#modern au westeros

[ficsbyuzi]

All the ways lead to you - part 1

Characters: Aemond Targaryen, Inara Maegyr (Original female character) in a Modern HOTD AU

Warnings : FICTIONAL PLOTLINE. Established relationship. Me swooning over Aemond Targaryen and writing this🤭 Inara being a sweet and awesome girl.

Note: This post and that a mutual of mine (@/elegantsplendour) remarked that this fic series has 'Succession' vibes. I wasn't aware of the show when I wrote this last year, and I still haven't watched it. Any resemblance to its plot is purely coincidental. Everything that is going to be re-posted here, comes from my delulu mind.

Inara's thoughts and a little background about her are in italics.

Word count - 1.2k

"You know me, mom, I can't just start working in some random hospital as a junior doctor," Inara spoke to her mother on phone, cradling it between her ear and shoulder as she watered her kitchen plants on a Saturday afternoon, “I am trying to find a job where I can practice both medicine and my art.”

"Where on earth will you find such a job, Inara?" Her mom questioned disapprovingly. "You will soon be a licensed doctor and able to practice medicine. You should start with a clinician job and save up for your MD tuition."

"Let me at least try, Mum. Maybe I can join some makeup manufacturing labs or intern with those big-shot skincare providers."

Inara heard her mom sigh and tut in response to her plans, a reaction she was quite used to by now. Yet, the conviction in her voice didn't falter as she continued, "I will definitely enroll in an MD program. Don't worry.”

As long as Inara could remember, she had always loved makeup. Even as a child, she would rummage through her mom's makeup kits and spend hours in front of the mirror, painting her own face and sometimes her mother's.

Her parents always wished to see her in the white coat of a doctor - a dream she shared with them. Cracking the medical entrance exams straight out of high school was a cakewalk, her sharp intellect paving the way for her.

Despite plenty of medical schools in Essos, the allure of studying abroad was too strong and liberating. The prestige of the renowned Citadel Medical School in Westeros had captured her attention long ago, and securing a seat there felt like destiny fulfilled.

While medical school required her to focus entirely on classes and books, her creative side yearned for exploration. Her love for makeup never faded, and after dedicating half her life to studying, she decided to follow her heart. A heart that always danced between two worlds, two passions, yearning to embrace both simultaneously.

As soon as she adjusted to her new life on a foreign land, she enrolled into a weekend certification course near her medical school. And, thus began her journey towards becoming a rare combination of a licensed medical practitioner and a trained makeup artist.

Days blurred into nights as she balanced the demands of medical studies with the pursuit of her passion.

Six years flew by in a whirlwind of learning and she was now nearing the end of her curriculum. After the sixth and last month of her hospital training and formal graduation, she would be a licensed medical practitioner. Thanks to her dedication to both medicine and makeup, she now stood as a certified makeup artist, with an expertise in skin care and prosthetics.

After freelancing a bridal makeup assignment a couple of months ago, she decided to take a detour from a predictable route towards advanced degrees or clinical positions straight after college. She planned to give herself a year of exploration into other career options before enrolling into an MD in Dermatology. And so she made up her mind on freelancing or finding a job that could extend her stay in Westeros, thereby allowing her to save up for her MD.

"Anyway, you've been so busy with everything else, you haven't even thought about finding someone. You're not getting any younger!" Her mom steered the course of the conversation to the topic she dreaded the most.

Oh boy, here it comes!

The inevitable discussion about her biological clock and society's expectations for single women was about to begin.

"Mom, please, I'm twenty four, not forty four!"

"Yes, and about time you started thinking of settling down!"

Rolling her eyes, Inara let out a sharp sigh.

"I have chores to do, mum. I gotta go," she cut the conversation short, trying her best to hide her rising impatience, “Bye! Love you!”

"Fine, But please think about what I said. Love you. ”

After ending the call, Inara continued staring at her phone's home screen. Smiling faces of her family stared back.

Her mom’s words still lingered in her mind, as she made herself a cup of chamomile tea and settled herself infront of her laptop.

