#oc: alys blackwood | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thebenjiblackwoodexpress · 9 months ago

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Aeron Bracken x Blackwood!OC

𝔖𝔬 ℑ 𝔰𝔫𝔢𝔞𝔨 𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔤𝔞𝔯𝔡𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔬 𝔰𝔢𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲. 𝔚𝔢 𝔨𝔢𝔢𝔭 𝔮𝔲𝔦𝔢𝔱, '𝔠𝔞𝔲𝔰𝔢 𝔴𝔢'𝔯𝔢 𝔡𝔢𝔞𝔡 𝔦𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔨𝔫𝔢𝔴. ~ 𝔗𝔞𝔶𝔩𝔬𝔯 𝔖𝔴𝔦𝔣𝔱 𝔏𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔖𝔱𝔬𝔯𝔶

Description: At a masked Harvest Banquet held by Lord Tully at Riverrun, Aeron Bracken falls in love with a beautiful girl with golden hair. With nothing but the broken ruby necklace she left behind as a clue to her identity, Aeron searches for the girl only to find she is a Blackwood. Can true love triumph over the mutual enmity between their houses?

Disclaimer: I wrote this as a sort of companion to the Beauty and the Beast inspired Benji oneshot I did. It's based on a mix of Cinderella and Romeo and Juliet instead. Not that happy with how it turned out but decided to post it anyway. Fair warning it's very lengthy, I accidentally went quite plot heavy and this writer can never just get to the point your honour. This has no connection with my Aeron x Reader series Jump then Fall.

Warnings: Violence, Blood, swearing, negative associations with bastards (OC has dubious heritage), Black Aly's daughter, female OC, angst, fluff. Love at first sight vibes based on R+J and Cinderella. Incredibly self-indulgent, I just love Romeo and Juliet as a concept.

Once a year the liege lords of the seven kingdoms would host a Harvest Banquet to bring their vassals together. For most noble houses it was one of the most anticipated events in the year, an evening of festivities and an opportunity to gain favour with their liege Lord. In the Riverlands, it was a different story altogether and Aeron was dreading it. Every Harvest Banquet held at Riverrun inevitably descended into chaos, perilous as it was to have Blackwoods and Brackens in such close proximity. Lord Tully had ever been weak and unable to control the two warring houses, and the tensions between them would often dissolve into violence. Aeron was already filled with trepidation as he stepped into the carriage that would take him and his uncle, Lord Amos Bracken, to Riverrun. His uncle's next words only solved to bolster his feeling of unease.

"Nephew, I have never denied you your more scholarly interests, never reproached you although I would have preferred you to have taken an equal interest in your sworsdsmanship."

Aeron blanched at that. He had been recently knighted by his Lord Uncle and yet had only begun to take a true interest in swordplay. He spent much of his time in the expansive library at Stone Hedge, enraptured by the histories of the Targaryen dynasty. His uncle had never understood Aeron's interest in the House of the Dragon, he could surely spend his time concerned with his own House and lands instead?

"Nonetheless, I should like to see you take a wife who will fill the place of Lady Bracken once you come into your inheritance."

Aeron's mouth fell open, speechless, and he was sure he resembled the fish head sigil of House Tully.

"Uncle, I hardly think..."

Lord Bracken interrupted him before he could protest. "There will be many ladies at the banquet, from across the Riverlands and the Seven Kingdoms. It is a great chance for you to find a lady that should suit you. You may make your choice yourself, but grant me this: that you will concede to your uncle to try."

Aeron found the very real possibility of a brawl with Blackwood kinsmen far more appealing and much less frightening than what his uncle was suggesting. He had only a little experience talking with the ladies who would attend his uncle's feasts at Stone Hedge and up until now he'd spent most of Lord Tully's banquets making merry with his friends.

Nonetheless, his uncle had indeed never denied Aeron his interests and had enough faith in him to knight him. He found he could not deny his request outright.

"I will try."

Amos smiled in response and affectionately patted Aeron's shoulder at his acquiescence. A jolt from the carriage as it ran over uneven ground had Aeron's head snapping up to see they were almost at the moat of Rivverun Castle. Aeron adjusted his mask to get a better look at the castle, Lord Tully having decided to hold a masked banquet in accordance with the customs of Kings Landing this year. It was like something out of a folk tale, ensconced as it was on all sides by the Red Fork. Even set in darkness by the cloak of night, lit only by the glow of the moon and torchlight, he could not help but marvel at it as if he were seeing it for the first time.

Upon entering the Great Hall, Aeron took little time in finding his friends, and fellow knights, by the long banquet table which stretched the length of the room.

Quickly pulled into their conversation, he found himself forgetting his Lord Uncle's request entirely. Minstrels soon took up their instruments, and lords and ladies took to the centre of the hall to dance.

Aeron had only cast his eyes ascance over the dancing couples for a moment, but instantly found his eyes drawn to a girl with golden hair that seemed to glitter under the soft glow of the candle light, as if she were herself made from burnished gold. The sound of the minstrels' song, the chattering of lords and ladies, all seemed to fade into the background as Aeron observed the lady's graceful movements, her burgundy dress fanning around her as she twirled.

"Who is the lady whose gentle touch does grace the hand of that knight yonder?"

Jon and Samwell turned to look in the direction of his gaze. "I could not say, even without the mask I have never seen a girl with hair that shade at one of these banquets. Perhaps she hails from another kingdom entirely" Samwell shrugged. Aeron barely heard him.

"Any intimations I have had of beauty, forswear them all. She does teach the stars to shine in their celestial abode above the starry Sept. No, fire to burn and consume for starlight is too cold a light for her. She is golden sunlight that scorches."

Jon snorted. "My good man, what has come over you? I fear you've spent too much time reading poetry. If you think her so fair why not approach her for a dance?"

As the dance came to an end and he watched the golden lady curtsy to her partner, Jon pushed Aeron forward. His eyes subconsciously widened in alarm.

"No, I cannot. I'll only make a fool of myself." Aeron wanted more than anything to approach the lady, but felt certain there were other lords she would prefer than he.

Jon signed, exasperated. "If you will not, then I shall dance with her myself."

Aeron felt a wave of jealousy surge within his, his fists clenched slightly in anger at his friend as he watched him approach the lady, as he himself wished to. As the lady accepted Jon's hand to dance, his heart tightened in his chest and a sudden boldness came over him that had him handing Samwell his goblet and striding towards where they danced. When the golden lady turned away from Jon, as the danced required, Aeron took his chance before he could talk himself out it. Roughly pushing Jon aside, Aeron quickly took his place. This only seemed to amuse Jon, whose knowing smile as he exited the dance floor suggested he'd been hoping to spur his friend to action all along.

As the lady turned back to face him, he watched her eyes, a curious shade of blue that veered on violet, widen in surprise underneath her mask, which resembled a tawny owl.

"I am certain you are not the man I was just dancing with my lord."

Her voice was sweeter than any music Aeron had ever heard and he wanted nothing more than to hear her speak again.

"I apologise my lady, Ser Jon was...indisposed. I wish to take his place, if you will allow."

Swallowing down his nerves he offered her his hand to her palm up. The lady tentatively placed her hand upon his, palm to palm as they began to turn in a circle and resume the steps of the dance.

"I am most grateful for your chivalry, my Lord. I should have been mortified to find myself jilted in the middle of the dance." The lady's tone was teasing, her eyes glittering under the torch light, and Aeron felt his lips upturn in a smile, as he grew in confidence.

"It is no great act of chivalry on my part. I must confess that I am bidden here by your beauty, I could not but notice you from afar and wished to speak with you, if only to express this to you"

Aeron's confidence diminished as he watched the lady's mouth part and heard her small intake of breath. Fearful that he had made the lady uncomfortable, Aeron quickly stuttered out an apology

"Forgive me my brashness, my Lady, I fear the wine has gone to my head and I have spoken out of turn."

They briefly broke apart to weave between the adjacent couple, Aeron's mind racing until they came back together.

"There is nothing to forgive, I take no offence in the compliment. I am gladdened you think me beautiful." Aeron released the breath he'd been holding to know he had not offended the lady but felt his eyes widening in shock at her shy response and the delicate blush upon her cheeks. Did she not think herself beautiful?

"O you are fairer than fair and lovelier still." The words came unbidden from his lips before he could stop them. He had not meant to be so forward, but he found himself wanting to sing the lady's praises, should it please her. The teasing strain that had marked their conversation up until this point left her voice entirely as she looked up at him beneath her lashes, uttering a soft "Thank you", in earnest.

Aeron cleared his throat slightly, trying to diffuse his nerves. "Are you enjoying your evening, my Lady?"

"In truth I do not much enjoy banquets, I had much rather be reading or riding my horse Estella. Although I am happy to have finally seen Riverrun, it is a most impressive structure." she responded, almost sheepishly, to Aeron's surprise.

"I feel much the same, my Lady. May I ask what you most enjoy to read?"

Y/N's eyes lit up at his question, "I enjoy the histories the most, particularly those of the Targaryen dynasty."

Aeron grew more confident in the knowledge of their shared interest.

"I too have a particular interest in the Targaryens, my uncle does not understand it at all and I know he wishes me to remove my nose from my books. But is it not thrilling to read of dragon riders, to know that we walk amongst such God-like beings?"

As their dance came to an end, the golden lady grabbed Aeron's hand and started to pull him towards an inconspicuous door towards the other end of the hall. "Come with me." She said simply and he wordlessly followed, content at the feel of her smaller hand in his. He allowed himself to be pulled by the lady out of the door and along a series of corrdidors until they reached a long hallway, its walls covered in paintings.

Aeron had never ventured this far into Riverrun's halls before. "How did you come to find this, my Lady?"

The golden lady dropped his hand and Aeron flexed his slightly at the loss of contact, already missing the feeling of her hand in his. "My mother had Oscar Tully show it to me before the banquet started, she knew I'd like to see it and I believe you might too."

Taking hold of his hand again, she pulled him towards the third painting on the Eastern side of the hall. Aeron found himself gazing at the girl next to him instead of the painting, as if he were trying to memorise her features and she were the painting, but quickly averted his eyes when he caught her gaze. The painting in front of him was of a knight bending the knee in obeisance to a kingly figure with pale blonde hair.

"They depict the histories of House Tully. This one shows Aegon the Conqueror naming Edmyn Tully Lord paramount of the Red Fork." Aeron did not know such objects, filled with precious knowledge, existed at Rivverun.

"I am gladdened you thought to show this to me, my Lady, I am yours to command. Direct me forthwith." The golden lady grinned up at him beneath her mask and pulled him from one painting to another, explaining little details on each. Aeron could not help but smile at her excitement all the while. Finally, she pulled him towards a painting he could not decipher as the lady next to to him began point out details to him. "It depicts the women's court held at Riverrun on behalf of Queen Alysanne Targaryen by her lady's maid, Jennis Templeton. Queen Alysanne herself was presiding over the Iron Throne in the King's absence. A true Queen."

Aeron smiled softly at her. "Queen Alysanne was a wise and capable consort. By the grace of the Seven, we should see such a partnership grace the Iron Throne again."

To his dismay, the lady's face fell and she gripped the gold chain of her Ruby necklace, her knuckles turning white. He could not think what in his words had offended her but before he could offer her his apologies for any misunderstanding, a horn sounded faintly in the distance. The noble families must have been preparing to leave, the light of the moon suggesting that it was the hour of the eel. Time had slipped away from Aeron. With a look of alarm, the lady took hold of her skirts and, with parting "farewell my lord", she rushed down the hall whence they'd come. The chain of her necklace broke and as it fell to the floor she briefly looked back at it with a mixture of sadness and indecision, before abandoning it entirely.

Frozen to the spot in shock at the suddenness of her departure, it was only upon spotting the glittering of her ruby necklace on the floor that Aeron could force himself to move. Kneeling to collect the broken remnants, he quickly leapt up and broke into a run. He was determined to return her necklace to her, to make amends for any offence he might have caused, and to learn the name of the lady who'd ensnared his heart so quickly.

By the time he reached the Great Hall, she had disappeared entirely into the throng of lords and ladies now departing to return to their own hall He cursed himself for tarrying so long, for being such a floundering fool that he had not even asked the name of the lady. Wrenching his mask from his face in frustration, he looked down upon the broken necklace in his palm. Closing his palm over the cold surface of the ruby, a feeling of resolve came over him. Someone at the banquet would be able to identify the jewel or the lady herself. He would find the girl of burnished gold again.

Aeron searched far and wide for the mysterious lady, sending missives by raven to each House that had been in attendance at the Harvest Banquet, excluding the Blackwoods. But none could lay claim to the necklace he described or identify the Lady with the golden hair. It was as if she had never existed. Aeron was weary with frustration, leaning his cheek against the cold surface of his desk. A knock at the door of his chambers had him straightening up just in time for a herald to announce Ser Samwell and Ser Jon. He bolted out of his seat to greet them.

"Any news of my lady?" His hopeful expression fell as they both shook their heads. "I fear she cannot or does not want to be found. What does your uncle say of this...obsession of yours Aeron?"

Aeron rolled his eyes, "I think he finds the whole affair amusing. He told me he was intrigued to see how it would play out."

