#pro team green fanfic

[pterodactylterrace]

Wrath of the Dragon

Title: Wrath of the Dragon

Summary: Fanfix of House of the Dragon Season 2. Some scenes were transcribed and left for the sake of some continuity between the show and the fic. Each chapter will be a rewritten version of the Green scenes in each episode, more faithful to the book and without butchering characters. It's unapologetically Team Green and pure copium. Enjoy.

Words: Aprox 4k

Episode: A Son for a Son

Warning: Death, child death, CA, allusions to CSA. B&C.

*Song used is from Tom Glynn-Carney's band, Sleep Walking Animals. Title: Ghost of a King

~*~

“Aemond… what has happened?” Alicent asked her son as he entered her chambers, dripping wet, his usually well kept hair curled with rain water and sticking to his face and neck.

“Lucerys is dead.” Aemond replies, his lone eye not meeting his mother, his tone emotionless.

“Aemond… what have you done?” Alicent gasps, covering her mouth in horror as realization begins to set in, her face going pale. “Mother, have mercy on us all.” She whispers in dismay.

Aemond turns his eye up to his grandfather, seeming to look through the hand of the king as he speaks. “I have won us the support of Storms End. Floris Baratheon will be my wife.” He continues on, undeterred.

“You only lost one eye, how could you be so blind?” Otto shouts as his daughter weeps.

“T’was a victory, grandsire.” Aemond insists, his voice soft and shaken. “A dragon rider was eliminated and we won the support of Storms End.”

“You slew Rhaenyra’s bastard!” Otto snapped, beginning to pace as his mind tried to untangle the mess presented before him. “Your nephew! Do you realize what you have done? War is now unavoidable!”

“You have brought the wrath of the Gods upon us!” Alicent weeps, grabbing onto her son’s riding coat, the smell of brimstone clinging to him as she clutches him close.

“Hmm.” Aemond hums, pushing his mother’s hands from him and leaving without another word. He didn’t tell them it was an accident. He couldn’t risk letting his family know he lost control of his dragon. Vhagar was their biggest asset, and carried with her a promise of their safety. No harm would befall them while the largest dragon in the world was protecting the city. They couldn’t know she had disobeyed him. He couldn’t risk them finding out. 

~*~

What a strange sight to behold. Aemond the fierce, still in his riding leathers, standing in the nursery with a baby in his arms, swaying back and forth as the child grabs at his uncharacteristically messy hair, pulling at the pale silver locks. Aemond has his head tucked low, his nose pressed into the white curls decorating the top of the child’s head, slowly breathing him in.

“Something has happened.” Helaena surmises when she happens upon the scene, Aemond not looking up from the baby as he gives a slow nod. 

“I woke him.” Aemond admits, wincing when Maelor grabs at the scarred side of his face.

“You needed the comfort.” Helaena assures him, sweeping past Aemond to wake the twins for the day.

“Good morning. Good morning! The best to you this morning.” Helaena sang softly as she gently shook Jaehaerys’s shoulder, rousing the boy from his peaceful slumber before turning to his sister, curled up on her stomach with her bum hiked up in the air, her mouth wide open as she drooled onto her pillow. “Good morning. Good morning, to you.” Helaena finished singing, kissing her daughter’s cheek to wake her.

“Uncle!” Jaehaerys gasped excitedly, jumping up from his bed. His feet tangle in his blanket in his haste, tripping him as he tries to run to his uncle.

“Uncle?” Jaehaera grunts, still half asleep as she crawls from her bed, barreling towards her uncle with the grace of her father after midnight. Jaehaerys pops up, kicking his feet free from his blanket and joining his sister in her charge, both grabbing onto a leg as they slam into their uncle, though Aemond barely sways on his feet under their loving attack.

“Good morning.” Aemond greets them, absently pushing a loose strand of Jaehaera’s hair back from her face.

“Up, up!” The little girl demands, trying to scale her uncle like he was a tree in the gardens.

“He has Maelor!” Jaehaerys reminds his sister, tugging her free from Aemond before she can accidentally cause any harm to their little brother.

“No! Me up!” Jaehaera insists, angry tears gathering in her eyes when she was denied a morning cuddle. Her face turns red as she pushes her brother’s hands away, the tears spilling down her splotchy cheeks.

“No need for tears, Jaehaera.” Aemond soothes the little girl, kneeling down and shifting Maelor to one arm, catching his niece in his free arm and lifting her as he stands, letting the little girl stroke at his hair as she calms herself down.

“Jaehaerys, the chamber pot.” Helaena reminds the little boy, noticing how he squirms on his feet. 

“I think it’s a bit late for Jaehaera.” Aemond tells Helaena, noting the smell coming from the little girl he held close nonetheless. 

“I’ll get her a bath before we break our fast. Would you like to join us?”

“Yes… I think I would like that.”

“Uncle!” Jaehaera gasps happily, throwing her arms around his neck and squeezing him tight before squirming to be let down, rushing off to tell her brother the good news.

“You should bathe as well. Wash the night away.”

“Hmm.”

~*~

Aegon sweeps into the room, heading straight for the blonde toddler quietly playing with their toys by the fireplace, their back turned to him. He peeks over the child’s shoulder and looks up to his sister wife. “Where is Jaehaerys?” He asks, giving his daughter a small pat on the head and scanning the room for his eldest son.

“Attending his lessons.” Helaena replies, not looking up from the golden dragon she was embroidering. 

“And those are where?” Aegon presses after it becomes clear she won’t give the information without being asked.  

“What do you need of him?” Helaena sighs, adding another deft stitch.

“I’m taking him to the small council. He’ll be king one day, he must begin his instruction.” Aegon explains with a beaming smile.

“What if he does not want to be king?” Helaena questions, finally looking away from the fabric in her hands.

“Where is he?” Aegon asks with a smile that seemed more of a grimace at his wife’s words, crouching down to be at eye level with her.

“In the library. You must not interrupt his custom.” She cautions, Aegon seeming to think on her words for only a moment before stepping around her to look for his son.

“I am afraid.” Helaena admits just as he reaches the door.

“Don’t be. They’d be fools to come with Vhagar protecting the city.” Aegon soothes, giving her a reassuring smile.

“Not the dragons. The rats.” Helaena corrects, much to Aegon’s confusion. His lilac eyes quickly scan the room, as the servants also look for the offending pests, no one finding signs of the rodent's presence. 

“The Queen is an enduring mystery, is she not?” Aegon offers to the staff, effectively dismissing her concerns about the pests in her chambers. He takes his leave, making a mental note to hire more ratcatchers, hoping to put Helaena’s mind at ease. 

~*~

“Jaehaerys must learn the ways of the court if he is to rule one day.” Aegon proudly proclaims to the Kingsguard as he leads his son into the small council room. “Up you go!” He playfully growls as he lifts his son up the steps, laughing as he places the small boy down. The silver haired boy rushes to the table, his lavender eyes alight as he takes in his surroundings, excited to get to spend the morning with his father instead of the boring maesters.

 “Good morrow, my Lords! Mother.” Aegon greets as he rounds the table to take his place at the head of it. “What news?” He asks as he takes his seat with pride.

“Our letters to the North and the Vale have gone unanswered.” Otto begins.

“Cunts.” Aegon scoffs.

“The Stormlands should be ours after Aemond’s marriage pact to the Lady Floris Baratheon. I anticipate their sworn declaration.” Otto continues.

“My brother is raising the strength of the West to mass the Golden Tooth. But we-” Tyland begins pausing when the young prince picks up the yellow ball in front of him. “Yeah, thank you, my prince. That’s very helpful.” Tyland tells the prince as he gently takes his attendance marker from Jaehaerys and places it back in its holder.

“My nephew Lord Ormund musters his forces to sally forth from Oldtown. They expect to march quickly, meeting little resistance until they reach the Riverlands.” Otto cuts off whatever Tyland was about to say next. 

“My letters to Rhaenyra, has there been any answer?” Alicent pipes up.

“An apology for her dead son?” Jasper Wylde asks flatly.

“None, your grace. Between that and their blockade of the Gullet, we must presume that the Princess has refused the offered terms and war is now inevitable.” Orwyle responds, ignoring the Master of Law’s snarky reply. 

“Perhaps his Grace might lend his voice to our outreach?” Alicent suggests, though Aegon is too enamored watching his son steal Tyland’s attendance marker and taunting him with it. 

 “Stop! Enough!” Tyland hisses, trying to wrestle the ball away from the child.

“In hopes that new terms might, might be negotiated?” Alicent speaks louder, hoping to get her son’s attention. 

“Release it at once!” Tyland demands, looking around the room for help. “Would someone please?”

“Is the heir to the throne bothering you, Tyland?” Aegon asks, ignoring his mother’s pleas to continue trying for a peaceful resolution.

“No. No, no, not, not in the least, your Grace.” Tyland quickly responds, letting go of the ball like it burned him.

“Because I think he wants a ride.” Aegon continues, smiling at his son.

“Your Grace-” Alicent attempts to interject.

“A ride?” Tyland asks, confused.

“A pony ride.” Aegon clarifies. “Wouldn’t that be fun, Jaehaerys? Should the Master of Coin be your royal steed?” He asks his son who nods enthusiastically. Tyland laughs awkwardly, his eyes darting awkwardly around the room before landing on the King, a stony look on his face. The Master of Coin quickly stands, realizing the King is serious. 

“Your Grace! There are important matters to discuss.” Alicent reminds her son, unamused by the scene unfolding before her. “Despite Sir Tyland’s interruptions.” She adds in, her eyes flashing to her grandson, clearly blaming the boy for the interruption, in spite of her words declaring Tyland to be the problem.

“Very well. No time for amusements, Tyland.” Aegon sighs, nodding for him to take his seat. 

“Your Grace.” Tyland replies, as he takes his seat again.

“Off you go, Jaehaerys. Good boy.” Aegon dismisses his son, the cup bearer taking the child’s hand and leading him from the council room. “Where were we?”