She sipped her tea, smiling and recalling her mom's statement about doing tons of different things at a time. She had always loved to hustle. And, she loved how chimeric her career goals were. It wasn't an easy road, but she was determined to make it work somehow. Career satisfaction had always been her first priority; finding someone to date or marry, wasn't.

Inara's attention snapped back to her laptop screen, her eyes widening as she noticed the fourth and fifth unread emails from the top. Both arrived around the same time from the job search website she had signed up for.

The subject of the first email read:

Requirement of an assistant make-up artist on an upcoming TV Show.

The second one read:

Requirement of a physician / medical officer(s) on a TV production.

Universe works in the strangest of ways. All you have to do is ask.

She quickly opened both emails in separate tabs. They were from the human resources department of a television production house in King’s Landing. A period drama based on mythological history was in pre-production, and the HR team was hiring people on contract basis.

As someone who rarely watched television,or movies, she chuckled at the thought of working on a TV production house. Nevertheless, she decided to give it a try. With a few quick clicks, she accessed the links for both the positions and uploaded her resume. As she crafted cover letters for each position, wishful thoughts surfaced again. She let out another exhilarating chuckle, as a wave of nervous excitement crawled down her spine.

How fun and cool it would be, if I could somehow do both the jobs simultaneously.

-

A week later, as Inara was on her way home from the hospital where she interned, her phone rang. Seeing a number with the King’s Landing code, she gasped.

With her heart alight with anticipation, she answered the call. Clearing her throat, she adopted her sweetest and most professional tone before greeting the caller.

"Hi, Dr. Maegyr, this is Stannis calling from the HR department at Red Keep Productions. We've shortlisted your resume for the opening we posted about. Will you be available for an interview next week?"

"Hello, Mr. Stannis. Sure, I...I will be available!" She tried her best to mask the excitement in her voice. "Uh, I applied for two positions. May I know which one I have been shortlisted for?"

"Dr. Maegyr, your profile is one of the most interesting we've received so far. You have been called to interview for both positions. I can't say with certainty right now if you'll be hired for one or both roles as that will be decided based on your performance in the interviews." She could sense his smile through the phone.

"Thank you," she mouthed, looking up, her amber eyes sparkling with gratitude.

---x----

Part 2

[sonofhighrock]

This is chapter 5 of The Rise of the Green Dragon. I’m really proud of how it’s coming along and writing Rhaenyra is honestly so much fun. She’s such a great character to explore. If you like it, please give me a comment of what you liked best!

[throwawayasoiafaccount]

if westeros was created to reflect our modern society instead of being loosely based off of western medieval society, then i think people would understand that these political marriages are for alliances, not love, and would agree that the modern lower class sentiments towards marriage are simply not applicable to these arrangements and both bride and groom cannot and should not expect love from their partner.

if our story occurred in a modern westeros very similar to our own modern society, then a lot of the obstacles our characters face would not happen because, simply put, modern society benefits from equality.

as an example, i am quite (100%) certain that the introduction of gender equality and other modern values and advancements to westeros would only be beneficial to rhaegar and elia, which means that this ideology benefits westerosi society on an individual level.

so, in this modern westeros au, if rhaegar and elia still married for a political alliance, and then had two children like they did in asoiaf, they could then peacefully divorce and write out a contract that secures both rhaenys and aegons inheritances. if lyanna and rhaegar met and fell in love while rhaegar and elia were married then the misunderstanding that sparked a war would never have happened. why? because lyanna would have a say in who she marries in this modern au. also, elia would have possibly been seeing others as well. why? because this was a political marriage and love shouldn’t be expected, so why would anyone be concerned about either party finding love outside of their marriage? plus modern westeros would have dna testing so there’s no reason to question the paternity of their children.

also, if elia had a child with someone else (in this hypothetical scenario, perhaps her lover died) and rhaegar decided to claim that child as his own while knowing that he’s not the real father in order to give this child a better life, then this wouldn’t be a problem either. why? because rhaegar’s in the know. (i’m only bringing this up bc of the rhaenyra and laenor situation. guys… laenor is perfectly aware that biologically those kids aren’t his, yet he still claimed them and loved them bc he and rhaenyra had an agreement. i do not understand why real ppl are even concerned about jace, luke, and joffs parentage. in the eyes of the law those boys are legally laenors.)

