you mindlessly attempted to run toward Vaemond like a combat-trained man. He thought it would be entertaining to watch you claw the Velaryon Lord’s eyes out and contemplated in admired silence how reckless you could become when enraged, wondering how far that wrath would take you.

You were unable to hear the sound of raised voices expressing articles of treason, threats of violence, and the unsheathing of a sword until you felt blood splatter on your cheekbone, seeing the sliced head of Vaemond Velaryon laying a few paces from your feet. Jace pulled your face to his chest as you gasped in shock, clutching his arms like he was the only thing keeping you grounded in this moment of grotesque insanity. 

“He can keep his tongue,” Daemon declared, looking at the limp corpse below.

Studying his uncle in brief awe, Aemond’s violet eye flickered from the decapitated corpse to that of the assailant. He moved to see Jace’s feeble attempt at protecting you from the gore that lay leaking into the stones, mouth curling in disdain as he scoffed. Your brother was to be the one to protect you from harm, physical or emotional, yet he was incapable of doing that.

Momentarily, Aemond thought of coming to your side, knowing that he was a worthy enough man to be what you needed, and if not that, then only to spite Jacaerys. He shook the fleeting thought away with a grunt, scorn filling his heart. 

“Disarm him!” The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard yelled, his fellow members drawing their weapons.

You chose who you thought worthy that night on Driftmark when you stood by idly as Luke ripped his eye from the socket.

“No need,” your stepfather cooly protested, wiping the blood of his kin from his blade and exiting the room.

Your eyes could not leave the bleeding form of Vaemond Velaryon, the top half of his dreaded white hair discarded as the crimson liquid pooled around him. Viserys groaned above, collapsing onto the Iron Throne like a sack of bones from the effort of living. Alicent and your mother ran to his aide.

“Niece.”

You expected to see Aemond come and continue his taunts from before, but instead, you saw Aegon standing before you, his square face etched with worry. You would have thought him handsome had he not done what he did and become the man he had become as you merely stared at him, your mind blank and body numb. 

How could he show you such concern, knowing how much pain he caused you? What could you say to him after everything that transpired? After he effectively distorted the pure view of your world into betrayal and anguish. He most likely wanted to use you as he did to the maids of the Keep. You thought you might as well let him. That was how you felt now that the one man you willingly gave your body to with the expected outcome of marriage was bound to another. That same disgusting sensation you had the following days after your assault came rushing back as if you were that scared little girl again.

You did not want to feel that weak again and parted your lips to speak the venom he deserved to hear. Suddenly, you found your throat too dry as you swallowed the air instead. Aegon extended a hand to yours in what you believed to be a comforting gesture, fingers brushing each other as terror surged through your limbs. 

Your sights glanced at the corpse as the hilt of Vaemond’s sword glinted in the light. You could end this here and now. End the torment. End the constant uncertainty that would be your mother’s secession. Your demise would be of no consequence.

“Sister,” Jace called, his tone clipped and brown eyes wide. The same eyes you had looking back at you. “Mother wants us in our chambers to prepare for supper.” 

You recoiled as if your limb was scorched when you swiftly pulled it away from Aegon. With a curt nod to your twin, you allowed him to take you. Walking out of the Great Hall, you made a conscious effort not to glance back, keenly aware of the intensity of Aegon’s piercing stare as it followed the contours of your womanly form. You were sure that this encounter wouldn’t be the last, and the prospect of it propelled you to seek solace in the comforting embrace of your twin.

The twilight had descended upon King’s Landing, casting the city in a hazy glow. Despite the late hour, the flagstone streets teemed with activity as revelers roamed for company, their laughter mingling with the clinking of coins. Meanwhile, you found yourself clutching a goblet of fiery spirits, hoping to steady your frayed nerves as you sat between your imposing eldest uncle and your sweet twin.

The dining hall exuded an air of palpable tension, with hushed conversations among family members punctuating the room as servants bustled about, preparing for the day’s last meal. Everyone waited in quiet anticipation for the arrival of the King, their faces adorned with joyous and restrained smiles, marking the festivities of new beginnings. However, amidst this atmosphere of hopeful anticipation, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of disquiet. In mere hours, it seemed as though everything you had worked for was unraveling before your eyes.

You were intended to enter into matrimony with Jace just as Visenya married her younger brother Aegon. As twins, you shared an unbreakable bond, with one heart and one soul inhabiting two bodies. No other individual in existence was as ideally suited for you.

As you watched your brothers’ interactions with their betrothed, you couldn’t help but notice the sour expression on your face. Each brother was dutiful and respectful, engaging in hushed conversations with their betrothed about the future and what it might hold. You felt a mix of confusion and offense as you pondered why Jace had swiftly embraced being bound to another after spending years with you as his unspoken wife.

Your eyes locked with Aemond’s from across the opulent room as he conversed with his brother, a sly smirk on his lips. He seemed to revel in your displeasure at taking your brother from you. With an exasperated sigh, you leaned back in your ornate high chair, surveying the sumptuous spread of food before you, each dish tempting you with its rich aromas and vibrant colors.

Growing increasingly impatient for your Grandsire’s arrival, you couldn’t resist the allure of a plump, purple grape sitting on the nearby platter. As you reached for it, your mother reprimanded you.

The air was heavy with the scent of wine as you had already consumed three cups before the arrival of the King, his face wearing a grim expression. Your Grandsire was brought into the grand hall, seated on a makeshift throne, and everyone in the room rose in respect for his position. His crown, a symbol of his authority, had been long forgotten as he was placed between the Queen and your mother. You noticed sores on him that you hadn’t seen before, standing out more prominently in the grandeur of the dining hall. The sight made your eyes prickle with the threat of tears, and your stomach churned with unease.

Despite being seated, he leaned heavily onto his cane, the weight of his extravagant Targaryen robes bearing down on his frail body. You fought back tears, refusing to show any vulnerability in front of those who held little respect for you.

“This is an occasion of celebration, it seems. My grandsons, Jace and Luke, will marry their cousins Baela and Rhaena, further strengthening the bond between our Houses,” your grandfather began, a thick rasp to his voice. “A toast to the young Princes and their betrothed. May you find yours yet, granddaughter.” 

You sat there, forcing back your tears and lifting your glass as the joyful cheers filled the room. The dreams you had shared with Jace seemed to shatter with each sip of wine. Despite the celebratory atmosphere, Jace’s fleeting smile towards Baela deepened your sense of loss. It wasn’t their engagement that bothered you, but rather the uncontrollable circumstances that had brought it about. Still, some of you couldn’t help but resent the pair.

A sudden rancid sweetness wafted into your nose as you saw Aegon lean over you, wrapping his hand around the back of your chair and whispering to your twin. 

“Well done, Jace. You’ll finally get to lie with a woman,” he teased with a lopsided grin. You observed him with wide eyes that danced from your uncle to your twin, hyper-aware of every breath and twitch of his limbs.

Jace stiffened beside you as he clenched his fist atop the table, barely containing his ire. It was only a matter of time before he lost his patience. You saw his hand move to connect with yours like always when he was stressed, but you moved to place it on your lap, instinctively turning your face away from his. 

“It seems your twin doesn’t share the same sentiment,” Aegon softly declared so only the two of you could hear, lips moving into a downward smirk as he watched the silent dispute between siblings, victoriously sitting upright in his seat.

“Let us toast Prince Lucerys as well. The future Lord of the Tides,” your Grandsire continued as you felt the touch of another. Your posture became stiff as Aegon’s fingers wrapped around yours in a vice-like grip, no doubt only to spite Jace as you struggled to break free without causing attention.

Taking advantage of the momentary quiet, your eldest uncle mocked Jace again, moving your hand so he could see it. “You do know how the act is done, I assume? At least in principle. Where to put your cock and all that?”

Rage welled inside your chest at Aegon’s words, and you feared as you looked into your brother’s eyes that he would spill your affairs in anger. Without thinking of appearances, you dug your nails into Aegon’s hand, causing him to yelp as he released you. 

“You can play the jester as you wish, but hold your tongue before my betrothed,” Jace noiselessly snapped in return as your uncle hummed in acquiescence, cradling his injured hand and wounded pride.

Aemond’s eye was trained on the scene before him as he intently observed the three of you. His face remained a practiced impassivity; the only sign of his inner emotions was his finger wrapping on the table. Aemond took a sip of his wine to disguise his chuckle. His brother should know better than to test you. Even as children, you were not one to take things idly.

“It both gladdens my heart,” the King spoke, his voice straining without much effort, “and fills me with sorrow to see these faces around the table, the faces most dear to me in all the world.” Viserys looked toward his left, your mother, stepfather, and brothers in his sight. Your hand gripped the stem of your glass, ignoring the heated glares from across the table. “We’ve grown so distant from each other in years past.”

You forced yourself to hide the scoff at his words, taking another long drink. And why would that be? Perhaps it was because of the Queen’s unwavering grudge against your mother that festered into a hatred of her mere existence, his son raping you at such a young age you didn’t understand what it was, or the permanent injury of a young boy that never received the justice he deserved.

Viserys paused his speech, wheezing and supporting his weight on the table as a hand came to remove his mask. The sight was nothing you could have imagined. The space where his bright purple eye should be was a hollow hole of partially healed and rotting flesh. The wound on his cheek had eaten away at the skin and muscle, revealing his decaying grey teeth.

“My face is no longer handsome if it ever was.” Phlegm was stuck within your Grandsire’s throat, creating an almost repulsive noise as he spoke. “Tonight, I wish you to see me as I am. Not just a king, but your father...”

Aegon met the regards of a man who was his father only in name. His glare was dark, filled with anger you had never seen before, yet Aemond couldn’t bear to look at what he became—his father’s desperation, his mouth curling into a sneer. 

Pain radiated suddenly from your lap, stare snapping to see your eldest uncle’s hand unexpectedly gripping your thigh, his digits digging into the flesh. It was in retaliation as you attempted to pry him off, but it was useless as Aegon secured his grip, no doubt leaving bruises in his wake. You bit your lip, concealing the painful scowl that curled your lips and arched your brows. It was hard to focus on anything other than your skin aching to be free of your body, not wanting to cause a scene.

“...who may not walk for much longer among you. Let us no longer hold your feelings in your hearts. The Crown cannot stand strong as long as the House of The Dragon remains divided.”

Aemond’s single violet eye turned to you, your stares locking with thousands of unsaid emotions, unsaid truths as you fidgeted, trying in vain to remove Aegon.

“Set aside your grievances!” Viserys declared passionately, startling those at the table and causing you to break your revere momentarily. “If not for the sake of the Crown, then for the sake of this old man who loves you all so dearly.”

Silence fell across the table as the King stumbled into his seat, the metal of his mask and cutlery clanging as Alicent dutifully came to his aid. Your mother stood abruptly, not giving the room to process the King’s words as her chair scraped against the stone floor. With a goblet in her hand, all eyes turned to her.

“I wish to raise my cup to her grace, the Queen,” she started, her eyes downcast. You watched your mother skeptically, brown orbs flickering from her to Alicent. “I love my father, but I must admit no one has stood more loyally by his side than his good wife.”

The Queen stared at her old friend, so full of emotions. Years of harbored pain and resentment from events you did not know, bleeding from her chest and onto her finely tailored green dress.

“She has tended to him with unwavering devotion, love, and honor; for that, she has my gratitude. And my apology,” your mother concluded, returning to her seat.

You felt like you were intruding on an intimate moment between lost lovers, the happy moments of their history flashing before each of their minds’ eyes. Turning to Aemond again, you realized he did not remove his stare from you. His ametrine eye was a glassy pool, yet his face was stoic to everyone. You were sure you mirrored him, though you were not as skilled at hiding emotions, your chin slightly quivering.