Samwell snorted and Jon discretely elbowed him in the ribs. Aeron ignored their antics and tried to think of what else he could do when an idea came to him. Returning to his desk, he pulled the ruby necklace from a drawer and presented it to his friends. "I will bring the lady's necklace to all the jewellers in the Riverlands, one of them must be able to identify the owner. Failing that, I will extend my search to the Seven Kingdoms."

Eyes widening at the lengths Aeron was willing to go to find his golden lady, Jon nodded and turned to leave. "As you will it." Aeron quickly set to his task, making plans for when he would visit each jeweller. He would ride out from Stone Hedge on the morrow.

Aeron had already tried four other jewellers before he came to the one at Fairmarket, entering the establishment with no small amount of anxiety, aware it was frequented by both House Blackwood and House Bracken. "I wish to enquire as to the providence of this necklace. Do you recognise it?" Aeron could not help the hope that surged in him, even as it had been dashed at every turn. His heart began beating wildly as the jeweller began to nod with clear recognition upon his face. "I know it, it was my hands that crafted it. The necklace belongs to the Lady Daenara Blackwood, daughter of Lady Alysanne." Aeron felt as if the ground was collapsing out from under him. He had not even considered the possibility of his lady belonging to the House of his greatest enemies. Her features were not those associated with House Blackwood, not possessing the raven hair and dark eyes of her kinsmen. His mind spun, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions warring with each other until he came to the realisation that it did not matter. He had never met a lady like Daenara Blackwood, never found a person that felt so familiar and comfortable to him even upon first meeting, none so intelligent, none so beautiful. He found he could not extend his inherited hatred of her House to her, and came to a decision.

"How long would it take you to mend it?"

Three days later, the now mended ruby necklace in his tunic, Aeron reviewed the course of events that had led him to his current precarious position. A bead of sweat trailed down his brow as he heaved himself up by the vines on the lowest wall he could find as he had circled Raventree Hall. Swinging himself over the top of the wall he found that he was in a lush garden, likely no where near the household chambers and he began to think he'd been truly stupid in not thinking up a clearer plan. Would he now have to throw stones at every window and pray he found that of his Lady's instead of her cousin Benjicot's?

A glimmer of gold caught his eye between the arches of a wall that seemed to lead to a smaller, private garden and he thanked the Seven for bringing him to exactly where he needed to be, as if by fate. Beginning to climb down into the grounds, he lost his footing and unceremoniously fell to the ground, letting out a low grunt of pain. His Lady must have heard the kerfuffle, for she appeared between one of the arches of the wall separating them to see him sprawled in front of her.

Quickly jumping to his feet, he halted his movements as she took some hurried steps back, eager not to scare her away. He held his hands out placatingly.

"Please, I did not mean to frighten you, my Lady. Will you not stay a moment?"

Daenara's eyes fell upon his golden tunic and the red stallion blazing across it, the sigil of his House.

"You are a Bracken, how can I be sure you do not intend to harm me."

He took several tentative steps forward, prompting Daenera to move further into the garden, dissapearing behind the wall before reappearing in an arch further away from the door which must lead to her private garden.

"I assure you I have no ill intent and would never harm a lady." He followed her as she moved down the length of the wall, shooting him furtive glances. He thought desperately of how he could convey to her that he meant her no harm.

"It is death should they find you here." She had stopped moving away from him at least, enabling him to step right up to the arch she now peered at him through.

"I do not wish to quarrel with your kin, only to return what belongs to you and to speak with you. If it is your wish to bid me go once I have done so, then I shall leave at your will, I assure you." When Daenara gave no response, only looking up at him quizzically with furrowed brows, he continued.

"I came to return your necklace, I hope you will not take offence at my presumption but I had it mended. You looked saddened to see it break so I could not but guess at its significance for you."

He held the necklace out to her across the ledge of the arch, and she slowly raised her hand to take it, brushing her hand against his.

"I am most grateful to you, my Lord. This necklace is, indeed, of special importance to me. A gift from my mother and a symbol of my House, though I know that will not hold much import for you."

Ignoring the door he'd seen entirely, Aeron climbed through the arch, leaping over the wall, as Daenara stepped back to allow him entrance. He was relieved that she now seemed to understand he would not harm her. It pained him to think of it.

"I would not reproach you for loyalty to your House, which is most admirable."

Looking into his eyes with a startling focus as if trying to assess his sincerity, she seemed to find what she was looking for.

"May I request your assistance?"

She pulled her hair back from her neck and turned her back to allow him access. Hands trembling slightly with his nervousness at their proximity, he wrapped the necklace around her neck and closed the clasp of the necklace. His fingers lightly brushed against the graceful slope of her neck, her skin soft and delicate to the touch.

A blanket of golden hair brushed against his shoulders with their closeness as Daenara turned back round to face him, hand clasped around her necklace.

"You have divested yourself of your purpose for coming here, what will you do now?" A glimmer of something he could not place lit her eyes, and Aeron had to forcibly pull his eyes away from them to answer coherently.

"It is only half true that I have fulfilled my purpose in coming to you, my Lady. I wish to speak my intentions, should you permit it."

"What intentions could you have? Have you yourself not borne witness to the chasm that separates our Houses, the danger you now place yourself in just by being here?"

Taking a careful step toward her, their chests almost touching, Aeron lowered his head reverentially and spoke softly.

"The only danger I fear is that which lies within your power. It is you fair lady whose weapons I fear.

Daenara looked surprised at his answer but stepped closer still, having to crane her neck up to look into his eyes.

"I am not so dangerous as that. And to what weapons do you speak of?"

"I speak of your power to grant or deny me your favour. One word from you could dash all of my hopes and tear my heart asunder quicker and with greater pain than any dagger of your kinsmen."

A look of realisation began to dawn on her features, a blush to tint her cheeks before Aeron spoke again.

"Your wit, your warmth, and your beauty ensnared me from the first. I tried to remove you from my thoughts, I admit, upon learning you were a Blackwood, but it was as if I were tearing a constituent element from myself. Do I dare to hope you have thought of me also?"

"I have thought of you many times since that night. I thought you must be a Bracken when you spoke of the Seven and it frightened me, yet I could not bar my heart to you even as I fled from you."

Aeron place a hand lightly on her elbow, his head spinning at the thought of Daenara returning his feelings for her.

"I have searched for you since, my only clue your necklace, so auspiciously dropped. For without it I could not have found my way to you again."

Taking a few steps back from him, Daenera stopped Aeron from following with a hand to his chest.

"I fear I cannot grant you what you seek. My affections as a Blackwood are not meant for a Bracken to possess."

"Your caution is wise, fairest of ladies, but you'll find that a match between our Houses is not without precedent. Queen Visenya Targaryen herself arranged for two matches between our houses to great success. And was not King Benedict Blackwood himself born of both our Houses?"

Daenara's eyes shot up to meet his, her face contorted in anger. "Do you draw the comparison purposefully, for none could be deceived or blinded by my appearance? I know I do not bear the features of my House."

Quickly realising his blunder, King Benedict famously being a bastard, he took hold of her hand in both of his, his expression penitent.

"Sweet Lady, I assure you I meant no offence, it was not my intent and I beg your forgiveness for my careless blunder. I will speak plainly to avoid any misunderstandings between us. I wish to court you and devote myself to winning your heart for mine own."

"You speak such pretty words, I can scarcely believe them to be in earnest."

"Forgive me if my tongue does run away with itself, I will desist should my words displease you. Only do not send me from your sight entirely. My admiration for you is true, my Lady."

"Daenara, you may call me Daenara."

Aeron's lips quirked up in a smile.

"Daenara. And you must call me Aeron." Daenara offered him a tentative smile that instilled him with the confidence to make his next request.

"Will you meet me on the border between our lands tomorrow? I only wish to talk with you and learn more about you, Daenara." That was an understatement. He wanted to know everything about her, her likes and dislikes, what hopes she held for the future.

"I will endeavour to meet you, though I cannot promise. It will not be easy to slip past Benjicot. My cousin is rather protective of me."

He gently took hold of her hand, his moments slow to allow Daenara time to reject his advance. When she did not, he grazed his lips across her knuckles, maintaining eye contact with her "I will wait for you."

Aeron could not repress his joy as he climbed back over the garden wall of Raventree Hall, barely paying any mind to the danger as he snuck back into Bracken lands. His heart soared at the thought of seeing Daenara again on the morrow.

The next day Aeron waited at the border between Bracken and Blackwood lands until he began to think Daenera would not come. The light tread of footsteps and the sound of satin shifting signalled her arrival and he beamed at her. "You came, my Lady." She smiled shyly back a him, "I promised I would try."

As Aeron took a step towards her, she raised a palm up to stop him. "I would not have you risk crossing into our lands again, it is a miracle you managed it unharmed last night. And I really ought not to cross into Bracken lands."

Aeron frowned then held out his hand to her, palm outstretched. "I will not cross the boundary line if it displease you. But we may walk along it side by side if we stay within our own lands may we not?" Taking his outstretched hand, Aeron quickly interlocked their fingers, his own cheeks surely blazing with heat at her acceptance as they began to walk alongside one another, a curious sight. Aeron found he did not care how unusual a pairing they made, simply content to speak with her again, to laugh with her, all the while feeling the comforting weight of her smaller hand in his, as she playfully began to swing their arms.

A sudden movement caught Aeron's eyes and he panicked at seeing Benjicot Blackwood, who would surely kill him should he find him so close with his cousin, at a distance. Realising he'd not yet spotted them he quickly pushed Daenara into a nearby bush on the Bracken side of the border. Swiftly bracing his hands on either side of her head to avoid crushing her under his weight he swept one hand over her head, tucking various strands of hair away from her face, looking over her frantically to determine if the fall had hurt her. "Aeron!" Daenara scolded him, unaware of what could have prompted his strange actions "My Lady, I apologise profusely. Are you hurt anywhere? I saw your cousin approaching overhill and panicked" the last he spoke sheepishly, waiting with baited breath for her to scold him.

To his surprise she smiled up at him affectionately and tangled her hand in his hair, laughing up at him. "It looks like I've crossed into Bracken lands after all, despite my best intentions." Aeron looked at her seriously, their faces so close his nose was almost brushing hers. "You will not come to any harm on my lands, not when I'm with you." Daenara made no answer, but when her eyes flitted from his eyes to his lips he boldly claimed hers with his own. Her hand tightened its hold on his hair to pull him closer to her and he moved his hand to cup her face. When they broke away for air he placed his forehead on hers before placing a tender kiss upon her head and standing, reaching down to pull her up with him and help her out of the bush. "I believe your cousin must have departed by now."

Aeron and Daenara continued to meet at the border, walking hand in hand along the boundary stones which divided their Houses, exchanging kisses and leaving letters for one another in secret, a bond of love growing between them each day.

Daenera stomped towards her meeting spot with Aeron, furiously brushing away tears of bitter betrayal from her eyes. Her mother, the Lady Alysanne Blackwood, had summoned her to her Chambers that morning, and by the time she'd left it felt like her entire reality had been pulled out from beneath her. Daenera was not naiive, she'd always known she was a bastard. She looked nothing like her kin, the only thing making it at all clear she was related to her cousin Benjicot was their shared loyalty and that they were quick to anger. But she had never pushed her mother for the truth of her parentage, thinking it must be a source of pain to her. But now, to find that after she had expressed her affinity with the House of the Dragon for so long, her mother had kept from her that she herself was forged in fire and blood, it was almost too much to bear. Her mother had explained that her father was the Prince Daemon Targaryen, making Daenera herself a Targaryen. It did explain her strangely coloured eyes and golden hair, surely the outcome of the Blackwood influence darkening the pale blonde hair of the Targaryens. But it hurt to hear her mother finally explain why she'd kept her from public festivities such as the Harvest Banquet, or any banquets outside of Raventree Hall for so long, for fear that her Targaryen ancestry should be discovered and make her a target. A fear Alysanne felt all the more keenly as the House of the Dragon had fallen into all out warfare, her own House and that of her love's declaring for different sides.

To make matters worse, her mother had made the truly aberrant suggestion to her to take a husband from their bannerman to further cement her place as a Blackwood, to give her hand to Ser Rickard of all people. He was brutish and vulgar, no matter how loyal he was to their House. But it was the suggestion she should continue to hide such an essential part of herself to avoid getting caught up in the Dance of the Dragons that cut her most deeply.

Aeron smiled upon spotting her but his face quickly fell as he rushed towards her, crossing into Blackwood territory to gently take hold of her elbows and search her face. "What has happened, my Love?"

She felt her throat close up with tears and let her head fall onto Aeron's chest, as he encircled one arm around her waist and one held her head against his chest to comfort her. After a while she pulled away from him, prepared to tell him all that had passed between her and her mother, all the while praying to her gods that it would not change his feelings towards her.

"My mother has informed me of my true parentage. She says that I was born of a brief affair with the Prince Daemon Targaryen, of all the possibilities. That I, myself, am a Targaryen. Worse, he does not know I was even born. I know my mother intended to protect me but it does not make her deception sting any less. To make matters worse, she wishes me to marry one of our bannermen and I don't know how to tell her my heart already belongs to another." Aeron had frozen in shock at her first admission, before realising that he must have known this truth about his lady somehow all along based on his first impression of her. And there were more pressing matters than gawping at her, she was looking to him for comfort, to help her fix this. And he'd be damned if any other man but him would marry the woman he loved, knowing she loved him too.

