#oc ; Alyssane

[noeverse]

the children of ladies evelyne and rosyn westerling

on 116 AC, lord viktor fell- heir to fellwood, he was the eldest of lady evelyne westerling and lord rickard fell, who was then lady to laena velaryon. cunning and ruthless in battle, he went on to marry lyanna stark, eldest daughter of cregan stark.

on 117 AC, renly fell- borne the second son of rickard and evelyne, it was said that he was in love with rhaena targaryen, daughter of prince daemon and lady laena, but respected her engagement to prince lucerys and became good friends with him as well. that love faded, and on maiden's day, after having valiantly fought for the blacks, thus disobeying his overlord, set his eyes on pale, striking barba bolton, to whom he asked to court on the gates of the palace before she left. they married a few months after.

on 119 AC, lady nyra fell, who it is said to be the bastard daughter of prince daemon due to her velaryon-esque hair and her violet eyes, she had been initially betrothed to joffrey velaryon, and the two seemed to like each other, but joffrey unfortunately met his untimely end and at age seventeen, to avoid getting married to an old man, became a septa, not wanting her mother's fate for herself.

on 130 AC, lady alyssane targaryen was borne of prince daeron 'the daring' months into the dance per request of his mother, dowager queen alicent and the blessing of prince regent aemond to consummate his marriage to lady rosyn westerling and produce an spare at the expense of prince jaehaerys's death. betrothed to maelor from birth, lady rosyn, barely 14, dropped on her knees before queen rhaenyra when she took king's landing and begged, in the memory of helaena, to spare her daughter's life in exchange for her undying loyalty. alyssane was sent to her aunt the lady evelyne, who had joined lady rhaena to the vale. she ended up marrying qyle martell and sent over to sunspear at age three to be trained to be his wife and princess of dorne.

[theredquill]

in between the first and second acts of butchered tongue

robb: dead.

theon: enduring reekfication

marysa: joining a band of musicians, being in denial, living her best bard life, is declared dead, changed her name

[labaguettegameuse]

So this is my uncharted oc Alyssane. That I shipped with Rafe.

And given the real set of badonkers she have, I thought it should be a good idea to cover it up a bit.

With rafe’s face. Thanks to Snapchat.

(She was made with a shit tons of Cc on the sims 4. But I have a bad memory. I’ve found my happiness on tumblr, pateron, the sims ressources. So if I recognize some of your creations, come and say hi so I can gave you Better credits 👋🏻)

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

So Soon || D. Targaryen x oc (Dear Motherhood Series)

GIF by @claramaximoff DIVIDERS by @straywords

summary: Leyla is in denial that she may be blessed with another child again so soon after giving birth to her third child.

Dear Motherhood Series Masterlist

“Can’t you make it any tighter?” Leyla groans as her closest handmaiden, Alyssane, struggles to tighten her dress . “Not if you want to breathe, my Lady” She chuckles before going back to work.

The young hightower lets out a frustrated sigh. “I don’t understand-“ “Perhaps, sister, you have been blessed again” Alicent pipes in, her eyes looking up from the book she was occupied with. Leyla turned her head to her older sister’s direction. She chortled at the suggestion.

“Don’t be ridiculous, sister. I just had a baby” She said in a matter of fact tone, her hand resting on her stomach. She honestly couldn’t imagine having another kid so soon. Only being eighteen and possibly having four kids already? There was no response apart from a simple hum. Leyla looked at herself through the mirror. There could be a possibility but there was no way she was pregnant that soon.

~

“That bastard should be fed to Caraxes for thieving in our bedchambers!” Daemon fumes as he paces infront of the breakfast table where Leyla sat, a 10 day old Aegon in her arms as Alyssa and Baelon played with their wet nurse.

“He didn’t steal anything of value, Husband. Besides, he’s locked up now-“ “But what if you were there when he came in hm?” Her voice was cut off by his. “W-what if the children were there, especially if Aegon was there sleeping-“ “Which he wasn’t. Daemon, it’s alright. The children are alright. And you know that they are always accompanied.”

Leyla takes ahold of Daemon’s forearm as he looks down at her. “If something ever were to happen to our children and I wasn’t able to help it, I would never forgive myself.” He stares intensely at his wife. “Nothing is going to happen to them” She gives a reassuring smile before looking down at Aegon.

Daemon’s face softens as he looks down at his son in awe. “Breakfast, my Prince, my Lady” A maid curtsies as plates of food were placed in front of the couple. Leyla’s face scrunches in disgust. “Is there a problem?” Daemon questions noticing her twisted face.

She didn’t know what overcame her but the smell of the food was overwhelming her and making her sick in the stomach. “I-God I feel like I’m going to throw up” Leyla abruptly stands up passing Aegon to the wet nurse and leaving the room.

“Children,” Daemon calls out. Both Alyssa and Baelon look at their father, “Come here and eat breakfast while I check on your mother” He simply says before following his wife.

“Leyla?” Daemon knocks on their door to the their bedchambers. Silence greeted the prince before footsteps could be heard. Leyla opens the door with an awkward smile. “Are you alright?” Daemon raises an eyebrow at his wife as she nodded. “Quite. I think I just need water” She brushes past him without saying another word.

~

Not even a month later, everyone at court were whispering about speculations that Leyla and Daemon were expecting their fourth child. Their theirs child, Aegon, had only been born a mere twenty days ago.

When Leyla walked through the corridors of the Red Keep, whispers stopped as they glance at the young mother. She had no idea that it had spread around, and was the topic of everyone’s conversation. But she could wrap her head around why.

Maybe it was because she just had Aegon not even two weeks ago? Maybe it was simply because they were shocked that she was expecting another child only at the age of eighteen with three children under her wing. People would have never expected Daemon to be father of four children, let alone one

“I think I’m with child again, sister” Leyla holds Alicent’s hands in hers as she sniffled, tears welling in her eyes. “Oh but that is such good news Leyla-“ She stops mid sentence as she notices Leyla’s unhappy face.

“Why aren’t you happy then? You love your children plus-“ “Of course I love my children Alicent!” She snaps, “I love them, truly, with all my heart but I just dread-“ Leyla takes a deep breath calming herself down slightly and takes a seat beside Alicent.

“It’s not the children that I hate, God of course not” She lightly chuckles at herself, “It’s the pregnancies I have to endure for nine unbearable months” Leyla sits there fidgeting with her fingers. Alicent opens her mouth but nothing comes out.

She had no idea her sister felt that way. “Can you imagine swelling up and everyone whispering behind your back? Whispers about how I’m carrying Daemon’s child at this age or how I’m incapable of raising children.” Tears slowly fall down Leyla’s cheeks before Alicent embraces her younger sister in a much needed hug.

“I am so sorry. I never knew you felt that way Leyla” Alicent quietly spoke as she rubbed her sisters’ back in comfort. The younger Hightower pulls back, wipes her tears, and gives a small smile. “Father would be happy wouldn’t he?” She laughs to herself as Alicent frowns.

“Leyla you shouldn’t care about what Father thinks,” Leyla knew that. She really shouldn’t. After all, he was the main root of this all. Forcing her to marriage the Prince only at fifteen and ever pressuring her to bear his children so quickly. But deep down she did want Otto’s approval. “I know.”

~

tike-skip to the end of Second Choice ~

“Daemon?” Leyla starts, “Hmm?” Daemon hums, busy with peppering your hand with kisses. “I’m pregnant.” He pauses his actions as he stares at his wife in shock. “Say something, please.” Leyla grows anxious.

Next thing she knew, Daemon made his way to her and kissed her. “That is wonderful news, sweet girl. Our family only keeps growing” He says softly as he looks at their children. Leyla says nothing but just smiles.

“Are you not happy?” The Prince looks down at her as he notices her silence. She pulls him down to sit beside her. “Of course I’m happy Daemon-“ “But?” He interrupts.

Tears started forming in her eyes once again. “It is just so soon, Daemon.” She shakes her head, Daemon stays silent and listens. “I’m blessed to be carrying your child, truly, but I just had Aegon, not even a month ago. This is all happening so fast, I’m eighteen and now I’ll be mother to four?” She furrows her eyebrows, her gaze on the fireplace infront of her.

“Being pregnant is nothing but draining, Husband.” Leyla finally looks at Daemon. He doesn’t utter a word but instead, he pulls Leyla in for a hug. “iksā sīr kostōba se nēdenka, nyke gīmigon kostā gaomagon bisa. iksan kesīr tolvie dekuragon hen ñuhoso” He whispers in his mothers’ tongue. Something Leyla had mastered to understand. (you are so strong and brave, i know you can do this. i am here every step of the way)

“I’m so grateful to have you with me as my Husband, and father to our darling children” She cracks a smile. Her gaze once again drifting to her beautiful children.

~

and the first one shot to the dear motherhood series is done!! let me know if you enjoyed it, i can’t wait to write more of these :) lmk if u wanna be in the taglist for this series

taglist

@bellstwd

[viperixsworld]

Born to die

━━ Benjicot Blackwood x oc

Chapther three: friends

Year 126 A.C

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Dearest sister,

We hope this raven finds you on your way to your new home. Father wrote from Oldtown with the good news, both Olga and I are delighted with your recent engagement.