“Your graciousness moves me deeply, Princess. We’re both mothers, and we love our children. We have more in common than we allow,” Alicent confessed, her voice barely stuttering. “I raise my cup to you and your House. You’ll make a fine Queen.”

Otto’s disapproving stare did not go unnoticed by you, and Aemond reflected on his expression. Each person raised their goblets individually, taking sips in honor of their current and future Queen.

Aegon threw his drink back twice, going for a third time, but stopped once he caught sight of you. Droplets of Arbor Gold slipped past your lips, and you lurched forward to see the liquid before it ran down to the aperture of your chest. The Prince swallowed audibly, his throat clicking as his trousers grew tight.

Memories from your childhood of meals spent with your eldest uncle where he would wipe whatever remnants you had on your mouth came flooding to mind. You realized then that these gestures were not ones of kindness but a sick, disgusting act that he used to groom you and take pleasure from. Gripping the pristine knife that rested atop the fine mahogany table, you dreamed of having his blood spewing from between his lips as you plunged it into his neck. 

Taking another swig of your wine, you felt nothing but dry air hit your moist tongue. Aegon noticed it, smiling in an almost feline nature as he took the glass from you. 

“Worry not, niece. May your mouth never run dry in my presence,” he declared and went to the pitcher between Baela and Jace. “I regret the disappointment you will soon suffer,” you heard him whisper into your cousin’s ear. “But if you wish to know what it is to be well satisfied, all you have to do is ask.” 

The clatter of cutlery sliced through the air as your brother stood, all eyes turning to him. You tried to placate Jace as he clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white and ignoring your kind touches. Everyone watched with keen eyes as on the other end of the table, Aemond stood, seeming to size up with your brother like a cat arching its spine. Placing your cup of wine in front of you, Aegon sat, dragging his fingertips across your neck and making you shudder in disgust. 

Realizing that Jace had captured the attention of everyone surrounding the table, he cleared his throat, stalling for time. You glanced at him with an uneasy feeling, looking back to Aemond as he refused to sit.

“To Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond. We have not seen each other in years, but I have fond memories of our shared youth,” Jace began, and you struggled to keep your incredulous expression at bay. “And as men, I hope we may be friends and allies. To you and your families, good health, dear uncles.” 

He concluded the toast as he and the rest raised their cups to their worried lips. Playfully, albeit awkwardly, Jace punched your eldest uncle in the shoulder as you struggled to keep your laughter at bay, sinking your teeth into your lip.

“To you as well,” Aegon begrudgingly replied, and you flicked a mocking look at him. He refused to meet you.

The screech of a chair sounded in the dining hall, and you turned your head to see your sweet Aunt Helaena abruptly standing with her cup in hand. “I would like to make a toast to Baela and Rhaena. They will be married soon. It isn’t so bad. He mostly ignores you, except sometimes when he’s drunk.”

Daemon’s chuckle pierced through the unease, the three full goblets of wine gone to your head as you stifled one of your own, hiding it behind your digits. Aegon refused to meet anyone’s gaze, finding his half-eaten plate much more interesting than the people before him. Helaena looked to you for support, ensuring that what she said was good as you smiled. You forgot how much you cared for your aunt and admired her thinly veiled jab at Aegon’s lack of duties.

Supper commenced, and you wasted no time feasting, eating the savory vegetables cooked in butter and smothered in rich spices. Smoked cheeses, both hard and soft, found their way to your plate, nearly moaning at their hearty combination with slices of meat. The frigid environment from before left and was replaced with the warmth of laughter and music. Even the old King himself wore a smile on his cracked grey lips.

You ignored the piercing regard burning your face, focusing on your mother and stepfather. Daemon whispered something into your mother’s ear, gently grasping her lithe fingers as she giggled, and a blush bloomed. The sight caused an ache to rise in your chest. The hollowness of your heart knocked on your ribs. You longingly desired to find a love like theirs. Your brother was stolen from you to secure all your inheritances, and while you understood it, nothing could make the hurt lessen.

Ignoring the fist cinching around your lungs, you downed your half-empty goblet of Arbor Gold, summoning a servant to refill it. You did not want to feel like this anymore—the ache, the throbbing in your head and heart. It was too much to bear. In the times of your melancholia, days were spent with a swirling storm of thoughts and memories of your childhood in the Keep—the bullying, your rape, to that of Driftmark filled with blood and boyish screams. They plagued your mind like a disease, culturing into an amalgamation of sadness, rage, guilt, self-mutilation, and isolation until you no longer wanted to live.

Jace rose from his seat with a groan from the wood and excused himself from his betrothed. You thought he might offer you a dance; he knew how much you loved to do so, but the idea sank like the food past your lips as he went to Helaena, extending a hand. Aegon stared at the pair as they went to the open space, his face one of surprise as you brought your cup to your lips, swallowing a smirk. It served him right. His treatment of Helaena, or lack thereof, was appalling. Though he may not be in a marriage of love, she was still his sister and the dreamy-eyed Princess deserved more.

A glimmer of gold suddenly drew your gaze, jolting you from contemplation. Viserys' magnificent mask gleamed in the flickering candlelight, his head tilting to one side as he visibly battled a wave of pain. Without hesitation, Queen Alicent signaled for the guards to accompany him back to his chambers. You observed with a concerned expression trailing behind as they carefully took the ornate wooden throne out of the grand dining hall. 

You caught Aemond’s gaze. It was impossible not to as it flicked from Helaena dancing to you. He looked like a barely concealed storm about the burst, as if he debated whether to slit your throat because of your existence or continue what he had started in the corridor. Your uncle had changed so much within six years that you didn’t recognize him, and you supposed it was the same for you. Two people who grew so close were suddenly torn apart by an unfinished tragedy where anger was left to decay until its rot took control. 

You worried that things would never be able to be put aside like your Grandsire wished if this wall of silence and grudges was not destroyed. Hate between your families would stay the same and cause the successful usurpation of your mother’s rightful throne. Deciding to swallow your pride and hurt, you stood, wanting to extend the broken branch of goodwill to Aemond, but Aegon refused to let you move. His arm pushed you back down into your seat with a look that sent tears of shocked terror into your eyes. You felt helpless under his gaze as a thinly veiled look of madness replaced a toothy grin gleaming in the candlelight.

“Won’t you give the courtesy of a dance, niece?” he asked with a dangerous lilt that hinted at something more. There was no room for refusal as he hoisted you from your chair. This was undoubtedly a jab at Jace for inviting Helaena as you watched your twin halt his movements. 

Ever since Aegon was a boy, he has been awful when sharing what he thinks is his. You recalled the many times you would ask to play with his wooden toys only to get smacked in the head with it or worse. It was as comforting as it was unnerving that parts of him were still the same.

Eyes flicking at Aemond, you pleaded for him to stand and make good on his promise to protect you from your eldest uncle, but he remained still, unmoving like the statues you compared him to. You were right here, mere steps away and by his side. He could insert himself and put an end to Aegon’s torture. After all, you would be indebted to him if he did, and what more could Aemond possibly desire than to have his bastard niece that he so despises at his mercy? 

“Aemond still hates you for what Luke did,” Aegon softly declared as you moved your attention to him. “I’m not. My ire is directed at those who caused this hatred to fester between us. You and I were friends once.” 

“Indeed, once. ‘Twas long ago now,” you quipped with venom like the pit vipers in Dorne.

Your uncle was a skilled dancer despite the plethora of alcohol he drank, twirling you with a grace you did not possess as you stumbled from nerves and firewater. Aemond did not know where to focus, gaze flicking from Helaena and Jace to you and Aegon so fast that he felt disoriented. He didn’t understand why he was so concerned. It wasn’t like he could do anything to separate you and his brother without acquiring Aegon’s jests hours later, yet he couldn’t control his anxiety as his finger nervously tapped the wooden table.

Bringing you close as you tripped, Aegon pressed your body against his as you felt the real reason behind his words, swaying to the music that made you want to scream and pull your hair from its roots.

“Things could return to how they were before. We could ride our dragons together, visit far-off lands, and spend our days in the Godswood eating those orange cakes you like. We’d be friends and even more so. Would that not be splendid?” the eldest Prince suggested with a grin.

There was nothing for you to do but endure this for the sake of appearances as you caught sight of a pair of amber eyes watching you, a slight upturn to her plump lips. Queen Alicent knew what her son did to you yet observed with a smile that you could interpret as one of maternal love. It enraged you. She was no better than her son. You hated her beyond words for the times you ever thought of her more than another Lord who cared not for the struggles of women.

Aemond no longer held his attention on you but that of Jace and Helaena, seeming to be unbothered by your childhood rapist and bully putting his hands in places that would be a sin. He would not save you now. It was up to you to defend yourself once more.

“You ended whatever smidge of camaraderie we had when you debased me at the top of Maegor’s battlements,” you spat as you moved away from him, only for Aegon to bring you back into another elegant dance. The Prince rolled his purple eyes, the indigo circles underneath them becoming prominent.

“We seem to have different recollections of that night,” he exasperatedly sighed as if you were nothing more than a child bothering their parents with unfounded fears. “I recall how we as children laughed and drank beside each other and how you said, yes, as I slipped my hand betwixt your thighs.”

Gasping, you shoved Aegon away as his hands traveled past your navel, suddenly hearing a chair screech in response. Aemond stood with his body squared toward the two of you as the room went silent. All twelve faces turned to him. You stared with bated breath as Aegon slipped his hand across your back, returning to his chair and taking a nonchalant sip of his drink.

Would Aemond finally stand against Aegon for all the wrong he committed to the both of you? 

Pleading wordlessly, your body flushed as he stared unabashedly, tears of intensity pricking your eyes. The light of hope inside your chest was snuffed out as the servants brought a roasted pig onto the table. Luke could not contain his immature giggles as it was placed before Aemond, reminding him of the cruel jape he, Aegon, and Jace did. Whatever anger Aemond felt at his older brother soon turned into one of injustice for what Luke did all these years ago. You thought your younger brother knew better than this and sighed in defeat, all prospects of an amiable future between the Greens and Blacks disintegrating.

“Final tribute,” Aemond began, a lethal sway to his words. “To the health of my niece and nephews. Jace, Luke, Joffrey, and the Gods’ Light.” Your uncle’s single eye traveled to each of you, a stare so severe you felt yourself recoil inside of your being as you ran an unconscious hand through your scalp. “Each of them is handsome, wise, virtuous, and…” 

Aemond stuttered as he came to you, making the fatal mistake of losing himself within the depths of your comforting irises. He could see the water collecting at your lashes as your eyes turned into murky pools, threatening to drown him if he stared for a moment longer. He directed his attention at Luke, his ire becoming apparent as memories of your brothers and Aegon’s laughs bounced off the Dragonpit walls, soon turning into screams and red covering his vision. He felt the pain of losing an eye as if it was happening again and tightened his fist around his goblet, forcing the pain to fuel his rage. 

“And strong,” Aemond concluded as you released a disappointed sigh, focusing on anything but your uncle. “Come! Let us drain our cups to these four strong children.”

You understood what he was trying to do without speaking. His hurt was so fierce that it blinded all sense, leading him to react rashly. Aemond was forcing you to choose between your family and your affection for him, a situation that the Prince knew would play out as before. You knew what was expected of you; it was the same as last time. You would always choose your family over him. Duty was a sacrifice; you must sacrifice the memories of a bright-eyed boy with freckled cheeks and a love for reading and stolen kisses. The Aemond was no longer there, and you needed to accept that.