"My Love, I think I knew from the first moment I saw you that you were made of fire and I have ever been drawn to it. I do believe that fate brought us together in that knowledge. As to your betrothal, I will go to Raventree hence and plead for your hand if you should allow."

Daenara brought her hands to cup Aeron's face. Aeron hated seeing the sorrow adorning her pretty features. "My mother would never allow it, my kinsmen will surely kill you for even attempting it." Aeron took hold of Daenara's hands and pulled them to his heart, looking into her eyes. "I Love you, and I will risk a thousand swords to make you my wife if that is also your wish." In response, Daenara pulled Aeron down towards her by his tunic, molding her lips with his. They broke apart, both turning towards the sound of shouting "Get away from her Bracken."

"Gods, that's Ser Rickard, the man my mother wishes to marry me off to." If looks could kill, Aeron would be in his grave. But he steeled his courage, prepared to defend his lady and his love for her from Ser Rickard and the two other Blackwood Knights trailing him. He pulled Daenara behind him and sent a glare the knight's way, which only seemed to incense him further. "You dare to cross the border and accost a Blackwood, you craven bastard!"

Aeron bristled at his insinuation. "I would never impose myself on a lady without her consent, Ser."

"She belongs to House Blackwood and is to be my wife, I have her mother's permission. Remove your hands from her person."

Aeron took a step towards the knight, speaking through gritted teeth. "From what I hear you do not have the lady's consent, and that is all that matters to me."

"You speak for her do you?"

"I would not dare. But I will not stand by idly as you lay claim to the lady as if she were some common cattle."

Not a moment after Aeron had spoken, Ser Rickard had forcefully shoved Aeron in the chest, pushing both Aeron and Daenara backwards. Shoving him again, Aeron just barely managed to stay standing, looking behind him to check Daenara was unharmed as she'd been holding onto his arm. But she had placed herself between the two in an attempt to stop any further violence from ensuing and time seemed to slow as Aeron watched in horror as a blow meant for him connected with Daenara's face, sending her falling to the ground.

Aeron immediately went to her, brushing hair away from her face, tenderly holding a hand to the side of her head to assess the damage. He felt his heart drop upon seeing a trickle of blood coming from a split in her lip. Her eyes were wide in shock as if she had not yet fully registered what had happened. Aeron had never had a proclivity for violence, but seeing Daenara harmed when he should of prevented it sent a surge of anger through him he had never felt before. He launched himself at Ser Rickard before the other Blackwood Knights could stop him, bringing him to the ground with the force of his assault. The brief moment of confusion lost, the Blackwood Knights forcibly pulled Aeron from Ser Rickard and he shrugged off their arms before kneeling back down next to Daenara, his eyes filled with concern. "Are you alright, my Love, are you in a great deal of pain?" Daenara held her jaw in one hand, clearly pained by it, and raised her hand to Aeron's face. "I am alright, it is not so awful."

A shout interrupted them as Benjicot appeared a few yards away, his face filled with rage. "Bracken!"

Aeron stood up to face him. Benjicot had briefly surveyed the situation and come to the conclusion that the brazen Bracken knight had laid hands upon his clearly injured cousin. "Did you strike my cousin? I'll kill you if you've harmed her."

Daenera rose from her position on the rough ground, dusting her skirts down, and placed a hand on Benjicot's chest. "He did not harm me cousin, but rather protected me from the one who did. You can take my injuries up with Ser Rickard once he picks himself up from the ground." She gestured briefly in the direction of the knight who was coughing and trying to recover his composure after Aeron's assault. Benjicot's breathing began to calm as he realised the truth of the situation, but he glared at Aeron nonetheless. "Benjicot please stop glaring at Aeron. You should know that I love him and intend to marry him." Benjicot took a sharp intake of breath, anger taking over his expression before he seemed to calm himself with a concerted effort, saying simply "I'll take you home cousin." Daenara nodded and took Benjicot's proferred arm, shooting Aeron an apologetic glance. But Aeron had already grabbed onto Benjicot's other arm to stop his movements. "I do not wish for the lady to be in any trouble because of her association with me."

Benjicot shrugged Aeron's hand off. "I care deeply for my cousin and I would not take issue with her even if she does have poor taste in men." With that Aeron watched Daenara and Benjicot walk the way of Raventree Hall before making his way back to Stone Hedge to speak with his Uncle.

Aeron was equal parts surprised and relieved that it took very little convincing on his part for his uncle to sanction his marriage to the Lady Daenera.

Aeron had anticipated an argument, reminding his uncle of the previous terms he'd set for Aeron securing a betrothal. "You told me I could make my own choice. I choose Daenera. I love her Uncle, and I have the good fortune that she loves me in turn." Lord Amos had only let out a short laugh at his nephew's insistence, never expecting him to make such an unexpected match but nevertheless offered him his support in securing Lady Alysanne's consent for the marriage at Raventree Hall the next day.

More curious still was Lady Alysanne's acceptance of the match on the basis that Benjicot Blackwood of all people had spoken up in his favour. Aeron decided to dispense with his confusion in favour of embracing his lady and capturing her lips with his, in the knowledge that they would soon be wed, despite all the odds set against them.

Lady Alysanne sent a raven to Dragonstone shortly after Aeron and Lord Bracken left Raventree, deciding that it was time for Daenara to have the chance to know her father. It took less than the turn of one moon for Daemon to arrive on dragonback, landing Caraxes not far from her halls, eager to meet with the daughter whose existence he'd had no idea of. Daenera had hardly known what to say or do and had curtsied tentatively towards him, addressing him in a timid voice "My Prince." Daemon wasted no time in embracing her, speaking into her hair "My daughter."

Daenera had never felt more sure of who she was, having spent so much of her life in the dark about her true heritage and always feeling a sense of loss she could never fully comprehend. The knowledge that Targaryen blood ran through her veins had enabled her to finally accept the fire that had always burned within her. She had been concerned as to how she would be received by Queen Rhaenyra as Daemon's bastard but the Queen had been unexpectedly welcoming and kind towards her, requesting that she come to Dragonstone along with her husband. Aeron's ready acceptance of her Targaryen parentage had only made her love him all the more. Daenera tried to channel her feelings of contentment into the Valyrian instructions her father had taught her, as she cautiously approached the dragon in front of her. "Lykiri Silverwing. Lykiri, dohaeris Silverwing" she repeated, one hand outstretched to the silver dragon's snout.

Silverwing huffed out fumes of smoke that warmed Daenera's hand, but the dragon did not stir as Daenera made her way along its length to the ladder which would allow Daenera to mount her. Looking back briefly at Aeron, who was gazing at her with a mixture of concern and awe, she turned back to the dragon with steely determination and began to climb up to the saddle, trying to focus on appearing fearless before the dragon she wished to claim. As she reached the top of the dragon's back and settled herself into the saddle she felt the bond between them fall into place, a bond so pure and so absolute she was sure it could never be broken. Taking hold of the reigns she spoke softly, knowing that Silverwing would obey her order now. "Soves."

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕰𝖓𝖉

Writer's note: if you made it this far you are an actual soldier, thank you so much for continuing till the end :) I've tagged everyone who liked my initial post introing this story, I hope that's OK.

@ithilwen-blackwood @twistytimesandthoughts @im-gonna-love-you-forever @momoko-world @houseofthedragonluver-blog @grandoli14 @bryandechartisasmolbean @theswreties

@thornew @jessie123878 @jinx53 @vanityphantomofhearts @shadowwolf202101blog @hanahb333 @cat0803 @dosx @potato1d-blog1 @shemisseshome @queenhelaenatargaryen1

@courtney0-0 @rvllybllply2014 @atrocic @jacobsmemesibling

#aeron bracken #aeron bracken x oc #aeron bracken x blackwood!oc #house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #benjicot blackwood #aeron bracken imagine #aeron bracken oneshot #hotd fanfic #bloody ben #bracken twink #aeron bracken x reader #hotd x reader #hotd imagine #hotd fanfiction #hotd season 2 #hotd #hotd s2

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jacaeryssworld · 9 months ago

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masterlist ೃ⁀➷

this is the masterlist for this blog! it will contain x oc works & x reader works! i will make sure to label which is which to make it easier <3

request guidelines!

JACAERYS VELARYON

( x oc works! )

Of Flame and Flesh ➡︎ Published, In Progress ♡ | ☹︎ | ♢ | ♠︎

jacaerys velaryon x elaenya targaryen

trope(s): childhood friends to strangers to lovers, arranged marriage, he fell first & she fell harder, misunderstanding

warning(s): typical targaryen incest (nephew x aunt dynamic), main character(s) death, angst, family drama, blood & violence mentions, mentions of teen pregnancy

Heavy is the Head ➡︎ Draft ♡ | ☹︎ | ♢ | ♠︎ | ✧

jacaerys velaryon x viserra targaryen

trope(s): childhood friends to lovers, arranged marriage, extroverted boy x introverted girl, he fell first & harder, jace won’t have a good day unless viserra smiles at him, angst, tooth rooting fluff

warning(s): typical targaryen incest (nephew x aunt dynamic), main character(s) death, violence & blood mentions, mentions of teen pregnancy

( x reader works! )

As If!

jacaerys strong x fem!reader, modern au!

under construction…

CREGAN STARK

( x oc works! )

Skyfall ➡︎ Published, In Progress ♡ | ☹︎ | ♢ | ♠︎ | ✧

cregan stark x alysanne ii targaryen

trope(s): arranged marriage, they both fell first, love at first sight, “enemies” to lovers, happily ever after (of sorts), golden retriever in disguise x openly orange tabby, one step forward & two steps back

warning(s): otto hightower being a scumbag & a little bitch, bennard stark, angst, alicent is a bit obsessed with aly, violence & blood mentions, mentions of pregnancy

( x reader works! )

Sea Salt and Snow ➡︎ ♡

cregan stark x fem!manderly!reader

trope(s): childhood friends-to-lovers, arranged marriage

warning(s): short but sweet!

AEMOND TARGARYEN

( x oc works! )

Spool of Flame, Spool of Sea ➡︎ Published, In Progress ♡ | ☹︎ | ♢ | ♠︎

aemond targaryen x saera velaryon

trope(s): childhood friends to enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, caged bird

warning(s): typical targaryen incest (uncle x niece dynamic), aemond is very ooc in this, very angsty, blood & violence mentions

( x reader works! )

Rosey Eyed

aemond targaryen x fem!tyrell!reader

under construction…

BENJICOT BLACKWOOD / DAVOS BLACKWOOD

( x oc works! )

None yet!

( x reader works! )

Friends Don’t Look At Each Other Like That

benjicot blackwood x fem!reader, modern au!

under construction…

Fic Recommendations! <3

— None yet!

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aegor-bamfsteel · 9 months ago

Note

from what I remember. quick summary

In the battle of the mill we see 2 boys (OC of the series) with each one their group of people, Aeron Bracken shows off his sword with his friends, then Davos Blackwood comes to complain about the issue of the limits and accuses him of moving the stones of this one. They try to intimidate Davos telling him that he is the false king that his house supports, Aeron says that his side is a baby killer (because of Jaehaerys and his public funeral accusing Rhaenyra that Otto did) so they are going to face each other and both die (fight off camera)

So far so good. but the council comments that the Bracken attacked the Blackwoods (?

Then Daemon goes to Harrenhal and among the people who meet is Willian (the Blackwood child from the first season) who says he is loyal to Rhaenyra and asks for the land that the Bracken took from him

when Daemon goes to threaten the Bracken with his dragon and William (on a random hill) tells him to change sides or they will face the dragon and Amos Bracken says: we choose fire, turning around on horseback with the others while Caraxes prepares to attack (in a great shot I must say) and then Daemon defeated saying admiring that they did not let themselves be intimidated by a dragon and when William tells him to finish them off for that, Daemon says that men like that (like the Bracken) he needs in his army, and tells William that there are other ways to convince him, an implicit suggestion

Then in Harrenhal Daemon receives the news that Bracken have surrendered but because the Blackwoods attacked their lands, looting their food, septs, abusing women and killing children, which makes the houses of the rivers go to claim him horrified by what William is doing under a flag of Rhaenyra and that they are not going to do led by a tyrant

Then in the last chapter Oscar who is already lord of the trident after the death of his grandfather (they removed Kermit and killed Elmo) tells him that they will honor their oath no matter how unpleasant their leader is (Daemon) but that a damage and an affront to the land of the rivers must be repaired, William says that the Bracken have already surrendered and that is their purpose, but Oscar manipulating makes Daemon behead William for his crimes or he does not give him the army of the rivers

…That’s it?

From the way fandom talked about it, you’d think they had the Brackens, provoked by the Blackwoods (including their lord and his sister Alysanne, since they were in the raiding party Amos chased before getting surprised at the Burning Mill) defeat the Blackwoods in honorable combat (which incidentally happened in the book twice between Amos Bracken and Samwell Blackwood, both of whom are pretty unrecognizable here) and only surrendered because Daemon forced their hand by threatening the lives of their kids. I heard that the writers were supposed to be biased against the Brackens, instead of the Blackwoods committing war-crimes (also in the book) just…being acknowledged as terrible in-universe and apparently facing consequences for it?