I want to hear all about it once you arrive at Raventree Hall (I had to look up the location on a map). IT'S A LONG WAY AWAY.

Unfortunately, Olga says we won't be able to come to your wedding, as it's a long journey and Father and Lady Julianna's wedding is taking place first. You have met her. Is she nice? Does it smell like horse poo? Is she pretty? Please, please get a quick crow to tell me before she arrives.

Anyway, Livia will attend, she's got your wedding dress. Olga didn't want to show me the drawing and fabric selection because she says I'll ruin the surprise for you. IT'S NOT FAIR, YOU DON'T EVEN LIKE SURPRISES.

That's all for now, Olga says her hand hurts from writing this letter. But we'll send you more once you get to the Riverlands.

Give Livia a big hug for me, I miss you both so much.

Best wishes,

Patricia Redwyne.

Lucrezcia reread the letter three times on Maegor's back. The huge black horse was restless, eager to gallop as soon as his owner gave the command.

They were waiting for the servants to load Lucrezcia's belongings into the cart, along with Nyssa.

Alyssane Blackwood's six men were preparing for a long journey home, their mission accomplished in securing a new maester.

Kyle was a skinny young man with blond hair and a grey habit. He was two years younger than Lucrezcia and had gained his chains at the tender age of twelve. A prodigy, the archmaesters said, but a tremendously shy and frightened prodigy. The young maester was on a small grey horse, which looked like a pony compared to Maegor.

The Redwyne girl looked out to sea, specifically to the boat with the blue sail with the cluster of grapes on it. Her father and his young betrothed were setting sail for their former home.

She would miss the wedding, and so would her family miss hers.

It didn't make her sad, but it gave her a certain twinge in her stomach.

It's not as if they were one big happy family, she herself nor her sisters attended the eldest's wedding. Livia had married her husband at the Sept of Oldtown, only her father and mother attended the ceremony.

True, she would not marry for the Seven, much to her father's dismay. Lucrezcia would marry for the customs of her new house, the faith of the Old Gods.

Now she had to face this new phase alone. Without her father's orders, Olga's disapproving looks and Patricia's laughter.

She didn't know if she liked or dreaded the idea.

"Ready?" asked Alyssane, pulling her horse ahead of her.

The girl nodded, starting on the road to Raventree Hall.

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The journey would be a long one. It would take three weeks on horseback, four if the weather was bad.

In the long hours of the day that they could ride, the Blackwood banner would only be taken out in towns or on land, not on the road, so as not to attract bandits.

One of the rivermen, Butch, would tell stories during meal breaks. Mostly to pick on Kyle.

They had been in a routine of teasing the young maester for several days, as well as trying to flirt with Lucrezcia's maid. To which Nyssa responded with amusement. When Lucrezcia looked at her with some judgement, the bravoosi would reply in her thick accent.

"You are the betrothed, not me."

Lucrezcia could only shake her head and agree with the young woman. Despite the jokes and the good humour of the rivermen guarding her, Lucrezcia felt tremendously bored.

Alyssane always walked a few yards ahead, flanked by two of her men, while the other four guarded Lucrezcia, Nyssa, and Kyle, as well as the cart with all the belongings.

She led and when it was time she hunted. Lucrezcia had helped a couple of times, getting a couple of hares and birds. She was not so skilled with the bow, she was better with the spear and commanding the dogs.

Dogs that would sail to Seagard, and then be transported to their new home.

How she missed them.

Her pack of four dogs could now run all over the Riverlands.

In the days they had been travelling, Lucrezcia had tried to learn as much as she could about her new home. She had asked Alyssane, about the castle, the people, how many people lived under its protection, what kind of organisation they followed.

Not only the duties of the lady of the house, she wanted to know as much as a lord.

Alyssane looked more than pleased, she had made a good decision with the girl. As they rode side by side, the women talked about Raventree and its lands. Kyle helped by contributing maps and scrolls, it was one of the few times Lucrezcia appreciated that the boy did not stammer.

They had formed a friendship. A shy boy and a mouthy girl.

"Oi! Baby Maester! C'me here" one of the men called "Do you have a cure for this one here?It stings like hell" he cried, clutching his private parts.

The party gathered around the fire, for it was getting dark in the forest. Alyssane, as usual, walked a couple of leagues ahead, leaving Lucrezcia and the others with the carriage.

They were preparing dinner, Lucrezcia had managed to catch two hares and the men a wild boar, which would last for several days. What little was left of the journey.

Kyle blushed and looked at the ground in embarrassment. Lucrezcia, sitting next to him, said.

"If you spent less time in brothels and more time doing your job, your dick wouldn't itch, Robb."

Robb stood up and walked over to Lucrezcia, who sat on a log, impassive.

"And who says I don't do my job? A spoilt child?" he spat.

"I say so," said Lucrezcia, "The future lady of your lands, so leave the future maester of those lands alone, because maybe, in the not too distant future, your parts will fall off, and this master won't feel like helping you".

Robb looked down, somewhat embarrassed.

"Now, apologize to Kyle for being rude."

Robb looked at the boy and pursed his lips.

"I'm sorry Kyle" Lucrezcia raised an eyebrow "I'm rude and I apologize".

"Now that is..."

Lucrezcia's words were interrupted by a thunderous noise in the bushes. In the hour of the bat, the only thing separating the group from the pitch darkness was the campfire.

Blackwood's men became alert at once. Robb signalled the others to put Lucrezcia, Kyle and Nyssa in the carriage. Lucrezcia rose from her seat, but stood still as Robb drew a dagger from his belt. It was pitch black, but Lucrezcia could make out one figure, two figures, four?

"Enter the carriage, my lady."

As the girl approached the cursed caravan, with Kyle and Nyssa already inside, an arrow stuck between the sleeve of Lucrezcia's dress and its door, breaking the handle and locking her two friends in. Or her outside.

Robb's men drew their swords swiftly. Lucrezcia tried without reward to disengage herself from the carriage.

From the shadows emerged three figures, shabbily dressed men with daggers and short swords. They did not look malnourished, and despite carrying sacks like soaps, one of them wore a gold tooth, one wore pearls in his ears, and one wore the carcass of a suit of armour that had once belonged to the Royal Guard.

"It's our lucky day, isn't it fellas?"

The man had an accent that was not from the Riverlands, nor was it from the Reach or the Crownlands. But she recognised it, it was the same one she had heard in Starfish Harbor.

"They are from Volantis," she whispered from behind Robb.

"They're filthy bandits."

The apparent ringleader of the group, a man with sparse red hair on the crown of his head and a golden tooth, tried to approach them.

"Clever girl."

Before they could get any closer to the chariot, Robb and his men charged the bandits. For Blackwood's men were not known for their patience. Lucrezcia found herself pressed against the carriage door as she tugged at the sleeve of her dress. She had counted four figures, and none of the men carried a bow.

One was missing.

Amidst the chaos of the scuffle, cries for help from inside the carriage caught the girl's attention. Kyle and Nyssa were pounding on the door from inside. One of the bandits had cut Robb, the one with the tooth. Lucrezcia watched as they scrambled around the fire, stamping their feet.

They were trying to put out the fire.

So they would have the advantage in the dark.

With all the strength she had, Lucrezcia tore the sleeve of the dress.

"Robb! Don't let them put out the bonfire!"

But Robb seemed very focused on fighting the red man who dodged her blows with ease. Lucrezcia was beginning to panic. Perhaps if she screamed, she would alert Alyssane and the reinforcements. Or more bandits.

Lucrezcia found herself in a situation where shouting wasn't going to help, but she didn't know how to fight either. So with the knife she was skinning the hares with, she tried to prise Kyle and Nyssa out.

One of the bandits fell right into the fire, the smell of burning flesh and hide was not pleasant and made Lucrezcia want to vomit.

Just when she thought the bandits were at a disadvantage and could get out of it, arms wrapped around Lucrezcia, lifting her off the ground.

"Hold still there, girl."

When the Blackwoods heard their future lady's shout, they turned in fright. Seeing the girl clutching a dagger to her throat, Robb and his men looked at each other and threw their weapons to the ground and raised their hands in defeat.

"Tie them to a tree," said the ringleader.

"You may take the gold," said Robb, "but leave the girl."

The man holding Lucrezcia, the archer, stood still, waiting. The red-haired man approached the girl, cupping her face in his dirty hands.

"And why is gold worth more to me than this pretty face, mm?"

There, Lucrezcia did the only thing she could. She spat in the bandit's face.

Apparently, this caused her other captor, the one who was holding her, to laugh.

"Shut up, Astor" said the red-haired man "What a playful little thing, yesterday?" he said this time referring to Lucrezcia. "You're going to entertain me tonight."

"The only thing that will entertain you is the beating my men are going to give you." she said haughtily.

"I'm terrified" laughed the red head. "Take the things and the girl," he ordered, "and kill the rest."

Astor, her other captor, seemed to hesitate.