“I dare you to say that again,” Jace proclaimed, his chin held high and shoulders back. Your brother was ever the picture of a strong king, sending a warmth to your heart that was crushed with reality. 

“Why? ‘Twas only a compliment. Do you not think yourself strong?” Aemond jabbed back as your head snapped to him. He could make whatever cruel taunts he desired at you but would not bring your brother into this. 

“A man lies dead for spouting such lies. What do you think will happen to you?” you snapped a vicious clip to your words. Before Aemond could respond, your brother stormed to him without a second thought, chest to chest, as his fist slammed across Aemond’s cheek. 

Gasping in surprise, you went to the two of them as you saw Luke’s face become one with a plate of food, hesitating for a moment until your twin was shoved to the ground. You marched toward Aemond with fire in your veins and an intent to harm as shouts erupted from your mother and Queen Alicent for everyone to stop. You all ignored them, Aegon swiftly coming behind you, lifting and swinging you by the waist as if you were no more than a doll. Jace tried to reach for you, but your uncle spun around, giggling in your ear at your attempts to break free as you became nauseous.

You realized this was all a joke to Aegon. He truly did not understand that what he did to you as children was wrong. 

Aegon couldn’t hide the excitement in his stomach at having you so close once more as you squirmed in his hold, burying his nose into your neck with a grin. He wondered if you would writhe like this if he had you naked between his bedsheets. 

Soon, the guards draped in metal armor and red robes pulled Jace and Luke away from their uncles as Aegon came face to face with Daemon. Unlike Aemond, your eldest uncle was not one to challenge others to fisticuffs as his laughter ceased. Your stepfather need only to flash your uncle a look for him to let you go, raising his arms in surrender as Daemon observed you to ensure you weren’t hurt. 

“Why would you say such a thing before these people?” you heard Queen Alicent hotly scold Aemond, looking behind his lithe shoulder to where your mother held your body close to hers. 

Scoffing, your uncle cocked his head, staring down at his mother with a challenging look. “I was merely expressing my pride in my family, mother. Though it seems my niece and nephews aren’t quite as proud of theirs,” he enunciated pointedly, glancing to where the three of you were restrained. 

“I’ll cut out your tongue!” you shouted as Jace broke free from the guards, coming behind you in support. Daemon halted you in your tracks, his touch gentle yet firm as he placed a hand on your arm. As you paused to regain your composure, you couldn’t help but notice the deep creases on his forehead, a sign of his genuine concern. You shrugged off his touch, refusing to succumb to paternal overtures because he intervened when Aegon was rough with you.

Your mother looked to the floor, a dejected expression on her porcelain features you couldn’t understand before she spoke to the three of you. “Go to your quarters. All of you, now.”

As you and Jace made your way out, you couldn’t help but notice the tense standoff between Daemon and Aemond. Your stepfather, casually leaning on his hips with one hand resting on the hilt of Dark Sister, exuded an air of calculated confidence. 

Standing in the doorway, you felt a flutter of anxiety in your heart, wondering what would unfold between the two men. You were curious to know if the two Targaryen men decided to brawl and whether you would go to your uncle or stepfather. There was a palpable sense of anticipation as Daemon glanced at where you stood, expressing a knowing look deep within his lilac eyes. He had already sent one person’s loved one to the Stranger. What was one more?

Sharing a look of frustration from you to your stepfather, Aemond grunted in displeasure, following your steps out of the dining hall. Jace checked himself into your shoulder as he forced you forward, refusing to let you dwell on the scene behind you. 

Masterlist of Series

Spotify Playlist

I know we're upset with Aemond's behavior, but it'll make that character arch much sweeter. We can only have the enemies-to-lovers trope with them being enemies first! I feel bad for the poor MC. First, she's forced to return to the scene of a traumatic experience, forced to see her rapist, and then finds out the man she thought she was going to marry her whole life is engaged to someone else! Baby girl is going through it. Let's get this girl some therapy. (⁠｡⁠•́⁠︿⁠•̀⁠｡⁠)

We're starting to see how Aegon and Alicent might have begun to harbor some unhealthy traits regarding our reader. Don't worry. It'll get much worse from here on out! Thank you so much for reading!

Tagged Peeps: @millies0bsimp , @britt-mf , @marvelescvpe , @haikyuusboringassmanager , @discofairysworld , @lottiemsgf , @nessjo , @fiction-fanfic-reader , @qvnthesia , @hotvillianapologist , @p45510n4f4shi0n , @theendlessvoidofdarkest , @readerselegance , @gothamgurl2024 , @aleemendoza2425-blog , @vaylint , @ln8118 , @prettyduckling22 , @primroseluna , @baybaybear1

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Canvas of imagination (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: On the eve of Rhaenyra's wedding, Daemon decides the best gift he can give to the father of the bride is a dreamer. A shame said dreamer does not seem to share the joy of the occasion.

Warnings: Kidnapping. Period typical misogyny. Violence. Unflattering depiction of characters (You might hate me for this)

A/N: Remember please, Daemon is an unreliable narrator. Here is where things start to get dark. I researched genetics for this and ended up really insecure. Read the previous part here.

There are many ways of silencing women. Murder is, of course, one. It’s not an elegant solution, but it is an effective one. It ensures the victim takes her secrets to the grave. Daemon likes to think himself more elegant than that.

There is, too, the possibility of a ruined reputation. But that strategy is one that is only effective towards women of a certain standing. You can hardly ruin what are already damaged goods, and a bastard certainly counts as damaged goods.

Daemon still could chuck you off Caraxes mid-flight. Yet, it does not seem like a good idea, either. Each one of your servants saw you get chained to his saddle. Not even Viserys’s intervention could save him from the angry mob of commoners that would await his return to the Vale.

Besides, he likes you there, mounted on his dragon. For once, quiet, too scared of screaming and disturbing Caraxes. Daemon likes the lack of noise, but he likes your presence much more. It would be foolish to silence a dreamer forever.

You need other kinds of chains. To tie you to him. Silencing you, when he does not want to hear. One often used for Targaryen women.

Marriage. A Bronze Bitch for another. But not exactly, is it? Not if you can truly see the future.

Perhaps this was meant to happen, then. As a way of honoring his ancestors. Grabbing a pretty maid, one with Valyrian gifts and…

Well. Children are another kind of chain, right? He is still not sold on the perks of bedding you. You are wrong. Too dark, too different. Nothing like Rhaenyra, and slightly older than her. But Daemon knows the children you will birth him will be strong. The gift on you is, after all.

To be able to look so far into the future speaks of a power unseen before. Targaryens have not been blessed by many dreamers in the last generations, and the few times they were, their gifts were fickle and weak. Not far enough to allow them to see further than days. The last time someone was able to look further was in the age of Aegon the Conqueror.

It must mean Valyrian descent. Nothing else is an acceptable answer. Even if you don’t look it.

Daemon mounts behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. You feel soft in his arms. Perhaps bedding you will not be as bad. He had been afraid that you would be like Rhea. Those inquisitive eyes of her, the body as hard as the body of any man. They were not features he enjoyed on a female partner. It always turned him off.

It was not that he had refused to consummate the marriage. He wasn’t able to bed her, the awful bitch. Not only were her features off-putting, but her attitude. She was constantly trying to sit on his hips, push him down, and he couldn’t stand it. Daemon felt trapped. Emasculated.

He had to chase the shame, the powerlessness away, somehow. That was how he got started fucking whores, collecting maidenheads. It was much better when women were maidens. Easier. He likes the contrasts, Daemon has realized. Half women, half children are always more entertaining to play with.

You are not Rhea. You feel different in his arms. Your body is soft, all sweet limbs. There are no harsh muscles on your arms, and you smell like fresh baked pastries. Rhea always smelled of horse.

You are a girl, not a warrior like your sister was. Yet, you share her wild spirit. All the delicious curves of womanhood are already formed, a delicious pair of tits and hips that could drive any man to insanity.

Your parentage is a bit more undesirable, though. As the daughter of a whore, your innocence could be sullied. Daemon would have to ask if you were passed around when younger. He doubted it, but just in case. If you had not, bedding you would be the most fun he had in years. Open-minded, hot-blooded, but pure. It was not often you found that in a woman.

You try to squirm, but are too well bound. Getting too comfortable for his liking.

“Soves. ” He orders. Caraxes obeys. You shriek in terror, and Daemon hugs you harder against him. That, too, he likes. The helplessness, the honest reaction of someone who was denied her birthright. The amazement, once you settle down and notice that Caraxes will not drop you.

Riding Caraxes is always a thrill. It’s even more thrilling when he has a captive audience. There is something about it that does it for him. Showing others the might of true Targaryens always makes him proud.

He wants to show you all the things you have missed, being born of a whore and a Royce. It’s clear you don’t belong here, among the bronze piles of the Vale. You belong with him, on dragonback. And no one is taking you away from him.

The servants, your servants, according to the Bronze Bitch’s will, can only watch as the dragon rises in the air. No one dares deny Targaryens anything, not when faced with the truth of their strength.

Daemon perches his chin right on top of your head, so close his chest is flush with your back. Your screams do not bother him. You might be terrified, after a life spent living on the ground. But Targaryens are born to be in the skies. You will get used to it.

“Oh, Lady Cuffs, you have much to learn.” He kisses your temple, once you have screamed your throat raw and finally quieted down.

The first time he had ridden Caraxes, Daemon had, too, screamed until his voice gave. He had thought back then, like many Targaryens did, that if his egg didn’t hatch, he would get no dragon. The moment is clear in his memory. Heart beating loud in his chest, screaming commands in High Valyrian, and the absolute certainty that Caraxes was going to burn him to a crisp. Then, as he came down from sheer terror to amazement, he understood why his egg didn’t hatch.

It was a lesson. To take what he wanted, what was his by right. Targaryens were conquerors, not whiny children. It was what had got him thinking about Lady Laena, in the first place. The amount of confidence one needed to claim a dragon that big, it spoke of a power within.

Not as yours was, of course. You may lack the confidence, but you had power in spades. Dreamers were often like that. Or they were supposed to be, according to his studies. Daenys had been. A fragile little thing, scared of shadows and set on leaving Valyria behind. It had been what saved them, in the end.

Daemon wonders what it must be like to be haunted by terrors in your sleep. Some real, some imagined. How could one possible tell the difference between the two? It would lead a fragile mind to insanity.

What had it done to you? Seeing your sister’s death, thinking it a nightmare, and then watch it come to life in front of your eyes?

Fear. Horror. A cornered animal reaction, wanting to fight an opponent that could crush you like a bug if he so wished. Your loyalty to Rhea was commendable, though.

The thought of you having to go through that makes him uncomfortable. Something about the death of a sibling upsets him. Viserys. Oh, Viserys. Can’t live with him, but can’t live without him, either.

No. He needs a distraction. He is not willing to go down that road now.

“Dracarys!” Daemon screams, fighting to project his voice over the wind. As expected, you flinch and let out a tiny scream. He hides his smirk in your hair. He wonders if you would squeal like that when he took you.

A bit of fear makes for a better fuck. Lovers tend to turn pliant in the face of pain. Women's cunts flutter delightfully when choked. And you are already so responsive.

“This cannot be happening.” You mutter, under your breath. Your voice sounds small and confused. Lost. “This defies all the laws.”

“Targaryens have married sisters before,” Daemon speaks over your ear. Despite knowing that's not how dreamers work, he can't help but taunt you. It's amusing to him, how you struggle and huff. “You must have seen this already. You will make a good wife, in time.”