“Rheanyra’s blockade has placed King’s Landing under strain. Those pressures will multiply quickly.” Otto continues on, undeterred by the interruptions. 

“Well, we should’ve just killed her when we had the chance.” Aegon laments. 

“Regrettably the opportunity for surprise has been lost, and with it, the chance to end this conflict quickly.” Otto gives his daughter a pointed look as he speaks. “We must play the board before us.” 

“If we are to break the Sea Snake’s blockade, we will need to bolster both the Lannister and Hightower navies.” Tyland points out. 

“We do have need for a new Master of Ships.” Orwyle muses, “We could offer the title to the young Lord Dalton Greyjoy.” The Grand Maester suggests as Aemond enters the council room. 

“Aemond, what is your business here?” Alicent questions.

“The King summoned me.” Aemond explains coldly. 

 “You have no seat on this council.” The dowager queen protests.

“Aemond is my closest blood and our best sword. I welcome him.” Aegon easily overrules his mother, much to her clear chagrin as Aemond easily strides to the map of Westeros on the wall. 

“The path to King’s Landing is through the Riverlands. We must establish a toehold there, at Harrenhal.” Aemond declares, his long fingers sweeping over the Crownlands and up to the Riverlands as he speaks. 

“The River Lords will either declare for me, or they will meet Vhagar and Sunfyre together.” Aegon decides haughtily. “Ah, and-and we can burn the blockade while we’re at it!” He adds in, clearly proud of his idea.

“Rhaenyra has dragons as well.” Alicent protests, her distaste for her son’s idea clear on her face.

“Mine are bigger.” The young king easily dismisses the threat. 

“If we lose the dragons to war, there’ll be no calling them back. We must proceed cautiously.” Alicent insists.   

“No. Fat, old Lord Tully will either raise my banner, or see his burn.” Aegon asserts. “We should fly to Riverrun”

“You are the King, your Grace. You must not put yourself at risk.” Cole attempts to dissuade the hot blooded king before he can make any rash decisions. 

“And Vhagar is needed here, to deter Rhaenyra from attacking in retribution for the death of her son.” Alicent spits, giving her second born son a spiteful look, which the prince ignores with a stony face. He had grown used to her microaggressions and passive aggressive comments over the last week and a half since he had returned from Storms End that fateful night. 

“Errors were made in the hours following King Visery’s death. We mustn’t compound them. You’ve already demonstrated your might, Your Grace. We must now favor patience, and restraint.” Otto advises. “I send ravens by the hour. Many and more houses will declare for you in time. History and precedent will come to your side.” He continues as Aegon idly spins his marker before him, clearly not interested in passivity. 

~*~

“Mama! Mama watch!” Jaehaerys calls out, waiting for his mother to look up from her embroidery before leaping from his bed to his sister’s, looking proudly to Helaena when he lands safely on the feather mattress. He turns around and leaps back to his bed, falling just short and thumping against the side of the bed rather than landing on top of it. Helaena drops her project, rushing over to her son and gathering him in her arms as he begins to whimper.

“My brave little boy.” Helaena soothes as he gathers him in her arms, sitting down in the rocking chair, hugging him close as he sniffles and whimpers into her shoulder. “That was scary wasn’t it?” She asks as Jaehaera abandons her toys, peering over the arm of the chair to her brother.

“I help!” The little girl declares, moving behind the chair and making it rock as her brother tries to hold back his tears.

“I-I want my-my s-s-ong.” Jaehaerys whimpers through his sniffles, his little fist holding his mother’s dress tight.

“You want me to sing your song?” Helaena asks, resting her cheek against the top of his head as Jaehaera rocks them back and forth.

“Dada.” Jaehaerys sniffs, turning his tear lined lavender eyes up to his mothers. “Dada sings it.”

Helaena looks up to her handmaiden, silently requesting her to send for the king while she continues soothing her son.

“Perhaps you two should lie down for your nap after your song? I can tell you are tired.” Helaena suggests, gently wiping the escaping tears from her son’s face.

“Dada sings first.” Jaehaerys insists, his sister jumping up and down behind the chair and chanting “Dada, Dada, Dada!” In agreement.

“So if your father sings your song, will you rest?” Helaena asks, Jaehaerys giving a solemn nod picking up his mother’s hand and wrapping their little fingers together. 

“I promise.”

“Yes? What is it? The rats again?” Aegon asks as he enters the nursery a few minutes later, finding Helaena still in the rocker, Jaehaerys half asleep on her shoulder while Jaehaera stood behind the chair, continuing to make it rock back and forth, lost to the rhythm of the movements.

“Dada.” Jaehaerys mumbles sleepily, rubbing at his eye with one hand and reaching for Aegon with the other.

“He wants his song.” Helaena explains as Jaehaera pops out from behind the chair. “They both do. They won’t take their nap without it.”

“Alright, but only once.” Aegon agrees, caving instantly at the pleading, sleepy looks on the twin’s faces. Aegon lifts his tired son into his arms as his daughter quickly clings to his leg, almost making him trip as she latches onto him, giggling as he stumbles trying to catch himself.

“I’m a little dragon, strong and stout.” Aegon begins, stooping down to take his daughter in his other arm, his son resting his head against his shoulder. “Here is my tail, here is my snout.” Aegon continues, patting his son’s bottom and kissing his daughter on the nose.”If I get upset, you better watch out.” He sings, spinning with his twins in his arms, both giggling and clinging to his doublet. “I’ll roar and shout and stomp about.” He finishes, bouncing the twins in his arms while stomping his feet, much to their delight. 

“Nooo, the other song!” Jaehaerys insists, refusing to release the collar of his father’s doublet when he tries to set him in his bed.

“What other song?” Aegon asks, craning his neck to look down at his son.

“The ghost king!” Jaehaerys reminds him as though it is the most obvious thing in the world.

“And you promise you’ll sleep if I sing you that one?” Aegon asks, both twins nodding as he sets them on their beds.

“I saw the ghost of a king today. I saw the ghost of a king today.” Aegon begins as his children pull their blankets up to their chins. “Ivory bone and two babes in his arms. The weight of the world having killed his charm. Cuts at the trees and hunts the deer. Reared for slaughter when the bows are near. He said hey I got kids now a house and a wife. This is my new death now this is my life.” Aegon pauses, Jaehaerys giving him an offended look when he tries to cut his song short.

The king can’t help but chuckle as he continues. “ And I, Know you, You, I know you, You. Turns out the lights to escape from the moths. Sits in the dark with a painting awashed. With the life that he wishes would meet him in death. Remembering tales as he takes his last breath. So take all the money and choose a new door. Cause change isn't change when you know whats in store

Oh it might seem you don't know who I am anymore. But you're the only one who knows the person I was before…” Aegon’s voice slowly drifts off when he sees both twins have lost the battle to stay awake, taking a moment to admire the two pure lives he helped to create. “Sleep well.” Aegon adds softly, pressing a kiss to their foreheads as Helaena tucks them in properly, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze before turning to leave. He pauses at the doorway, looking back and peeking in at the sleeping Maelor, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest, his long white lashes kissing his chubby cheeks and a mop of silver curls sticking out at odd angles from his head.

“Do not wake him.” Helaena insists, seeing Aegon hovering over the baby. Aegon flashes her a smile over his shoulder, leaning in and kissing the baby’s forehead before leaving to attend court.

~*~

 “You know the Keep. You know of it’s hidden passages.” The voice of a cloaked figure breaks through the quiet of the night.

“Who are you?”

“You are a ratcatcher in the Red Keep, yes? Tell me, does the crown pay you well for your services?” The figure continues on, staying just out of the light of the fire, a larger figure looming behind him.

“They pay well enough.” The ratcatcher finally replies, unsure if this was a trick to land him in trouble with the crown.

“I can pay you better. And you don’t have to kill anything. Just lead the way for my friend here.” 

“Lead him where?”

“The true Queen’s son has been slain by Aemond Targaryen. The scales must be balanced. A son for a son.”

“You want us to kill Aemond Targaryen? What if we can’t find him?”

“Then you go to the Tower of the Hand. To the Dowager Queen’s chambers.” Daemon instructs, a smile curling on his face.

~*~

“Mama, come on.” Jaehaerys sighs, tugging at his mother’s dress. “It’s time to go see grandmother!” The little boy reminds her, taking his sister’s hand as she runs to the door, eager to see her grandmother and get a treat before bed. Helaena collects Maelor from the wetnurse, thanking her and tucking the child close to her chest, following after her twins as they rush off to their grandmother’s chambers.

“Drag!” Jaehaera gasps, pausing before crossing the dry moat and staring up at the twilight sky as a dark shape passes over them.

“Vhagar! Uncle!” Jaehaerys cheers, waving up at the dragon patrolling the skies, looking back to his mother. “Did he see me?”

“I don’t know. We will have to ask him later.” Helaena tells her son, smoothing his hair back from his face.

“UNCLE!” Jaehaera screams out, jumping and waving her arms over her head. “UNCLE!!!” 

“We mustn’t distract him. He is busy keeping us all safe.” Helaena explains, Jaehaerys quickly takes his sister’s hand.

“I’ll keep you safe too!” The little boy declares, proudly marching over the drawbridge, leading the way to his grandmother’s chambers. Jaehaera slips her hand from his, racing her brother up the stairs and bursting through the door.

The air felt wrong as soon as Helaena entered the room. First, she saw her mother’s handmaiden laying on her bed, her eyes wide and unfocused. It took the Queen a moment to realize she was dead. Before she had a chance to grab her children and flee, she heard her own guard give a shout, turning to see a large man pulling a knife from the guard’s throat, blood staining his white cloak as he fell to the ground, never even having the chance to draw his sword. 

Alicent screamed through her gag, jerking at her wrists binding her to her chair as someone else snatched Maelor from Helaena’s arms, holding a knife to his throat while the large man grabs hold of Jaehaera’s arm and drags her to the other side of the room.