"They are unarmed, Oren." he said, Lucrezcia noticed that this one was not from Essos, but spoke the common tongue like her.

Oren, the ringleader, addressed Astor in a mocking tone.

"Have you grown honour in your balls, now? At this moment? What a fucking idiot."

At that moment, an arrow flew into the forehead of the bandit who had tied Blackwood's men to a tree. It pierced his ugly head.

The galloping of horses could be heard in the darkness, broken by the torches carried by Alyssane and her men.

Astor loosened his grip on the girl, while Oren, seeing himself cornered, grabbed a stick from the ground and lit its tip with the fire of the nearly extinguished bonfire.

"If I'm not taking anything, neither are you, girl."

And he threw the flaming torch under the carriage.

Kyle and Nyssa screamed louder from inside as they felt the heat beneath their feet.

In terror, Lucrezcia kicked out of Astor's grip. The bandit made no attempt to recapture her, seeming too busy trying to tear his companion's head off with his eyes.

Lucrezcia tried again to pry open the locked carriage door with all her might. The smoke stung her lungs.

Alyssane arrived just in time to stop the bandits, who were trying to flee. Except for Astor, who, at the last moment, approached the carriage door.

Lucrezcia and the boy looked at each other for a second, before Astor assisted. A silent agreement. Then the bandit drew his sword, and failing to leverage it as the young woman had before, he slashed at the hinges of the door with the hilt of his sword.

Then Lucrezcia pulled hard, opening the door. She reached inside and tried to pull her friends out.

Meanwhile, Alyssane and her men rode to the scene. As one of them untied Robb and the others, Alyssane charged at Oren, who was trying to flee. And from her horse, Alyssane grabbed him by his thinning hair and pointed her sword at the bandit's throat.

"A last word?"

"Lord of Light, lead me. The night is dark and full of terrors. Lord of Light, protect me."

Then Alyssane slit his throat.

Once Kyle and Nyssa were out of the burning carriage, Blackwood's men were unleashed.

"This is my cue to leave," said Astor.

Lucrezcia looked at him. Trying to look grateful. He had saved her friends, but there would have been no need to save them if he and his gang had not attacked them.

"Thank you for your help" said Lucrezcia "Go, before you get caught."

"Many thanks to you, Vala."

Lucrezcia's head whipped around as she heard her mother's name from the stranger's lips. A name that had not been mentioned aloud for the last four years of her life. Spoken by a bandit in the Riverlands rather than in her own home by her own family.

"What did you call me?"

The boy gave him a half smile, and set the dagger he had helped rescue his friends on the ground between the two of them. Before disappearing into the shadows, he said to her.

"You look a lot like her." was not the only response "Valar Morgulis"

And he left. Leaving Lucrezcia confused and dizzy. Dagger in hand.

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tag list: @erysione @asteria33 @shifter-101 @drwho-ess @hotdxdragon @username199945 @nixtape-foryou @saturnssrings

so sorry if i left anyone out the tag list, i just don't know how to add more people

[srim01997]

The Red Princess & The Green Knight | Gwayne H. x OC

Paring: Gwayne Hightower x Alyssan Targaryen (OC), Slight Aemond "One-Eye" Targaryen x Alyssan Targaryen (OC), Eventual Gwayne Hightower x Alyssan Targaryen (OC) Fandome: House of The Dragon (HBO) Warning: Age-gap, Uncle-Niece Incest, Domestic Violence, Cheating, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Oral Sex, Underage Sex, Consensual Underage Sex, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Aemond "One-Eye" Targaryen Being an Asshole, Protective Gwayne Hightower, Unplanned Pregnancy, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Child Death,Child Neglect,Older Man/Younger Woman,Age Difference,Porn With Plot,Fluff and Angst, Bittersweet Ending

Writer's note: Sorry for my English, I used them as a second language

Rumors say that a servant girl saw Sir Gwayne Hightower go in and out of the room of his eldest niece, Princess Alyssan Targaryen. Princess Alyssan is the eldest daughter of King Viserys I Targaryen and Queen Alicent Hightower. She has a twin brother, Prince Aegon, and is the older sister of Princess Helaena, Prince Aemond, and Prince Daeron. Some people believe that Princess Alyssan would never betray her Targaryen husband, Prince Aemond. Others think she might be having an affair with her uncle to mock Alyssan’s husband, who often disappears from Madame Sylvie’s brothel. There are also claims that he is involved with Alys River, the witch of Harrenhal, who says she is pregnant with his child. Additionally, some believe that Princess Alyssan is cursed by another Targaryen with a different hair color. They say this curse means she will have a worse fate than her siblings or other family members. However, only the three people involved truly know what is happening.

You can read the first chapter on AO3 : Read

[zephyrrr101]

Happened, Happening and Will Happen.

Pairing: Robert Baratheon x Named Targaryen OC

TW: Abusive Words, Mention of Forces Intercourse, Harrasment, Mention of Incest and Death, Robert Baratheon being and ass, All of ASOIAF warnings.

Note: English is not my first language, hons. You can tell me if I made a mistake somewhere. Don't know why this took me this long despite having everything in mind of what I wanted to do.

Part One

Alyssanne couldn't believe it was actually happening. She was really standing in front of the door of the Great Sept, many guards around her to stop what was left of King's Landing's population to reach her.

More like to stop her from running away.

She couldn't believe that she was standing there in a white dress, a dress of a maiden about to be wed.

Jon Arryn stepped inside the door of her chamber, closing it behind him as he looked at she hesitantly. “I hope it would be better if we could sit down for this talk, my princess,"

"Why?" She asked, hands clenching at the fabric of her dress as she stood away from him by the window that overlooked the Blackwater Bay. "What is it that we must sit for?" She wouldn't have been this rude to him but these were not pleasant times. At least not for her.

Jon Arryn sighed, it was evident that he was not ready for this coming conversation, "It is of utmost importance that we talk and I think you would find it better. Please, I mean no harm to you."

"Just like that man means no harm to me or my family?" Jon did not miss the disgust in her tone. It was enough to understand that no sympathies were going to work with the young girl. "I know you are here to tell me what would be done to me, Lord Arryn. Do us both a favour and just be done with it."

"I understand that this is not something you will want, but the small council has come to a decision. We all agree that you should wed King Robert within a sennight."

She looked at him in utmost shock, her mouth hung open in shock. A wave, no, a storm of emotions was flowing through her. Was it anger? Pity? Relief? Or was she going mad just as her father?

Whatever it was, it all this was enough to elicit a laugh out of her mouth. "Say again? Wed to Robert Baratheon? You all must have lost your minds!” She hissed at him.

"There are still those who had supported your brother—"

"Of course they are!" She scoffed, "and I am to a bargaining lot for you all to quell it down, aren't I?"

"The king does not like this arrangement any more than you do, princess. You must marry him. Or you would be put to sword. Would you rather be dead?"

"There is another way! Let me go! Let me leave Westeros. I will sail across the Narrow Sea, find what is left of my family and you can assure your King Robert that none of us will ever return to threaten his reign!" Her words were strong but the plead of last evening was still present.

"You have my apologies, princess, but the King has declined to even think of this. His words are clear. You must marry him to settle Realm's peace."

She had tried to argue with the new Hand for a few more moments before he had sorrowfully left her alone as she had started to weep.

It had taken Ser Barristan a good few hours to make her understand that it might be best for her to accept this marriage, as this could be a way to stall time for her younger siblings and maybe with time she and Robert could even come to love each other. Her siblings could be allowed to come back home.

Alyssane knew it was all just hollow words. Robert Baratheon was a man as stubborn as mule. If he wanted to kill Viserys and Daenerys, he would stop at nothing. But the decision was made. There was little she could do alone in a place where everyone now was loyal to Robert Baratheon. How did the Small Council convinced him for this marriage will forever be a mystery for her.

The doors were opened. And in front of her was a hand which belonged to Lord Stark.

Eddard ‘Ned’ Stark. The new Lord Stark.

Since no one from her family was there to give her away, it was him who had volunteered himself.

From what she knew, he was almost, if not more, of a brother to Robert. Last she had seen him was before the rebellion at the tourney at Harrenhal, the damned tourney.

She had danced with him after Rhaegar in the music where partners were changed. He had been utmost respectful and she found him the most handsome man after Ser Arthur. She remember dreaming of maybe marrying him one day too.

Now all was lost to a mistake made by her brother.

It never extinguished her surprise how he didn't throw insults at her considering it was him who had dealt the most casualty at her father's hand. His father and brother killed. His sister raped by her brother. She respected him, perhaps she felt comforted that it was him giving she away.

"I hope you will be able to find some solace in your coming life, your grace," He spoke as her hand left his and was placed in calloused one of her to-be-husband in moments. She didn't want to but she had glanced at him for once and looked away, never raising her eyes until she didn't have to.

Robert looked as if someone had forced him to eat and swallow sourest of lemons. She couldn't help but clench her jaw at sight of her father's crown on his head. It belonged to Rhaegar. And Viserys after him. Not Robert. He did not deserve it.

Time passed, the septon spoke his prayers and her Red and Black Targaryen cloak was changed for the Golden and Black one that House Baratheon.