however, since asoiaf isn’t based off of our modern society and is instead a society riddled with misogyny, xenophobia and other social issues without the progress and advancements that we in the 21st century have benefited from, i will concede one thing to these antis who harp on and on about how selfish rhaenyra and rhaegar were for loving someone who wasn’t their spouse and for having a child(ren) out of wedlock.

because yes, rhaegar and lyanna’s love can be considered an act of selfishness, and rhaenyra loving harwin and having children with him can also be considered selfish.

but guess what? love in general is a very selfish state of being. you are prioritizing your partner and your desires over everything and everyone else in your life.

one of the greatest love stories of all time, romeo and juliet, is a tale of two selfish lovers who seek to be together despite the immense hatred between their families. selfless and dutiful children would never love an enemy. and yet, despite romeo and juliet’s love story ending in tragedy, no one would ever argue that these two lovers were in the wrong for simply trying to be together even though their love caused their families great grief. why? because the feud between the Montagues and the Capulets was stupid. and the story ends with the characters agreeing that this feud went on for long enough and acknowledging the fact that this petty feud between the families was the cause of their misery and the tragedy that befell them.

though the circumstances of all three love stories are different, it’s undeniable that these lovers were selfish for prioritizing their own desires over their duties to their houses.

to end this little spiel, i’d like to mention that the reason i first brought up a modern au was to remind people that the only reason rhaelya and rhaenyra’s relationship with harwin can be so decisively called selfish is because these characters live in westeros. and westeros is a fucked up society rooted in systematic oppression, violence, and abuse and other forms of exploitation in order to further the agenda of the powerful despite the harm it causes. any modern comforts and progressive ideas hinder the control the patriarchs have over their families and put a name to the bigotry expressed against these unconventional relationships. so yes, their love is selfish because being unconventional in such a backwards society is a recipe for disaster, especially since both of these relationships hinge on a woman deciding to take control of her sexual autonomy, which is a big no no in westeros since a woman’s body only belongs to her father and husband. so yes, these love stories are selfish because these characters are prioritizing themselves in a society that benefits from them losing their autonomy and harms them and their loved ones when they try to take back their autonomy.

to finish off, the reason i brought up the tragic love story of romeo and juliet is to remind people that even though rhaegar and lyanna’s love was selfish, other characters still need to be held accountable for their actions that helped to escalate this misunderstanding into a tragedy that consumed all of westeros.

[kathposting]

please tell me nobody’s done this

[girddlepatchilles]

Modern AU Elia Martell & Rhaenys Targaryen

Elia Martell - May Calamawy

Rhaenys Targaryen - Mimi Elashiry

[christinapotter09]

Summary:

They’re in search of answers, terrible truths and inconceivable lies.

‘I’m not a Stark,’ Daemon had whispered, speaking the truth. Sansa had shaken her head, desperate for him to find some solace.

‘You are to me,’ words spoken again and again, through time.

Sansa had whispered them in Aegon’s ear as they moved against each other, the Meereenese night standing witness to their union, and the jeopardy of the kingdoms as her womb had already taken root.

The terrible truth, a terrible faith hanging above them, pivoting their very lives, killing them again and again in a game where there is only victory or death.

[onthesandsofdreams]

The Author [1/?]

Fandom: ASoIaF Pairing: Sansa/Sandor Summary: Sansa Stark knows she is a romantic at heart. She has never been shy about it, she's one of the girls who is in love with love. Who enjoys a good romantic movie or book or song… or her ultimate guilty pleasure: fanfiction. Warnings: None Notes: For my sister @mousedetective, hope it brightens your day a little. By the way guys, she's going through some rogh

Read @ AO3

Sansa Stark knows she is a romantic at heart.

She has never been shy about it, she's one of the girls who is in love with love. Who enjoys a good romantic movie or book or song… or her ultimate guilty pleasure: fanfiction.