“No! Leave my sister alone!” Jaehaerys yells, holding his sister’s arm and smacking uselessly at the man’s wrist, trying to make him let go. 

“Scream and you all die.” Cheese warned the Queen as Blood snatched Jaehaerys by the arm, wrenching his grip from his sister and shoving the little girl to the ground.

“Who are you?” Helaena asked, her voice shaking as she instinctively reached for her children, stopping when Blood yanked Jaehaerys’s head back by his hair and held his knife to the boy’s exposed throat.

“Debt collectors.” Cheese replied. “An eye for an eye, a son for a son. We only want one, t’ square things. Won’t hurt the rest o’ you fine folks, not one lil hair. Which one you want t’ lose, Your Grace?”

Helaena’s blood ran cold as his words sunk in, her mind racing with how she could possibly save her children. “Me! Take me!” Helaena pleads, falling to her knees. “Please. Don’t hurt my children. They’ve done nothing. They are innocent.”

“A wife’s not a son.” The large man holding Jaehaerys replied. “It has to be a boy.”

“You should choose quickly, Your Grace, before my friend grows bored and decides to entertain himself with your little girl.” Cheese goaded the sobbing queen. “Pick, or we kill them all.”

“Maelor.” Helaena forced out, on her knees with tears streaming down her face. He was but a babe, he didn’t understand the danger he was in. It would be over quickly. The babe would never know what was to befall him.

“You hear that, little boy?” Cheese whispered to the child in his arms. “Your mama wants you dead.” Then he looked to Blood and gave a nod. Helaena followed his gaze and screamed as Blood struck off Jaehaerys’s head with a single blow before her very eyes.

Time stood still as the little boy’s body crumbled to the floor, blood staining his clothing and pooling on the floor. Helaena gathered what was left of her son in her arms, sobbing and clinging to the little boy as the guards began to beat at the door, trying to gain entry. The bar finally splintered under the force, the Kingsguard rushing into the room, Otto and Aemond with them, having heard the Queen’s screams.

“Uncle?” Jaehaera asks unsurely, tearing her eyes from her mother and looking up to Aemond, her little body shaking as she holds up her arms to him. Aemond quickly picked up the little girl, tucking her face into his neck, trying to shield her from what she had already witnessed.

“He waved.You see him?” The little girl asked against his neck.

“Yes, Jaehaera. I saw him.” Aemond lied to the little girl as Otto unbound his daughter. The dowager queen pointed with a shaking hand to a painting, jutting from the wall at an odd angle, a trail of blood leading up to it. The Kingsguard pulled at the painting, revealing a hidden tunnel behind it, the trail of blood leading into the darkness. Arryk grabbed a torch, leading the way into the tunnels, a second knight followed, leaving Criston behind to guard the rest of the family.  

“Your Grace?” Cole murmured softly to Helaena, kneeling next to her and gently taking the boy’s body from her arms, letting Alicent lead the queen away from the horrific scene. He pulled off his white cloak, laying it over the boy’s body, staining his cloak with the boy’s blood as he was tucked in for the very last time. 

“Commander, we lost them. The tunnels are a maze.” The Kingsguard relayed as he came back in through the painting. “Ser Arryk is continuing to search, but we cannot find them in the labyrinth.”

“Tell the King.” Criston directs, his dark eyes staring at the blooming blood on his white cloak. “Tell the King his heir is dead.”

[escailyyy]

I need a isekai transmigration fanfic where Cersei Lannister wakes up in the body of Alicent Hightower, because I know this woman would fix the green history real quick.

A weak king husband who is rotting from illness? 4 kids with dragons who desperately want her attention and approval? An entire kingdom who thinks she's some sort of devoted pious paragon of virtue? a sworn shield who worships the ground she walks in AND A devious psychopath ally who only wants to see her feet?. (that's TWO devoted dogs to order around and take advantage of) plus a dad who actually shows her a modicum of affection and a brother who would 100% lay down his life for her without any extra incentive.

I'm sorry Alicent you had Cersei's dream life and you couldn't take out one spoiled princess and her trigger happy uncle? Why? What's stopping you babe!!! You got handed the best tools to use in crushing her completely and you DIDN'T!!. That's definitely going to change.

Cue Cersei harnessing the power of #Queendom and showing Rhaenyra how the game is really played.

[ashblooddragons]

This Mysterious Love

Summary: What if Rhaenyra finds out about Alicents forced trips to her father, the King? What if Viserys never remarries and never calls Rhaenyra his heir? What if Otto gets desperate and asks Daemon to marry his daughter if he makes sure Daemon wears the crown and sit the throne? What if against the odds and what all believe will happen, Alicent and Daemon fall in love with each other? Read This Mysterious Love to find out the what-ifs.

This idea comes from @dreamlandcreations! I hope I give this idea justice for you!

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Alicent and Daemon moonboard

Alicents and Daemons kids

Special thanks to my bestie @sugutoad for making the header for this fic! I swear I'd be lost without you Girly!

Taglist: @sugutoad @ilikefelines @mmogurl @classicsimpforaaronwarner @sachaa-ff @baybaybear1 @dreamlandcreations @nommingonfood @fictionlurker @yn-jackson @marvel-is-my-obsession @seaevans @edenfanfictionsuggestions @ninihrtss @zara-zara11 @lady-ye

[urdeftonesgrrrl]

"A girl must say a name."

Me:

Team Black stans

Criston Cole haters

Daemon Targaryen stans

[coffeebooksrain18]

Does anyone know of a Pro Team green Aemond x ofc or reader fics!? I've been looking and sooooo many fics for him is him abandoning his family and I can't anymore!!! Please someone save me from this purgatory!!!!!

[its-actually-minicika]

Hi, love your works so much! Can't wait for more updates 🥰🥰 I was wondering maybe you'd like the idea where book!Aemond and Velarion!(Strong?)Reader are in an arranged marriage. But Reader just knows what to say and how to act so that Aemond is wrapped around her finger (kinda thought of Margaery and Joffrey situation, she was such a talented schemer, worthy of winning the Throne 😭). I don't really know about the setting, like if it's before, during or after the Dance... just thought it'd be interesting to see this kind of plot with our beloved Prince 🤴🏼🐉

If you don't like it, just ignore me 🙈

Dragon Sickness (18+)

Pairing: bookcanon!Aemond x Strong!Niece!Reader

Warnings: No usage of (Y/N), Greens win AU, bookcanon Greens, the obvious Targaryen incest, mentions of major character deaths (we're entering spoiler grounds, but not really), blood, gore etc.

Word Count: 3.5K+

Author's Note: I fell in love with this idea the moment I saw it! I ended up altering the plot line for this one-shot a little bit - the reader will definitely grow into the Margaery architype, but today you shall see her as she was when she just learned how to make ends meet with her newfound life at Court.

I don't know if I should turn this into yet another series, but if you guys enjoyed this, let me know

Also, thank you so, so much for your kind words ♡ i'm hugging you to the moon and back!

PART 2 IS OUT NOW ♡♡♡

Who could ever blame you for your indiscreet acts? Alliances change when the world you know suddenly turns upside down.

She remembered how weak she was. How scared she had been.

How her eyes widened into two brown specs of uncertainty, how her mouth fell agape, as she mulled over Alicent’s words.

‘You shall marry Aemond within the next moon turns. For the good of the Realm.’

The Dowager Queen had openly admitted to being against the match – of course, the prospect of her perfect son, married off to a lowly bastard of Rhaenyra's (otherwise said, her last surviving child), didn’t specifically thrill her. Much less her demanding and scornful father.

Still, it couldn’t be helped. And if the Velaryon wanted to keep her head away from a spike, she had no other choice but to comply.

Although… she wasn’t a Velaryon now, was she? Aegon the Usurper made sure of that.

His final gift to her was to strip her of all her titles. She had been openly declared a bastard – before the masses, before the Court.

With a wide smile upon his burnt lips, the “King” had told her she’d be a Targaryen instead. Driftmark wouldn’t matter, her legacy wouldn’t matter. Aemond would inherit the seat with the Usurper’s blessing, as a homage brought to his able fighting and his shown bravery on the bloody battlefield.

Never mind that he’d never partaken in a fight; save for the one that killed her stepfather, Daemon, and sent her poor mother in a downward spiral. Aemond had chosen his adversaries wisely, and managed to go through the whole war without as much of a scratch upon his silver armour.

‘I shan’t marry your son. Not now, not ever.’ Her own voice rang out.

‘You will do exactly as demanded.’

‘I would rather die than bear the treacherous children of that monstrous beast.’

A monstrous beast. That is what Aemond was.

And that is what he shall remain. No matter how many gifts he brought to her. No matter how many hours of their days and days in their weeks and weeks in their months they spent promenading those ghastly gardens.

‘You will if you know your best interests. Your own head may hold no value to you, but a single swing of my son’s sword would be enough to bring forth the ruin of House Blackwood.’

At first, she’d been restless in her attempts to escape the Keep. Her every waking hour was spent shamelessly inside the Sept, where she prayed not for the safety of her brothers’ souls, but for revenge against the mutted Greens.

The slight breeze of the cathedral mended her flesh from the heat of summer. And no one dared to approach or talk to her. The quietness was a welcomed deed.

During the first night of their betrothal, her glossy eyes scanned Aemond’s face. His hands wantonly gripped at his thighs and a slight twitch of his mouth, accompanied by an elongated hum escaped his lips.

There was no other discernable expression. And when he led her to the chambers of her early girlhood, he merely bowed and kissed her hand.

She spent the first night of their betrothal scraping her knuckles so harshly, that they broke and cracked under the stimulation of the cold water.

Her thirst for vengeance ceased after the first two months. Her wedding date was approaching swiftly, and she found herself faced with the abhorrent truth. She had no allies. No more friends at Court. The girl had shut herself in her tiny room, losing her mind with the pain and grief that flooded her at night: the faces of her mother, her brothers, her father. The sound of their screams and their endless pleas for help.