"I am his and he is mine." She had never felt much more empty or false words leave her mouth. She did not even realise when he had pulled her close and kissed her until their lips had met. It was painful. Not just in her mind but in reality. He was rough. As if trying to pour all his anger in one act. The people cheered and she held her tears back.

The ceremony ended just quickly in her mind and now she was sat on the royal table with Robert beside her, sinking into cups and getting handsy with the maids that were serving food and wine.

She wanted to feel humiliated. She wanted to feel angered but she didn't. If anything she was much glad that Robert would give into his drunken state and fall unconscious soon.

She could feel Stannis' glare on her. From the day she received the news of wedding to this day, Ser Barristan had been kind enough to tell her what was happening around the palace. Stannis had been made Lord of Dragonstone. Something which she think he did not like. Well, Stannis rarely did like anything. Even before this damned war.

Jaime Lannister stood by her side as her sworn shield. This was the perfect jape from Robert. He probably hoped that the Lannister knight would stab her from behind as well.

Kingslayer, they all named him.

Her father was a monster. She knew. Had also been a witness and victim of it all first hand.

But to be forced to face the man who killed him, she hated it. It was a punishment. A punishment for the crimes she hadn’t even committed.

She hated him.

She hated him.

She hated him.

She hated him and all she could do was push around the food on her plate, try to swallow what was in her mouth and try to forget where she was, copying Robert’s method.

She wondered if things would have been different if she had married Rhaegar as her father had originally wanted. She, by no chance, loved Rhaegar as a husband or a lover but knew that she was hale and healthy to be able to bear children that Rhaegar would have wanted.

Rhaegar’s three children.

Her brother was obsessed with creating the Conquerors reborn, always saying how a dragon must have three heads.

She only wonders if she didn’t cry to Cersei Lannister about her hesitance to marry Rhaegar, the golden haired lady would not have promised to her that she would never have to marry her brother.

She wasn’t a fool. She knew that her freedom of few year was a boon from Tywin Lannister or Lord Varys, perhaps. She also knew how the Warden of West desired to marry his daughter to her brother.

As much as she loved Cersei, she knew she wouldn’t make a good queen, especially not for Rhaegar. But at that moment Alyssanne hadn’t cared. She was free.

She was free.

Until she wasn’t.

She felt hands around her, pulling her away from her thoughts and her chair it was when she noticed men surrounding her, some grinning, some scowling, some drunk, some sober.

Her turns to look around her only to find ladies surrounding Robert. And it finally clicked her.

The horrendous Bedding Ceremony.

Lords, old and young, all started to grab her, taking hold of her gown and veil from various parts. She even felt one hand grasping her pearl necklace before pulling at it, the pearls shattering against her chest and they fell, jumping on the floor, before stopping.

Her necklace.

It was a gift from her mother, the Queen Rhaella. And now it was broken. Alyssanne felt tears come in her eyes.

Was this how it was going to be?

Was she was going to taken away from every little thing about her family one by one, just like how men tore at her clothes, was she going to torn to be left as nothing.

The way from the Grand Hall to the Maegor’s Holdfast has been long enough, it had felt like eternity to Alyssanne. The men grabbing and pulling at her skin, as the picked up her bare self, she could feel one of them having too much of a tight grip on her, it almost made her cry more.

But she took a deep breath, and kept her eyes around the places she was being carried through, ignoring the hands fondling with her.

That archway, she remembered hiding there when she was playing with Rhaenys.

The inner kitchen, she had stolen lemon cakes with Viserys there.

The broad banisters of the serpentine stairs, she remembered how Elia had shown her a way to slide on them, but both of them ended up falling on the stairs. Thankfully there weren’t any injuries that would be needed to alert anyone, for it was only them and Ashara Dyane.

Ashara, another good friend claimed by the war.

How many names had she forgotten and would be reminded like this every time, with every breath and step she took in the place.

And she felt coolness under her feet, her eyes snapping to the open doors of what ones used to be her father’s chamber just a moon before.

The men around her and the women who had been waiting outside the open door all pushed her, surprising her with the fact that she hadn’t fallen face flat at floor.

There was loud thud of the doors closing.

Alyssanne pulled her hands around her, feeling a sudden chill around her.

He was here.

The women being outside was just a confirmation.

But she couldn’t bring herself to look around for where he was.

She’d rather ignore it to the end of the world if she could.

Only it wasn’t in her hand.

“Stop being so prudish,” she heard Robert behind her. “You are just like you brother.”

“I’m not my brother!” The reply was out before she could consider it. Well, what’s the worse he could do now? She thought and continued. “Nor were my mother and little brother and sister. Why are you punishing us? Rhaegar’s dead.”

“Aye, he is. Haven’t forgotten. I killed him, after all.” Robert walked over to her, his feet thumping on the floor. Despite the number cups and flagon he’d finish, his voice was as clear as the moon that was shining in the dark sky. No cloud of slurs, nothing.

He had gotten close. So close that she could feel his skin on hers and stiffened at the feel of it.

Alyssanne crashed in him, her hair being pulled at the very base of her head and winced, trying not to cry at the feel of her head being tore into half.

Robert tilted her head towards him. A sneer and hatred, that’s what outshined on him. And she closed her eyes as he pulled her more towards him, his rough beard felt like scratching her cheek as he spoke in her ear.

“I killed him, hit my hammer right in his chest,” His breath smelled of all the alcohol he had drunk. “Do you know what they call the place when I killed him? Ruby Ford. All those rubies fell off that place? son of whore when I hit him.”

“He’s dead, Robert.” Alyssanne whispered, her breath strangled.

“So is Lyanna!”

“It’s not me who killed her!” Alyssanne grasped at his hand, trying to pull it away. She went as far as digging her nails into him but there wasn’t even a grunt. It was as if he was made of iron or something.

“Shut up, you whore!” Robert spat, his hands moving, one of them, grabbed her from her waist and under her knees. And the next moment she was on the bed.

Alyssanne gasped, her breath leaving her for a moment, a moment she missed where Robert had climbed the bed, a moment in which he was on her.

Her senses came back to her when he shoved her legs apart, sat himself between them in front of her core.

No.

No!

No!

No!

“No!” Alyssanne gasped, pushing herself away but to no avail.

Robert had grabbed her hips and leaned over her, his hand capturing both of her and other had a deathly grip on her jaw. She wouldn’t be surprise if he actually broke it.

“No point in making a scene, woman! Just take it and be done!”

She felt herself being torn into halves before she could even register his words, her scream drowning in his mouth.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

And on and on.

She could feel her cheeks getting wet, her vision clouded by her tears.

And she cried.

For what has happened.

For what is happening.

And for what will happen.

[ackerfics]

FAMILY LINE — a house of the dragon fanfiction | aegon ii targaryen x oc

act zero: the prince and the siren (wc: 1.3k) | masterlist

note: oh, and i forgot to mention, there is past daemon x oc in this oops | this is also posted on ao3

Ink on olden paper says two children were born from a great love that shook the realm.

A dragon rained fire, mountains were threatened, men were slayed — all were stepping stones to a hand being asked in marriage, to a union witnessed by the Fourteen Flames and the Seven themselves. The heavens rejoiced, sang their choruses high in the clouds bathed in ever-golden rays, as they blessed the kiss that bound their souls, bodies, and hearts into a single entity, as seen in every birth of their blood — the midnight hall shattered, igniting the spectacle of celestial bodies every pair of eyes marvelled at and years later, the most tumultuous of storms, carpeting the land with the most vibrant shade of viridian that lasted moons on end.

The Rogue Prince and The Siren of the Vale.

Daemon Targaryen and Aellara Arryn.

Every story started with a bold declaration.

For someone who loathed the jadedness of the Vale, Daemon found himself enthralled with the enigma of The Siren of the Vale who was rumoured to be the most bewitching woman to exist in this age, having only heard reminiscent tales from his good-sister, Aemma Targaryen, and songs spread from the mouths of bards. Men would trek the highest mountains to reach Eyrie in hopes of catching a single glimpse of the veiled beauty. It was the very reason why he blatantly rejected his grandmother’s impending proposal to a Bronze Bitch he wouldn’t dare touch in this lifetime, with that fucking sneer on her face as if he was the dirt and she was the god. If only he could shovel her face into the dirt and be done with it. Instead, he longed for the object of everyone’s desire, and that was the youngest child of the House that boasted a falcon for their sigil. Having The Siren by his side would surely sway the public’s favour to lean more toward his side. It would mean ensuring his place as his brother’s Heir; she is of Targaryen blood after all. To have the woman of everyone’s dreams as the Queen Consort would give him the power he never thought Daemon had, which had him singing prayers to the gods he believed in even though he wasn’t a pious man.

With no potential bride linking to him since The Good Queen Alyssane nearly betrothed him to Rhea Royce, Daemon had all the freedom a young man could ever want and need. Pleasure houses were frequented (he had more lovers than any of the noblemen combined — probably even had bastards running around), lands were flown over by the Blood Wyrm, and positions were given to him by his brother (all of which never actually reached a moon at most — fucking Hightower cunt). He had it all. But all it took was a little slip through one of the towers of Eyrie while on dragonback and he was back to the first tile.