It was not that she thought fanfiction was bad, after all, how many classic books had had their origins in legends and spoken lore? Most of them. So, she refused to feel bad about it. It was only a guilty pleasure because the author of this series of fics was her favorite. She would cry if they would ever stop. Whomever it was behind the all of the stories, had a gift. They brought to life stories of knights and maidens, of brave princes and love struck princesses with such effortless grace that she was a bit jealous.

She had dabbled and still did in writing fanfiction, but in her opinion, NotASer was a better writer than her.

Reading and re-reading their stories were a highlight of her day. Hell, one time, NotASer had gifted her a story for her devotion to his stories and her constant comments; comments that were always respectful, but gushing. And they had struck a friendship of sorts, NotASer would comment on her stories, and she in theirs. But she didn't know who was behind the username and she would not be nosy enough to ask. That felt like a breach of privacy, like looking behind the curtain; and while she was curious, she would never do anything that made the writer uncomfortable.

She was doom scrolling when up popped up a notification: NotASer had just posted a new story: Lady Jocelyn's Journey. She rushed to read the story, it was a very good start; the story about Lady Jocelyn Baratheon after Duncan Targaryen had jilted her for a low born girl. The story promised to show how Jocelyn had overcome her grief and grow and find love by herself.

Once she reached the ending of the first chapter, she immediately left a kudo and a comment: Lovely start NotASer! Can't wait to see what you do with the story 😍

To her surprise, NotASer's response came quickly: Thank you, LadyWolf! The next chapter is almost done, so expect it soon!

She squealed excitedly and responded: Yay! Looking forward the next chapter!

She held her phone to her chest and looked at her dog, Lady had lain down at the foot of her bed and had all but jumped the very moment she had let her squeal of excitement out, now, her usually calm and easy going husky (yes, she lucked out, she knows) was giving her sad puppy eyes.

"Come here, darling girl," she said as she patted the other side of her bed. Lady jumped and curled at her side, "I'm sorry I startled you, just… my favorite author posted!"

Lady looked at her mistress, gave a doggy sigh and laid back down. She laughed and scratched Lady were her hand could reach. "I know, it's silly. But it's harmless, I mean, Arya has LARPing, Robb and Jon have video games, Bran also reads and Rickon is always in nature. Let me have my fics."

Lady snorted.

[myrtlesandasphodels]

moodboard for young rhaenicent in remorse is memory awake

[westerosoliviapope]

Sunspear - Scandal Westeros

[eschercaine]

From the moment he brought Rhaenyra to his home, she kept her distance and showed coldness towards him. The first few weeks proved challenging, as he made countless unsuccessful attempts to engage her in conversation, only to have her consistently evade him. Her continuous rejection made him doubt his approach, questioning if he had erred in some way.

But thus far, his loyal servants consistently reassured him that he had done nothing wrong, and had been fulfilling his role as her ward admirably.

Then does she simply fear the company of a strange man? Nonetheless, if that were truly the case, he cannot blame her for feeling that way.

In light of all the tragedy the girl had gone through, it was appropriate to afford her some privacy. Furthermore, he thought it might be a good idea to ask Robert to accompany Rhaenyra tomorrow and give her a tour of the estate – particularly the gardens – in hopes of brightening her mood.

Upon reaching her room, Rhaenyra swiftly closed and locked the door, the sound of the latch clicking into place echoing in the silence. As she leaned against it, the coolness of the wood against her back provided a calming touch. A soft sigh of relief escaped her lips, releasing the tension that had been building within her. With a shaky hand pressed against her racing heart, she could feel the rapid thumping reverberate through her fingertips.

She silently prayed that Daemon hadn’t caught on to the unmistakable flush that crept up her cheeks whenever their eyes met. Rhaenyra couldn’t fathom why it happened, this unexplainable reaction to his mere presence, but it did, like an enchantment she could not resist. She hoped, with every fiber of her being, that he wouldn’t misinterpret her subtle avoidance as indifference.

AU where Daemon is a vampire and adopted Rhaenyra, who is descended from a family of alchemists and witches.