Every night, without a fail, she woke up tormented by nightmares – her throat burning with absolving shrieks of fear, exacerbated breaths of air and flimsy nightdresses, damp throughout by breaks of sweat.

The first night she lashed out onto her bedding was the night she found out Aemond had moved his Quarters next to hers. He yanked the door open and stepped into the light of her candle – looking ravished, completely out of breath and startled. Started not for his own accord and safety, but for the state that his future wife had been in.

‘Shit, it’s alright, I’m here–’

The echo of his mellow voice deterred her to let out a blood-curdling scream, that would have rivalled even the one of the late Queen Rhaenyra, after Aegon the Usurper ceased her at Dragonstone, and reeled his dragon to eat her whole.

‘Get the fuck away from me! Get the fuck out of my room!’

Her sobs pierced into the man’s heart, but his hurt expression was masked quickly with one most bitter and taciturn. He clenched his fists ruefully by his side, and spat out an apology in a low and dangerous tone.

‘As you wish.’

And how dearly he loved those words:

‘As you wish.’

'As you desire.’

Even though nothing had been, or ever will be, as she achingly wished them to.

“You could at least attempt to look happy.” His chastising tone rained upon her, as his Lady remained hammered in her seat. Maids flocked to her like lost chickens to their cock, arranging her hair and picking out dresses fit for their engagement parade.

Her face contorted into the mirror, and a faint sigh beleft her lips. Carefully she turned around, reflecting his stance with a subtle arch to her shapely brow.

“It’s bad luck to see your bride before the wedding ceremony.”

“An old wives' tale. And one that applies only on the day itself.”

“Perhaps we should encourage tradition more. Make it so we don’t cross paths at all til then.”

Just as fast as it came, the feral look dissolved over his tired face. Aemond heaved out a heavy exhale and merely settled to growl at her maids.

“Leave us. Now.”

A discontented look painted over her fair features. His niece opened her mouth in protest, to try and stop the fleeing girls from truly making their escape.

“I must remind my Prince that the engagement assembly will be held in less than an hour. I believe I should like them to stay.”

The gathered women exchanged lost and protruding glances, until the former King Regent spoke again.

“They will leave us at once.”

“They’ll do no such a thing. They must make haste to get me ready. We wouldn’t want to upset your mother.”

“I’m more than capable of lacing up a loose bodice.”

The tight expression on her face deserted her features with the leave of his smug retort. She swallowed thickly in enraged abandon, and silently beseeched her ladies not to leave her all alone.

Still ravishing her with his bold stare, Aemond stepped another foot into the cosy confinements of her tidy prison. “If I’m to turn around now and find any of you standing before me, I’ll arrange that you’re all flogged and defiled beyond the utter of salvation.”

Brisk footsteps swallowed the room, echoing wildly through the narrow dark hallways. The former Velaryon shook her head in disarray, and graced her soon-to-be-husband with a tight smile and a nod.

“Congratulations.” She uttered humorously, “I should enjoy looking like a fool tonight much more than being proper by your side.”

As if drowned below a trace, Aemond took another step in the direction of the frowning Princess. His face remained impenetrable, but as he opened his mouth to speak, his voice ran meek, unsure and hoarse.

“Turn around.” He commanded her gently, whilst grabbing a deep green garment from the cluttery made on her bed. Despite her lack of desire to abide by his request, the woman turned her back to him and muttered slowly, though much softer than intended.

“I don’t like that one. It’ll make the skirts look out of place.”

“Which one do you want, then?” His whisper had made her draw in a sharp gasp; the warmth of his breath fell soothingly over the nape of her neck, caressing her delicate skin in a way she hadn’t known was possible.

“The red one with black lacings.”

His hand came to spin her back around, and their noses nearly touched together. A smile tugged at the ends of his upturned lips, but the look inside his eye remained frigid and unforgiving.

“Your petticoat won’t be those colours.”

A conceited scowl graced her face. She reached her hand behind him and skillfully snatched one of a different design. “Fine. I want to wear this one, then.”

The obnoxious blue and silver danced across her paling skin. And if Aemond weren’t so dazed by their proximity and lack of air, he might have laughed at her feeble attempts of vexing him.

“Those are Velaryon hues.”

“Perfect. I shall honour my house well.”

“You are not a Velaryon to grace them with such a feat.”

“No, you are absolutely right. Your brother did name me a Targaryen.”

Their faces were so close to each other, that their moving lips were almost touching.

“Yet I can’t wear black and red either.” A prompted look disarmed the Prince, “It is all very confusing.”

His lone orb descended to her puffing bosom, but Aemond soon directed himself upon a more elusive image. His fingers twitched with the need to grab a hold of her – to pull away those last pieces of cloth that shielded her away from view.

“You know full well why I can’t allow that.” He hummed in unmoving disapproval, “As much as I enjoy your voice and the raptures of your closeness, I must say this conversation bores me.”

“I should be able to wear what I want.” Came her prompt and swift reply, “But of course, Your Grace, forgive me. ‘Tis not for men to pounder on laces and brims.” Her palms took to rest upon his bulging chest, and the girl nearly removed them at once, as the thrumming of his heart enterlaced with her slim fingers. Still, she furrowed her brows in a most perplexed of mockeries, and insatiably drove on, “Indeed resilient men such as yourself occupy their time much better.”

The callouses of his hands fell heavily upon her cheeks.

“Fucking their ways through brothels, getting their pricks wet, and fantasising about wars.”

The harshness of his next tug nearly broke her brave facade – her eyes widened in mistrust, and a slight recoil braced over her straightened back. Her small fingers clasped over his shaking wrist, which held onto her face with a gentleness untoward; one completely mismatching with the predatory glimmer in his eye.

The man he was, and the man he was trying to be would surely never mend to one.

A Kinslayer. A monster. A divergent freak.

Nothing more, and nothing less.

His thumb played absent-mindedly at her lower lip, and the young Princess tried her damnest not to bite him. “Did I strike a nerve with that one?”

“You are as imprudent as you are beautiful. A family trait, I assume.”

“You have my gratitude for the flattering commentary. I’m very proud of my heritage.”

His lilac orb bore into her, and the man let out a reserved laugh, “Your bastard brothers were ample proud. Look where that brought them.” The rough end of his hand gripped her own painfully, before she could make for a swing at his handsome face. “Lost in the seas, rotting at the bottom of an ocean, nestling inside Sunfyre’s belly.”

While her hands were clasped together, her mouth wasn’t sown shut. With a single and effective move, she spat harshly in his face, eliciting a groan from her broader perpetrator.

Though his nostrils flared up in disdain, the man graced her with a calculated smirk. “Did I strike a nerve with that one?” He mocked her with feigned interest.

“Fuck you,” She hissed out slowly, “Don’t you dare talk of my family – my brothers were ten times the man you are.”

“Oh, but I have every right to talk about your family. Given that I will be yours quite soon.” Once more he forced her to turn around, and kneeled over to her spasming form, to begin dressing her up; in nought else, of course, but the mundane silks of his choosing.

"Doesn't the prospect thrill you? To become my lady-wife, to finally bear a true Targaryen inside your royal womb?"

So hopeless and defeated she felt, that the youth jerked herself relentlessly, while repeating him the same plethora of words. “You cannot force me to be your whore. You cannot force me to wear this. I will not bear your Hightower green.”

Aemond could feel his patience running thin – and when her foot came into contact with his setting knee, the man let out a ferocious growl, and promptly trapped the girl in his arms, with the aid of a nearby wall.

“So you want to be difficult? You don’t want to wear this? Hmm? Well, who am I not to abide my Lady’s burning wishes?”

The sharpness of his dagger came into quick contact with the milky skin of her thighs. And she might have almost screamed, if Aemond didn’t immediately pull himself away. His hard chest grazed hers for but a moment, as the Prince cast his attention to her moving shadow.

“If you wish not to attend our engagement parade wearing the clothes I’ve chosen for you,” He muttered against her face, a scorned look adorning his own, “Then you won’t be wearing anything at all.”

She huffed out a dispensing pant and pursed her lips into a tight line.

She remained rigid and poised, until a spark of amusement swirled into her eyes.

The first crack was that of a lax smile. The next, a tremor to her lips. The calm before the storm approached, until all rattled down with a mirthed laugh cascading from her reddened lips.

“Do you mean to frighten me with this promise?” She asked through the arch of an uncertain brow, “As if every man in this cursed Keep won’t get to watch me whore myself out to you anyway, when our wedding night will come?”

His face suddenly hardened at the notion of their reality – as if he didn’t give much thought to the bedding ceremony. To his Lady being watched by a thousand other eyes but his.

Aemond suddenly darkened, and his fist came into contact with a near spot on the wall, so awfully close to her frightened, paling face.

She watched with wide eyes how his stare contorted from one of realisation to one of fury. He stiffly peeled his body away from hers, and strained himself to leave her be. The jealous and possessive knots that churned painfully inside his stomach burned his skin upon the surface, and constricted the air he brashly took in.

He nodded to her in a spry and calloused manner, and brought his hand out to touch her cheek. His knuckles had begun to bleed, busted by the force of impact that his fist had faced for him. Behind his eye danced a look of seldom shame – he gnawed harshly at his bottom lip, and pondered, for a while, on apologising to his niece; for his lack of princely conduct, for his show of impropriety – for his inability to keep himself at bay.

Still his thoughts failed to merge to words, and so the man ran his eye one final time over her defensive pose, and merely left her standing there.

As if turned into a statue, the girl barely registered the lethargic closing of the door, the hurried and heavy footsteps that travelled further and further away from her quaint and cluttered space, and the animated curse that slipped past her uncle's throat.

Did he just dare to leave her there, with her petticoat half up her legs, in nought else but a flimsy nightdress?