“I am not a dreamer!” You scream, and if he could see your face now, he would bet you are scowling. It matters not, really. Whatever you say. You would do anything to get him to let you go.

Daemon knows the truth. He has done his investigation about you. It would be no good, if he were mistaken and presented Viserys with something less. His good gesture would be ruined.

You would earn him his forgiveness. Daemon is willing to share you with Viserys, if that's what Viserys wants. He wants to keep you, so Daemon wouldn't gift you to him. But share you? It's a good gesture to show the honesty of his words.

Let it not be said that Daemon Targaryen is not humble in victory.

“Deny it all you want.” Daemon turns a finger over the middle of your back, making you shiver and try to move away from the touch. Oh, such a fierce spirit. A shame it's wasted, with how well you are tied to the saddle. “You have some Valyrian blood in you.”

“I do not!” You scream, and tilt your head to the side to glare at him. You have pretty eyes and the most enchanting nose. Closer to a goddess than a woman. How can you not be a Targaryen?

Your hair is the wrong shade. So are your eyes. But most of the time, First Men features overpower Targaryen ones. Dammed your father. Useless rat, that Yohn Royce. But at least he had given him you.

“You will birth me silver haired babes.” Daemon can do the math. With you being half Valyrian, the odds of you giving him what he wants are higher. He places his hand on your stomach, sneaking it behind the apron and touching the soft linen dress you wear.

Daemon imagines what it will be like, to see you swell with his child. The skin over your womb is warm and soft. You are young, closer to Rhaenyra's age than his. You look healthy and strong. A good environment for a child to grow in. And by the look of your bosom, you would produce good milk, too.

The thought makes him suddenly hungry. His cock twitches in interest. Ah. Good to know that your coloring won’t bring forth the same performance issues Rhea’s had.

This time, you squirm harder. Your ass rolls against his hips. Daemon rolls his hips against you, delighting in the friction. "Oh, you temptress.” He laughs.

He can't wait to have you, pinned under him and forcing you to take and take until his seed breeds true. How you would struggle, hips trying to escape him before surrendering to the sheer pleasure of it all.

“You are disgusting!” You buck against him, all wild mare. You have yet to be mounted and it shows. He bets once he does, you will be all sweet. Daemon is not cruel enough to deny you the pleasure. But you seem upset, and so he tries to reassure you.

“Just think, how strong, how true our children will be. With the blood of Old Valyria, flowing through their veins.”

It seems like the thought is not as reassuring for you as it is for him, since you start tearing up. He will have to tread more carefully. It’s clear your time with the Bronze Bitch has affected you. Perhaps, too, growing up in a whore’s house. You must have some strange ideas of women not needing marriage, or men, to lead their lives.

It was good, that Rhea got you when she had. You could have been sold or auctioned like any other woman. Taken up the profession of your mother. But you hadn’t. He knows it by the way you flinch, when he trails his hands over your ribs, when he presses his lips to your temple. Whores are used to touches like those. They melt into them. Not you.

“I’m not Valyrian!” You scream, trashing. Daemon smooths your hair down, tenderly. Perhaps this will soften you, he thinks. Many bastards share the longing for learning about their origins, after all. You should be no different.

“Your mother was, though.”

“What? No, she wasn't!” Your shrill tone makes him flinch. Gods, what a pair of lungs you have. And you are so set on disguising your origins, too. As if Daemon can’t tell. As if he can’t recognize one of his own when he sees them.

“I asked the servants about you.” He squeezes your shoulder, trying to sound encouraging. He wonders what it must be like, to carry so deep a shame you are set on denying the obvious. If Daemon had been born of a whore, without his Targaryen blood, he would be ashamed too. “They said you bathed every day. Only whores do that. And you don’t keep male company.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Your voice comes out high and questioning, confused. Oh, his poor, sheltered girl. Thinking your behavior was normal.

“You must have learned it somewhere.” He brushes his thumb against the shell of your ear. It’s a tiny thing, and soft. You give a sweet shiver, and it confirms his suspicions. You have not been touched in such a way before. Not a whore. Only the daughter of one. "Your father was said to frequent a brothel in King’s Landing, one that I’m well acquainted with. They only have Valyrian stock.”

You splutter, and whip your head to the side. You are not allowed much movement, with your binds. But gods, you try. The sliver of your face he can see is twisted in righteous anger. Similar to when he confessed to finishing the Bronze Bitch.

“Stock? How can you refer to women like that!” And it comes out so righteous, so fierce. His little warrior. Yes, it’s clear he is right about your origins. No one else would launch themselves in such a passionate defense of whores. A shame, he can’t seem to resist to riling you up.

“Oh, I have much lovelier names for women. I called your sister the Bronze Bitch.”

You let out a fierce little scream, now bucking and twisting and shifting, trying to get any kind of retribution for the slight. What a joy you must be in the sheets, all that unbridled force and passion, turning into a single objective. You just have to learn to aim it right.

“Don’t you dare speak of her like that! She is the most…” And you choke up a sob, realizing that Rhea was, not is. You do not speak the words, curling into yourself like a scared child. Hurt and sad for the first time since he took you.

“Was.” Daemon says, very quietly, and this time he is unable to distract himself from the thought. Daemon thinks of Viserys, of how angry he would be were someone to hurt him. No matter if they had parted in anger, no matter if they had not spoken a word.

He hugs you to him. You fight him, at first, but then you are sobbing too hard, too panicked to do anything about it. He presses a kiss to your nape. Even in tears and sweaty with your efforts, you smell perfect. All sweet pure maiden.

Eventually, your body sags. Daemon wonders if you accepted your fate or merely fell asleep. He doesn’t ask. The rest of the ride is uneventful. You wake up, later on, squirming in your bounds before sagging in defeat. No more words are exchanged between the two of you.

Landing is quite the interesting experience. Lyonel Strong, wearing the Hand's brooch. Next to him, stands the Kingsguard and a couple of Citywatchs.

“Is that a serving girl?” Crispin, Chris, whatever his name is, asks. He must think himself so sly, muttering under his breath.

“You were vanished.” Lyonel deadpans, eyeing you with vague interest. You scowl at him and tug on your bonds, again. Admirable persistence.

“Ah, Lyonel.” He gets off the saddle and carefully unchains you from it, making sure that your hands remain bound. Daemon keeps a tight grip on the chain from your cuffs, as he pulls you down into his arms. You kick and scream. The Kingsguard look vaguely concerned, but the gold cloaks don't even blink. They had been his men a few years back. They are used to such things.

He is not getting any younger, Daemon realizes. With you, he might need to get a better training regime because he is winded from the struggle. It's almost thrilling. You will keep him on his toes.

Daemon addresses Lyonel once again, dragging you forward.

“Summon Viserys, would you? I have something to show him.”

Good thing it’s not Otto Hightower anymore, or else he would have been detained on the spot. Lyonel is slightly softer to him, too honor-bound to let his personal feelings get in the way.

“Another of your whores?” The man asks, face unchanged. He would look at ease were it not for the way he is pressing his lips together in a grim line. No doubt remembering the Mysaria episode.

You keep struggling, rubbing your poor wrists raw. Daemon will have to tend to that later.

“Help! Help! Please!” You plead to Lyonel, once he is close enough. His lips twitch. Ah, the Strongs. Always ready to jump in rescue of a fair maiden. Your cries seem to be weakening the resolve of the Hand, and Daemon can’t have that.

Daemon places a possessive arm over your hips, showing you off. The possessive gesture will distract Lyonel from his rescue attempt, he is sure. No one gets between a Prince and his lovers, willing or not.

“No, actually. This time, the Lady is still a maiden. Although she won’t be much longer.” He smirks.

You flinch, your whole body tensing under his grip. Lyonel looks torn. He can’t order Daemon to let go of you, as for all he knows, you are but a serving girl. If you were a Lady, what he is doing might mean war. No one here cares about commoners.

Surprisingly, your rescuer is another. The dornish knight, jumping in, without the bow of his commander or the Lord Hand.

“I’ll go get the King, Lord Hand.” Good gods, what were they teaching the dornish these days? Not an ounce of respect on that one. He was getting too cocky for Daemon’s liking. He might have unseated him, but he lacked manners.

Daemon glares at Lyonel. Lyonel glares right back. The Kingsguard square behind Lyonel, menacingly, but the City Watch remains undecided on the side. Daemon grips your cuffs harder.

Crispin, Chris, whatever, comes out again after a few minutes, with an aggravated looking Viserys. You start shrieking, again, and trying harder to escape. No one pays you any mind.

“I told you I didn’t want to see you again.” Viserys says, but his eyes crinkle. He has cooled down. Daemon lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He still has everything to play for. Forgiveness is on the way.

“I think she might earn my forgiveness.” He tugs at your cuffs, bringing you slightly forward. You scowl, fiercely. “A gift, brother.”

“You come to offer me a whore? You are insane. Or drunk. Or both.” Viserys arches an eyebrow, but takes a good look at you. Daemon can’t blame him for it. You are a pretty thing, young and healthy.

Despite someone who claims offense at being offered a whore, Viserys surely looks interested. He steps closer to him, trapping you between them both. It’s Viserys, in quite the bold move, who tilts your chin up with a finger. You snarl at him, bucking backwards and right into Daemon’s chest.

“Careful. She bites. Special breed, from the Vale. All bitches.” And it’s not even funny, but it makes Viserys laugh, and that’s all that matters to him. Viserys’s laughter prompts the rest of the sycophants knights to do so as well. Only Lyonel and the dornish man remain disapproving.

“I’m quite busy at the moment, brother.” Viserys steps back, giving Daemon a long look. Unable not to twist the knife because otherwise they wouldn’t be related, he adds. “I’m in the middle of planning a wedding.”

“Ah. Congratulations are in order, then. Think of this as a wedding gift to the father of the bride.” Daemon pushes you forward, and then, insistently, to kneel. You resist, impudent little thing that you are. He pushes harder, until you kneel in front of Viserys with a sullen expression. “What better omen for a marriage than a little dreamer?”

Viserys goes suddenly serious, the hint of a smile at his antics long gone. This time, when he looks at you, his eyes are much more searching. First, to your hair. Then, your eyes. Then, to his face, incredulous.

“If this is your idea of a joke, Daemon…”

Daemon gives him a look. He would not joke about it, knowing how much Viserys has longed to be connected to that side of their heritage. He never understood it. Dreams were a powerful tool, but could be hard to differentiate from just nightmares. And what had made them conquerors had not been dreams, but dragons. That had been the part that interested him.

They had talked, once, of sharing a woman. Back when they were much younger, much less troubled. He tried to let that shine in his eyes, too. This was not something he was keeping to himself, it was a gift to his brother. If Viserys asked, Daemon would say yes in a heartbeat. Anything to make him happier. To protect him. Your dreams might not get him another kingdom, but would help keep Viserys safe and secure Rhaenyra's claim.

The silence stretched. Then, Viserys, looking absolutely fascinated and dumbfounded, stepped aside.

“Inside the throne room. Anyone else, leave us!”

As the guards scrambled to obey, Daemon tugged you inside. Viserys entered the room first, and grabbed the chain, as Daemon made sure to close the door after them. Working together with a fluidity not seen since the days of their youth.

Daemon smiled. Not even a day in your company, and you were already fixing things in the way he had wanted you to.

Viserys let go of your chain, eyeing you with quite a bit of precaution. All for naught. Instead of attacking, you tried to flee. Daemon grabbed you, and spun you to face him.