[ficsbyuzi]

Wait

Part 3

Aemond Targaryen x Alys Rivers (Modern Westeros)

Word count - 2.8 k

Masterlist

Warning(s) - +18, mention of nightmares and pregnancy.

Note - internal monologues and dream sequence are in italics.

[I wrote this is in a jiffy on my phone. Please ignore the errors in grammar or punctuation. I just wanted to write something in the little free time I got this weekend].

Summary :��

Seems I know you from a distant time,

You sway my heart like no other,

Unraveling feelings I can't define.

I do not fully grasp your ways,

Or understand the ties that bind,

All I know is in your gaze,

A part of me longs to find.

“You found me.” 

Aemond simply stared at her, blankly. The words still floated in his mind, unsettled and uncomprehended. 

Alys stepped closer, holding his gaze and rendering him unable to look away. Close enough that when a rustle of wind teased their hair, a hint of her lavender-tinged scent reached his nose.

"You found me?" She repeated her words, this time phrasing it as a question. Her smile stretched her lips a bit more, as she tilted her head slightly. 

He took in a deep breath in that lavender scented air around him,  a bit of spiced pumpkin peeking through now. The voice, he had been dismissing as an unwanted ringing in him, nudged him once more at her question. 

Meeting you here feels as if I was looking for you.

Her smile now blossomed into a full grin, as if in a response to his involuntary thought.

As if she could hear the unspoken words from within him.

"I...uh.." he fumbled, looking around, slightly relieved that he hadn't let those thoughts out aloud, "I was not expecting to find you..here.”

"Well," her low laugh tinkled like a soft clink of glasses, "in truth, this beautiful girl here has found me." 

 Alys gently stroked Vhagar's muzzle, earning gentle whines of acceptance from her. Aemond’s features yielded into softness as he watched her nuzzling his friend. 

“A morning walk in the woods.”

“Good,” she cooed, cupping Vhagar’s flew.

He watched her turn and walk to her canvas and art supplies, wondering what to say to her next. Though he had met her a couple of times now at the resort, she still was a stranger to him.

“I didn't know you paint,” he said, awkwardly torn between prolonging the unexpected meeting and turning on his heel to leave.

Another misty, soft chuckle danced on her lips as she picked up her basket. With a languid glance over her shoulder she mused, offering him a coy smile, “You know nothing about me.”

And yet you don't seem to leave my mind. 

He jerked his eye away from her and scanned the lush surroundings and the cabin, shunning that voice once again. Tendrils of smoke emanated from the stone chimney on the log cabin. A faint, warm glow flickered in the window.

“Do you reside here? What about your staff residence?” 

“I often come here to find my muses,” she replied, pausing to admire the weirwood heart tree before gesturing towards the castle with her tattooed hand, “and there.” 

Aemond traced it to the top of the Tower of Kingspyre, peeking through the dense foliage.

“The top of the tower?” 

His query was met with only a smile from her. A smile that he wished to both ignore and keep looking at. She resumed gathering her belongings. 

“I am not sure if you are allowed to do that.”  

“Allowed?” Her chortle echoed through the damp air, mingling with the rustling of the weirwood leaves as she sealed a bottle of paint. “You must try it too, sometimes, it's as relaxing as a walk in the woods.” Her eyes narrowed in a veiled amusement. 

“I don't think you can have a cabin here in the woods,” he brushed off her suggestions in a voice now edged with brusqueness. 

Alys continued capping the paint bottles with an air of nonchalance and disregard for how seriously Aemond was speaking to her.

 "The highest point in the Riverlands, where there's nothing between you and the ether, and here, where you are close to the Earth," she mused in an airy voice, arranging the paint bottles neatly in a wooden tray. "Nothing fuels inspiration more than nature."

“Ms Rivers, this land is a Targaryen estate, are you occupying it without a legal permit?” 

A nonchalant silence answered his query, one that only fueled his impatient curtness. First that woman occupied his thoughts, now she was occupying his land without permission.

“Ms. Rivers, I want to know..”

“Come,” she turned and began walking towards her cottage, her basket in one hand, the tray in the other.