From what you’ve written, the Brackens only “”look”” better because of what they didn’t include:

No Brackens being victim to the most obvious chevauchée ploy ever. It’s completely ridiculous in F&B that Amos Bracken would’ve taken too many men to chase away a raiding party so his own castle (and he couldn’t rely on the other Greens for support) got invaded and taken over by the time he (or rather his brother Raylon Rivers) got back. I’m not great at military tactics, but even I know GRRM made the Brackens get plot induced stupidity to make the Blackwoods look better

No Aly Sue Blackwood allegedly killing Amos Bracken with a magic arrow to the eye slit in his helmet after Amos killed her war criminal brother in single combat. Amos gets to live (and he’s not a bad dude, but the pettiness isn’t book canon at all) so at least no glorification of Blackwoods there.

No Daemon storming Stone Hedge and taking the Brackens hostage means we don’t hear about how his “third wife and baseborn paramour” were also captured, which is a cheap ripoff of Jonos Bracken in ADWD and an unnecessary detail to show how “eevil misogynists” the Bracken men are. No Raylon Rivers also contributes, as his existence implies Humfrey Bracken was siring illegitimate children decades back

No Daemon taking Brackens hostage also means the Brackens surrendered so as to not see their smallfolk come to further harm from the Blackwoods, rather than Raylon Rivers kneeling to not see the rest of his family (RIP Amos) get slaughtered. At least someone cares about civilian casualties Hess insists “don’t count”. But it also makes Daemon look better by not having him openly threaten innocent women and children

The only thing I liked that they added (other than the Blackwoods committing war crimes on Bracken lands actually acknowledged and had consequences) was the Brackens actually have a reason to support Aegon II other than “well the Blackwoods went for Rhaenyra and we don’t like them”: they think Rhaenyra had something to do with Jaehaerys’ murder (which…she did, considering Daemon had men paid to kill a “son for a son”) and are disgusted

But then the Blackwoods end up looking better because:

Apparently in the show the Brackens started the fight? Because the Blackwoods accuse them of moving rocks? When in the book it’s the Blackwoods who draw first blood when: “In the riverlands, raiders out of Raventree, flying Rhaenyra's banners, crossed into the lands of House Bracken, burning crops, driving off sheep and cattle, sacking villages, and despoiling every sept they came on (the Blackwoods were one of the last houses south of the Neck who still followed the old gods).” which, as I’ve said many times before, are war crimes even in universe. The Brackens only fought back after the fact, as was their right. This is another example of the show inventing petty actions for the Greens so the Blacks look more justified

Daemon seems (it’s implied) like he gives Willem the idea to abuse Bracken smallfolk in order to get the Brackens to surrender, rather than the Blackwoods coming up with the idea themselves because they hate the Brackens and those who live on their lands. This again undermines how awful the Blackwoods were, because the chevauchee wasn’t to force a surrender, it was to punish the Brackens so they could draw them out to kill them and give Daemon enough time to take Stone Hedge by force. Once again, Daemon’s cruelty (just like with Blood and Cheese, and his reaction to Baelon’s death) is left unsaid and his participation in the coordinated attack on Stone Hedge seems to be negligible

The Bracken men are weak fighters in the show. Amos Bracken beat Samwell Blackwood twice in the book, once over a duel for Rhaenyra and the other during the Burning Mill battle. In Season 1, Willam fights Jerrell (ofc Jerrell provokes him 🙄 ) and stabs him to death nonsensically (sure a dude with a knife is going to win against a dude with a sword. Wth); in Season 2, Davos fights Aeron (again apparently the Brackens are the aggressors) and they kill each other. Blackwoods win or draw in duels in the show, Brackens sweep in the book. This is contradictory for the show because wouldn’t the better fighters be the ones to attack? But you can’t have that, because the Blackwoods need to be the wronged party and only escalate because the Brackens are stubborn

Basically, the changes the show made to the Bracken/Blackwood conflict aren’t “Bracken bias”, but more of a mixed bag that makes both families look better or worse, because the show doesn’t really care about them; they care about Daemon Targaryen (who in the book only shows up at the end of the conflict) and how he acts and reacts to his Blackwood Allies and Bracken opponents. Amos’ refusal to surrender to Daemon (never happened in the book; his half brother Raylon agreed to surrender after Daemon threatened to hurt his family) wasn’t about the Brackens being brave but how Daemon would respond to an outnumbered enemy who would rather be burned alive with his men (I hope he asked them if they agreed beforehand) than surrender to him. Him admiring their bravery and saying they were worthy soldiers is more about softening his character, since in the books neither he nor the other Targs care about the Brackens (although the Brackens later fight the Green army led by Borros Baratheon, so maybe this is show foreshadowing for why). As this is Daemon, his reaction is to do something underhanded by insinuating Willem commit atrocities against Bracken smallfolk (although clearly he was eager to do it and wasn’t sorry at all) to force their hand…but then consequences come for him…or at least Willem, who he’s forced to execute because the Riverlords are disgusted by the atrocities done under Rhaenyra’s banner. But as stated, this conflict is made about Daemon, so Willem’s death is pretty inconsequential, and it’s just another crime to taunt him about in Harrenhal I guess, as well as to make the Blacks look better (war crimes are not sanctioned and we execute the perpetrators I promise!). I did find Daemon apparently coming to admire the enemy Brackens while having to punish the Blackwood Allies an amusing inversion of Jaime’s interactions with them in ADWD, though.

tl;dr I still don’t have nearly enough time to watch this show due to a personal emergency. It sounds like the show acknowledged that the Blackwoods committed atrocities against people on Bracken lands, and had one Blackwood be executed for it; however, I believe that’s more to make the Blacks look better than to denigrate the Blackwoods, who initially are made out to be the “wronged party” and superior fighters against the Brackens anyway. What happened doesn’t seem to be “Bracken bias”, but to highlight contradictions in Daemon’s character at admiring an enemy’s courage but also being willing to sign off on unjust violence to bring them down (I guess there’s that “blend of light and dark” the Rogue Prince keeps blathering about, even though no such lightness was seen in the book).

You’ve made it to the end; Horse House appreciates your patience.

#ask #opinion #anti hotd #anti daemon targaryen #anti blackwood #house bracken #gif

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ai-em-maes · 28 days ago

Text

🔥🖤 Whispers of a Burning Flame 🖤🔥

~ Chapter 10 ~ Chapter Index

Characters - Self Insert OC x Aemond Targaryen

Summary - After escaping capture by a rival family, Vaemyra Blackwood takes residence at the Red Keep, where she embraces her newfound identity as a dragonrider of Valyrian blood. Her presence catches the eye of Prince Aemond, and the two slowly grow closer amidst the shadows of their shared peculiarities.

Word Count - 4.1k

Content - 18+, Major slow burn, fluff, a smidge of angst, smut in later chapters

A/N - I'M BACK. Sorry this chapter took so long to crank out--I think it may be the longest one yet : ) Also, please note that for the event of Aemond claiming Vhagar, I went with the book canon rather than the show canon, so any “but that’s not how it happened in the show” commentary will be ignored

Likes, comments, & reblogs are appreciated!

The second day of the tourney began with the Bowmen’s Trial. With the archers’ procession serving as an excellent distraction, Vaemyra slipped away from her place by the queen and glided to the second row of the royal box. She stopped before Prince Daeron. Aemond, seated at his brother’s right, watched her curiously.

“My dearest Prince Daeron,” Vaemyra whispered, lashes fluttering. “Might you like to trade spots with me? You’re far more honored a guest than I.”

The young prince tilted his head, his brow in a knit. “I, uh…is that…permitted?”

“Oh, but of course! Wouldn’t you like to have the best view of the tournament, beside Her Grace?”

Daeron peeked past her at the empty seat between Rhaenyra and Jace and scrunched his nose. He and the Velaryon boys had never quite gotten on.

“Please, My Prince?” Vaemyra’s eyes were wide as a doe’s, her dark lips just shy of a pout.

Daeron puffed his chest as he rose. “Very well. It would be most ignoble of me, as a prince of House Targaryen, to refuse a lady’s request.” He settled beside the queen and her son, who, upon finally looking to the seat between them, were stunned to find that Vaemyra had somehow transformed into Viserys’ youngest child. Rhaenyra glanced back at the second row and smiled as she realized how much Lady Blackwood reminded her of her younger self.

Vaemyra plopped down next to Aemond. “Good morrow,” she chimed.

The prince’s eye glinted with a mixture of amusement and fascination. “Good morrow to you as well.” He wouldn’t need to spend another day chasing after her.

“My cousins will be shooting today. I hope they aren’t too wine-sick from last night. Though, it would make for a livelier show.”

Aemond gave a soft chuckle. “What’s a tourney without a few tragic casualties?”

Vaemyra burst into laughter.

At the other end of the row, Rhaenys narrowed her eyes at Lady Blackwood and the prince before tugging on her lord husband’s sleeve. “Is Aemond…laughing?”

Corlys looked over. “It would seem so.”

“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen him smile, let alone laugh. Except maliciously, of course.”

The Sea Snake’s voice lowered to a whisper as he leaned into her ear. “About time someone pulled the rod out his arse.”

Robb, Aly, and twenty-three other archers lined the range, toeing the shooting line in groups of five. At the blast of a horn, the fleet of bowmen unleashed a volley of arrows at hay targets. Each archer received four shots in the qualifying round, scoring points for precision and accuracy. Those who scored poorly, or missed the target entirely, were eliminated by default. By the end of the first round, the competition had thinned from twenty-five to twelve, both Blackwoods included.

Round two saw the shooting line pushed back several meters, and the bowmen were given three shots each. Squires raised an additional target to accommodate two volleys of six shooters. Another five competitors fell short of advancing. The line was pushed back even further for round three, and a seventh target was added to the range to accommodate all the bowmen in a single volley. Each competitor received only two shots. Four archers failed to accrue enough points to continue, with one of them flinging his bow to the ground with a curse.

The fourth and final round saw Robb Rivers versus Black Aly versus Billy Burley, whom many regarded as the sharpest longbowman in the North.

Aemond inclined his head toward Vaemyra. “It should be you up there. Any particular reason you chose not to compete?”

“I don’t fancy myself as fine an archer as my cousins. Besides, I prefer to observe. I’m sure you’ll understand, as the realm’s reigning champion of brooding handsomely from the shadows,” she ribbed.

Aemond’s heart skipped. Handsomely?

They were shushed by Aegon the Elder, already thoroughly drunk on wine. “Quiet, youse two. This’s the good part,” he slurred.

An expectant quiet blanketed the grounds as the final three bowmen approached the shooting line, the targets now a daunting distance away. Each participant was granted but a single shot. The air lay still as a prayer in a sept as the archers drew their bowstrings and the herald raised the horn to his mouth. Then he blew, and all three bows thwupped simultaneously. In less than an instant, the trial was over.

It would have been impossible to determine the victor from afar, and so the Royal Bowmaster was summoned to evaluate the shots up close. After several long minutes of scrutinizing the arrows—the differences in their points of impact so slight as to be nearly invisible—At last, he seized both Robb and Aly by the wrists and raised their arms, declaring a tie.

The stands rumbled with applause as servants entered the range with the victors’ rewards. Two pages presented the Blackwoods with coinpurses, each heavy with five thousand gold dragons. Several squires carted a lavish selection of longbows, shortbows, and crossbows. Robb claimed an ornately carved Weirwood longbow strung with waxed silk, while Aly reached for a lacquered oak and ivory crossbow fitted with a Valyrian steel prod. The air thrummed with cheers long after the herald announced intermission.

In the pavilions, sword swallowers, harlequins, and trained beasts performed as tourney guests fraternized amongst themselves. Vaemyra waded through the crowd in search of her cousins and found them indulging at a food stall.

“Splendid work! A well-deserved victory for the both of you,” Vaemyra said, clapping her hands.

“Naturally,” answered Alysanne. “Someone had to put the men to shame.”

Robb took a sip of his mead with a lighthearted scoff. “Luck of the draw, dear cousin!”

The trio was approached by Prince Jacaerys and Lady Baela, and the Blackwoods hailed them both. Vaemyra’s short time on Dragonstone had allowed her to foster a modest bond with its prince and his betrothed. It gladdened her heart to reunite with them for the first time since departing for the Red Keep.

“Excellent show,” Baela praised. “I have an affinity for the bow, myself.”

Aly smiled. “Many thanks to you, My Lady. Should you ever find yourself in the Riverlands, I’d be honored to shoot with you.”

As Baela and Alysanne enthused over crossbows, Jace leaned into Vaemyra’s ear. “I couldn’t help but notice a change in seating arrangements at the royal box. Care to explain?” He pursed his pouty lips.

Vaemyra gave a frivolous shrug. “Aren’t you pleased to be nearer to your little uncle?”

Jace clasped a hand on her shoulder, pulling her further out of earshot of her cousins and his betrothed. “My Lady, you are very special. I knew this the day Baela and I received you on Dragonstone. We are proud to call you one of our own, and it would sicken me if a certain one-eyed prince were to take advantage of your good nature. I’m not one to meddle, but I urge you to be careful with that one.”

The gaiety had drained from her. “I understand your concern. I had heard…rumors of the prince long before I came here. I’ll admit, he can be a bit off-putting at times…but he has been very kind to me.”

Jace surveyed the area for prying ears. Robb and Aly were still sipping their drinks and gushing over archery with Baela. Jace’s voice lowered even more. “Do you know how he lost that eye?”

She furrowed her brow. “I cannot say that I do.”

“When we were young, Luke and Aemond and I…he assailed us. Called us bastards, and beat us bloody. Luke slit his eye while defending me.”