At first she thought that his avoidance was a blessing in disguise.

For after clashing wits with Aemond, and after his swift hurried departure, the man had barely graced her with another word.

His hand held onto hers for the whole duration of the procession. He wordlessly forced her to dance two dances, and led her to her Quarters as soon as she mentioned that she was tired.

But his palms didn’t linger on the shape of her narrow waist – his lips barely grazed her knuckles, and Aemond turned with lest a word to add after their fake sympathies were exchanged.

Had he gotten bored of her? Realised what a terrible match they made, and begged his mother on his hands and knees to break off their ill engagement?

For the first time in a while, a new notion of fear engulfed her.

The Greens couldn’t kill her. Of that, she was almost certain. It wouldn't be a wise move, and it would anger the North beyond the power of salvation. The war had had its say on every army that fought into it, yet the Crownlands were especially weak.

But if Aemond were to sever their solidary alliance, then her future would be most uncertain.

Otto Hightower would make her join with an old and withered Lord, no doubt – one with more than enough sons to further on his pesky line. One who couldn’t even get it up to her, who’d never procreate and mend their blood, who’d make sure Rhaenyra’s line would end with her.

Or perhaps she’d be sent to join the Faith – become a Septa or a Silent Sister, among the infamous Maris Baratheons of the Realm. Yet another girl who wouldn’t keep her tongue when asked.

And history might remember them as ‘the women who couldn’t be tamed’, but their lives would be thrown to ruin. Their existence would remain a sham.

No, she had whispered to herself, as she writhed into the soft bedding. If she still thirsted for revenge, she would have to marry Aemond. Keep him interested and relaxed – yearning for her voice and company.

… And if she had to whore herself to him to do it, she would obediently assume her role.

“I beg your pardon?” Aegon asked through another gulp of bitter wine, “Gods be good – I believe that now I’ve heard it all.”

Aemond paced about his brother’s room, with his hands clasped behind his back, and his face set into a deep grimace. He hummed in admission to his brother’s words, and glanced his way with the instance of a hooded eye.

“There is to be no bedding ceremony.” He repeated himself with ease, “I frightened her enough already. The girl will be plenty uncomfortable without the aid of chafing eyes.”

His brother smiled and raised his brows in nothing else but blinding wonder. A small shake of his head indicated his perplexion, and a sharp inhale his drawn decision.

“Mother insisted upon it. You know that well.” The man steadied himself in his chair as he spoke, whilst letting out a small grunt at the contact that the wood made upon his burnt remnants of skin. “I don’t see any reason to annul it. Especially now, an eve before.”

Another sip of the stinging liquor interrupted his smooth and ready trail of thought. The Targaryen brushed off Aemond’s concerns, and gleefully bided his teasing.

“It’ll do the two of you good – you’ll get to see she’s as pure as a bastard girl can be; and she’ll have no deniability that any of her future heirs are yours.” He pointed his weary digit in the direction of his stiffened form and swallowed down a hefty laugh. “Not to mention that Lord Redwyne and Tarly already placed bets on the state of her maidenhead. Would be a shame to disappoint them both, don't you think?"

“What mother thinks is of no consequence. And the amusement of the Realm matters not to me. There will be no bedding ceremony.”

“Nonsense, Aemond. It is our duty to upkeep the Realm – and to entertain its inhabitants if need be.”

When his reckless teasing was met with glacial silence, Aegon sighed as he briskly leaned forward. He watched his sibling with an indiscernible expression across his scorched veneer, and yawned greatly at his indisposed behaviour.

“Of course, we’re here to talk it out. But after so much time spent in your company, I fail to see the necessity for such a thing.” A sly smirk danced across his puffy lips, “Are you concerned that she won’t bleed? Or that you’ll be too cunt-struck by her to last enough to make a statement?”

Aemond’s fists descended upon the polished wood of Aegon’d desk. He thrashed his brother with a defiant glare, and hissed through his gritted teeth, and tight-set jaw.

“There will be no bedding ceremony for my niece and I. Tell that to every Lord that wishes to glance upon my wife – if they do so much as to cast their eyes on her, they’ll be fucking their own wives with a wooden cock.”

Amusement laced with grave concern – the finality of Aemond's words ought to have vexed him, irk the King in his sibling's weighty insolence. Instead Aegon nodded, pushing back the feeling of dread that settled deep within his bones. His head jerked towards his closed oak door, signalling to his brother that his visit had been overstated. “What sort of brother would I be, to not grant you with this simple whim?”

The younger Targaryen mirrored his stance, and turned abruptly on his heel after a low grunt of gratitude.

His hand reached for the golden handle, but Aegon's words deterred him to a halt.

“But be careful with that one, Aemond. She’s brash and wholly unpredictable. Make sure the blood that stains your sheets come morning isn’t somehow your very own.”

Perma Tag List: @welcometothelioncage @kravitzwhore ♡

[bronzefuryfic]

Are you experiencing post-finale blues? Are you a fan of the greens?

Daemon's daughter by Rhea Royce tries and fails to claim a dragon HERE

OC meets Aemond, Aegon and Helaena for the first time HERE

Alicent tells OC about life playing to Viserys' wants HERE

OC, Aemond, Aegon, Helaena, Jace and Luke attend High Valyrian lessons HERE

OC joins Aemond and Helaena for tea and stories HERE

Aegon sneaks OC out of the castle to meet Sunfyre HERE

A day in the life of OC, Aemond, Helaena and Aegon in the Red Keep HERE

OC confronts Aegon over his bullying of Aemond HERE

OC, Alicent and Helaena grapple with the inevitably of their fates HERE

Aegon tearfully resists duty as Aemond embraces his role as protector of the family HERE

Expanded Driftmark episode HERE, HERE and HERE

The aftermath of Aemond's injury and his path to recovery HERE

With more to come! Experience the series through the eyes of Rhae Targaryen as she dedicates her life to defeating her father and protecting her new found family.

[witheredoffherwitch]

It's always so funny to see this endless criticism of Alicent's character in Hotd.. as if they could do a better job at portraying the realistic constraints of a noblewoman in a feudal society. Sure, the writing could use some improvements but that is not what most of them are discussing, is it? It never gets old reading comments like "If I wrote Alicent, she would be the ultimate cunt and do..." followed by an elaborately misogynistic soap opera for an evil stepmother caricature.

This is evident in the way many of these folks write their fanfics, engage in discussions, and criticise her character. It seems that most of them are unable to comprehend a woman's perspective from a world that may be too foreign to theirs. In their minds, Alicent is the ultimate villain and must be held accountable for all the wrongdoings during the Dance. How convenient to twist Alicent "reluctance to murder is not a weakness" Hightower into someone who is set on murdering OCs in their precious AUs. Or perhaps they prefer to publicly shame her with pathetic insults or place the entire blame for House Targaryen's incompetence squarely on her shoulders.

[ophelieverse]

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

The first sound you hear when your heart starts beating:the beat of another heart,much bigger and more powerful than yours.Warm,rhythmic,strong.You still haven't figured out who that beat belongs to or what that sound will mean to you in the future,but you hear it.

You cradle it inside.It's an instinct,even if one day you'll forget about it.

The first voice you hear,is the one of your mother.Warm,sweet,sometimes broken by cries,others by laughter.You still don't understand what “voice” or “mother” means,but you hear it.

It's around you,always.In the future you will continue to look for it,even if unconsciously.You cradle it in,it comforts you,it makes you feel safe.It's an instinct,even if one day you'll forget it.

Finally,the light.

The first face you see,the first really important one,is your mother's.Warm,red in the face,suffering.She doesn’t look much older than you.She is crying as much as you,but she smiles. You carry it inside that smile,even if you still don't know what it means and it will continue to mean in your life.

It cradles you.t's an instinct,but one day you'll forget it.

After that first meeting,your mother left you.She left.You haven’t seen her ever since.You are her child but she’s someday child too.She’s still a child just like you.You are growing up together.

You still don't know what her absence means to you.Cold,empty,painful.It kills you,almost.

It's an instinct,and you'll never forget it.

I had to write something after seeing Alicent ignoring Aegon while he was crying.

[kingsanddragonsandgods]

⁂Early life:

Princess Visenya Targaryen of Runestone was born on the last day of the year 90AC, at her mother's ancestral home.

The newborn child was named after the Conqueror Queen, Visenya, by her father and anointed by holy oils seven days after her birth at the Sept-by-the-Sea in Runesport.

Queen Alysanne, who held the child during the ceremony is noted for having remarking that ‘the girl has all of Viserra’s beauty, but Alyssa’s temper’ to which the King is said to have answered ‘Gods be good’.

As Princess Visenya grew, her parents continued to battle, using the young girl as a pawn in their conflict, with both parents appealing to the King and Queen to take their side on occasion.

During her early years she grew especially close to her natural born brother, Orys Stone, the illegitimate son of Prince Daemon by Lady Rowena Royce, Lady Rhea’s older third cousin. The young boy was brought into Lady Rhea’s household in the year 90AC, following the passing of his mother.

From the age of five, her parents’ estrangement was permanent, with Prince Daemon returning to the Crownlands and Lady Rhea and their daughter remaining at the Vale. After royal intervention it was agreed that the Princess time was to be split between living in Runestone with her mother, and between the Red Keep and Dragonstone with her father, alternating during the seasons, summer and winter was spent on the Vale, while spring and autumn in the Crownlands, special celebrations were shared.

Her education appears to have been strict and somewhat old-fashioned, thus, in addition to her studies, Grand Maester Runciter notes in his journals, she was taught spinning and weaving and had an innate talent for weaving intricate tapestry. From the year 92 forward, Visenya, who had been betrothed to her newborn cousin, Prince Aerion, was expected to become Queen Consort, and her education reflected it. Her betrothed passed away in his cradle two years later, and Visenya was then betrothed to his newborn brother, Prince Aelor.