The sheer audacity of this woman. 

He demanded an answer and instead she was ordering him.

“I am not squatting over your lands illegally,” she announced, without facing him. She paused for a moment, looked over her shoulder to meet his gaze, “Aemond”

Aemond

As if the mere sound of his name in her voice, becoming an invisible hand, clasped his own and pulled him forward. His feet moved of their own accord, trailing after her towards the cabin.

He settled Vhagar on the porch, observing as Alys struggled to unlatch the doors with her hands full. Swiftly, he relieved her of the trays, his hand grazing her fingers in the exchange. The gesture made her turn toward him. A smile lightened up her face, briefly quickening his heartbeat.

Bending low to enter through the tiny door after petite Alys, he stepped into a warmly lit room suffused with a sweet, herbal aroma.

The cabin's interior belied its rustic exterior: a wooden shelf adorned with rows of potted plants greeted him, beneath which sat a meticulously organized desk. Her laptop, few papers, and small picture frames were neatly arranged atop it.

A couch against one of the walls, almost hidden beneath numerous paintings, was adding to the room's cozy charm.

"Please, have a seat," Alys invited, pouring water in a glass kettle on a makeshift wooden counter that served as a kitchenette.

"Ms. Rivers... I must ask you again..."

"Sit."  

How dare she order me again? I am...

"Aemond, I will show you the documents," she said, her tone firm yet inviting, quelling his rising anger, “Please. Sit.”

Seeing his hesitation to comply, Alys grinned and shook her head. She began grinding herbs from her basket, mixing them with dried ones from the glass jars on the table.  

 "So stubborn,” she murmured in a low and playful voice, yet clear enough for him to hear. 

He felt the invisible touch of her voice, which had held his hand moments ago, now caressing his face. A sense of peaceful familiarity washed over him, prompting a smile. The tension of finding himself in a remote cottage began to dissipate.

Instead of sitting, he chose to observe the paintings on the wall, unaware of Alys, who now stood still, studying him with a soft, longing gaze. A contented relief flickered across her features as her eyes traveled over his tall form, mapping the contours of his face. Her lips parted momentarily as if to speak, but her words were interrupted by the kettle shutting off automatically and Aemond's question.

"Have you painted all of these?"

"Not all of them," a thickness in her voice made her clear her throat before continuing, "not the ones near the ceiling." She sprinkled some of the churned herbs from the pestle into the boiling water.

"And this?" Aemond pointed to a miniature oil painting of a mother holding her newborn child to her chest. The painting seemed to be made with fingers, with a minimal use of brushes.

(Original artwork here)

The thickness filled her throat again as she realized which painting he meant.

Swallowing the lump forming in her throat, she answered, "That one, yes.” A melancholy smile surfaced on her lips, "I painted it." 

She placed two cups on the counter and stepped towards him.

“This is the only memory I have of my son,” she revealed, gently detaching the frame from the wall. “I painted what I could remember of him. The Gods snatched him from my arms too early.”

Aemond, taken aback by this sudden revelation, was at a loss for words as she stepped back towards the counter, holding the painting tenderly in her hands. A thick, poignant silence enveloped the small cabin, breaking only when she placed the painting on the table and poured the honey-colored liquid from the kettle into the cups.

She offered one to Aemond, who remained motionless, his eyes fixed on her.

 “Drink, it's good for the pain.”

“Pain?”

“You’ve touched your scar a dozen times in the last five minutes.” Her gaze, sharp and knowing, pierced through him. 

He took the cup, still hesitant. His reluctance made Alys chuckle softly.

“Do you think that massive girl of yours sitting outside wouldn’t rip me apart if I poisoned you?” She took a sip from her own cup, her eyes never leaving his.

“Drink.” 

Another command, and this time, he obeyed. She perceived what troubled him, recognised his pain, and sensed his vulnerability, without him having to say a word. 

A rare experience for him. 

Alys walked to her desk and opened a drawer, as Aemond sipped his tea. She was right; the herbal infusion soothed his pain and calmed his restless mind within a few seconds. He fleetingly entertained the idea of replacing the dreadful Riverlands coffee with this magical brew.