Vaemyra’s stomach caught in her throat. Children could be cruel, yes, but if Jace’s words held any truth, Aemond harbored a darkness far beyond what she could have imagined. To hear he’d mocked the Velaryon boys’ legitimacy cut her to the core. Could Aemond have secretly felt the same disgust for her? She felt the wounds of every time she’d been nothing more than a fleeting novelty for men she believed had cared for her—each discarded promise a hollow ache in her heart.

Jace pressed on. “And do you know what he’s got hidden under there? Beneath the eyepatch?”

The blare of the herald’s horn cut their discussion—and intermission—to an end.

Spectators trickled back into their seats, Vaemyra as retook her place beside Aemond in stiff silence. The prince chose to remain at the royal box during intermission, fixing a discerning gaze on a few of the knights as they practiced swordplay on the field. “These fools couldn’t tell pommel from hilt,” he sneered. “Look at them, floundering like tadpoles. Amusing, is it not?”

Vaemyra did not answer, nor did she look at him.

His demeanor softened. “…Is something troubling you?”

She snapped to attention with a forced smile. “Oh, no—not at all.”

“Were you pestered by another of those pompous knights?” Aemond asked, his mouth curling into a smirk. “I’ll frighten them away, if you wish it.”

Vaemyra gulped. “I’m quite alright. Truly. Let us enjoy the tourney.”

The prince wilted. He rested a gentle hand over hers, and she did not react.

Quarterfinals commenced with the sixteen knights remaining from the day prior. This joust, however, proved far more gruesome. Multiple unhorsings resulted in nauseating injuries to necks and skulls. Blood spurted from gaping wounds as squires sprinted through the lists, dragging their concussed and lacerated knights to the maesters. The interlude between joust and melee saw far fewer patrons at food stalls. Then the melee, fought by two teams of seven, stirred far more winces and screams than cheer. By day’s end, only ten knights stood to advance to final rounds. Swollen, battered, and bruised, the men stepped forward and removed their helmets for all to see.

When the first knight removed his helmet, the ladies of the stands sighed and swooned in delight. Vaemyra saw his auburn hair and recognized him as Lucien Tyrell, one of the three knights who had approached her in the pavilion the day before. Next to present himself was a younger man, lean of build, with sharp, inquisitive eyes. Joffrey Arryn grinned and ran a gloved hand through his curly brown hair. The knight that followed Joffrey was even younger, no older than eight-and-ten. But what Alan Beesbury lacked in age, he compensated for with agility and raw ambition.

The next knight strode forth with a presence that demanded attention. Hair as gold as the sun, the man could be none other than Erwin Lannister, the Lion of the Lists. He had also visited Vaemyra in the pavilion on the first day of the tourney. After him came Robin Massey, a modest and approachable youth with russet hair and a kind smile. Robin bowed and stepped back to reveal a knight who was dark of hair and eyes, with copper skin. Courageous and dependable, Denys Harte saluted the crowd with a respectful dip of his head.

Next in line was a hulking Northman with cropped hair and icy blue eyes. Brusque but charming, Torrhen Manderly’s impressive stature made him appear far more mature than his nineteen years. He was followed by a knight called Corwyn Corbray, the eldest of the remaining competitors. Corbray had earned a commanding reputation as a warrior, wielding the Valyrian steel sword of his house, Lady Forlorn. Second-to-last in line was the dignified Byron Swann. A battle scar marked his brow and extended down to his strong cheekbone, obscured only slightly by his exceptionally long hair.

When the last knight stepped forward, Aemond felt an irritable prickling at the back of his neck. Vaemyra recalled the quiet gentleman as her third visitor at the pavilion. Remarkably statuesque, he loomed above the entire procession, jet black hair fanning in the breeze. Handsome, mysterious, and intense, Robert Darklyn was a brooding storm made flesh.

All ten champions were met with thunderous applause as the second day of the tourney drew to a close. Festivities after the tournament were to be a touch more lavish than the night previous. Throughout the day, groundskeepers had labored to illuminate the castle gardens with lanterns, and by evenfall, the Red Keep shimmered in all the colors of the Seven. The night hummed with music and chatter as courtiers made merry through the idyllic castle grounds.

In the Queen’s Ballroom, a massive mahogany dining table had been set to feast the royal family and all ten champions. Rhaenyra presided at the head, with Vaemyra to her right, followed by Corlys and Rhaenys. To the queen’s left were Jace, Baela, Luke, and Rhaena. Facing each other in the center of the table sat the other Blackwoods. Aemond and his siblings occupied the farthest end, with Daemon at the head opposite the queen. The knights’ seats were scattered throughout the arrangement. Off to the side of the chamber was another, much smaller table fit for the children and their maids. Ten-year-old Benjicot was aggrieved to be seated among them.

The feast saw an incredible spread of venison, pheasants, roast pig, meat pies, fruits, breads, cheeses, pottages, and stews, and aromatic wines, meads, and ales poured from crystal flagons. Vaemyra chatted with the queen, her children, and their betrothed during dinner. The Sea Snake and Princess Rhaenys inquired about Corwyn Corbray’s heroic exploits. Sers Arryn and Massey exchanged banter about the tourney, while Robb and Aly attended to their usual bickering. Across from them, Lord Samwell and his lady wife endured Erwin Lannister’s theatrical monologues about knighthood.

Beside them, Vaemyra’s father commended the young Alan Beesbury for his fortitude in the melees. To Beesbury’s left, Ser Tyrell rested his head in his hand and prattled mindlessly to Aemond, whose patience was wearing thin. Aegon guzzled wine with Torrhen Manderly as they made crude jests about the women of court. Helaena sat in silence, nudging garnishes about her plate with a fork, until Denys Harte gently asked if she was well. Though fine, she appreciated the kindness all the same. At the end of the table, Ser Swann expounded on his extensive and intricate knowledge of horsemanship to Prince Daeron and the King Consort—one enthralled, the other visibly bored.

Robert Darklyn fixed his gaze on Vaemyra throughout the feast, smiling softly at her every word. Aemond took immediate notice, and a scowl twisted his lips as he glowered at the knight with mounting fury. Their conversation fell short of his ears, but when Vaemyra chuckled at something Darklyn had said, Aemond’s jaw clenched with burning rage. Not once since the tourney had she spared him a single glance.

It was only when a maid set down a platter of sweets that the prince devised a plan to reclaim Lady Blackwood’s attention. He pulled the servant closer and murmured a command. She left and returned with three small cakes—one lemon, one apple, and one blackberry—and nodded toward the prince as she laid them before Vaemyra. When Lady Blackwood glanced over, she found him grinning at her with pride. She offered a weak smile before quickly turning away, and Aemond looked as if he’d suddenly been doused with freezing water.

The ballroom slowly emptied as the night wore on, but Vaemyra lingered at the table, deep in conversation with Ser Darklyn. Aemond never tore his eye from her for even a moment, until Ser Tyrell rose from his seat, blocking his view. By the time Aemond managed to peer around the bothersome knight, Vaemyra and Darklyn were both missing. The prince sprang to his feet in panic.

Aemond stalked through the candlelit corridors of the Keep, the coil in his chest tightening with each step. Were I to find them together… he dared not finish the thought. Then he heard the baritone echoes of Ser Darklyn’s voice from round a corner and swiftened his pace.

“That should be a wonderful idea. Tomorrow night—” The towering knight paused at the sight of the dragon prince staring daggers through him.

Ser Tristan lifted a brow. “Your Highness? Is all well?”

Having braced himself to find Vaemyra at Darklyn’s side, and the sight of a different Blackwood brought Aemond a rush of cool relief. The prince straightened. “…Indeed. As you were.” He vanished in the blink of an eye.

Aemond grew more frantic with each passing moment as his search continued. Vaemyra was not in the library, nor the study chambers, nor the tapestry rooms. He crossed paths with her handmaids and asked if the lady had retired for the night. They shook their heads, and the prince pressed on with ragged breath. Rounding a corner far too quickly, he collided with Prince Lucerys, nearly sending the boy tumbling to the ground. Rhaena caught her betrothed by the shoulders, steadying him. She suppressed the urge to chastise Aemond for his recklessness, wary of invoking his wroth.

To speak lightly, Aemond was not fond of Luke. He had long since accepted the loss of his eye, but resentment still burned, stoked by the knowledge that his nephew suffered no true repercussions for taking it. But for perhaps the first time in ten years, those thoughts were far from his mind.

“Have you seen Vaemyra?” Aemond urged, fighting to mask the desperation in his voice.

“Might you apologize first?” Luke bit back. “That hurt.”

“Have you seen her, or not?”

Then Rhaena chimed in, eager to send the elder prince on his way. “I believe she made mention of the gardens.”

Aemond muttered a word of thanks and hurried off.

Luke blinked. “...Did he just…thank us?”

In the castle gardens, fireflies danced through the night air like living stars. Courtiers strolled about, their faces aglow beneath the light of hundreds of lanterns, while bards strummed on lute and harp. Aemond scoured every column, corner, and archway in search of Vaemyra, each second she remained hidden driving him closer to madness.

And then, at last, there she was. Alone, beside an immaculate marble fountain, her figure veiled by the soft spray of mist. She turned as he drew near, and before he could take another step, she stole into the nearby hedge maze. The prince followed her without hesitation.

He turned this way and that, endeavoring to navigate the twisting walls of green in the darkness. The maze was dotted with revellers, and Aemond was slowed each time he had to push past them making merry in each other’s arms. Every so often, a lady would titter and sigh as her lover rustled beneath her skirts, the noises further disorienting the prince. Finally, a crown of silver hair, like a shimmer of moonlight, caught his eye.

“Why do you torment me so?” Aemond implored. “First you grow cold on me, for seemingly no reason at all, and now you have me literally chasing you in the night. Have I done something to offend you?”

Vaemyra’s eyes were fastened to the ground.

“Why won’t you look at me?” His words were raw and strained.

Moments passed before she finally answered. “Did you hurt Jace and Luke?”

A chill pierced Aemond’s stomach. “What?”

Vaemyra looked up, and her gaze hardened on him. “When you were children. Jace told me you attacked him and his brother, beat them bloody, and left them no choice but to defend themselves. He claims that’s how you lost your eye. Is it true?”

The prince swallowed. “It is.”

“Why? How could you do such a thing?” Her voice was tight with both fury and sorrow as she began to tremble.

“You must understand, they were cruel to me. They were—”

“Bastards? Like me? And don’t you dare speak to me about cruelty, My Prince. I’ve suffered it my whole life.” The corners of her eyes pricked with cold tears.

All the breath was ripped from Aemond’s lungs. He bit his lip so hard it nearly bled. “...I…was but a child,” he began again, voice softer now. “I was angry, and alone. Without even a dragon to call my own. They tormented me for years, Vaemyra. And no one would look at me. Not my mother, not my father, no one. And then one day, I came to Vhagar, and she saw me, truly saw me, like…like no one else in the world ever had. They say I stole her, that she wasn’t meant for me, but how can that be possible when she claimed me as much as I did her?”

Vaemyra’s silence pressed on him, suffocating.

The prince pressed his mouth into a thin line. “Yes, we fought, Jace and Luke and I. I struck them first. It’s true.”

Knitting her brow, Vaemyra exhaled a long, shivering breath. “I am sorry for you. I truly am. And it would seem that all of you have paid a price for your actions. You, most of all.”

The words cut Aemond like ice, and he stood there, stiff and shuddering. Then, he uttered something neither he nor anyone else could have foreseen in all the years of his anguish and loathing.

“It was wicked of me,” he confessed, voice cracking with a sincerity as deep as any words he had ever spoken. “It was wicked, and ugly, and there is no excusing any of it. I lost my temper that day, and I am sorry for it. And I do not wish to be that child anymore.”

“Is that so? And how am I to know that I’m any more than just some bastard girl to you? Or that you’re any different from any other man who’s treated me like some exotic pet? That I won’t be cast aside once you’ve grown bored of me?” Her throat clenched and ached.

The prince moved to close the distance between them. “I wish to become a better man, I do. For myself, and for you, Vaemyra.” He took her by the hand. “And you are the brightest star in the cold, dark sky that my life has been. I swear this to you, with every fiber of my very being.”

Vaemyra’s breath hitched, and a warmth bloomed in her chest that melted the ice in her eyes. Unable to bring herself to speak, she only searched his gaze with hers, and for a while the air was silent but for the soft hum of fireflies.

Aemond squeezed her hand tighter, as if he might lose her if he let go. “Vaemyra? Please, tell me something.” He lifted his other hand to her cheek. “Tell me you’ll have me, or tell me you won’t, but tell me something. Vaemyr—”

And then, as if everything within her finally gave way, she thrust him against the maze wall, her lips crashing into his with a fierce, desperate need. Aemond stiffened at first, his pulse quickening in surprise. But then his hands found her waist, and he pulled Vaemyra closer as he kissed her with a hunger that mirrored her own. She caught his lower lip between her teeth, and Aemond moaned roughly into her mouth as his trousers swelled. Then came the sound of grassy footfalls from a nearby corner. With one hand, Vaemyra seized Aemond by the wrist and jerked him in the opposite direction, holding the hem of her gown in the other. They were both thoroughly short of breath by the time they had found their way out, and when Lady Blackwood was certain no one had seen them, she looked to the prince with a wolfish grin.