There was no other reason for him to propose a marital union with one of the Arryn daughters than to solidify his claim on the throne.

That was all.

There was nothing captivating with the periwinkle blues owned by such a woman of ethereal enchantment. He didn’t trail his eyes from the effortless waves of her white gold hair (every piece of ornament she tangled with her tresses was pure art) down to the pleasing curves that couldn’t be concealed with her flowing dress. (It was almost like the Maiden was born in the realm; Daemon nearly groaned in front of Eyrie’s family seat). His mind wasn’t occupied with conjuring the most sinful images concerning the young woman — he didn’t picture out mapping a constellation of red peonies on her skin or tasting the drink of the gods she very much possessed. Of course, he didn’t gulp down an unnecessary collection of nervousness down his throat when she placed her godly gaze on his worshipping, undivided attention. Fuck, she was so beautiful that he was now covering his crotch with linked hands. Her father was talking yet their joined eye contact sent an impulse of static energy, just enough for The Rogue Prince to feel a jolt down his spine.

But he wasn’t the only man this ambitious to steal the Maiden from her heart and home.

“Prove that you’re devoted to taking my daughter���s hand under your protection, Your Highness. Prove that you are a worthy man of my greatest treasure.”

Bloodshed reigned; there was a battle between the suitors of Aellara Arryn. It was almost called a tourney if not for the condition that for a victor to emerge, the opponent must be decapitated and unable to make a sound except for noises of demise. And with too much blood on his hands, Daemon Targaryen walked away from the bodies as the winner, hastily taking a single stem of a sapphire rose from a jittering squire and (surprisingly) placing it behind Aellara’s right ear with the tenderness befitting a man ensnared by the most dangerous curse known to the realm (but not before making sure there wasn’t a single drop of blood on her skin; as much as he loved seeing blood on someone’s skin, it was almost a crime to see it on hers). Daemon crowned Aellara as the Queen of Love and Beauty without being told to, seven Hells, this trial for her hand in marriage wasn’t even a tourney needing a beautiful woman to be crowned. Yet he did it anyway. All to sway her to his side.

But was it really?

He found his breath hitching when Aellara smiled. It was seeing the glory of Old Valyria right in front of his eyes. His chest pounded against his will as she lifted a dainty hand, a handkerchief in between her hold, and dabbed it on one of the blood splatters on his cheek, erasing a sign of his ruthlessness with her divinity. The shade of blue owned by the rose contrasted deeply with her blonde hair, lighting up the shine innate in the periwinkle hues of her eyes. She was a fucking vision and he never desired anything more in his life until he met her.

With the Siren out of the chambers of her House’s seat, Daemon Targaryen wed Aellara Arryn at the beginning of the 105th year After the Conquest in the ways of the Seven and Old Valyria.

The premise of this romance was worthy of ballads yet it was the start of something so cruelly beautiful for one of them.

From wailing a loss of a person so dear that a large part of your soul broke away; going away because of a loved one’s exile; bearing the heir of the Prince of Dragonstone and relishing in the cocoon of appreciation in enveloped you; gaining two stolen dragon eggs for the twin babes; watching the love of your life flying to war while giving birth under the shattering night sky; suffering the betrayal of your husband’s unfaithfulness and disloyalty, breaking every bit of the vows made in front of fourteen pairs of eyes; to accepting yourself leaving this world in the same way it took your sister.

And it left behind three children with no titles, no protection, no family — it was the world against their little faces, so naive at the slimy fingers of faux niceties and always on the receiving end of reptilian smiles and hollow pity. The hourglass is letting the sand trickle in, waiting for the moment the scavengers pluck out the lingering, pulsing ache that will never be forgiven and forgotten. Because all the while The Rogue Prince created another bubble of domesticity across the seas, a son grew up too soon, a daughter stepped up to become the caretaker, and a young babe never had the chance of a complete family.

rory speaks !!

the reason why this sort-of prologue is so short despite carrying so many things is bc daemon and aellara are not the main focus of this story. i wanted to give a glimpse as to what is the nature of the main characters' parents' relationship; the main thing summarising everything is that daemon is a huge whore and is power-hungry for the title that given to him ... so, poor aellara. and having her die from childbirth is another thing to add to daemon's suffering bc this man has seen enough of it to last a lifetime (his mother, his sister-in-law, wife, and future wife; don't know how he keeps fathering children when this is what he experienced yikes). another reason why this is short is bc we're mostly seeing the events play out in the kids' (aesira, aether, aegon, and aemond; the furious ae's) eyes so, the information is limited when it reaches the twins' ears. bc let's face it, we always sugarcoat things when we tell a little bit of info to kids.

damn, and i had to post it here; let me prepare myself for the backlash woo

[zeciex]

A Vow of Blood

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on. This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: “You will be trapped by the obligations of love and duty, unable to escape the web of expectations others have woven around you,“ the witch said….

Daenera Velaryon returns to King’s Landing with the intention of bolstering her mother’s position and reminding both the Greens and nobility that Rhaenyra is the rightful heir to the throne. She has a specific goal in mind: to be a constant source of annoyance to the Greens and is willing to play the political game without hesitation.

However, what catches her off guard is the way Aemond gazes at her and seems to relish in her suffering. He openly expresses his desire to bring about her downfall, her ruination.

This situation leads to a tense game of cat and mouse, with each move escalating the already high stakes. Will their precarious situation crumble as the dragons soar above, or will fate intervene?

After all, love often demands the sacrifice of duty, just as duty can sometimes lead to the demise of love. Characters: Aemond Targaryen X OC, HOTD characters.

Chapter 8: Schemes and Artisans

AO3 - Masterlist

A theater had been erected amidst the lush gardens of the Red Keep, its semi-circular structure complemented by the captivating backdrop of the vast expanse of the sea. The structure was a mix of marble and limestone, ornately carved, and had been built during the reign of Jaehaerys and Alyssan. 

Daenera had arranged three elegantly sets of tables on the balcony, offering a splendid view overlooking the stage and the sea. Her invitations had been extended to esteemed guests, including Tris Caswell, the second daughter of Lord Merryweather, Kaylys Merryweather, Lady Fell, and Lady Sylvie Rosby. An invitation had also been extended to Queen Alicent, but that had politely declined, much to Daenera’s delight. 

The early morning had been spent making the last preparations. The tables were filled with cakes and fruit, a colorful display of abundance and wealth, with the possibility of being watered with some of the finest wine Westeros had to offer. Daenera had chosen a colorful dress of orange and gold and her hair were braided in the traditional Targaryen way, keeping it from blowing into her face.

She was standing on the balcony, listening to the ladies talk among themselves excitedly, already indulging in the wine. The sun shone brightly and were it not for the shadow the stretched out fabric provides, they would surely have burned. 

Jelissa hurried into the middle of the theater, her steps clicking over the pale stone. She looked up at Daenera, a bright smile on her lips. “We’re ready!” 

Daenera nodded in acknowledgement. 

Jelissa hurried away, letting the guards at the gate know that they could open. She then sprinted back to stand with Joyce by the side of the rounded stage, the table in front of them filled with leather pouches, brimming with unspent money and the promise of more to come. 

A mass of people filed in through the gates. People of all colors, backgrounds and skills. Some were from Lys, some Essos, some Pentos. There were Westerosi singers, artists and musicians. Daenera smiled as they gathered by the backdrop of the ocean, all looking up at her expectantly. 

“Welcome, my artisans!” Daenera greeted loudly, letting her voice carry out into the theater. “I am Princess Daenera Velaryon, daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen and Laenor Velaryon.” Her eyes were sharp as they filtered through the mass of people, lingering on the few that displayed some sort of scrutiny to her words. “I’ve always enjoyed the arts of music and dance, and with my return to the capital, I found myself able to finally show patronage to the thing that I love.” 

It wasn’t the entire truth. While she enjoyed music, song and theater, she wasn’t as invested as some other ladies were to the arts. But the thing about artists was, that they traveled throughout the continent, singing their song, acting in plays, telling their stories. And such things held sway. 

It was a tactic Queen Visenya herself had once used. 

��My mother, the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, Princess Rhaenyra, has tasked me with finding artists to patronage. She too is a lover of the arts. We wish that you bring the joy you give us, out into every corner of Westeros. We wish you to sing your songs, play your tunes, and tell your stories to the people. That is our wish.”

And it wouldn’t hurt to sing a little something about her. 

“Now, please, show us what you’ve got!”

Daenera looked down at Joyce, giving the maid a nod, who nodded back in acknowledgement. Joyce called out the first number as Daenera took her seat, picking up a grape and propping it into her mouth. 

The first artist was a singer. He began with high appraise to Daenera, telling her about his adventures, where he had been, who he had sung for. That was the dreary part of the whole thing. She wasn’t interested in that, all she wanted to know was whether they could sing and what they’d sing. 

The Bear and The Maiden Fair seemed to be a favorite among the singers and musicians. Each time it was sung, it lost its appeal, until Daenera would rather listen to Aemond call her a bastard than listen to it once more. 