Her tutors at the time, Maester Adelin, Archmaester Vaegon and Master Petrarca of Volantis, regarded Princess Visenya as an extroverted, lively, highly intelligent, and strong-willed girl. Prince Daemon was reported to be proud of her horsemanship and marksmanship.

Because of her outstanding intellect, and his blunt favoritism, King Jaehaerys named Princess Visenya as his cupbearer in the Year 96AC, at the age of six.

The young princess often was allowed to discuss the classics, philosophy, and the affairs of state with ambassadors and envoys visiting the court of Jaehaerys. Moreover, she was personally acquainted with the painters, musicians, writers, and scholars who lived in and around the royal court.

Princess Visenya if often considered one of, if not, the best educated women of her generation.

The year 96AC marked another milestone for Princess Visenya: on the eight moon of the year, the young princess bonded and became the first rider of a she-dragon she named Huraxes. The same dragon that as a hatchling had been brought to Princess Daenerys Targayen. Huraxes had pearly scales and iridescent wing membranes, with pale and pinkish flames. The princess was allowed to bond with the she-dragons by royal decree after falling ill with a bolt of Spring Fever that nearly took her life.

Matches for Princess Visenya started being discussed by the Small Council, brought up by the Lord Hand. Thought Visenya was heiress to the largest fortress in the Vale and to the Ladyship of Runestone, it was argued that as she was a Princess of the Realm, the matter of her marriage was a prerogative of the King, which infuriated Prince Daemon, who at the time occupied the seat of Master of Law, the Grand Master agreed that such line of thought might anger the Vale, as the Princess was highly regarded by her people and her second cousin, the Lady Jeyne Arryn. Lord Corlys suggested his own son as a match for the princess, four years her junior, most likely to tie another dragonrider to his house. His Grace put down all talks of marriage for his niece, agreeing that such was the right of his brother and good sister to choose her match.

For the celebration of his niece's fifteenth nameday, the king ordered seven days of celebrations, with a tournament and grand feasts. The Queen's absence was noticed, excused as Her Grace was in the early stages of her final pregnancy, and Visenya was allowed to sit in the seat usually reserved for the consort; she was crowned Queen of Love and Beauty by the Dornish Ser Eldric Dayne, the Star in the Morning.

Since the Princess's return to court early in the spring of 104 AC, Visenya had caught the king’s eye, and it is reported that Viserys and his niece have become very close, spending hours each day in each other's company, promenading in the gardens, hunting in the Kingswood, and dancing together during feasts and balls.

The king is said to have spoiled his niece with lavish gifts, including presenting her with a manse in King’s Landing, a country estate crossing the Blackwater Rush and later a sea palace in the Reach.

⁂Marriage and Queenship:

After the death of Queen Aemma Arryn in the Year 105 AC, Princess Visenya, aged 15, became the 2nd wife and Queen Consort of her uncle, King Viserys I Targaryen. Their betrothal was announced a month following the queen’s passing, and a private ceremony was held three months later in Dragonstone.

It was a scandal at the time, as not only the King’s new marriage was announced a moon after the late queen’s passing in childbed, but it had also been rumored for some time that Viserys and Visenya had been lovers.

More salacious tales propagated by the fool Mushroom during the Dance of the Dragons tells of the princess sitting on her uncle's lap during feasts, kissing him shamelessly, and nibbling his fingers sensually as he fed her like a beloved pet; of the king fondling her breasts in public, and announcing to his courtiers that he and his niece would retire to make love. These have no contemporary support, with Septon Eustace calling such tales absurd and slanderous.

Over the matter of his marriage to his niece Viserys claimed that the marriage was in the public interest and ordered a grand celebration for the occasion of his new queen's coronation, to happen after the end of mourning period for Prince Baelon. Visenya was the first Queen Consort crowned in a separate ceremony from the reigning King. During the occasion the apparent advanced state of the queen's pregnancy caused a new wave of rumors that Visenya had been the King's mistress while the queen was still alive and that their child was conceived out of wedlock.

In their more than two decades of marriage, Visenya and Viserys had fourteen children, all survived into adulthood, something that the maesters attribute to the queen’s management of the nursery. Visenya’s role as a mother was glorified throughout the realm, their young new queen’s obvious fertility was seen, by the smallfolk and nobles alike, as both a bless from the Mother and a sign from the gods. With the birth of her twin girls, Princess Viserra and Princess Rhaelys, coins were issued, portraying her as the Mother, an allegory that would repeat itself many times for the remaining of her husband’s and son’s reign. If in her maidenhood, as a young princess, Visenya posed as a model for sculptures of the Maiden, in motherhood and queenship, she was now the Mother.

Although it was not the norm of the age, and in fact, apart from the late Queen Alysanne, no other queen receive such a honor, King Viserys granted Visenya a seat on his Small Council, leaning on her for advice on varied subjects due to his respect for her opinion and good judgment. She became a formidable figure with far-reaching influence during this time. According to some sources, her influence was such that Queen Visenya effectively ran the government alongside the Hand of the King.

In the year 115AC, around the time of her stepdaughter’s wedding to Ser Leanor Velaryon and in the years that followed, the Queen Consort started to work and put her own trusted people in ever higher positions to strengthen herself and her sons through them.

Visenya acted as her first husband’s regent after his health decline, sat in her eldest son’s war table following Viserys’s death.

⁂Personality:

Some historians have contended that to some extent she deserved her negative reputation propagated by her stepdaughter following the death of King Viserys I, despite the inaccuracies of the claims that she was sexually disreputable or regarding the legitimacy of her children, other criticisms of her were valid: she was ambitious, proud, obstinate, and masked her cunning behind a sweet-toned voice and flawless manners.

Princess Rhaenyra described her as a woman of reckless extravagance and wantonness, who seduced a grieving man, and whom the King nonetheless loved passionately and faithfully. It is widely known that those part of the Black Court of the Princess of Dragonstone took to call the queen ‘the King’s Great Whore’ and ‘Lady Concubine’, however always away from both the queen and the king’s ears as well as her supporters, further spreading the rumors of an extramarital affair while the late Queen Aemma still lived and questioning the validity of the legitimacy of their children. Despite rumors spread on her sons legitimacy supported by the queen's supposed lasciviousness, all of Visenya’s children resembled those of her lineage.

In her youth, Visenya was celebrated as ‘the most beautiful creature in the world’ and that there was ‘nothing lacking in her that the most beautiful girl should have’. Ser Alyn of Hull would reflect later in her lifetime that regarding her appearance ‘there were few women who could compete with the Queen in her prime’.

Visenya was fiercely independent, a trait she shared with her mother. Mellos described her as having ambitions to match her pedigree. However, Archmaester Gyldayn notes that Visenya was fully aware that a woman in Westeros could not hold power in her own right. Instead, Visenya orchestrated the rise of her sons.

Capable of acts of extreme ruthlessness, she, in contrast, was also able to demonstrate uttermost kindness and charity.

⁂Issue:

At four and thirty of age by the time of their weeding, Viserys was already considered in his middle age. The union however proved itself to be a happy one, and together they had 14 children, nine sons and five daughters.

Visenya had been taught the importance of receiving an education and came to play an extensive role in her children' education, resulting in the creation of a "superior breed of princes."

Queen Visenya was know to call her children her 'precious jewels', and took great pride in all of them, she was particularly close to the princesses Alyssa and Elaena, however it is said, that from all her children, her favorite was Prince Aegon.

edited on 11/04/2024

[drakaripykiros130ac]

Not TG stans acting like Aegon the Usurper was a “merciful king” who let Rhaenyra’s son live.

What is this fanfiction these people have in their heads? I’ve been hearing and reading this bullshit too many times.

The book made it perfectly clear that Alicent and her son wanted Aegon the Younger executed or made to be a eunuch in order to end Rhaenyra’s line. It was Corlys and the rest of the Council who stopped them.

[alishaaxo]

POSTED A NEW CHAPTER OF THE VENGEFUL KING- my aegon ii timetravel fic!!

from helaena’s POV this chapter!!

[awkwardgamer1999]

Honesty time 😳 the bar is in hell for season 2 I knew not to have any expectations but I just I’m not fucking with it and it’s only eight episodes. I was hoping rhaenicent would die but unfortunately you weirdos are getting fed 🥴 and I hope this “love” that Alicent apparently has for rhaenyra I hope it’s one sided after everything that’s happened to still believe there is love or friendship between them is a fucking joke. Speaking from rhaenyras pov “you have one son sitting on my throne and your other son just murdered my child but sure let’s be besties” bffr you guys. And to have rhaenyra question daemons loyalty. DAEMON out of all people. When one of his redeeming qualities is the love and support he has for his family. I need some new writers in that room asap. They have made it pretty clear they want to villainize daemon in anyway they can I knew there was going to be angst between him and rhaenyra but to ask the person that literally crowned you is crazy. It’s basically been confirmed this show is a whole new story and it’s really weird to me that GRRM is allowing for all these changes and letting these characters be butchered I thought him stepping in for the writing in season 2 he would go back to the actual story that HE wrote but oh well. That promo with Olivia Cooke and Emma D’arcy makes you forget this is a war between rhaenyra and Aegon which is really annoying. You can’t expect people to understand this is a tragic story about the fall of a house due to misogyny when you have two women fighting against each other but hey that’s just my opinion. I feel Emma will act their ass off and just make me completely emotionally unstable. Can we talk about how much of a pretty boi Jace looks I see why people keep calling him !book Jon snow

[ashblooddragons]

The Red Queen (Chapter 8/?)

112 ac

Your Pov

It's the day of Mama's funeral. I try not to cry again as I sit in the bath as my maid wash hair. 

“What oils would you like today, Princess? Your usual jasmine?” Orchid asks already reaching for the oil bottle ready to pour it in the tub and my hair.

But instead, I stop her and think about Mama's calming scent and Ali's vanilla scent, or at least that's what she calls it.

“What was Mama's oil?” I ask and I see the flash of sadness cross Orchid's face before she smiles and grabs another bottle. 