“You say she is a dreamer.” Viserys sits down on the throne, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“She is. The bastard sister of my newly deceased wife.” Daemon can’t help but boast. He is proud of finding you. Of the smile that has formed on Viserys face. “You know how it was. Yohn Royce and his precious Silver Dragon.”

“Lady Rhea is dead?” Viserys frowns. Still, he doesn’t look too upset. Perhaps a bit angry, but Daemon knows he will forgive him for it. What is the murder of a woman no one loved to the acquisition of a dreamer?

“He killed her!” You scream, unable to help yourself. Ah. Curse him, he was mistaken. Someone loved the Bronze Bitch. But it didn’t count. You were her sister and she had rescued you from a brothel. You were morally obligated to. It didn’t count.

“Shut up, little girl. I didn’t.” Which, yes, he had, but it would be better to give Viserys plausible deniability. Safer that way.

“Yes, you did. I saw.” You grin at him, menacingly. Daemon arches an eyebrow. It seemed your nap had given you the energy to be defiant. Again. Good gods, you were like a child. Having to be put to bed, pacified, taken care of. On and on the list went. Daemon was not sure that he was ready for the responsibility of parenting a recently legitimized Targaryen. Your manners were atrocious, and you were so young and so soft.

Rhea had taught you nothing of use. Perhaps to read books and ride horses, but it was clear she hadn't hardened you as she was. You had no idea of politics or respect for your King. Soft. Sheltered. A blessing in disguise? Or a curse?

“That will be a problem, dreamer or not.” Viserys interrupts. It’s clear what he means. Daemon has to fix it. Because the Seven forbid Viserys is the one to get his hands dirty. He likes to believe he is above Daemon, in that sense. That he has some sort of morals that go beyond caring for Rhaenyra.

He has not. His tastes are the same as Daemon's. Fire and blood and all that came with it, but with the delusion of having some great sense of morality.

“Give her to me. The Bronze Bitch left her everything she had. I can keep the Vale and the little girl in line.” Daemon quickly says, ignoring your indignant yelp and trashing. “I’ll marry her.”

“Allow you to own a dreamer?” Viserys raises his brows, looking doubtful. “Don’t you think it’s too much? If she truly is one, of course…”

“Show him, Lady Cuffs.”

You remain in obstinate silence. Daemon feels the urge to scream. Clearly, the Royce genes ran strong because Seven Hells you were infuriating.

“Didn’t you say you could keep her in line?” Viserys taunts, amused. Oh, if Daemon could, he would spank your pretty arse red from that defiance. Little brat that you are, it would be a fitting punishment.

He can’t do much more, not without endangering you. Neither Viserys nor him are experts on dreamers. They have been oddities during the history of their house. Their lessons on them were far less detailed than on dragons.

The upkeeping and care of one would require research. But some things are clear from the start. Dreamers shouldn't be hurt. Or too traumatized. They might get nightmares, and that would make their powers wane.

Daemon needs to scare you into thinking he will hurt you, but not actually do it. How to scare you into compliance and punish you, but not hurt you? He looks at the Iron Throne, and suddenly, an idea sparks into his mind. You are, in many ways, a child. And a man is allowed to discipline his wife.

Daemon unsheathes his sword, making as much noise as possible. You flinch, clearly recognizing the sound. He bangs it against your vulnerable behind, making you jolt forward and yelp. Not only it must have hurt, but the sound echoed in the throne room. You turn to look at him over your shoulder, surprised and a little teary-eyed. Viserys smiles.

"Answer his question. Properly." Daemon orders. You look between him and Viserys, clearly unsure. He gives you a few moments, but when you are taking too long for his liking, Daemon raises his sword again. The words nearly tumble out in your haste to speak.

"I… Your wife. Aemma, she held on to you and begged you to not let them cut her. You held her down. Monster.” You say to Viserys, now openly crying. Daemon blinks. Now that was something he didn’t know.

Viserys’s anger at the “heir for a day” comment is suddenly framed in a new light. Guilt. The fool. Daemon would never do something like that to you. A dreamer is too valuable of an asset.

“Something more pleasant.” He orders, swinging the sword. You try to dance away from the hit, but you are unable to. You give another cry.

“You have a dagger. With Aegon’s dream. And the Lady Alicent visited you in your chambers, wearing one of her mother’s dresses, after Aemma passed.” This time, Daemon keeps a close eye on Viserys’s face, instead of you. His face is slack, jaw hanging open. Apparently, you are telling the truth. He wonders what other seedy secrets about him you know.

Daemon raises his sword, ready to hit your bottom again.

“That’s enough, Daemon. You proved your point. You can marry her.” Viserys says, voice shaky. He is clearly overcome by what you know and by the methods needed to extract the information from you. Viserys is about to give you to him. He has realized he will not be able to handle you.

Daemon doesn't mind. To be kept safe, every King needs someone willing to get their hands dirty. He has done much worse, and that was not even in the hopes of protecting Viserys and Rhaenyra.

“No, no, no…” You protest, pitifully. Your whole face is streaked with tears.

“Thank you, brother.” Daemon answers, smirking. Never has he felt more victorious. He gives another slap to your behind, this time with his hand. Viserys nearly smiles at your indignant shriek. “Oh, Lady Wife, no one asked for your opinion.”

[restitutor-orbis]

Me, defending Daenerys Targaryen: Her existence is meant to break the shackles that is often associated with Targaryen madness and tyranny. Just as Aegon the Conqueror came and reshaped Westeros, Daenerys is meant to do that and go further. Aegon did not radically changed the dynamics of the Seven Kingdoms, though his and his sisters' unification did lead to a lessening of yearly wars that the kingdoms were often associated with, but Daenerys goes beyond that. She seeks to dismantle ancient institutions that keep man enslaved and submissive--she is a revolutionary. Attempts to degrade her actions against slavery should be taken under suspicion, for no other character calls for greater reform, not even the common-born Davos. Daenerys' Meereen arc is meant to display the reality of leadership, something which male characters such as Tyrion, Robb, and Jon deal with, to a variety degree of success and failure. Yet, only Daenerys and her actions are held to higher scrutiny, meanwhile Tyrion, Robb, and Jon's fates all occurred by their own choices and actions - Tyrion actively maintained Shae at court, and though he meant well, pulled political blunder when he threatened Cersei, even though it was a noble cause to defend Alayaya; Jon's choice to remain reclusive regarding his designs weakened his overall support in the Night's Watch, especially as he received it under very peculiar situations. Meanwhile, there is less focus on the community about those political blunders and consistent critiques regarding Daenerys' actions, and given the show's canonization of Jon as a "legitimate" son of Rhaegar and Lyanna, any nuance toward her and her potential claim to the Iron Throne is often discarded and forsaken as Jon is considered the "rightful" heir to many members of the fandom. Referring to her as the potential mad queen not only fails to recognize that Daenerys likely is meant to break the common traits of her kin, but also simply ignores the parrallels between Cersei and Aerys. Having two mad queens is reductive, and ignores Martin's anti-misogynistic attempts through Daenerys. The Dance of Dragons only occurred because of misogyny, not because Rhaenyra herself was unfit to rule. That is meant to be something in which Daenerys is expected to break.

Me, defending Queen Marika the Eternal: Yes, she committed multiple cases of genocides...but she was a hot MILF while doing it, soooo

[isaaujulii]

WHY GOD WHY COULDN’T THEY TREAT ALL THEIR CHARACTERS WITH RESPECT. The source material is endlessly fascinating and riddled with interesting storylines that can be followed and or improved upon(within reason) . Like you have the knight without honor whose only true light is a queen who he can never have. A woman whose life is tied to the men around her, which is her circumstance but she does nothing to try to help or ruin them but laments her part in everything. And i’m not saying the story can’t be built upon the relationship between rhaenyra and alicent.

It’s a great place to start. START. It can’t be just about them. Why don’t we see Jaeharys and the pressure he feels as a bastard and a possible future king. What about halaenas mental state her visions, and the fact she lost a whole child. And how come all of a sudden Aemond is kinslaying psychopath whose only goal is to become king, is there no internal conflict. Where’s that remorse and horror we saw at the end of season 1. Aegon is being made fun of every second and being ignored (and before u come at me i know he is a pos rapist, not defending him) nobody sees him as a threat even though he is QUITE LITERALLY THE KING.

Alicent is on her sad girl bs. And I LIKE ALICENT. Do you know how hard it is to make me dislike a character I originally loved. I thought her character was heading into an interesting direction feeling guilt and remorse about her actions because it is against everything she believes in. Because AGAIN they have hammered into the viewers that she is a religious. But she just becomes whishy washy. And not an active participant.

And don’t get me started on our titular protagonist a one Rhaneyra Targaryen. Have I mentioned my dislike at the obvious bias towards team black. Also why are there teams why is everything black and white. I don’t know about yall but I thought the whole point was there is no good and evil and that killing your family for a crown is wrong and morally unjust so therefore anyone participating in the war (as in anyone who has a choice, not the small folk forced to fight and stuff) is already not the greatest person. So i don’t know why they are acting like Rhaneyra is the goddamn messiah. They’re trying to make her a Daenerys variant. She’s not Dany and she shouldn’t be forced to be. Like their trying to make her a reasonable person who only wants best for people around her but she is also someone actively participating in a war with DRAGONS and as everyone keeps repeating there isn’t a war as bloody as one with dragons. And look i love a little hypocrisy in my characters i eat it up but this is ridiculous. You want a war so be in it. And if you don’t want to work with some people tough shit, you need others to get things done. And god forbid they challenge you on anything.

And look I tried to ignore it as much as i could but, do they hate men. Like genuinely asking, because every man in this show with the exception of like 2 characters is immensely unlikeable. And i’m not saying you can’t have unlikeable men. But like it’s a bit of a pattern. The women are the ones trying to avoid war and the men are all gung ho to lose their lives. Like i think they were trying to be feminist by making the women the only reasonable ones and men unreasonable. But they were so feminist that it came around to being misogynistic. Which i didn’t think could happen. And this being pseudo medieval time period with misogyny and all that it seems like there are parts where they are just like forcing patriarchy and other parts it does not seem to exist. Like equality is the norm and patriarchy is the outlier. Like there were women in charge of houses, which is not abnormal in of itself but like they don’t explain it. Like they could’ve been like the lord of that house is ill and his lady-wife takes care of everything. Or been like she’s in the fighting because she has a talent for it and is a bastard. Like I don’t know if any of you have seen the show Black Sails but one of the characters Eleanor basically runs pirate island and that doesn’t make sense because it the 1700’s but it’s explained that her father put her in charge because she was raised there and had a mind for business. And I know it’s a sad thing to be like a woman can only have power in proximity to a man. But like aren’t they going for realism, that’s what was so intriguing about the game of thrones universe. How people given shit circumstances rise above them. And some of these people happen to be women. If this was like one of those comfy fantasy with like fantasy creatures and like loose plots and there aren’t really rules and modern sensibilities are ingrained then I could dig it. Like yah you go girl be a pirate and you be a merchant and you are an advisor to the king. abut this isn’t that. And I can already see how an argument can be made that the entire show is overcoming the circumstances of your birthright being taken because you are a woman. Which I will reply that like I said earlier in order to do that they need the women to have agency and push for it or let it go. Which is options that Rhaneyra has.

And maybe i’m wrong and all those loose plot threads and bizarre character choices will payoff in season 3 and i’ll be the weirdo who doubted them.

[witheredoffherwitch]

Have you seen the theories about Alys possibly appearing as both Alicent and Rhaenyra in the trailer? I have mixed feelings about Alysmond, but I do find Alys interesting. What are your thoughts on these theories and how do you think Alysmond would evolve if they turned out to be true?