By the time they had reached number seventy seven, more than half the songs had been The Bear and The Maiden Fair. One third of what was left were Maids that bloom in spring, and the rest after that False and the Fair, and Flower of Spring and Little Flower. 

It was then an older man stepped out into the middle of the stage, a lute kept close to his breast, dark beard kept and freshly shaved. At the corners of his eyes were crows feet and a deep line cleaved through his forehead. He bowed to the princess and her company. “I am Samwell Tradd, my princess. I have played the cold seat of the North, to the sand dunes of Dorne, but I have played for none other as important as your mother, the good princess, Rhaenyra Targaryen.”

This piqued Daenera’s interest and she stood from her seat, carrying the cup of wine with her to the railing of the balcony, which she leaned against with her forearms, squinting in the sunlight of the afternoon. “You played for my mother?”

“That I did, Princess,” Ser Samwell Tradd confirmed. “It was a pleasure to play for her.”

“What did you play?”

Samwell Tradd chuckled to himself. “ Under the Dragon's eye.”

Daenera grinned. 

“She made me sing it… two dozen times over,” Samwell told the princess. “She would not hear another, only that, until my hand cramped and my voice was raw, and even then, she bid me continue.”

“Then would it not suit you if I asked you to play it again?” Daenera responded with a gracious smile. 

“For you, The Realms Flower, I will play it again.” Samwell Tradd plucked a few strings on the lute, humming to loosen his vocal cords, and then began to sing. 

She fled with her ships and her people,Her heart broken for those she could not save.Nymeria, fearless and wise, led with determination in her eyes. With ten thousand ships, she led her people’s flight, Across the Narrow Sea, seeking a new life. 

Under the dragon’s eye, they sailed so far and wide, Nymeria and her Rhoynar, their hopes and dreams allied. Through hardships and trails, their spirits remained high,Bound by a destiny, under the dragon’s watchful eye. 

Through stormy seas and treacherous tides they roamed, Leaving behind their homeland, their past disowned. With strength and resilience, they faced each new day, Guided by Nymeria’s wisdom, they found their own way. Through shifting sands, they found their place, United under Nymeria’s willful grace. 

So let the tale be sung, of Nymeria’s nobel quest, Of the Rhoynar’s journey, their resilience put to a test. Under the dragon’s eye, their spirit never broke, A testament to courage.

Under the dragon’s eye. 

“…Under the dragon’s eye,” Samwell Tradd finished. 

Daenera exchanged a knowing nod with Joyce, who discreetly handed the singer a pouch filled with jiggling coins. It carried more than mere currency, it was a symbol of her endorsement, and more significantly, Rhaenyra’s endorsement. Unspoken expectations were attached to the weight of those coins, urging the singer to spread the good word of Rhaenyra Targaryen, the Realms Delight, and the Rightful Heir to the Iron Throne. 

While some noble houses disregarded the significance of the common folk, Daenera recognized their importance. After all, it was the small folk who dutifully paid their taxes, who ensured the smooth flow of goods, who tirelessly toiled to create the fabrics and wines that the nobles delighted in. Though unaware of their latent power, the small folk held a sway over the very fabric of society. 

And with the small folks' support, they could sway their lords and ladies. 

By the time the sun had dipped down behind the horizon, Daenera’s head was buzzing with wine, sun and song. Fragmented lyrics sailed around her skull, not able to gather enough strength to become a full song. Lady Fell had left the younger ladies to their own devices, citing exhaustion. Daenera couldn’t blame the older woman. 

“Have you heard about Prince Aemond?” Kaylys Merryweather said, fanning herself with the fan, her cheeks flush with the wine. She smiled covertly. They were all leaning back, enjoying the otherwise quiet. Daenera had called it quits, telling the remainder of the performers to come back on the morrow. At the mention of Aemond her head propped up again. 

“That someone tried to poison him?” Lady Sylvie Rosby quipped behind her own fan, crumbs littering her chest from all the cakes she had indulged herself in. Kaylys Merryweather and Lady Rosby shared a look.

“I heard that it was an allergic reaction,” Tris Caswell interjected. 

“An allergic reaction? Please, that is the excuse you use for covering up poisoning,” Kaylys Merryweather criticized. “Someone poisoned his sword.”

“Do they know who did it?” Daenera inquired, her voice raw and tired. 

Lady Merryweather shook her head, her blond strands whipping over her shoulders and back again. “They have no idea. Some say it was a failed assasination-,”

“Oh please,” Daenera groaned at the grotesqueness of that statement. If she wanted him dead, she very well would have used something else, something less obvious and that left little to no evidence. An assassination with poisoning, should either be quick or drawn out over time, the ladder creating less suspicion if the poisoned had a history of illness. No one would suspect a thing after a long bout of fever and illness. People simply dropped dead of that. 

“A scorn lover then?” Lady Sylvie suggested. 

“Or Aegon,” Tris proposed. The women all nodded in silence, thinking. “Aegon is known for his absurd pranks.”

“But would he harm his own brother?” Lady Sylvie asked.  Aegon would most definitely harm his brother for his own amusement , Daenera thought. 

“I saw his hands. They were swollen and red, the poor thing. The Maesters said that they’d itch and burn for a few days, and there was little they could do.”

“It’s just awful,” Lady Sylvie continued in a huff. “If the princes aren't safe from such attacks, then we’re all at risk.”

“I severely doubt you are at risk, Lady Sylvie,” Daenera cut in. “Why would an assassin or prankster target you?”

Lady Sylvie blinked at Daenera’s cutting words. Daenera wouldn’t entertain her with pretends of importance. Lady Sylvie might be a lady, but she wasjust a lady. She was neither heir nor the first born. Her brother was more of a target and her father even more still. Her words seemed to have struck a chord and Lady Sylvie glowered. 

“I personally think Prince Aemond is quite handsome,” Lady Merryweather continued, ignorant to the tension. The second daughter to Lord Merrywhether were betrothed to one of the lower houses of the Reach, the name of which eluded Daenera. The Lady was five and twenty, a crone by small folks' accounts. She was allowed to dream though. 

Everyone stared at her.

“What?”

“He's been maimed,” Lady Sylvie chided. “He’s a one eyed prince. And have you seen the scar? It's so grim and disgusting. If it had been me, I would have flung myself from the highest window in the Keep.” 

You may yet do that .

“I think he’s handsome,” Lady Merrywheather reiterated. “And strong and tall. I can overlook the scar and maiming for the handsome side of his face.”

“You’ll have to sit at his right side then,” Daenera muttered, head throbbing with the subject of Aemond and ‘handsome’ in the same sentence. If the cutting edge of a knife was handsome, then she supposed Lady Merryweather was right. “Or perhaps it’s best to sit where he cannot see you.”

“What do you think he’s got hiding underneath his eyepatch?” Tris quietly asked. 

“Not his eye,” Daenera responded, bored with the conversation. 

They ended the evening not long after, scattering to the winds while the servant’s cleaned up and prepared for the day after. Daenera had dismissed her maids after presenting them with a piece of cake each and kind words for a job well done. Jelissa had been extremely excited, rambling on about her favorite singer, while Joyce teased her relentlessly. Daenera watched them go, turning on her heels to take the long way back to her quarters, heading through the garden. 

The rose bushes barely managed to overpower the smell of the city. On days where the wind came from land, it was especially rough. But on this day, the gods had graced them with a mild sea wind. The sky turned golden as the sun disappeared below the horizon, the last rays keeping the gardens from falling into shadow. 

Daenera took a deep breath, trying to clear her heavy head, rolling her stiff neck from spending the day on her ass.  

“You’re quite creative, I have to give you that,” Aemond’s voice split her quiet apart, the sound like a pick beating against stone, splitting it in two. 

Daenera’s shoulders immediately tensed up and she breathed out an annoyed huff. “You’re out of the infirmary.”

“Poisoned sword,” Aemond hummed, approaching her. It was strange to see him here, in the gardens, surrounded by soft beauty. It had been just as strange to see him in the sept, though there the heavy smog had coiled around him, curled up the nape of his neck, hung around him like a cloak of shadows. Now he was bathed in golden light that made him seem wholly unholy. 

He was no man of flowers. He was a sword, meant to cut, to stab, to bleed one dry. A weapon. 

“If it were poison you’d be dead,” Daenera corrected him. “Or severely sick. As I’ve heard, you must have had an allergic reaction to something.”

His scoff was sharp and dismissing. “An allergic reaction?”

“Those sometimes take a few days to recover from. I believe you’ll be back to your pristine state before the feast.” 

Her gaze flickered across his face, trying to decipher his intentions, though the wine clouded her thoughts. From his cheekbones down to the curl of his smirking lip, she studied him briefly before refocusing on his eyes, masking the curiosity clawing at her insides with thinly veiled sympathy that bordered on mock pity. “Does it ich terribly?”

Daenera squealed when Aemond gripped her arm, pulling her into one of the alcoves of the garden. They were totally enclosed by an overgrown pavilion, the vines climbing up the columns, to spread across the roof. She balked at him, ripping her arm out of his grip, noting the bandaged hand. “What are you doing?!” 