“Lavender, the late Queen loved Lavender.” She says filling the dropper before letting the oil drip into my bath and hair.

“Can I have vanilla too? Or would that smell bad?” I ask curiously before biting my lip nervously.

“Lavender and vanilla would be lovely together, Princess.” Orchid says before reaching for the small vial of vanilla oils.

Once she has them both in the bath and my hair I feel safe, like a warm hug, like I can breathe again. I start to cry again but Orchid acts like she doesn't notice, most of the maids act like they don't notice. I don't understand why, why can't they wipe my tears like Kepus and Ali do? Why can't they hold me so close like Kepus and Ali do? They hold me so tight it's hard to breathe but I can feel their hearts beating feel they're alive feel they're here.

But what confuses me the most is why Mama had to leave me? She promised after this baby was born she would play with me finally, that she would come to my leasons and see how smart I'm getting. But now she can't do that, because she's gone forever. 

Everyone keeps saying that, but they won't tell me how long forever is, only that it is forever. It doesn't make sense, I just want to know when I can see my Mama again when she'll be back to play and see how smart I am. 

“All done, Princess.” Orchid says wiping my face of the water from the bath, but from her frown I can tell she was also wiping my tears. 

I stand in the bath and use my step stool to get out so she can wrap me in a warm towel that always feels warm against my skin because she rests it next to the fire, and smells of something woodsy. 

I'm quickly dried and dressed in a black dress. Put on thick wool stockings as it's chilly today and my hair braided so it's a crown upon my head. Orchid helps me put on my bracelet and necklace from Kepus like always before someone knocks on the door.

“Come!” I call out rubbing my already raw and painful eyes. I then look down in case it's Papa, he seems to not be able to look at me anymore. I don't understand why though I haven’t done anything wrong. 

“Ñuha riña, it's time to go.” I hear Kepus say.

Not Papa, I don't have to hide my face. 

I turn and look up and see him frown at how bloody my lips and how red my eyes are. 

“Can't I wear red, it's a much prettier color than black.” I say frowning

This seems to make him happy as he chuckles with a shake of his head before he kneels down so he can hold my hands in his. My hands always seem so small when he holds them, not like the big girl hands I like to think they are. “No, I'm afraid not ñuha riña. Black, is traditional mourning colors you will be wearing them for a while yet.” He says inspecting my hair to see how well done it is.

“I did it today, M'lord.” Orchid says from her spot behind me with her head down.

Kepus made sure to tell Orchid only she and him can do my hair now, maybe the ‘little Hightower’ but I don't know who that would be. 

“I figured as much, it's not in her eyes.” He responds with a nod to my maids before picking me up and walking out of my room.

Once in the carriage I see Nyra who is glaring at me as usual but this time it sends chills down my spine. Had I done something? And then I see Papa next to her and he won't look at me, as if doing so brings him pain. I must have done something bad, but what?

The ride is quiet, almost suffocatingly so, so I feel I need to break it. 

“When will me and Nyra know when to tell Syrax and Stromchaser to dracarys?” I ask Papa but when he doesn’t answer I turn to look up at Kepus instead.

“I’ll count down from five, once I say zero you two command them to light the pyre.” He says glaring at Papa or some reason.

I only nod and look out the window watching as the smallfolk cry for Mama. They miss her too, hopefully their Mama’s aren’t goen too. 

When we make it to Rhaeny’s hill Kepus picks me up again and whispers to me “it’s quite steep, ñuha riña, don’t you tripping and getting hurt.” 

I feel the wind against my back, it makes me shiver as I cling to Kepus hoping he'll keep the cold away. Once we make it to the top of the hill he sets me down on my feet. He lets me cling to his leg as the Valyrian priest chants.

I try and ignore them as I look at Mama and baby Baelon, they're wrapped in a brown cloth so tight I can see the outline of Mama's arms, legs, and belly. Her belly looks weird but I ignore it as it's probably because she's dead. 

Once the priest is done and walks away I let go of Kepus and walk forward with Nyra. 

“It's time girls, are you ready ñuha riña?” Kepus says standing between us.

I want to scream ‘NO’ but I know that I must, that Mama and Baelon must be ‘put to rest’ or at least that's what Ali said. So instead I nod my head as I wipe my tears.

Kepus looks between us one last time before sighing and nodding his head, a lmost like he's defeated. 

“Five.”

I gasp realizing I'm never going to be ready this, to let Mama go. At least before I had to turn her to ash in the wind I could pretend she was just on a long trip, that she wasn't gone that she was only seeing her family in the Vale.

“Four.”

I feel my heart clench, feel it about beat out of my chest. It's painful, it hurts, but not as much as when I burn Mama away.

“Three.”

I can't breathe, why can't I breathe? I can feel my heart practically beat out of my chest. I feel my lungs constrict so I can only take in small gasps of air.

“Two.” 

I feel Kepus rest his hand on my shoulder giving it a squeeze. I still can't breathe, still feel my heart beating out of my chest, but for some reason, it's all getting easier to deal with.

“One.” 

I hear Stromchaser let out a cry of pain, Kepus says they feel our emotions, our pain, I have to stay calm for Stromchaser. But I can't I can't calm down, I'm losing Mama forever.

“Now.” 

I figured out what forever means, and all it took was me screaming with Nyra, commanding our dragons to make Mama and Baelon ash in the wind. Make them gone forever.

Once Stromchaser and Syrax stop their flames I turn to Kepus leaping into his arms and sobbing. Sobbing that I'll never get to see Mama again and play in the gardens with her. Sobbing because I'll never get to meet my baby brother. Sobbing that Mama and Baelon are gone forever.

Daemons Pov

I stand leaning against the Weirwood tree waiting for that blasted Dornish man, Cole. 

I knew after that fucking Sarwyck lost in the first round you needed a better guard. Though my pride was hurt I can't deny that Cole proved himself, that he would be the perfect guard for you. 

I remember the look of hos face when I grabbed him after, it was a look of horror, of fear of what the Prince of the city would do to him. Instead I only whispered one thing.

“Meet me at the Weorwood tree in a week's time at the hour of the wolf.” 

He quickly agreed of course but now I'm wondering if I should have threatened him instead of letting him go on his merry way. 

I hear a twig snap under someone's foot and turn to see him. He seems to have rushed here if the sweat on his brow is any indicator.

Must have realized he was almost late. I think with a cruel smirk. 

“You wished to see me, my Prince?” He says winded and bent over with his hands on his knees catching his breath.

“I have an offer for you, though if you take it you'll answer to me and no one else.” I say standing straight and walking towards him.

“Wh-what do you mean?” 

“You took down one of my Gold Cloaks, he was in charge of the care and well-being of the youngest Princess. Can't have someone who can't even beat a stewards son protect my sweet little niece, now can I?” I say in a calm voice that has always led men to do as I please, even my brother, the King. 

“And what does that have to do with me?” He asks standing straight again hands behind his back.

I know that stance, I know it well. 

“You're a soldier aren't you.” I say but it was rhetorical

“Yes, my Prince.” He responds curtly but I catch the scowl that he was read so easily.

Oh just you wait, Ser Cole, you'll learn to hide everything in this pit of vipers soon.

“If I could make it where you have a very high chance of becoming a Kingsguard, would you?” 

He seems shocked from the way his mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. I can't fight the chuckle that leaves me, nor would I want to. 

“It would be an honor, my Prince. But why would they choose a stewards son over a lord's son who has also been to war?” He asks, curious and skeptical to this offer.

“And what I'd I said they wouldn't be others who have gone to war?” 

He freezes for all of ten seconds before a smile comes to his face. “And what would you need from me? Of course after you give me such a high ranking at court you will want something in return?” 

I stop and look at him surprised. Most who are not from Kingslanding would have taken this chance by now, I can't tell if I'm proud, annoyed, or impressed. I think before responding.

“You see, I noticed something about our match. I had my blade to your throat, I let you live, and yet at the first chance you got back up and made sure I'd be the one to yield.” I say smiling when he starts to shift uncomfortably.

“It was a fair fight, you know it just as much as I.”

“Never said it wasn't, you never said you yielded, so by all rights you could, and did get back up to continue to fight.” I say smirking when I see the tension leave his shoulders.

“That still doesn't explain why you need me.” He says obviously getting annoyed.

“It's simple, I want- no I need a man who will use suck ‘dirty’ tactics when defending my niece. If I was to help you, you will defend the youngest, the Realms Darling they call her.”  

“Why her and not the eldest?” He asks confused.

“Rhaenyra has at least three guards at her demand, none are truly hers but they may as well be. The youngest…well she has only had the spares or the ones I give to her. I wish for her to have one I know I can trust. One that will give me the information I desire, when I desire it.” 

He seems to contemplate his options, though before he even says it, I know what he'll do.

“I'll do it.” 

I can't fight the smirk that comes to my face as I shake his hand, a symbol of a good deal. 

Once he's out of my sight I look down at the gold cloak against my back.

Fuck I could use a drink and a whore. I think before walking towards the most depraved parts of the city looking for a night to forget all I've lost, if only for one night.

Viserys Pov

After that ‘talk’ with my small council and the very long day I've had I knew when my head hit my pillow I'd be asleep. 

All I saw for a while was darkness, I figured it was because I was still awake but then I saw a light far away and knew what was going on.

Not this blasted dream again! I thought as I stormed forward knowing what I'd find.

The throne room was dark, not a candle lit on the walls, but there was fourteen candles lit in front of the iron throne. They always seemed to dance, I swore if I moved closer I would hear the sounds of childlike giggles. Most are on their own, standing on their own candle sticks, but three have two prongs with two candles on the stand. 

It's all the same, even those damned faces are still blurry! I think ready to turn around until I hear the booming voice of my Grandsire.

“You will stay, boy!” I feel my bones rattle just from the sheer force my Grandsire has spoken to me.