Hi nonnie,

Yes, I have looked through some of the theories floating around - and if someone's not sure what this question is alluding to, here's a Twitter thread for reference. Please note that this post will delve into leaks and potential spoilers, so proceed at your own risk!

Now this speculation is based on the leaks which hinted at Alys using glamor magic to take Rhaenyra's form in her attempts to seduce Daemon. In theory, this would make sense because that one shot of both Rhaenyra and Alicent's look completely misplaced in the trailer. In Rhaenyra's case, she is obviously broken after learning about Luke's death.. and the trailer for most part shows her character in mourning except for that one scene in crown. Some have pointed out that the background looks different from the Black council room at Dragonstone. As for Alicent, her scene by the lake raises questions. As someone familiar with the books, I can't help but wonder if this lake is the infamous God's Eye. If so, what could Alicent be doing there? I must admit, when I first saw the shot from behind, my mind went to Alys...but then they revealed it was Alicent and I became even more confused!

I am not a big fan of this theory because this seems to be heading in the same old formulaic 'femme fatale' trope that we Alys fans were dreading for a while. Many fans believe that the accounts of Alys from the books reek of common misogyny, and we were hoping for the show to avoid falling into that trap. The idea of Alys "bewitching" Aemond comes from their surprise at a Targaryen prince being smitten with an older woman who is seen as nothing more than a baseborn bastard. But, let's wait and see how this plays out in the show. Also as @richardsthirdnipple pointed out to me earlier, both Aemond and Criston hold devotion towards Alicent.. which could potentially contribute to the rift between them over Alys.

Talking about how this might affect Alysmond's story, I am not going to speculate much because the story may still evolve even if they have questionable origins. That being said, most of us Alysmond shippers will still stan these two characters regardless of how their story pans out. While I am still maintaining a healthy caution, I hope that the showrunners will avoid turning her character into Melissandre 2.0.

If any of you have thoughts to contribute, please chime in! I am eager to hear your perspectives on these emerging theories.

That's all! 🤗

[alicentflorent]

I read your blog and I agree with a lot of what you say. I don't hate Rhaenyra but Alicent is a much more interesting and sympathetic character to me. It does annoy me how much people compare Rhaenyra to Daenerys as if they're so much alike and I'm like...no. Yes, they both have to face misogyny but they have very different attitudes towards ruling. One of the reasons I like Daenerys so much is that she never stops trying to prove herself but Rhaenyra is entitled. Rhaenyra is also not as clever as Daenerys.

I feel the same way. I like Rhaenyra and I thought she would be favourite at first but then Alicent became more interesting to me. Alicent is just more unique I guess whereas they made Rhaenyra the typical female protagonist.

As for the Dany comparisons, they really annoy me too. I mostly blame the show for this because they've really been pushing the Daenerys and Rhaenyra parallels in hopes of making Rhaenyra even just half as popular and to capitalise on the impact that Dany had in the 2010s.

There may be some surface level parallels between them but ultimately Dany and Nyra both had VERY different upbringings and this shapes their characters. Dany grew up as a refugee being hunted down, only had her brother who abused her, then was married off as child bride, raped, left to die in the desert until her dragon's were hatched. Rhaenyra grew up very privileged, Her father doted on her, spoiled her and protected her by covering up the fact that her children were illegitimate. Rhaenyra did have her own struggles, mainly with misogyny and of course she was groomed and taken advantage of by her uncle, her mother died because of her father. Ultimately though, Rhaenyra was no different to any other Targaryen ruler who was born into privilege and given her position of heir (which she did lose because she was a woman) but Dany, she had to fight for what she had, she had to prove herself and be clever to survive. Her Targaryen name helped her, then later so did her dragons but she had to assimilate as khaleesi, the only thing she had at the point in her life was herself and she survived, she wants to change the system and although she has done a lot of questionable things and could definitely end up going down the wrong path in pursuit of power, she sees things differently to rhaenyra, who was fighting purely for her birthright and her children's birthright. They are from two different worlds and their stories have shaped who they are.

[fanficapologist]

Of Dragons and Maelstroms

Themes and Warnings: slow burn, enemies to lovers, blood, violence, explicit language, sexual violence, period-typical misogyny, sexual themes, smut, tension, marriage, jealousy, pregnancy, childbirth, miscarriage, attempted sexual assault, breastfeeding, major character death, divergent timelines

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood/Game of Thrones characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Chapter Eleven

The weeks at the Red Keep settled into a rhythm as Maera embraced her role as companion to Queen Helaena. Mornings found her by Helaena's side, helping her dress in elaborate gowns that reflected the grandeur of court life. The gentle rustling of silk and the soft chatter between them filled the room as they prepared for the day ahead.

The library became a sanctuary of knowledge and refuge. The scent of ancient tomes mingled with the dust motes that danced in the sunlight streaming through the windows. As they read books in high Valyrian, the words flowed between them, carrying the weight of history and culture. The women shared appreciation for knowledge and the beauty of language deepened the bond between them.

Sewing, however, proved to be a skill that eluded Maera. She would sit beside Helaena with a determined frown, attempting to create intricate patterns with little success. Helaena's gentle laughter would fill the room, easing the frustration that gnawed at Maera's patience. Despite her lack of skill, the moments spent sewing with Helaena carried a warmth and comfort. The Queen appreciated Maera’s praise and admiration towards the sewing she produced, mostly bug related or something carrying the Targaryen sigil.

Dragons continued to fly over Kings Landing, just as her maid at Rain House, Cristina, had spoken of. Maera had seen four so far, the biggest about the size of a horse. As they had no riders and didn’t seem particularly interested in Kings Landing, the small council didn’t seem too concerned. Although Maera had heard from her father that the dragon keepers were instructed to keep an eye on the juvenile beasts should they choose to settle in the Capital, as they could be useful for the upcoming war with Princess Rhaenyra, the previous heir to the Iron Throne, replaced by her drunken idiot of a brother.

The memory of the incident with Aegon remained an ever-present specter. Luckily, another family dinner had not been called since that night, and she spent most of her evenings eating with Helaena in her chambers. At times Queen Alicent would join to discuss social events and upcoming court functions, which Maera was proud to contribute towards.

The solitude of her own quarters provided Maera with a sanctuary once her daily duties had been fulfilled, a space where she could reflect and regroup amidst the challenges of her new role. It was also a protected time for her to write by candlelight to her siblings and unsheath the dagger that was packed away in her chest to practice with, without the scrutiny of others watching. The maid that had been assigned to Maera, whom she now knew as Thena, had sneaked a hay-filled dummy from the courtyard into the Lady’s chambers, an act of kindness Maera truly appreciated.

Her father's infrequent presence due to his duties on the small council allowed her to dedicate herself fully to her role without distractions. Lord Jasper made a point of offering her positive feedback whenever their paths crossed. His pride in her dedication and conduct was evident in his words, a reassurance that she was fulfilling her role as a representative of House Wylde with honor and grace.

Remarkably, Aemond's duties kept him away from the Red Keep for the most part. His absence spared them from the potential for further conflict, giving Maera a measure of respite. Still, his infrequent presence in the castle did little to quell the undercurrent of tension that lingered between them. Yet despite this, Maera was also disappointed at the thought of him not being there at times. A fleeting notion, nothing more, she would tell herself.

One sunny morning, as a soft breeze rustled through the gardens, Helaena's voice carried across the courtyard. "Maera, come here."

Maera turned from the bed of blooming flowers she had been tending and made her way toward the queen, who stood with a soft smile. Next to her, a pair of children giggled, their laughter like music in the air. Maera's heart skipped a beat as recognition dawned on her—the twins, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, now four years old, their eyes reflecting their mother's beauty and their Targaryen lineage.

"Jaehaerys, Jaehaera, this is Lady Maera," Helaena said, her voice gentle as she introduced Maera to her children.

Maera offered a small curtsy and warm smile, her heart swelling with a mixture of nostalgia and awe. "It's a pleasure to meet you both."

She couldn't help but remember the day she had stood by Helaena's side all those years ago, not long after the wedding. Maera never left the Queen during her labours, her hand clutching the Helaena’s as she endured the pains of childbirth. The memory of those intense moments, the fear and joy intertwined, flashed before her. Seeing the twins now, so full of life and laughter, brought a deep sense of fulfillment to her heart.

As the children returned to their games, Helaena motioned for Maera to follow her, leading her to a secluded spot. "And this is Maelor," she said, gesturing to a toddler who was playing with a wooden toy dragon under the supervision of a maid. He babbled with joy and was quick to his feet, toddling away causing the maid to jog after him

Maera couldn't help but chuckle softly at the sight of the young prince. "He's quite the spirited one, isn't he?"

Helaena grinned and informed Maera that the children would be spending the day with them in the gardens due to the pleasant weather. Maera beamed at this, as so many noblewomen did not take the time to spend it with their offspring. She was glad Helaena was a doting parent, a reminder of Maera’s own mother’s caring nature.

As the children became more accustomed to Maera’s presence and their shyness faded away, Maera sat in the shade inviting the young Targaryens to join her. When they gathered around, Maera began to share a story, her voice gentle yet captivating. She spoke of Visenya, the warrior queen who had once ridden Vhagar, the largest dragon in the world. Her words wove a tale of courage, strength, and the indomitable spirit that had defined Visenya's legacy.

Jaehaera's interest was immediately piqued, her eyes shining with curiosity. "Did Visenya fight with a sword, like a knight?"

Maera nodded, a smile touching her lips. "Yes, she did. Visenya was known for her prowess with both sword and dragon. She was a fierce warrior, a true force to be reckoned with."

Jaehaerys chimed in, a hint of skepticism in his voice. "But she was just a Princess. She wasn't as fierce as any of the dragon knights, was she?"

Maera chuckled softly, her gaze shifting to Helaena who was also enthralled in the story, bouncing Maelor on her knee. "Well, Jaehaerys, it's important to remember that valor can take many forms. Strength lies not only in ones ability to wield a sword but also in their wisdom and leadership."

“See Jaehaerys?! I told you so” Jaehaera chimed in, causing her twin to lightly shove her arm in annoyance. The twins bickered for a moment, their innocent debate a testament to the differences in their perspectives. Maera intervened gently, her tone soothing. "Now, now, let's not argue. I train with the sword Jaehaerys, and I’ll have you know I am better than most of my brothers”

“Is that so, Lady Maera?” A voice called from across the garden. Maera looked up and saw Aemond, returned from his travels. His tall, muscular frame leaning smugly against a pillar. Long, flowing white hair cascaded over his shoulders, shimmering like moonlight, a half-smile played on his lips.

The twins' excited exclamations filled the air as they rushed to him, their joy palpable. As the children gathered around him, Aemond's gaze found Maera's, his presence a reminder of the tension that had simmered between them. Conflicted emotions churned within her as she observed Aemond's interactions with the children. She couldn't deny the admiration and affection they held for him, even as she herself struggled with the complexities of their relationship.

After the initial greetings, Jaehaera turned to Aemond with a serious expression. "Are female warriors as fierce as men, Kepus?”

Maera interjected, her voice firm. "Absolutely, they are."

Aemond's gaze held a spark of intrigue. "Perhaps you'd be interested in putting that theory to the test, my Lady?”

Her pulse quickened at his challenge. "What do you suggest, my Prince?"

He looked at the twins before turning his attention back to Maera, a smirk playing on his lips. "Join me for training tomorrow in the courtyard, just like old times. I will fight for the young Prince and you can fight for Princess Jaehaera”

His request got under her skin, igniting a mixture of irritation and excitement. Years of memories and unresolved tensions converged, and with the excitement in the twins growing by the minute, Maera found herself unable to resist.