“You vicious little cunt,” Aemond sneered, his face contorting in disdain. 

The wine not only made her cheeks flushed but it dulled her senses as well. “Mmm, call me that again, I rather enjoy it.”

Aemond’s eyes were all fire and ice. They burned with an intensity she hadn’t yet seen, with something utterly terrifying and vicious. Something with teeth and claws and breath of fire. “I should punish you, and tear you apart.”

“What are you going to do, bend me over the knee like a child?” Daenera taunted him, flipping her braid back to its proper place, her eye glaring daggers at the prince. “If I remember correctly, you were the one to start this. You burned me. Or have you forgotten?”

Daenera raised her bandaged hand and provocatively waved it in front of his face. He had burned her writing hand, and she had retaliated by making it itch so intensely that he might desire to peel off his own skin. All she had done was to respond to his initial transgression. They could have maintained their distance, preserved civility, but he just had to bother her.

With a mocking expression, Daenera glanced down at his hand, then back up at him. “Oh, was it your swordhand? Can’t have a little fun without it?”

“Do you believe I won't retaliate?” Aemond bit at her. “Do you think I’m oblivious to your schemes?”

Daenera blinked. 

“Talking with Caswell, befriending his daughter, the musicians. You think I don’t know what you’re doing?”

“I have no idea what you’re alluding to,” Daenera feigned ignorance. 

“Surprising, I must say,” Aemond taunted with a sly smirk. “Your feeble attempts are bound to fail, I will make sure of it, Lady Strong. ”

Aemond advanced towards her, a predator stalking its prey, his teeth appearing sharp as fangs in the warning light. Shadows enveloped him, accentuating his sharp bone structure, tracing delicately over his features. In the dim light, he became the embodiment of wickedness. There was an inherent darkness within him that would forever resist any semblance of light of purity. 

It was as intriguing as it was frightening. 

Her back collided with a stone column, and the tendrils of the overgrown vines brushed against her bare shoulders, entangling with her hair. She swallowed, feeling the dizziness intensify from the wine. 

In an instance, Aemond’s hand clasped around her jaw, his fingers digging into the delicate flesh of her cheeks, reminiscing of their encounter in the sept. Her eyes widened, and she fought against his grip, attempting to push him away as her heart picked up speed. 

Aemond absorbed her strikes against his chest as if they were nothing, a menacing growl emanating from deep within him, gradually morphing into a coarse chuckle. “I’m only giving voice to what is so plain for everyone to see.”

“That is treason!” Daenera growled. 

“It is the truth, is it not?” Aemond asked amused at her anger. “ That’s why you play your little scheme with the lords and ladies, so desperately hoping to forge alliances in case your mothers imprudence comes to light. Should it not be my sweet half-sister who’s out here, tirelessly forging those alliances? Shouldn’t she be the one fighting tooth and nail to secure her own place as heir to the throne?”

“Aemond,” Daenera warned. 

“It’s what they’re all thinking,” Aemond continued maliciously. “Along with wondering whether you take after her.” 

Daenera tried to pry her face from his grip, but he held fast. 

“They’re all wondering whether a marriage to you is worth the risk. And weather you are as impudent as your mother…” Daenera beat against him, growling at the insult. “They think ‘will she carry bastards and try and pass them off as true borns’.”

The scent of smoke and crackling fire surrounded her as Aemond drew nearer. With each beat of her heart, a surge of heat cascaded down her spine, coiling in the depths of her belly. Her gaze darted between his piercing blue eye and the eyepatch, as if they would tell her something she didn’t know, and then lowered to his lips, drawn into a sharp sneer. Her heart shuddered in her chest, her gaze burning with intensity.

“I am going to ruin you,” Aemond vowed. “I’m going to ruin you, consume you, destroy you.” 

In a fleeting instant, his gaze descended to her lips, carrying a wicked and malicious gleam, brimming with both hatred and an unnameable, devastating force. His thumb brushed against her lips, a menacing gesture that threatened to smudge the lip tint she had applied to accentuate one of her redeeming features. If her mind had been clearer, she might have sunk her teeth into his thumb. 

Aemond’s pale locks tickled the exposed skin of her bosom as he leaned in, his breath scorching against the delicate shell of her ear. “I’m going to destroy you and win this war.”

He abruptly released her and Daenera pushed him away from her, breathing heavily and forcefully, eyes ablaze with indignation and fury. Who did he think he was?

She sneered. “I will take out your other eye before I let you destroy me. Two can play at this game. And if you burn me, I will burn you.” 

Once again, Daenera found herself feeling from the suffocating presence of Aemond. Clutching her skirts tightly, she propelled herself forward, each step one of panic and determination. The corridors of the Keep blurred as her hurried steps echoed, giving rise to the feeling of the ghosts laughing at her. 

King’s Landing had become a treacherous maze of power and deceit, and Aemond embodied the shifting tides of its dark underbelly. His transformation was undeniable, a chilling embodiment of calculated malevolence and an untamed chaos. He was an unpredictable storm she had to venture through. 

As Daenera ascended the stairs, the weight of realization settled upon her. Aemond’s presence had already begun to creep under her skin. She would have to root it out and shield herself from it, but she had a sneaking suspicion that the seeds of darkness he had planted wouldn’t be so easily removed. She supposed it was a challenge she would have to accept.

[west1rosi]

STARTER CALL: MAIN TIMELINE.

like   this   post   for   a   starter   from   one   of   the   muses   of   main timeline of asoiaf.   if   you   are   a   multimuse,   please   specify   your   muses.   make   sure   to   also   choose   one   of   mine   or   at   least,   choose   a   few   for   me   to   pick   from.   only   liking   and   not   specifying   will   be   ignored.

muse list of main asoiaf timeline era:

lord tywin lannister. faceclaim : charles dance.

lady elyra brax (oc). faceclaim : jessica alexander.

king viserys iii targaryen. faceclaim : harry lloyd.

king robert baratheon. faceclaim: mark addy.

princess orysa baratheon (oc). faceclaim : jennie jacques.

gendry baratheon. faceclaim : joe dempsey.

theon greyjoy. faceclaim : alfie allen.

captain indya sunderly (oc). faceclaim : jessie mei li.

lady myranda royce. faceclaim :  yuliya khlynina.

lord ned stark. faceclaim : sean bean.

lady catelyn stark. faceclaim : michelle fairley.

queen jeyne westerling. faceclaim :  synnove karslen.

lord asher forrester. faceclaim : liam mcintyre.

lady mara mormont (oc). faceclaim : matilda de argelis.

lady jeyne poole. faceclaim : elinor crowley.

wylla manderly. faceclaim : alice agneson.

val of the free folk. faceclaim : frida gustavsson.

prince doran martell. faceclaim : alfredo castro.

prince oberyn martell. faceclaim : pedro pascal.

princess arianne martell. faceclaim : yvette monreal.

lady regent, allyria dayne. faceclaim :  marina moschen. 

lord edmure tully. faceclaim : tobias menzies.

lady roslin tully. faceclaim : rose williams.

ser patrek mallister. faceclaim : aneurin barnard.

marq piper. faceclaim :  jose ramon barreto.

alerie tyrell. faceclaim : joely richarson.

olenna tyrell. faceclaim : diana rigg.

lord willas tyrell. faceclaim :  gwilym lee.

ryna hightower. faceclaim : danielle rose russell.

elinor tyrell. faceclaim :  isabela merced.

margaery tyrell. faceclaim : natalie dormer

lady mina redwyne. faceclaim : claire ferlini.

lady desmera redwyne. faceclaim : charlotte hope.

meredyth crane. faceclaim : caitlin stasey.

jocelyn swyft. faceclaim: tamsin egerton.

addam marbrand. faceclaim: toby stephens.

lady alyssane lefford. faceclaim: sarah bolger.

lady shyra errol. faceclaim: holliday grainger.

alys karstark. faceclaim: gevenieve gaunt.

marei hill. faceclaim: eloise smyth.

ardrian celtigar. faceclaim : tony leung.

syrenia celtigar. faceclaim : dianne doan.

harras harlow. faceclaim : daniel sharman.

ser jorah mormont. faceclaim : iain glen.

[youroleander]

Howdy hey! Recently due to Steam’s summer sale I have been able to further my down right addiction with the My Time At game series and get Sandrock!

Of course with every new game where I’m able to make a character I gave them full on lore and said no to the game lore or what lore it has on the character! So here’s my builder sheet for my builder oc Alyssane Oxford! Feel free to ask questions about her if you so please!

[fkevin073]

Really enjoyed your Alyssane as Alicent’s daughter AU!! After reading your notes summary, I was wondering if you think Alys and Alicent ever make amends, even with Jace and Aemond’s deaths? And same with Aegon and Helaena. With all that happens it seems that the relationships might be fractured forever :( just going to blame Viserys for everything instead!