“This day has been…eventful, to say the least,” Vaemyra panted. “I think I’m ready to retire for the evening.”

Aemond simpered at her through labored breaths. “You truly are something, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told.” She reached up and plucked several leaves from the prince’s silken hair.

“Oh, ah, thank you.” He gulped another breath back into his lungs. “Would you like me to escort you to your chambers?” As a prince, he was respectful of her wish to withdraw for the night, but as a man, he would have been lying if he said he hadn’t hoped for more.

Before she could agree, her handmaids called out, hurrying towards her. They acknowledged the prince with brisk curtsies.

“Milady, we’ve been searching everywhere for you,” said Lenore, exasperated.

“I’ve drawn your bath. Come, let us return before the water cools,” Elspeth beckoned.

Vaemyra glanced back at the prince before her maids could whisk her away. “We’ll see each other again on the morrow. Good night, Aemond.”

The lanterns had begun to flicker out, and the laughter of drunken courtiers grew softer still. Aemond lingered for a moment to bask in the starlight before making way to his own chambers. That night, the prince’s hands wandered with feverish need, and once he found release, he plunged into a sweet, peaceful sleep.

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moseslikellamas · 8 months ago

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♱𖣂 Redfork Menace ♱𖣂 pt.23

Benjicot Blackwood x Bracken!OC

Summary - The weddings begin with Shanda and Benjicot.

Warnings - fem!reader, suspense, adult language, period typical misogyny, condescension, adult language, feelings of shame, feelings of guilt, manipulation, benjicot brainrot, Kieran Burton fancast.

Word count - 2.5k

The wedding has arrived! I took liberties with the ceremony bc I wanted to add a bit of a dramatic flair for plot purposes. This is the calm before the shenanigans begin!

Shanda was shaken awake by a hand maid before dawn much to her chagrin. Bleary and blurry eyed she rose from bed and dressed, questioning the woman the whole time.

“Why am I up this early?”

Shanda was momentarily blinded as the woman threw the shift over her head. Muffled through the fabric she heard the woman say, “Your wedding my lady.”

She huffed once her head was freed of the fabric.

“No, they are all supposed to take place after dawn.”

The hand maid had only shrugged and told her she was doing as the Lord bid her. That response made her worry. Had Lord Elmo figured them out sometime in the night? Shanda had been extra careful sneaking into his study, even going so far as to find a similar book of shape and size to replace the one she took. Alysanne’s map had been flawless and she had no issues finding the room. She resigned herself to waiting in order to see the full scope of how much was known.

“Go on out.” The maid shooed her. “Someone is waiting for you out in the hall to escort you to the godswood.”

Now she was a bit nervous. She hadn’t had any time to herself last night to really put herself in the right frame of mind for marriage. And now she wouldn’t have the time now either. Slowly she walked over to the door, resting her hand against the rough wood she breathed deeply before pushing it open. Outside stood Benjicot, looking so beautiful it stole the air from her lungs. He was smiling so sincerely though she wondered why he was here. Shouldn’t her father be the one to escort her down?

“You look like a thousand twinkling stars.” He grabbed her hand and delicately kissed her knuckles.

Shanda hadn’t paid attention to the dress the lady had thrown on her but it was silver and hand beaded with a thousand iridescent shells. The same technique she’d seen displayed at the ball. This was a Tully gown no doubt. She smiled back at him, feeling a rush of joy that if she had to be tied to a man forever she was glad to have one so thoughtful.

He took her arm in hand and they began to walk. She let them walk in silence for a while, wondering if Benji would spill the beans on why the ceremony had been moved up. She did not have to wait long for him to bring it up.

“I found out about your little prank with Alys.”

Shanda’s blood froze in her body and she fought not to expose herself on the spot. She kept her expression casual.

“Oh yeah? Is that the reason for this lovely time change?”

She nearly rolled her eyes at him. Hadn’t he said he wouldn’t ruin her plans?

He slowed their pace before looking around and pulling her into an unoccupied room. The door creaked loudly and she sneezed from the sheer amount of dust in the room. It was an ordinary bed chamber with a table and bed. No fire was lit inside so the air was damp.

“I told you I wouldn’t mess your plans up but, I couldn’t have you upset our wedding. So I talked to Elmo last night and arranged for us to do ours at dawn. A full three hours before anyone else begins.”

He looked so proud to have figured her out, circumvented himself from any embarrassment and managed to stave off her ire at being foiled. It was an impressive display of beating her at her own game. She didn’t even really know what to say in response.

“I suppose that’s fine.”

Benji was grinning at her like the cat who’d gotten the cream. And he had in a sense, everything he wanted was finally coming to fruition.

“You and I are a dream team baby. I’m just waiting for you to figure that out.”

Now she did roll her eyes but the effect was lost by the smile creeping into her face.

“What about our father’s? They were okay with this?”

Benji was opening the door and pulling her out as she asked the question.

“They’re probably waiting for us at the godswood. Lord Elmo is going to officiate.”

She snorted at the mental image she conjured of the wild red headed lord in a septa’s robe in front of the gnarled roots of the weirwood.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to see me before the ceremony.” She laughed as they stepped outside into the cool morning air. The dew was fresh on the grass and the moon was still visible above them, just a tiny sliver.

“True enough.” He said as they walked through the canopy of trees, stars twinkling through the leaves every few steps. “But what guard would dare to stop me? None as we can see. I’m sure Lord Elmo told his guards to escort you.” Now he looked at her mischievously. His face a mirror of his fathers the way mischief radiated off of him. “But none came, did they?”

She imagined a few threats and the reputation of being bloody ben had done enough to keep the guards from arriving outside her door this morning. She wanted to see the look on Lord Elmo’s face when the two of them strolled up together. But her joy was short-lived as it was her father who met the two of them at the entrance to the grove containing the heart tree. Her father glared at Benji but allowed him to walk past, leaving the two of them alone. She stood there awkwardly shifting her weight.

“I do not think you are half as useless as I pretend to think you are. Twice as useful as well, more level headed I think.”

Shanda stared half in shock, half in disbelief at her fathers words. He was not a man of many emotions and rarely complimented any of his children. She cleared her throat and replied.

“It’s a shame we do not value women as well as we should. But it was an honor to learn how to circumvent the constraints of my station.”

She smiled softly at her father who had taught her to step lightly and how to listen truly, to hear the hidden meanings in people’s words. Her father who secretly let her run the accounts and correspondence at Stone Hedge for years. He leaned in to whisper to her.

“Blackwood’s always find a backdoor, remember that and make sure to keep a close eye on your own.”

“I’m well aware.” She said thinking of the backdoor Benjicot had used to get them here. She would have to spend more time anticipating his movements.

“Then let’s be on with it. Elmo has nearly busted a lung preaching to us about being our best behavior. As if that man didn’t once behead a goat for dramatic flair at his sister Milly’s own wedding.”

Shanda stared, bewildered at her fathers confession. But they were walking now towards Benjicot, his father and Lord Elmo gathered around the heart tree. A million butterflies were inside her from head to toes as she walked arm in arm with her father. The sky was just beginning to lighten as they reached the tree and the party waiting for them. Lord Elmo grinned at her, though his expression switched to one of disgruntlement when he looked at Benji. She had to force herself not to laugh at the sour look the Lord gave him.

“Who comes before the gods?”

Shanda could tell her father was already over it as he replied hastily with his name and glared at Elmo when he dragged the next part out.

“And why have you come to the godswood?”

Her father was stiff beside her, she squeezed his arm to reassure him. And to prompt him to answer, it would go faster that way.

“To give my only daughter, Shanda, in a holy union.”

She could feel her fathers stress at the words and he wasn’t even a particularly religious man. The entire thing was a bit odd but the beauty of the woods and the smell of fresh air kept her spirits high. Better than a stuffy incensed sept in her opinion.

“Who comes to claim her?”

Benjicot couldn’t keep the grin off his face as he stepped forward and answered, warily taking her hand from her father.

“I do, ser Benjicot Blackwood.”

It was then that Lord Elmo tied their hands together using a pair of braided vines. Their fingers were interlocked and Benji was squeezing her hand despite the vine tying them together. She was curious to see what happened next having never witnessed an old god’s marriage before. Together they walked forward stopping just in front of the heart tree face which was weeping a thick sticky red sap.

Benji whispered to her. “Trust me.”

And for the moment, she did. With his free hand he pulled a small knife out of his pocket and grabbed her other hand, nicking it quickly before handing it to her. She looked up into his eyes thinking a bit ruefully how far they’d come that he would willingly hand her a knife. She didn’t even want to stab him with it. She cut his finger the same way he’d done hers, blood dripped onto the roots below them as they stood there. Benji stared down at her with a wistful expression on his face, then he plunged their tied hands into the bleeding mouth of the weirwood tree.

Shanda was assaulted immediately with a searingly bright light in her vision as she felt the sap gush into the space between their interlocked hands. Benji’s grip on her was the only thing she could still feel. She saw the sky lit with more stars than seemed possible, a thousand comets flying across boundless night. The image morphed then to rain on puddles in the borderlands, a sight so familiar to her she would know it even in death. She walked through the tall grass, falling into puddles of varying depths until at last she fell through one so deep she kept falling. She felt the last rays of the sun fading from her as she sank deeper and deeper into the chilled water. A slight tug on her hand made the image change again. She gasped as she arrived back on dry land, heaving on the ground as she sputtered and choked. When she looked up she nearly collapsed, she was at the precipice of an immense drop. The wind raged and waves rose higher than the gods ever intended for them to go. The rain blew hard and sideways, burning her eyes and skin. Beside her a crow caw’d, its eyes the color of crimson.

“Storm! Storm! Storm!” It shouted at her. “Storm! Storm! There’s a Storm coming for you.”

Shanda tipped over the edge of the cliff falling into the raginig water below.

Shanda did not make a sound nor move a muscle when she opened her eyes to see the horrible heart tree staring back at her. It seemed to look into her soul with its gnarled eyes and she was not so sure she wanted to be seen. When she knew Benji had opened his eyes, she very carefully pulled their tied hands out of the sap filled mouth. The sap was so thick it took a good effort to pull it from the suctioned chamber it had formed around them. She pulled them free with a sickening pop.

She refused to meet his eyes as they turned from the tree. She was too nervous to see the echoes of his own visions still playing in his eyes. She was still trying to ground herself against what she’d seen. It didn’t make any good sense and that was likely to drive her mad if she thought too much of it now. Instead she willed the ceremony to hurry up. They walked back to Lord Elmo who was staring at them both with a questioning look in his eyes. But whatever he was thinking he had decided it could wait.

“Two are joined as one here in the witness of the gods and family alike. Let no person put asunder that which is made whole here now.”

Elmo cut the vines tying their hands together off and Benjicot took off the golden cloak attached to her dress and replaced it with his own crimson one. It sent a shiver down her spine. That ritual was familiar enough to her. Facing each other they held hands, both slick with red. One with the blood from cut fingers and the other red with weirwood sap, their hands slipped around in the liquid. It seemed to her they were the only two people present when he reached up to brush the hair out of her face, smearing red along her cheek. He gave up keeping her clean then and cupped her face before he leaned in to kiss her.

The kiss was passionate in a mildly inappropriate fashion for a wedding but lasted a relatively short amount of time. Which she did credit to Benjicot as she’d completely forgotten about the other people around them. He pulled back first and swiftly picked her up. She was shocked by the sudden movement and a bit embarrassed to be held so intimately in front of her father. She knew her face was burning a bright red as he began to walk them out of the godswood.

“I’ve been thinking about doing that for ages.” He admitted as soon as they were out of earshot of the others.

Arms around his neck she laughed, the sun was cresting the horizon and a chorus of birds began to sing. They were deafening in the trees around them but Shanda loved them. It was shaping up to be a beautiful sunny late summer day and who could ask for more? The only damper on her mood was her growing nervousness about the next part of any marriage ceremony, the bedding. She was relieved that Benji had gone behind her back to move the wedding up, no one would be around to taunt her. Worse than that was the nagging feeling in the back of her mind regarding the weirwood vision. She could not put it wholly out of her mind but she tried to anyway.

She rested her head against his shoulder, enjoying the feel of the wind blowing around them. She is a married woman now. Married to her house’s rivals no less. And yet watching her supposed enemy walk along the trees, the sun shining in his hair, she did not hate him. He was annoying, stubborn, impossibly stupid at times. But he was also observant, clever, kind, and inclined towards chaos. Which was something Shanda could appreciate. Life was too rigid to not bring a little chaos into it every now and then.

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nogoodsheepstealing-greatgrandma · 2 months ago

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Reviewing House Blackwood

Benedict Rivers/King Benedict Justman - a bastard of both Blackwood and Bracken who rises to become King of the Trident - pretty neat but loses points for going with the most boring name possible.

Shiera Blackwood - When it came to supporting Rhaenyra, I wonder if House Blackwood remembered how they would have been Kings and Queens of the Riverlands had the Riverlords just accepted a woman's rule?

Agnes Blackwood - Speaking of Queens of the Riverlands... vengeful Curse of Agnes Blackwood for the win

Royce Blackwood - Come on, Daella, girl, honey. He sings, he writes his own ballads, he's your age...

Samwell Blackwood - Shit at duelling, but unlike Amos Bracken he did not hold a grudge for his failed attempt to court Rhaenyra, so who's the real loser?