“How could I refuse?” Maera replied, looking at the smiles beaming on the twins faces.

As the children cheered, Aemond's gaze held a glint of amusement. Even Helaena sat behind them seemed excited at the thought of seeing her friend and brother sparring once more after so many years, muttering to herself “Dragon fire melts the steel to bridge the gap between sky and sea.”

The decision to face him in the courtyard, to finally engage in a battle that had been brewing beneath the surface for years, filled her with a mixture of trepidation and anticipation.

Tags: @grungegrrrl

Thank you so much for reading! Comments, feedback, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated 🖤

[horizon-verizon]

If the Dance of the Dragons was truly this futile war that happened for no reason but everyone’s ambition and nobody was in the right, then why wasn’t it made about two brothers ? Why specifically make Rhaenyra a woman, usurp her on the basis of her womanhood (as reiterated all the time, for example in the Green Council scene and during hers and Orwyle’s negotiations), previously set the precedence of women being overlooked on the basis of gender (Rhaenys), have her breast of all things be cut to rouse a dragon that killed her ? Ironically, if Rhaenyra and Aegon were both men, you would never hear this sort of arguments, just like you never hear that Stannis the Mannis should’ve given his claim for the sake of Joffrey or Renly. This is because they think that even if Rhaenyra experienced misogyny (and many deny it altogether), it’s not important enough of an issue to fight against it.

The Dance does have the important element of its futility, but people have flattened the meaning of said futility towards a semi-nihilistic "it doesn't matter bc the real issue is how nobles are selfish pricks"...yes bc of class conditions, but that's not actually the point nor does every single ASoIaF story within the broader story. ASoIaF is not a project of appreciating Marxism or affirming democracy, it's not a political treatise. At least in that way; it's exploring characters of noble classes trying to draw meaning from their own social and private compulsions as they are affected by and continue war, extreme loss, sexism, racism or ethnic/religious discrimination, abuse, etc. Example: How Catelyn, Robert, Ned AND the wider realm recovers and ore repertuates acts vs how they as very young people were affected by the last war.

With the Dance, yeah war effects many or is caused by such....does that mean we ignore everything that affects Rhaenyra/Daemon/alicent before such through Jaehaerys I? Jaehaerys even was affected by Maegor, Rogar, and if we care about the nuances there, surely we should be able to handle and want to look over even the "spoiled" princess' issues with Alicent and (noble) womanhood with her own specific Targaryen history? Not too much to ask. But it's bc people take for granted that these women (yes Alicent, too) must adhere to male primogeniture bc to be a woman of nay class is to submit and the readers and those in-world simply don't want to confront or admit any sort of male-exclusive privilege as unnatural in of itself. So...yeah.

[rainhadaenerys]

Daenerys Meta Masterpost Part 2d - ASOIAF

This is a continuation of my Daenerys Meta Masterpost Part 2, Part 2b and Part 2c.

I’ve compiled more than 2000 metas about Daenerys, both about the books and the show, and I intend to constantly update this post with more metas. The metas listed here will be linked to their reblogs in my blog, (since many people tend to change their usernames, and I don’t want the links to stop working in this case). Of the metas linked here, the ones that I wrote are in bold text. It’s also important to note that the metas here reflect my own opinions about the characters, I don’t claim to be listing every meta that was ever written about Daenerys.

Tumblr has a limit of 250 links that can be put in a single post. Once you reach that limit, your links will no longer appear. Which is why I am making this continuation of my previous Masterpost, because Parts 2 and 2b reached this limit of links, since I constantly update it with new metas as I reblog them in this blog.

The topics of this part will be the same as parts 2 and 2b:  metas about Dany’s parallels and relationships with other characters (with the exception of Arya, Bran, Jon, Sansa and Tyrion, that were listed in part 1).

Please check parts 2, 2b and 2c if you’re looking for meta about any of these topics.

This is a list about the books, but there might be a few metas that mix books and show if I think they bring up interesting points about the books.

Link to the complete Masterpost: HERE

Last update: July 7 2024

MULTIPARALLELS/RELATIONSHIPS (between Dany and more than one character)

Edit: Mentions of Dany outside her POV

Edit: Parallels with other characters → Dany and the other future leaders of Westeros

Edit: Daenerys Targaryen + parallels with Rhaenys Targaryen and Visenya Targaryen

Edit: Targaryen Women + Love of Flying

Dany's bloodriders are teens

Songs and Knights

Edit: Viserys I's death and Rhaenyra being usurped being the decline of the Targaryens, and Viserys III's death and Dany being the rebirth of the Targaryen

Edit: — asoiaf women and who they share similarities with

Rhaenyra and Jace weren't allowed to rule for being a woman and a bastard, and now the last scions of House Targaryen are a woman and a bastard

Edit: asoiaf + the tower

DANY/AEGON THE CONQUEROR

Parallels between Dany and Aegon's conquests

DANY/AEGON V

Edit: Dany and Aegon V parallels

DANY/BAELA

Dany and Baela parallels: (1) (2)

DANY/BARRISTAN

Dany and Barristan being considered to be mad for their boldness

Barristan 🤝 the slaves 🤝 Daenerys breaking the slavers' peace

DANY/CERSEI

Argument for Dany as the YMBQ: Dany assuming power in her own right

DANY/DAENERYS MARTELL/DAENERYS DAUGHTER OF JAEHAERYS AND ALYSANNE

The three forges of Daenerys Targaryen

DANY/GILLY

Dany and Gilly's philosophies on rulers

DANY/IRRI

How fans ignore Irri's character development to vilify Dany

DANY/JORAH

Dany thinking that Jorah doesn't act as a true knight should towards her

How Jorah's betrayal affected Dany

DANY/MIRRI

The fandom using Dany's lack of agency to justify Mirri harming her

DANY/NETTLES

Dany and Nettles parallels

DANY/QUHURU MO

Quhuro Mo is the one who gives Dany with news of Westeros and people in Westeros news of Dany, leading some people to go to her

The connection between Dany, the captain of the Cinnamon Wind and other characters

DANY/RHAENA THE BLACK BRIDE

Edit: Rhaena the Black Bride and Daenerys Stormborn parallels

DANY/RHAENYRA

The dragons go extinct because of misogyny, and return because of a woman

Dany rebuilding House Targaryen is vindication for Rhaenyra

DANY/THEON

Dany and Theon seeing Robb's death

DANY/YOUNG GRIFF

Some Dany and Young Griff thoughts and contrasts

[natividadmoon]

It's going to be long but I wanted to give an opinion on the whole controversy of Jace's couples

I feel that it is much more complex to speak than just accuse of misogyny or homophobia

ironic because Sara Snow is a character with dubious reality but she is the one who started all this, lets go

I've been with Sara Snow's label since she started hinting at her name since the previous season and I've seen how it all escalates little by little

I don't know who was the first to mention it but I know that the first response was from the Baela x Jace chargers, at that time Cregan x Jace were not very active, it began to become popular with chapter 10

That he gets with the speech of humiliation and debasement of the black woman before a white one by Jace and Alyn (mrd's speech in my opinion because Baela will not stop being a white woman from a racist society no matter what complexion the actress interprets her, the infidelities were made as a white woman) ironic that those were fans of Daemyra (they even celebrated the beach scene) and I saw few complaints with the treatment of Laena, which was the true crime of the series

"That how they were going to take it from Jace" as if his were a prize, etc, etc. They seemed to be more people who didn't read the book yet or didn't remember that Baela was much more than two lines with Jace.

So as a woman and a fan of Elia it was easy to see what parameters were used to have compassion for a deceived and despised woman if she was not a Targaryen (Rhea Royce vs Rhaenyra is a clear example)

The irony that later en masse they grabbed that Sara Snow did not exist and it was Cregan with a wig. and Baela x Jace chargers who cried that if there was love, now they also seemed to live with the fact that HE WAS ALSO UNFAITHFUL with a man.

What I am going to say should be taken into account that she is being a woman, not a man. And it is that I feel that many times women fall into the fetishization and invalidation towards male couples, seeing as a fantasy or "minor relationship" towards a couple of two men, not a real relationship. This is a larger study, but this is in regards to women reacting to male partner history, as well as personal experience moving in different fandoms that include M/M shipping.

Fortunately @atopvisenyashill gave a very good point of the perspective of a gay man (or bi man too) before the Cregan x Jace couple and that opened my eyes a little. I mean, I'm not a man, but I certainly like how a lot of queer men take that pairing and pray it's canon (I even edited them myself because I'm not necessarily against it) bbut I feel like that applies to real ones, (hate that connotation), shippers of those couples that are far from the conflict Jace x Baela vs Jace x Sara

Regarding Sara Snow in the life of Jacaerys there are two points that will not change:

The relationship (more loving than friendly, although the latter can also work) does work to give Jace more nuances. I'm not saying he's a bad character, for me he was the best heir to the throne and my personal baby. But I feel that his character without errors works wonderfully in a historical book, and Jace is also going to be an important character in the series and when he is in a space of real time it will be noticed that he is not 100% like that (because that is what attracts us to characters of similar ages like Jon, Robb, Sam, etc) He feels the pressure of being heir to his mother, he feels the pressure of being a bastard in the series, even after winterfell he drives the dragon seeds. There is a reason that can be explained beautifully, if he gets to know a bastard.

If he falls in love with Sara Snow in the book or series,it will be blamed on a boy who literally has all that on top of himself, and who finds how different a bastard's life is and what he could have been in another time, Could it be a step to later weave friendships more easily like the one possible with Nettles? possibly

I know many say but Sara Snow has no personality and she is only turning to Jace's narrative. well at that point those are many characters, mainly secondary or third. especially with Jace ending up young as a result of his tragic death. Not to mention Harwin Strong, it's not like much is known about his personality beyond possibly "comforting" Rhaenyra or being on the birthing bed (even being present in King's Landing and Dragonstone, we don't even know the name of his sisters or what happened with them) and yet we all love him in the series and even Martin plans to write a book.

I feel like the fight was never in the Cregan x Jace and Jace x Sara shippers. The conflict was always like the Baela x Jace shipper, and their reactions to those two 2 shipps

[thesilverlady]

There is something really bothering me in the show, why there is an obsession in turning every relationship abusive? Viserys/Alicent wasn't abusive in the book, Aegon/Helaena wasn't abusive and if Aegon was an asshole to his wife grrm will not shy away from writing it down (we have seen it with other targaryen men) Daemon was ambitious and his ambition was one of the reasons why get with Rhaenyra but he will never physically abuse her and Rhaenyra will never allow it she literally wanted him to be in jail just because she believed he has cheated on her let alone hit her lmao even Larys/Alicent there is no mention in the book that larys was a creep and the way his scene with Alicen screams ableism. Like I would never understand why Ryan thought it would be a good idea to make every fucking female character get abused 💀

the answer is ✨ misogyny ✨ anon

f&b has misogyny as a theme and I swear to god, nobody and nothing can convince me that Ryan read that book. He probably saw a mention of this and thought "oh okay, I can do women suffering. Easy!"

When it came to the dance era, the misogyny we saw was mostly towards Rhaneyra, since she was challenging the system by fighting for her rightful claim.

There were some "softer" instances that people brash over, for instance Alicent being rumored to be fucking the old King, the Viserys, then losing her virginity to Daemon out of revenge. Alicent probably didn't do much to stir though rumors. She just existed, interacted with some men and because mushroom is delusional and the maesters women-haters they threw ideas here and there. Of course whatever rumors she had at the start are brushed over extremely quickly, so I can see why nobody even brings it up. Whereas with Rhaneyra they're always present because the maesters are very biased.