“Here,” she said, handing him a folder. Inside, he found the legal permit for her cabin and her personal details. He learned that she was thirty-seven years old and had moved from Essos three years ago. Impressed as he discovered that she had a Ph.D. in Botany with a specialization in medicinal plants of Westeros, he couldn't help but wonder what made her choose art curation as a career. Closing the document, he felt a newfound admiration for her.

“I am sorry for your loss,” he said, as she remained  engrossed in the painting, her back facing him.

“They say pain becomes art, but they don't tell you it never stops hurting,” she replied in a voice tinged with a sorrowful longing. A chuckle filled with bittersweet irony, followed.

A few minutes ago, he hardly knew her. He surely did not expect to uncover such a grieving part of her life. And now, he was sure he wanted to know her more. 

“If you need anything, any help for yourself or your husband, I would gladly…”

“My husband?” She interjected, turning sharply to face him. “I don’t have a husband,” she asserted coldly, avoiding meeting his eye. 

“Sorry, I… uh… I didn’t know that he…”

“Oh no, he is alive,” she moved closer. So close that he took a step back, fearing their bodies might touch if she came any nearer. “We..we are just not together..anymore.”

His breath quickened momentarily upon finding her so close as their eyes met. He saw a question swirling in her moist, verdant gaze - a silent plea that seemed to speak directly to his heart. He wanted to understand that question. He longed to provide her the answer she sought. An urge to give her what she needed washed over his senses, instead he only said,

“Ms. Rivers, I should get going.”

Alys stepped away, as if waking from a trance. She only nodded in response, her eyes lingering on him for a moment longer.

“I will meet you at the museum tomorrow, Mr. Targaryen,” she informed him as he stepped out of her cabin’s door.

Feeling a twinge of disappointment at not hearing his first name, he responded with a noncommittal hum.

As he began the walk back to his mansion, he paused near the ancient weirwood tree. The grotesque face carved into its bark seemed to stare back at him, its eyes hollow and haunting. He made a mental note to learn more about those trees and their ominous history.

Moving closer, he noticed the marks on its bone-white trunk, the dried red sap giving them the eerie appearance of slashes on human flesh.

And just then, for a reason he couldn't quite grasp, he turned to look back at the cabin, only to find Alys already standing at her door, watching him. Vhagar barked, signaling her restlessness and desire to return home, contrasting with Aemond’s own longing to stay a bit longer. 

-

It was not the Harrenhal resort he owned. 

It was the dilapidated Harrenhal castle from his books, the towers mirroring the ruins in the old paintings he had seen.

He was soaring above it. He had always loved the skies. 

He must be in his private chopper, inspecting the resort from above.

 But this place was different—blackened and covered in soot. It did not look like his resort. 

He realized he was hovering in the air, in gentle and rhythmic movements. 

Up and down. 

Up and down.

The castle was deserted. 

“Where is my staff,” he thought and spotted a figure on the top of a tower, tiny as an ant from that height.

Curious, he wished to get closer to see who the figure was. And closer, he glided towards the tower.

The wind whipped through his hair; he wasn’t wearing any headgear. What kind of chopper was this?

He could see the figure clearly now. Alys Rivers stood on the tower, wearing the same clothes he had seen her in that morning. 

Up and down.

Confused as to why she wasn’t looking up, he studied her form closely. Her loose sweater clung to her, revealing the maternal swell of her abdomen.

“Is she with a child?” And as if sensing him wonder,  she looked above and smiled at him. 

Just when he brought himself to smile back, a burst of fire engulfed her. He couldn’t shout her name. He couldn’t save her as the fire came from him.

He burned her. He didn’t want to.

The fire vanished as quickly as it had come. The stone beneath her feet and around her melted, yet Alys still stood there smiling, now with a child in her arms.

The sound of the alarm clanged through the air. Aemond lay in his bedroom, panting and staring at the ceiling. It had been weeks since he last had a dreamless, sound sleep. He decided to meet a doctor as soon as possible.