Alysanne Blackwood - Bisexual, archer, warrior, peacemaker, smells of woodsmoke... Cregan blushes and twirls his hair nervously. I will never forgive HOTD for erasing her in favour of... two random ocs for tumblr to ship, followed by a for some reason still-alive Samwell and Amos at the Riverlands Geneva Convention... we lost so much. Who else bets they're going to take her peacemaking role and give it to Alicent?

Red Robb Rivers - What is it with House Blackwood and iconic archers? Gave Criston Cole a very satisfying reward for being a loser.

'Bloody Ben' Blackwood - 11-years-old and an absolute mad lad... at least that's his reputation in battle. This shy little boy had to lead men into battle at 11 and wept to see the dead, he saw more bloodshed by 13 than most grown men see their entire lives... and come on I know AddamxDaeron is the more popular ship but I am an AddamxBenjicot truther. This little boy carried Addam's body from the battlefield and kept his bones at Raventree Hall for 8 years. 8 years.

Sarra Stark, Alys Stark, Raya Stark, Mariah Stark - we barely know you but I hope none of you died in childbirth

Melissa Blackwood - "ugh grrm is so biased against the brackens, waah I'm team barba" - how about Team Being Nice to Naerys? Clearly the more politically astute - at least she actually succeeds in maintaining influence at court. And guess whose kid actually gets to be King in all but name? Guess who gets to claim Mount Big Tits in the end? That is how you play your cards right.

Gwenys Rivers & Mya Rivers - I like to think these two are partially responsible for whatever the hell Brynden's deal is - I get witch vibes from both.

Brynden 'Bloodraven' Rivers - "How Many Eyes Does Lord Bloodraven Have? A Thousand Eyes, and One". Sorry Aegor girlies but do you have a riddle this cool? Yeah he set up a police state, lured Aenys to his death and is probably going to trap Bran in a tree... but if his alter ego Maynard Plumm is anything to go by dude could have had a solid stand-up career. I mean, "We'd all be bastard sons of old King Aegon if half these tales were true", "And who's to say we're not?" 😉 You fucking jester you're so proud of that one aren't you?

Quentyn Blackwood - Sorry, all we know about you is that Otho the Brute smashed your face in during a tourney. I guess they have to get a win sometimes.

Betha Blackwood - Spirited, stubborn, wilful... I am begging for either F&B part 2 or later Dunk and Egg stories to tell us more about her... but I salute her attempts to nudge House Targaryen away from incest.

Duncan Targaryen - joins Jacaerys Velaryon and Baelor Breakspear in the Beautiful Dark Haired Targ Kings Who Should Have Been club.

Jaehaerys & Shaera - yeah I just cannot justify their choices... the mistake was naming him Jaehaerys in the first place. I suppose their union did give us Dany eventually, but man the cost...

Daeron Targaryen - All of Aegon's sons married for love... 😢 We do need to come up with a moniker for him though. We've got Daeron the Daring, Daeron the Young Dragon, Daeron the Good, my personal icon Daeron the Drunken... Maybe Daeron the Devoted?

Rhaelle Targaryen - "Rhaelle, Egg’s little girl…she used to call me uncle maester" 😭 Real talk how devastated must Aemon have been to know it was his favourite niece's grandson who nearly destroyed his family? It was out of love for her that he allowed the possibility of Stannis being Azor Ahai, in his words even hoped it.

Alyssa Blackwood - very shit luck marrying Walder Frey and probably dying in childbirth. Anything to not marry a Bracken I guess.

Lame Lothar Frey - Much as I hate him for it I do have to credit him as a key mastermind in the Red Wedding, and it was his idea to play the Rains of Castamere. I'm intrigued to see him and Bloodraven share notes on deceit and presentation.

Tytos Blackwood - Dope ass cloak. "Grr GRRM is so biased against Jonos Bracken in favour of perfect loyal Blackwoods with their special magic old gods so basic waaah" - Jonos is a homophobic little bitch who tries to get baby Bethany taken hostage and he doesn't even have a cool cloak.

Tyta the Maid - Tyta the Lesbian more like.

Hoster 'Hos' Blackwood - "A weakling, this one. Water for blood. Never mind how tall he is, any one of my girls could snap him like a rotten twig" - said a jealous Jonos Bracken who doesn't even know how to read.

Bethany Blackwood - "Blackwood has six sons, but only the one daughter. He dotes on her. A snot-nosed little creature, couldn't be more than seven" - um Jonos did this 7-year-old call you names one time or something?

Big Walder Frey - You know what, I'm rooting for this little dude. I believe he'll inherit the Twins one day.

I could go on to list all of Aegon and Betha's descendants but to cherry pick a few:

Rhaegar Targaryen - Royce Blackwood vibes anyone?

Stannis Baratheon - Way too much to unpack briefly here if I'm honest, but as misogynists go he's my favourite

Daenerys Targaryen - Mother of Dragons, Breaker of Chains, Azor Ahai - Egg and Beth would be so proud.

Jon Snow - I'm manifesting post-resurrection albino Jon to match Bloodraven

Shireen Baratheon - I just want her and Hos to get together and talk books

Mya Stone - ok hear me out Shadrich is going to kidnap Sansa and Mya is going to go after them with her mules and she and Sansa are going to kiss and kill Littlefinger-

Gendry - Knight of the Hollow Hill, defender of orphans, captures the heart of a Stark... a true Blackwood legacy.

Ok now Brackens

Benedict Rivers/King Benedict Justman - Yeah ok house bracken gets to claim you too I guess

Lothar Bracken - So first this snake betrays Agnes Blackwood, and then Harwyn Hoare starves him in a crow cage anyway... you can't escape Lady Agnes Blackwood's curse.

Lyle Bracken - Participation award for an assist in knocking Maegor out for a couple of weeks, but that blow to the head probably made him worse.

Ser Olyvar Bracken - Hilariously part of Maegor's kingsguard, I would love to know more about his relationship with Lyle. Tried to lead a Faith Militant rebellion in the Night's Watch. In the North. Where people worship the Old Gods. Like most Brackens, he didn't think this through.

Amos Bracken - Beat Samwell Blackwood twice in a duel, but in the end was no match for my girl Black Aly.

Ser Raylon Rivers - In the end the supporter of Team Misogyny got lured away from Stone Hedge by a woman and a 10-year-old boy, leaving it for the taking. Classic Bracken failure.

Humfrey Bracken - I guess you supported Team Black in the end. Well done on the bare minimum.

Lord Bracken - Worst dad. Budget Otto Hightower (the bar is in hell). Openly talks about getting one daughter crowned while Queen Naerys was still alive, then grooms his other poor daughter to pimp her out to Aegon the Unworthy. Not even worth naming.

Barba Bracken - Got to love a girl with famous tits. Not as politically astute as Missy, but the commitment to a stint in the Maidenvault can't have been fun. Loses points for helping groom her poor baby sister, but perhaps that's just the history books talking. Did she blame her father, for feeding them to Aegon? Did she blame herself, for losing Aegon? Would her sister still be alive if she hadn't lost favour? Or is it easier to blame Melissa, that flat-chested bitch, it's her fault, it's her fault not mine- Do I ship Barbissy? (let's be real they would be way juicier than whatever they're trying to do with rhaenycent)

Bethany Bracken - My heart absolutely breaks for this poor girl. Also... her nephew founded the Golden Company... which was eventually commanded by Myles Toyne... exiled following the downfall of House Toyne due to Terrence Toyne's execution... how much do Bethany and Terrance haunt the Golden Company?

Aegor 'Bittersteel' Rivers - Ok I have to admit, 'Beneath the Gold, the Bitter Steel' is a baller war cry. And I wonder how much he dreamt of Naerys' death - if she had died, he'd have been Aegor Targaryen. Unfortunate though that his devotion to Daemon Blackfyre's family only goes so far, since he refuses to help Daemon II... classic Bracken homophobia.

Otho Bracken - The Brute of Bracken, responsible for reigniting the feud (though tbh that was always going to happen). Refuses to help Dunk, literally shrugs and says "sorry boy not my problem"... brutal. And frankly, rude.

Jonos Bracken - Homophobic loser. Can't read. Probably bullied by a 7-year-old girl.

Barbara Bracken, Jayne Bracken, Catelyn Bracken, Bess Bracken, Alysanne Bracken - I wish we knew more about you other than that one of you was raped. Though I'm sure you are all horse girlies, which is neat.

Harry Rivers - might not be a Bracken, which would be a win for him if he were alive to enjoy it.

Possible Bracken-Blackfyre descendants (if House Blackfyre is extinguished in the male line then remaining Blackfyres probably come from Calla and Bittersteel).

Varys - I fully subscribe to Varys Blackfyre theories. I doubt Jonos would approve of his perfume, but Brynden Rivers would surely give the dude a respectful handshake for disguises and shenanigans. Most Blackwood Bracken to ever Blackfyre.

Serra - so sorry girl you had to marry Illyrio Mopatis. I subscribe to the theory that she tried to escape with her son to get him away from Illyrio's machinations and that's why Illyrio still has her hands - a punishment for theft. I hope Illyrio chokes on his cheese.

Young Griff - I love that Varys's speech in no way describes this spoilt, bad-tempered, blue-haired mummer's dragon, but oh my god. This boy is so doomed by the narrative. His adoptive father must feel the truth deep down, but he will burn King's Landing to crown him before he faces reality - and probably Young Griff with it. It's the Bracken blood in him, he just can't win.

In Conclusion

To all Bracken-stans who complain of pro-Blackwood bias... Bracken loser energy is objectively hilarious and I have to ask, are you not entertained?

Also the realisation that Dany is a Blackwood and Faegon is a Bracken is exceedingly hilarious to me.

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worthyheir · 6 months ago

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hello! i hope your day is going well. i just wanted to ask, what characters would you like to see around the hotd rpc? love your portrayal of jace!

Dragonseeds (Nettles, Addam, Ulf, Hugh, OCs).

Strong family (Lyonel, Harwin, Larys, any of Harwin’s unnamed sisters who were Rhaenyra’s ladies, Simon, Alys Rivers)

Benjicot Blackwood, Gwayne Hightower, Otto Hightower

Kingsguard/Queensguard OCs (or AUs for characters that exist/crossovers)

Any of the council members (from either council)

Very Selfishly Sara Snow (she’s basically an OC like lets goooooo)

Also selfishly Cregan Stark

More Starks, Baratheons, Lannisters, Greyjoys, Martells (yeah they weren’t involved idc)

More ASOIAF character AUs (people are so clever with how they do them I love seeing interesting aus)

Laena, Laenor, Baela, Rhaena, Joffrey, Aegon III, Viserys II, Jaehaerys, Jaehaera, Maelor, Visenya (save my princess thanks), Alys and Aemond’s son, Daeron

Aegon II tbh I feel like once the season ended, a lot of Aegon’s vanished

Elinda, Mysaria, Rhaenys, Corlys, Vaemond, more Velaryons

Aemma & Baelon (I thought of like 6 aus with them both alive before I started typing this list like lets goooo I genuinely have ideas here)

More dragons. I love interacting with dragons. Everyone writes them so uniquely and it’s so interesting to me. Give me Vermax.

The book is rife with characters that are mentioned once or twice and could be so sick to write with and see be written. The show seems to have left several out but I recommend the books or just like using wikipedia tbh. So much is left open to interpretation with several of these characters anyways so like you could fully just skim parts of the books.

But genuinely, pick up characters you want to write because that’s the only way this is truly fun. Like I didn’t pick up Jace because he was a character people wanted to write with (though that does help me pick muses tbh) - I did it because if I could reach into F&B and pluck him out and let everyone else still burn, I would lmfao he’s my BOY.

#ooc / a whole ass yikes #[ if i’m plucking out jace i am also grabbing aemond and daemon woops ]#[ i hope whoever sent this sees it bc i was full ass asleep when i got it and ]#[ then i woke up middle of the night per usual and couldn’t fall back to sleep until I answered it ]

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ilreleonewikiart · 9 months ago

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Baelor Targaryen and Alys Stark for the @ohmyarda Ocs challenge From my fic The Doom in Our Blood Comes Back

As I mentioned in my past stories I've decided to submit my 16th illustration to a second challenge, as the characters of this drawing are both my ocs and I wanted a reason to talk more about them ☝️😊

This couple has appeared before in the TDIOBCB ship challenge and i gave some vague details about their backstories.

For the ones who already read my fic, Baelor already appeared and we also saw his birth, as he's one of the main characters of the story, while Alys is only briefly mentioned, as her appearance is not important in the events of the main story, at least till now.