But you're completely right, Viserys& Alicent didn't have a single hint that could indicate their marriage to be abusive.

Rhaenyra & Daemon may have had their drama during the war but Rhaneyra was a prideful woman and she would have never let daemon talk to her - let alone touch her, the way the show portrayed him to do so.

Aegon & Helaena's marriage is also not really reported other than it happened and it led to children. The end. Everything else is brushed over and Helaena and her kids exist to die and push further the story. But again, no mention of abuse or mistreatment. At best you could claim indifference. But even that it's a matter of interpretation.

And yeah Larys wasn't a weirdo in canon and I'm honest surprised how the casual albeism in the show did very little noise 💀

Ryan and the team probably think misogyny = women being treated terribly by their significant other + trauma.

Writing it about it being systematic and having a female character at a disadvantage while being theoretically in a position of power is far too challenging for him, hence why we got this salad of mess

[dragynkeep]

Easy fix would have been Visery's bringing back the old Targ custom of having multiple spouses so Rhaenyra could have had Harwin legally as well. Sure Daemon would have likely tried to slither in on some of that action but at least everyone involved would be happy right? Otto would pitch a fit and Criston/Alicent would be super deluxe salty but less unsavory rumors surrounding Rhaenyra right?

actually there is an answer for this! targaryen's canonically, by the time of viserys' & rhaenyra's reigns are really only able to hold the throne & their dynasty without having to visenya burn everyone to the ground because they let the polygamy slide in favour for the faith of the seven turning a blind eye to their incest ways.

they were already on thin ice with the whole marrying siblings & cousins, which was only really brushed off by the faith of the seven having to admit the targaryens were closer to "gods" than humans & that's why it was okay, but polygamy would've just been the thing to tip the scale. especially since alicent had brought the faith militant imagery all of over the red keep & kings landing by that point: it would've been seen as even more flagrant disregard for the realm by rhaenyra, on top of having 3 "bastards", despite the fact it shouldn't matter.

due to the misogyny of the world, of the faith militant & of characters like alicent towards rhaenyra because she is refusing to bend the knee & submit & be submissive to the patriarchal standards of the world: it was a lose lose situation for her either way. especially since above all else, until the death of lucerys, rhaenyra wanted to avoid war & bloodshed which is why she tried to so hard. it's also why i think an earlier marriage to daemon & even then having "pure blood" noble sons wouldn't have been the saving grace a lot of people think. but that's for another ask lol.

[beachesgetpeaches]

I posted 1,522 times in 2022

That's 857 more posts than 2021!

131 posts created (9%)

1,391 posts reblogged (91%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@hcrogasm

@wholeplaceshimmerr

@clarkegriffins

@withoutaplease

@ferrisbuellers

I tagged 874 of my posts in 2022

Only 43% of my posts had no tags

#stancy - 127 posts

#stranger things - 91 posts

#house of the dragon - 77 posts

#steve harrington - 61 posts

#taylor swift - 48 posts

#hotd - 43 posts

#nancy wheeler - 41 posts

#succession - 31 posts

#rhaenyra targaryen - 25 posts

#harwin strong - 23 posts

Longest Tag: 134 characters

#alternative experience: guards! make them read my headcanon which i firmly believe is canon despite no source material supporting that

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

I feel like people have a misconception on S4 plot in terms of J**ncy and Stancy.

I never once thought that Byers moving away was a plot point to "get stancy to happen" (or whatever is being claimed).

The Steve x Nancy interactions are instead driven by "what if we put these characters who once cared about each other in close proximity". What would happen? And the reasonable answer was definitely not Steve and Nancy (disclaimer: teenagers!!) are completely over their unresolved no closure break up and no longer find each other attractive and everything is platonic af.

Season 4 answers the question what would happen if two people who never had any closure (because they broke up due to unprocessed trauma on BOTH sides) were brought back together... in life or death type of events.

They would be forced to face the fact that they still care for each other (this is canon dont fight me on this).

And maybe one of them does a cute confession because they are literally marching towards certain death.

97 notes - Posted August 1, 2022

#4

Let's go have fun with a few words in ST fandom (and how people love to just slap them onto anything really): toxic, misogyny, homophobic.

1. Toxic - literally poisonous but in less literal way it would be ... ah, insidious. I've seen people use it to describe relationships (or at least one or two ships) in this fandom. And I have to say, it's a reach? Has anyone actually considered what a toxic relationship would be? Because let me tell you as a person who has had first person experience, and whose friends have had experience in this shit - the way you're utilizing the word to describe - with aim to put down and discredit - some ships... ain't it. I'm not going to go into details here, but I'm sure individuals can recognise themselves.

2. Misogyny. A prevalent thing in the 80s, perfectly depicted in at the very least S3 and The Hawkins Post. Off the top of my head I am not thinking of other items to showcase it as clearly as that would. I need the people who claim that it was extremely misogynistic when Steve said he wanted six kids to consider that they might be wrong and projecting. Or simply misinterpreting the scene. The scene is a very lovely example of emotional vulnerability and attempted intimacy (platonic, non-platonic - doesn't matter for this conversation). It is not inherently misogynistic to want a big family, and express those desires - smh. Especially when nowhere in the two scenes does Steve say "I expect you to birth precisely six children, you specifically, and I won't budge". I find it funny that a scene showcasing emotionally vulnerable man in an 80s setting is being portrayed as misogynistic, please stop throwing the term around like it's nothing.

3. Homophobic. This one is pretty simple - I'm not homophobic for not shipping your mlm ship, or for thinking that it's at the very least interesting how mlm ships always seem to be prevalent in fandoms even when in source material we have very little (or sometimes nothing) to support those. I'm not saying you can't ship whatever you like, but it's also ha-ha funny when we deliberately exclude female characters out of these narratives to support our own mlm headcanons, so funny. (might even be quirky and use the word misogynistic here). Ship what you want, but it's not homophobic if someone dislikes your fanon ship. It's different taste and that's it.

104 notes - Posted September 19, 2022

#3

I would like the next post claiming that Steve and Nancy getting together will ruin their character arcs to write me a 2k word explanation with supporting data from the show, not their hc. utilizing media tropes, standards, etc.

116 notes - Posted July 8, 2022

#2

the sole issue I have with authors on clock app and zlibrary discourse is the statement that keeps popping up:

"if you can't afford it, you can't have it"

and I will say that yeah in general that is a fair statement.

the problem is - books are fucking important. reading and enabling people to read is so damn important, and even if we are now talking about a shitton of authors on zlib stating such things w.r.t. books to me is terrifying.

it's: if you can't afford it you have no right to learn.

if you cannot buy an expensive textbook, get fucked.

if you cannot financially handle the burden of buying books that will provide you with new outlooks - get fucked.

if those textbooks or selfhelp books or whatever are nor available in your local libraries, get fucked.

that's all I keep hearing -if you don't have the money get fucked.

and it is SO privileged!

because libraries around the world won't have the same content, the same variety, not all textbooks are available (or they are but they are in high demand so you either have to figure it out or buy one).

135 notes - Posted November 6, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Jonathan lying to Nancy take, and how it works with Stancy/J*ncy future plot.

(disclaimer: this is not anti Jonathan)

I know a lot of people try to frame it as Jonathan is lying so that Nancy won't give up her dreams to be with him, but to be frank that's a simplistic way to view it. Surely, part of his motivation can be described by that but imo I think Jonathan also understands Nancy well enough to know she would not give up her dream and move across the entire country to be with him. He knows that his decision prolongs their long distance relationship which we can be lead to believe has suffered during the time-jump before season 4. Jonathan is not this 100% selfless person putting Nancy first.

Jonathan still puts his family first and prioritises them over his relationship with Nancy. And to an extent it is understandable, he wants to support his mother, he wants to be there for his brother, and why wouldn't he do that in California where there are no bad things constantly coming for them. It is healthy for Jonathan to choose this. It is okay. Him lying to Nancy and avoiding conflict is not.

And on Nancy's side she prioritises her ambition over the relationship. She stays back instead of going to visit him with the same motive of avoiding conflict. Both of them know they need to have a serious talk about their future and they've both decided to avoid this in beginning if S4.

This dynamic of prioritising other aspects of their life over their relationship is not S4 only. It is also depicted in S3 where they are working together. Nancy wants to chase her story/hunch and prove herself, she lets her ambition drive her and has little care over how it affects herself and Jonathan's work prospects (ultimately it gets them fired). Jonathan on the other hand does indulge Nancy's investigation to an extent but is not fully supportive. He would rather bow his head, keep the job (which he needs! to help out at home. for which Nancy has little understanding). They have a clear conflict over this. Nancy prioritising her ambition over safety of that summer job, Jonathan prioritising his family's needs.

The show has shown where they diverge prior to S4, you just have to see it for what it is. We don't know where they will go in S5, or how this tension/conflict/divergence gets addressed but it needs to be dealt with. Jonathan and Nancy only work well together when their interests are aligned, imo, otherwise they clash.

I think that all of the shown is converging into a clear conflict "blow up" between Nancy and Jonathan and it would be cheap not to have them address this in S5. These are two people who care for each other but are not ready to put their relationship first.

On the other hand in this season we had Steve being very open with Nancy, even pointing out that the 6 kids and trips dream is great and all but the most important part is that Nancy is there. The rest is confetti, the rest is something they will deal with. Steve basically says, yeah all that kid talk is great, but it's you. And if anyone tells me Steve Harrington as characterised by the plot so far would not put Nancy first and find a compromise for them, then idk what show we are watching. He has shown time and time again where his priorities lie.

The end, for now... I guess?

137 notes - Posted July 23, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[lumyart]

I get how people might not like criston in canon but I don’t really get the hate. He’s bitter towards rhaenyra but there are a lot more despicable characters (daemon, viserys) who are written favourably in fanfics. I lost count on how many fics I’ve read where daemon is the cool uncle who helps rhaenicent get together. So I don’t really mind having criston as a friend to alicent Like alicent mostly has no one that sometimes I’m like ”where is criston when you need someone’s head bashed”

that's actually kind of what confuses me... i feel like people are more surprised to read a fic in which Criston isn't abusive toward Alicent than they are to read a fic in which Daemon is cool and fun and sometimes a bit annoying but has all of his worst personal traits stripped off.

at the end of the day, this man has hurt Rhaenyra in much worse ways and yet i never go in a writer's comments telling them it's weird that they made Daemon likeable and i usually end up liking the version they've written because i can separate canon and an author's choice

also i want to insist that everyone writes characters however they want and it doesn't have to mean anything! i understand why people might think Daemon would be fun to write while taking away all the grooming and the abuse and the misogyny, and everyone is entirely free to make their choices! same with Viserys who's often a kind and lovind dad. what i am confused with is why do i get so many comments weirded out about Criston not being what he isn't in canon with Alicent however😭

also reminder : i don't care about Criston in the show or anywhere else. i don't like him, i'm only here for Rhaenicent and biof wasn't a Criston character study in any way. i just wanted Alicent to have a fun friend because it's a fun fic and that's pretty much it - and it felt like it worked out well even though you're obviously free to hate him even in that fic!

and i think he's usually protrayed as abusive for the same reasons : there's only so many non-Targaryen related chatacters to work with and so when you need a man to hurt Alicent, well it turns out there isn't much of a choice expect from Larys. I mean, i'm here having to create OCs for my next fic to avoid making Criston the abusive husband, so i totally understand why people would just choose him