-

A sea of nervousness, curiosity, and attraction roiled beneath his calm and stoic exterior, when he spotted her waiting for him in the museum.

Instinctively, he noticed her curvaceous form, clad in a deep green pantsuit. Realizing that she was following his gaze, he quickly averted it. A few museum caretakers passed by, greeting him, and to their surprise, he responded.

“Shall we begin?” She asked in a thorough professional tone. No sign of their encounter in the forest reflected off her. 

_ 

Aemond had not been one to make friends easily, never quite fitting in. Aside from Criston, conversation rarely came naturally to him. Yet, speaking with this stranger - a woman he had met only days ago - felt like facing his own reflection in a mirror. 

Admiration for her blossomed within him, sparked not only by her knowledge and expertise, but also by the way her eyes brightened with every new revelation and anecdote she shared.

She led him through a corridor lined with paintings commissioned by King Brandon Stark, known as Bran I the Broken, from the year 305 AC. She gestured toward a series depicting pivotal historical events.

"These paintings, ordered by King Brandon Stark, are said to be the most accurate accounts of our history," 

Aemond, intrigued yet skeptical, asked, "And why do you claim so?"

"Because King Bran Stark was a greenseer," she replied matter-of-factly. "He could see the past, present, and future all at once."

Aemond chuckled lightly, shaking his head in disbelief. "Greenseer? That's just myth and legend. There's no such thing."

“You believe in dragons, and not greenseers?” 

“ We have skulls to prove the existence of dragons.” 

"And do you never feel curious about your future?" Alys countered, her eyes twinkling as her lips curled up in a playful smile. 

"We make our own future," Aemond responded, his gaze lingering on a particularly vivid painting of a ship with three dragons flying above it.  "Our choices in the present determine where we end up."

“What about the past?” 

“Past doesn't exist, it has no meaning in the present or the future,” he stated, firmly.

"Time is a loop, not straight as a line,” The words resonated in the quiet of the gallery, her tone taking on an uncanny quality. A shiver slithered down Aemond's spine. 

He turned to face her fully now, astonished by the sudden shift in her demeanor and her voice.

"One always reaches their future, traversing through that loop," she continued, her gaze steadily impaling him. "The question is when."

Before Aemond could say anything in response she turned abruptly and continued down the corridor with a purposeful gait. He followed closely, sensing her search for something deeper among the ancient paintings. She stopped near the oil painting of Aegon's conquest of Harrenhal. 

"If you press close to the wall at the right place," she spoke softly, swiping her tattooed hand across the wall beside the painting, "You can hear the steps of people walking by, their voices."

She placed her ear on the wall, her glistening eyes widening in intense focus.  Her face turned into a haunting abyss as she whispered, “You may even..you may hear yourself walking past there on the other side." 

Gooseflesh erupted across Aemond's skin. He could swear he heard the clanking of swords mingled with screams in that moment. The sound echoed faintly in the quiet aisle and faded abruptly.

As if the past or the future were somehow reaching out to touch the present. 

-------

[A/N - The last few dialogues of Alys Rivers are inspired by the poem ‘Answers to letters’ by Tomas Tranströmer].

[sonofhighrock]

I have a new chapter up and I hope you all enjoy it. My story is in a modern Westeros and Rhaenyra is the heir apparent! I’m really loving this fic and it’s becoming one of my favorites to write!

[feydrautha]

Game recognises game

[queenviserra]

Returning to 🔥Rhaelys' fan fiction.

What would Laena do if she accidentally caught her parents making love?

[lives-in-a-harpsichord]

Yeah I'm taking the two notes on the previous post as encouragement to keep doing classical music au

The Green kids have a fun little baroque ensemble in which Aegon plays the harpsichord, the lucky bastard

[cyrankaa]

modern Cersei would claim to be all natural and deny all gossip about getting anything done and when paparazzi put out photos of her leaving a plastic surgery clinic she'd release a teary statement calling them enemies of the state who seek to tear down the first lady; eventually she'd cave in and admit she had a nose job "due to health reasons" (drunk Robert would tell anyone willing to listen about his wife's "stone hard" cleavage)