However for the ones who still don't know them, this is a brief description, however, it will contain a major spoiler of my fic:

"Baelor Targaryen, or Baelor of Harrenhal, is one of the main characters of this story. He's the first and only son of Prince Aemond Targaryen and his first wife, Alys Rivers, the High Priestess of the Isle of Faces. Because of his mother's lineage, who was half human and half Children of the Forest, it's implied that Baelor inherited her powers and can practice magic. At the age of twelve, he claims Silverwing, becoming her first rider after Queen Alysanne. After his father marries his cousin Baela Targaryen, he becomes her stepson and her heir, however, he decides not to inherit Dark Sister. At the age of seventeen, he marries Lady Alys Stark, daughter of Cregan Stark and together they have one daughter Alyssa. Alys Stark is the first daughter of lord Cregan Stark and his second wife, Alysanne Blackwood: because it was Alys Rivers to arranged for her parents to meet and marry the two decided to name their first child after her. It will be later implied that Alys Rivers did that because, already back then, she knew that their daughter was destined to marry her son. In 146 AC, years after the events of the main story, she meets Baelor, who went to Winterfell in visit and the two will later fall in love. A year after they will get marry and have a daughter, Alyssa, who later will became the new Lady of Crows, like her grandmother Alys. "

(warning: these illustrations are inspired by an AU Divergence and have nothing to do with canon (book or tv show) events and are not meant to be reposted outside of their contest)

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marwyn · 3 months ago

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i find it really interesting how there's endless complaints about rhaenyra not being feminine enough yet hardly any talk about the show making baela more feminine presenting nor the show cutting out other gnc characters like alysanne blackwood, sabitha frey and nettles

Definitely, in my opinion Baela really puts a wrench in the argument that the women in Rhaenyra’s faction are too “masc” or whatever compared to the book because it’s exactly the opposite in her case. I was very disappointed in the lack of Black Aly and Sabitha too, and I hope the show’s storyline for Daemon and Rhaena is interesting at least, but I was 🤨 at the amount of time spent on Hugh and some of the season’s various OCs considering who was cut

#ask

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noeverse · 8 months ago

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Among Crowns, Chapter Two: Bears on Fire

Author's Notes

After having troubles with my computer, here I am! All solved and the chapter ready to go! This time we got a Rodrik POV, which was so much fun to make! Hope you guys like where I'm leading this manwhore trying to redeem himself

English isn't my first language, so please forgive any typos/grammar mistakes

This series will contain canon-typical violence, misogyny and many other themes ASOIAF/HOTD deals with, reader's discretion is advised

Please consider reblogging and commenting!

If you wish to be tagged, tell me in the notes!

This series will be attached to my other parallel series, 'burning bridges (of a kingdom fallen)' which will be published soon!

This series will depict canon-typical violence, age-gaps, sexism and misogyny, infidelity, among other themes explores in ASOIAF that I will tag as the series comes. Reader's discretion is advised

Visella Targaryen is an OC made by @blood0fthedragon who will make cameos and appearances later in the fic. You can check her fic What Will Survive of Us' !

Summary: Rodrik, having arrived to Dragonstone, remembers why he came and accepted Baela's hand in marriage, and gets to know her in the meantime

Word Count: 2.2k

Pairings: Baela Targaryen x OMC (Rodrik Mormont)

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Violence, suggestive scene

Tagging: @aeksion-aekse @mini-kunoichi @huramuna @blood0fthedragon

Upon the night of his arrival at Dragonstone, Rodrik had felt welcome, however, he was reluctant of the marriage. He hardly knew Baela, and had heard many things about her, some of them mixed. She was a mystery to him.

After having dined and put on his nightshirt, he went down to the kitchen to a glass of water. Dragonstone wasn’t as cold as Bear Island, but was rather chilly. As he took in the simplicity of the kitchen, he was reminded of his castle back home, and his lifestyle. His father, Brandon, had been his hero growing up. But he had died back in Jaehaerys’ reign when he was a boy, and was now under the command of his uncle, Torrhen. He had always been a strange fellow, now that he had given it a thought after that fateful night in which he had accepted to marry Baela instead of one of Greyjoy’s daughters. Always alone with that man from Lys, whisperings and what seemed like plotting.

He had always told him to ‘be a boy his age’ and that ‘lordship could wait’ as he sent him beautiful women all over Westeros to his bed, or money to the brothels. He had made no attempt to sit on his seat, which he’d always kick himself for.

As he downed another cup of water, he remembered that night yet again since he had set sail, leaving the regency to his father’s friend, Marlon Snow; a shrewd, patient and wise man who had served as a squire to Prince Aemon when he was but seven, then cupbearer to the previous Lord of Winterfell during the councils of King Jaehaerys and who had been his father’s wisest and most beloved friend, and even respected by his mother, the Lady Alys Blackwood. It was said that it was Marlon himself who proposed Alys as wife instead of the sanguine and unpredictable Lady Dustin. It was mayhaps because of him that Rodrik existed at all. He had served his father well, and had given him helpful advice on handling the Targaryens and navigate the princess’ court. His mind raced back to what had gone down in Bear Island under his very nose.

As he left the brothel, a feeling that he wasn’t meant to be there, he observed two men from his table talking. Hiding beneath his cloak, he listened quietly.

“…Aye, it’s true, Torrhen is driving us to ruin while the rightful heir drinks and whores! Spending over the Greens, killing those who uncover him, bribes! Why nobody we sent over to Lord Rodrik has appeared is concerning. He grows more corrupt and powerful by the day. We must act, before Lord Cregan notices it. His men are always near, and they’re sniffing something.”

He finally broke out of his hiding “And, pray tell, my lords, what are they sniffling?”

The men’s eyes widened. Surprise. Relief. Then, resolve.

“My lord. We ought to have an urgent talk, but not here.”

That is where everything was discovered: proof that his uncle had sent an assassin to slay Lord Brandon, Torrhen blackmailing everyone, and how slowly he had sabotaged Rodrik to take over Bear Island, and the deep corruption he had created: violence, stealing from the smallfolk, killing those who sought to restore him, and how he planned to sabotage his marriage by poisoning him and blame it on a clueless woman as a jealous act.

Simmering with anger, he looked at the lords “Find those who’d support me. Steal the ancestral sword and bring it to the Mormont hunting lodge under the excuse of another of my parties. In two days’ time, we’ll strike.”

“Tell us what to do, my lord.”

With the sword and supporters at the secret passage inside the castle, he rallied his men there and told him the exact instructions: kill the traitors, spare the women and children, make their deaths quick. He’d take care of Uncle Torrhen like a true Mormont.

As he casually slid into the room where the men laughed and drank, madams and whores on their laps, many looked up to see a sober and tall Lord Rodrik. Despite his head throbbing, needing alcohol, he still held his head high, and stood against his seated uncle “I believe this is my seat. Thank you for warming it up, uncle, but I shall lead the festivities today.”

Begrudgingly, he got up and mockingly let him seat. Madams that he trusted had been replaced by the ones his uncle planned on attending, although he didn’t know of said trade, as planned. Three cupbearers served a very special wine. Not quite wine, not quite poison for his uncle’s lackeys. He raised his hand, calling for silence “A toast! For today, I take my rightful seat and pry it off those who’d threaten the goodwill of the Mormonts. A new era has arrived, and soon everything will fall into place.” Many of the men were sweating at this new play, thinking the same: he should be drunk and buried in a madam’s bosom, not here being the lord. He smiled. “But before the grand surprise, another final announcement: my good sister Aurynn has been betrothed to Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, and, in her eternal kindness, Princess Rhaenyra has offered me the hand of her niece, Baela Targaryen.” Murmurs erupted from his uncle’s men. He should be announcing his engagement to a Greyjoy. His uncle hissed something, but he ignored it. “Drink, to a prosperous future… and learning not to underestimate my power.”

That is when the sedative kicked in. All of them fainted, and the rest panicked. Like clockwork, his men sneaked upon the minor traitors and quickly slit their throats. His uncle tried to flee, but Rodrik tackled him and slammed him against the desk, Longclaw in his hand “Going somewhere, uncle? Before having a chat with me? Quite rude. Guards!” Then, he knocked him out, and took him to the planned cage, outside in the cold, cruel winter. They stripped him, beat him, cut off his hair and braids and chained him wound tight. As the sun rose, they took him out and placed him on his knees “You stand accused of high treason, murder, aiding abetting, corruption, and betraying your oath to the rightful heir. How do you answer to these crimes, Lord Torrhen?”

Gritting his teeth, he mumbled “I—I only did… what I thought best—,”

He got up, gripping Longclaw “The only thing you think about is your own greed. I’ve read all your letters. Your men have confessed under torture. The others are dead or on the run to Essos. Confess, and I shall make your death quick.”

“I… did it f-for… t-the rightful h-heir…” He looked at him coldly “Aegon Targaryen.”

He only shrugged coldly “Suit yourself. I shall marry Baela to right this wrong, and you’ll be too busy getting to know the worms underground.”

He cut off his head expertly, and nodded to the men outside to do what he had commanded ahead of the interrogation: execute the men the same way publicly as he himself announced the pardon to Torrhen’s prisoners and victims, and his departure to wed Baela… and bring her as the new Lady of Bear Island in three moons’ time.

As the memory faded, he noticed he wasn’t alone. Instead, stood the reason he had come here at all. Lady Baela Targaryen. He did a quick bow “My lady. Couldn’t sleep either?” They had talked here and there, and Rodrik had thrown Baela’s way some charming compliments and always made sure that fresh flowers and tokens were given to her, and always stood by her side during council meetings, where they were cupbearers and, of course, Rodrik spoke per House Mormont’s interests, which Baela seemed interested. This was their first talk since they had sat down and talked about how they felt about their marriage.

Baela shrugged “I always had trouble sleeping.”

Without needing to ask, Rodrik also got her a glass of water, and handed it to her “I suppose marrying a complete stranger isn’t how you imagined your wedding. You grew with Jace, and Jace with my sister, but not me.”

“Bear Island needed its heir’s presence. Besides, this engagement caught everyone off guard.”

“It sure did. But now that we are here… if you wish to get to know me, you only need to ask. I have nothing to hide from my future wife.”

Baela observed him, and then asked “How do you feel about fiery tempers?”

“I like a woman with character, and Bear Island’s lifestyle is cold and crude sometimes. I’ll need a strong wife by my side who can take it all.”

Baela’s eyes softened, an amused look on her face “Do you have some place to store Moondancer?”

“I do. It’s being perfected to cater your dragon’s tastes as we speak.”

“So my dragon doesn’t intimidate you?”

Rodrik shrugged, smiling “Every man in Westeros is a bit fascinated with dragons.”

Baela got closer to him “People whisper of your philandering. What are your honest declarations about it?”

“It is true, but for you, Lady Baela, I want to leave it in the past and focus on my wife.”

“For me, you say?”

He stroked her cheek, being almost against the table, and whispered “For you, Baela Targaryen. You have quite that effect.”

She smiled cheekily “Do I terrify you?”

“A bit,” he casually confessed “every man ought to be wisely a bit scared of his Targaryen wife. But again, I’ve always had a fondness for terrifying women.”

Baela chuckled, her hand tracing the neckline of his open nightshirt “Why me, Rodrik Mormont?”

His hand kept stroking her cheek, his other hand lingering close to her waist “Because my advisers might be right. You are what Bear Island and I need. A strong woman with a fiery temper and a bravery to endure this war and bring prosperity to Bear Island.”

They were close. Very close. Sparks were flying among them. It didn’t help that Baela was almost straddling him against the wooden desk, her hands on his shoulders, almost nose-to-nose. She then whispered “And do you believe them?”

He firmly seized her waist with his hand and whispered back “I am here, in this kitchen, showing you my cards, am I not, Lady Baela?”

“Yes, but can you handle the heat I bring?”

He smirked, rather sinful thoughts roaming his mind “I may be of ice, but give me some credit.”

He could kiss her. Hell, he could take her right there. She didn’t seem to be shy about it. In fact, she seemed willing. The way her dark eyes looked at him was equally smouldering and sinful. But then, he remembered what his advisor had said. Despite his urges, Baela was a respectable lady, and he needed to prove that he could be a gentleman. The order was clear: he was not to soil her until they were pronounced man and wife, and he was not to even look at other women ever again if he wanted this to work.

Taking a painstakingly deep breath, he gently broke the embrace and gave her an apologetic look “Pardon me, my lady. I’ve yet to remember myself. We should go to bed before we do something we might regret… and incur the princess’ wrath, or worse, your father’s.”

Without waiting for her to convince him, he curtsied and left the kitchen, heart pounding in his chest.

Dodged an arrow by a mile. The last thing he needed was to meet Vaemond Velaryon’s fate for thinking with his cock rather than his head. He had arrived expecting a vain and entitled princess to coddle, but getting to know the woman had been a different experience. He had been walked on by women in very odd scenarios, but this was different. Baela was an innocent woman, as far as he knew –but if she wasn’t, then he wouldn’t mind much—and there seemed to be a connection forming between the two. He had never felt the magnetic pull he felt towards Baela. He had many women in his lap –and other most private places—but Baela’s attention felt rewarding. He had found in her a fascinating woman that fuddled and intrigued him. Even if he had played confident, deep inside he was nervous. Never once a Targaryen had wed a Mormont. This was a unique match. His house—his and Lynn’s—tied to not one, but two Valyrian descent houses. The pressure was on from everywhere. He knew she was his duty first, but he wouldn’t be honest if he didn’t admit he wanted to give her a shot, because he wanted to be an honest man from now onwards.

Morning came once more, as he was woken by a servant, Rodrik blinked several times, not used to being woken by early morning, waking up normally at late noon. Sighing, he asked “What do we got today? Seating arrangement? Dance rehearsal, perhaps?”

The servant cleared its throat, clearly concerned “You are to spend a whole day hunting with Prince Daemon, my lord.”

“Ah, a chance to get to know Lynn’s betrothed as well—,”

“Alone.”

Oh fuck.

Oh, fuck.

#hotd fic #fic: among crowns #oc: rodrik mormont #baela targaryen #baela targaryen x oc #house mormont #my fic #hotd

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