OOF. what a question anon.

to be honest, though I really, really shouldn't be, I am seriously thinking about writing that AU as a full fledged Jace x oc story, so a lot of these questions are swirling in my mind. but I shall still answer, regardless of if I write or not, bc even if I do cave in and write, I'll probably end up changing/adding a bit.

so, for this particular version of that AU, I'd say...to a degree? like, I think alicent sees how devastated alysanne is by Jace's death, and how messy it all is, and I don't think she can bear to lose another child, but they don't forgive each other either. not like fully. I mean what can you do when one of your children kills the other, despite how warranted it may or may not be, you know? I'm still fiddling with the circumstances of aemond's death - like does she just manage to kill Vhagar with the help of other dragons and Aemond decides to go down with her (like if it is above the God's eye, he chooses to drown with Vhagar instead of swim to shore kind of thing) or does she full on have his head chopped off. so many questions! I am undecided.

I think Daeron might be the one Alysanne has the closest relationship with by the end of it. hard to say. like she can understand from an objective point of view why aegon and helaena were so willing to protect aemond (their main defence against daemon/having all their kids slaughtered) but she's still so devastated/enraged they abandoned her for it/were willing to put her children in danger. which is, for any parent, a big no-no, so she can't forgive them for it.

I also think by the end of the war, Aegon is injured like he is in canon, so he dies like five years after the war ends anyway or something. I don't imagine him surviving for years afterwards. and helaena - helaena lives for her children, but she's quieter/more fragile than before. I don't think any of them are the same afterwards tbh. they were always destined to break each other.

[factorydefaultlu]

My oc, aylara royce, is continuing her mom's legacy of being a massive lesbian. As is Alyssane, but they have very different types.

Also, who do you fan cast as cregan stark

I don't have a fan cast for Cregan I just have what I think he looks like in my head. Kind of looks like Robb but with black hair, grey eyes, fuller beard and a lot taller and buffer

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

Did You Like Them? || D. Targaryen x oc (Dear Motherhood Series)

GIF by unknown DIVIDERS by @straywords

summary: A heartfelt conversation between Leyla and her closest handmaiden reveals her feelings towards her first child, Alyssa.

a/n: pls pls pls send in some requests!!! this can be for the dear motherhood series if you like!

Dear Motherhood Series Masterlist

Leyla quietly moved her feet towards the nursery. The whole of castle were fast asleep and yet she was still awake, except for the few guards around, including the two infront of the nursery. She quietly opened the door and closed it slowly. Daemon was still asleep in their bedchambers.

The young Lady walked closer to the crib at a slow pace where her daughter, Alyssa laid asleep. She crouched down beside her, her eyes studying every feature of her face. Alyssa looked very much Leyla, except for the silver hair that she inherited from Daemon.

With so much intent, Leyla stayed there for the next 10 minutes, Alyssa’s chest falling up and down at a steady rate. The door quietly opened as Alyssane, her closets friend and handmaiden, approaches her. “My Lady, what are you doing up at this hour?” she asked before crouching down beside the babe’s crib.

“I like watching her sleep,” Leyla spoke in a soft voice, admiring her daughter. A smile makes it to Alyssane’s lips, “When my children were babies, it was my favourite time too,” She says as the two make eye contact and chuckle softly.

Visiting Alyssa in the middle of the night was a daily occurrence for Leyla. Of course, Leyla often saw her daughter throughout the day but it felt different watching her at night, all alone. Whenever they were around the castle or outside, the young Hightower would often feel quite awkward holding her own child.

The looks she would be given or the whispers that would go around drove her insane. So she rather enjoy her daughter’s presence alone, without the prying eyes of court. Leyla’s eyes flicker to Alyssane, she hesitates before opening her mouth to ask her question.

“Did you like them?” She felt herself holding a breath, “Straight away?” Alyssane’s eyes snap to Leyla. She noticed her hesitation before she covered it with a small smile. “Well, I was pleased they were healthy. I would’ve killed anyone that could cause them any harm.”

“Like them? I think that comes later, my Lady” Leyla listens intently. “When I look at her,” She starts, her fingers moving away a stray lock of hair fallen on Alyssa’s face, “All I can remember is the pain of giving birth to her. Those horrible nine months I had to endure.” Leyla confessed.

Alyssane held her hand in a comforting manner. “Having a baby is a sacrifice aswell as a blessing,” Alyssane added with a sad smile. Leyla knew that when she found out she was with child, her childhood was being sacrificed. It took her some time to accept the cold truth.

“I’m afraid, Alyssane. Father is asking for more grandchildren and there’s no doubt Daemon wishes for more heirs from me,” Otto had been on Leyla’s back on having children well, ever since she married Daemon. Even more after she had her first, Alyssa.

“Don’t be, my Lady. You are incredibly strong, having a child at ten-and-five? Not many people can do that and still continue with a smile on their faces. These feelings you’re feeling right now? They will blow over and overtime, when you look at Alyssa, you will feel a sense of accomplishment”

Leyla looked back over at peaceful Alyssa, “Thank you Alysanne,” she smiled gratefully at her friend’s comforting words.

~

It was the Hour of the Owl and once again, Leyla slipped out of Daemon’s hold and quietly moved away from the bed and into the corridors. The brunette was only helped guided by the burning torches that lit up the castle, although it was nearly impulse that led her to her daughter’s nursery.

That day had been particularly hard for Leyla. Otto had found out that she had been talking about finding ways to slow down the chances of becoming pregnant. That earned Leyla a harsh slap across her face.

The young Hightower didn’t dare to tell her Lord Husband out of embarrassment. Leyla was slightly surprised to see her daughter eyes wide awake. She quickly moved to her and carefully picked her up as Alyssa cooed making her mother smile.

She opened the curtains to allow light from the moon to seep through the nursery. There, Leyla stood cradling her daughter in her arms as she sung a sweet lullaby. She cherished these moments she shared with her first born, away from the bustling of court.

Leyla was slightly startled when she felt a pair of strong arms wrap themselves around her waist. “Husband,” “Wife,” He replied back in a husky voice, his head rested on her shoulder as they both look down at their daughter. “I thought I might find you here, pray do tell, what are you doing here at this hour of the night?” He spoke calmly, leaving a small trail of kisses along her shoulder and neck.

“I could not find sleep Daemon, and neither could your daughter it seemed” She softly chuckled as he joined. “Can I?” Daemon tilted his head to Alyssa as Leyla nodded. She carefully passed the 2 month old babe to her father as he softly patted her back, a soft tune coming out of his mouth in his mother’s tongue.

Leyla thought it would be impossible to fall in love with Daemon even more, well that changed ever since he became a father. He was such a huge softie when it came to Alyssa and she liked that he only reserved this side for her.

In just a few minutes, Alyssa had fallen asleep. Daemon slowly laid her down in her crib as the two stand in each other’s arm admiring the tiny human being they created. “Goodnight, my darling” Leyla leaned down to whisper to her before placing a gentle kiss on the forehead.

Daemon smiled as he watched the whole interaction. He always knew Leyla would be a great mother to his children. The couple quietly walked back to their bedchambers hand in hand with smiles on their faces.

~

taglist

@bellstwd @sesamepancakes @writtingforfun @bunbunbl0gs @mxtokko

[srim01997]

[Masterlist] The Red Princess & The Green Knight (Gwayne H. x OFC)

Paring: Gwayne Hightower x Alyssan Targaryen (OC), Slight Aemond “One-Eye” Targaryen x Alyssan Targaryen (OC), Eventual Gwayne Hightower x Alyssan Targaryen (OC) Fandom: House of The Dragon (HBO) Warning: Age-gap, Uncle-Niece Incest, Domestic Violence, Cheating, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Oral Sex, Underage Sex, Consensual Underage Sex, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Aemond “One-Eye” Targaryen Being an Asshole, Protective Gwayne Hightower, Unplanned Pregnancy, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Child Death, Child Neglect, Older Man/Younger Woman, Age Difference, Porn With Plot, Fluff and Angst, Bittersweet Ending

Writer’s note: Apologies for my English, as it is my second language. As I am translating work from Thai to English, updates may be gradual. Available on AO3 and Tumblr

Rumors say that a servant girl saw Sir Gwayne Hightower go in and out of the room of his eldest niece, Princess Alyssan Targaryen. Princess Alyssan is the eldest daughter of King Viserys I Targaryen and Queen Alicent Hightower. She has a twin brother, Prince Aegon, and is the older sister of Princess Helaena, Prince Aemond, and Prince Daeron. Some people believe that Princess Alyssan would never betray her Targaryen husband, Prince Aemond. Others think she might be having an affair with her uncle to mock Alyssan’s husband, who often disappears from Madame Sylvie’s brothel. There are also claims that he is involved with Alys River, the witch of Harrenhal, who says she is pregnant with his child. Additionally, some believe that Princess Alyssan is cursed by another Targaryen with a different hair color. They say this curse means she will have a worse fate than her siblings or other family members. However, only the three people involved truly know what is happening.

[Playlist]

AO3

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4 (NSFW)

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9 (NSFW)

[abyss-wolf]

It is once again incredibly late, yet here I am posting art.

Maybe one day I will post at some time that isn’t 3am. Maybe.