I now don't feel like a King, I feel like a little boy again being scolded for trying to steal a sweet…again.

“Why do you bring me here Grandsire? You have made me come to this room with its candles every night ever since my dear wife has passed! Well before that I was having this dream once a moon!” I cried out looking up and around me searching for my Grandsire.

“It is not our fault you are not Brave son. That you will not face what you already know.” I then hear my Father, the one man I always wished I could be, but Daemon has always been more like him than I'll ever be.

“What is there to see? Fourteen candles, two blurry faces on the throne? I've seen it! I understand I must have a son to put on the throne!” I sob out feeling their disappointment, their regret, knowing I'm far from the monarch they wished from me.

“Have you thought that perhaps if you moved closer the faces would be clear? Or are you that daft Viserys?” I hear their voice now combine, hear my fathers furious tone mixed with my Grandsires disappointment.

I shake my head but still listen to their advice. As I move forward I begin to hear the sounds of a woman giggling at something a man had said. Another step, and I can make out the woman's curls and theans long straight hair. One more and I see a gorgeous woman on my brother's lap, though it is not him that wears my crown but her.

The two of them stop their chatter, my brother is the first to turn to look at me.

“How lovely for you to finally join us dear brother, I was beginning to wonder if you ever would.” I teases with that smirk of hos that always make me want to punch him right in the lip. 

That'll show him who's older still. I think with a smile before I leaves me and a pained gasp leaves me.

The woman has turned her head to look at me, I would have never recognized her if it weren't for those eyes. One of Lavender and one of Ice Blue, the ones I can not look at, the ones who only bring me pain.

“You know what you must do, Father. You always have.” You say but it is not your little voice, it is a woman's voice.

I wake with a gasp before turning and letting my dinner meet my chambers floor.

“You know what you must do, Father. You always have.” Those words keep running through my head as I try to catch my breath.

I have, haven't I?

Series Masterlist

Special thanks to @sugutoad for making the header for this fic, I swear I'd be lost without you girly!

TAGLIST: @sugutoad @ilikefelines @classicsimpforaaronwarner @mmogurl @sachaa-ff

[dulcewrites]

Seek and Destroy

Summary: Alicent swears she is not naturally a cruel person. Any semblances of cunning or coldness has been taught, slowly and surely. A gift bestowed to her from the age of ten and five. Something she was weened onto like a babe that suckles for milk from its mother. She has learned at the feet at the best - or maybe the worst. King’s Landing has fallen to Rhaenyra. Her children are scattered around the realm. Lives have been lost already. Alicent’s heart has finally callused. Nothing left but a shell and the venom that seeps out of it.

A/N: This is just something I have been working on. It is not finished obvi. I don’t know if I will expand on it. If I do I will probably post it to ao3

Her father’s blood had splattered into her mouth when she cried out. At first, Alicent did not want to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing her body shake in worry. Bones rattling together under neath sheathed of silk. Green silks. Or let them take glee in seeing fear in her eyes. She wanted to stand tall as the execution begun. Her father being first to go was for a reason.

Even in his doom, Otto Hightower managed to make his presence looming.

Alicent wanted not to shed a single tear. But then she felt ten and eight again. Just a girl with two children, and burden pressed firmly on her chest to the point where it was hard to breathe. He was unruly and fickle but without him, she would be alone… again.

Her brain settled between ‘This is all his fault. His debt comes due, as it should’ and ‘Daddy, please look me. Tell me you love me, that I made you proud despite of how it ends for us’.

But all her father told her was to look away. As if to shield her from a terror that had already came. A terror he brought. The horror was on their doorstep now. She was rutted in each night against her wishes; she bore four children - ones she could not save. They bore her grandchildren that she loved in a way she was not able to love her own children. Maybe if she could not help her own, she could do better with the littlest ones.

Jaehaerys. Oh, my poor Jaehaerys.

Everyone is gone. If not in person, in spirit.

Gwayne is gone. Her brother dragged into this mess. When he had arrived in King’s Landing, she has almost missed him amongst the other Oldtown knights. Her heart had sunk lower that she thought it could at the thought of not even recognizing her own kin. His face was one that was no longer burned in her brain.

Helaena’s mind and heart has been rotted from the inside out. On a good day, Alicent can force her to eat and drink. She bathes her daughter as if she still a babe. There is no light in Helaena’s eyes.

Alicent’s mouth feels as if a pile of sand has been dumped in her mouth if she thinks too long about how cold she was when Aemond left for the Riverlands. He gave her a kiss a cheek and muttered a pitiful sorry.

It was all he had said since coming back from Storm’s End. Different variations of the same thing. He never begged for forgiveness from the Gods but from her.

Sorry, mother. I’m so sorry mother.

If she could crush skulls with her bare hands, Alicent would. Not off strength, she’s always been a slip of a woman. But off the hatred that seemed into her bones.

She was prepared to die. She thinks she has been from the moment Viserys said he would marry her. From the moment the maester congratulated her on being pregnant with Aegon. Death had been a thing she even welcomed at times. When the lonliness felt too deep, when she could not stomach being called to Viserys chambers at night, when she had to look at her children for too long. She eyed Criston’s sword one too many times to admit. So, when Daemon leers over her with that cruel, ugly smile of his, she straightens her back and sniffs away her tears. He, of course, got the honors to kill her father; a task Alicent is sure he has wanted to do for decades.

It was Daemon who pushed her hair to the side with such gentleness it made her a bit sick. The coolness of Dark Sister pressed softly against her neck.

Alicent says a quick prayer to the Mother for her children. She knows it is to no veil; they were doomed the moment they came out of her. Mayhaps, this is her punishment for bearing them.

She does not sob over herself. Her lot in life has been well accepted. But Alicent wants to claw at her own face, peel back her own flesh so she is frayed out, when she thinks of her kids.

Let the Mother keep them safe as they do what is only imaginable in their wildest nightmares. May the horrors committed not leave them too soiled.

“Wait,” Rhaenyra’s voice calls out in the Grand Hall. It echoes so loud that Alicent flinches, the blade swiping gently against her neck. She still shivers from head to toe.

Daemon huffs, before removing the blade cautiously.

Alicent peers up at the stairs that lead to the Iron Throne. Rhaenyra gestures softly to her husband to come up the stairs. Daemon does not fully sheathe Dark Sister but complies anyway. A piece of Alicent’s hair obstructs her view, but through it, her eyes stay trained on Rhaenyra. Or whoever the person wearing the crown is.

The woman looks like the Rhaenyra. The same long silvery blonde hair styled elaborately on top of her head with the rest hanging in a braid. Her long riding dress is a deep black with red stitching and a red dragon collar. Red and purple dragons snaking their way up her sleeves. The woman has Rhaenyra’s eyes and nose, but Alicent has never felt more confused about who stands at the feet of the Iron Throne. The woman’s mouth pinches the way a young Rhaenyra’s would when she was distressed.

Rhaenyra’s look makes Alicent think of the stories of warrior queen Visenya. Rhaenyra would often laud the might and cunning of her ancestor during their girlhood. After the pain, humiliation, and anger post Aemond losing his eye, Alicent had chucked softly to herself at the thought her son riding the Conqueror Queen’s beloved dragon. Because of course it would be one of her kids to claim the old bitch.

But despite the styling callback, a warrior Rhaenyra is not.

And based on the look of disgust settling on Daemon’s face, he thinks the same of his wife.

He will never see you as an equal, she wants to call out. It does not matter how many crowns you put on your head, how many dragons you claim - you always just be his little niece… a silly woman. The means to his end.

Their conversation reaches a cacophony and Alicent desperately wants to know what it being said. Is Rhaenyra asking him to make it as gruesome as possible? Maybe they will drag her body out in front of the castle for all the small folk to see. A warning for what can happen if they defy their queen. Alicent already knows the heads of those that helped Aegon and his kids escape will be next once they catch them.

Rhaenyra reaches out to grab Daemon’s arm, but he is already down the stairs muttering expletives out his mouth. Alicent hears the word whore, and scoffs internally. She fights back a sad smile that almost forces itself on her face. Not the first time she has heard that, and surely will not be the last. Poor Daemon has never been clever with his insults. They are as simple as he is. She is the nasty deceitful, whore that seduced Viserys and ruined everything. Used her wily, womanly magic, her cunt, to lure the King of the Fucking Seven Kingdoms into submission. She always noticed how Daemon always acted like she stole Viserys from him.

The same way the maidens whose virtue Daemon stole must be whores too. The same way Queen Aemma must have been inadequate since she did not give Viserys what he wanted. Something must have been wrong with Rhea and Laena too. Maybe even Daemon’s own daughters are not enough. Surely, something is wrong with Rhaenyra. Something that makes Daemon’s stomach curdle. Such is the way with men like him.

Viserys will be remembered as a peaceful king, and a gentle man. A king who was so averse to conflict that he raped Alicent for children he then neglected once they came. He was so kind he made sure his first wife died in a pool of blood with nothing but screams of agony and pleas of mercy dying in her lips.

She wonders if Rhaenyra knows that charming story. Would she still have felt safe under the patronage of Viserys if she knew such? Imagine the horror that Alicent felt when she overheard maesters whispering of such when she was pregnant with Aegon.

Alicent is sure Daemon will die being known as a ‘true’ and ‘honest’ warrior. Apparently, there are those that think there is some sort of honor in being upfront about ones rotting heart. As if his cavalier attitude negates the atrocities on his hands. The world has taught Alicent that type of ruthlessness is only tolerated at the hands of a man.

And Alicent, in all her attempts to do right, to keep her head above water, to appease and break herself down into a small enough package that all can accept her, will be known as a whore. A seducer, a scheming bitch that stole the agency of a grown man. She will die being blamed and accused.

It only seemed right she supposed.

Viserys the Peaceful. Daemon the Honest. Alicent… the Whore.

Her confusion mounts when Daemon does not come back to her to finish the job. Instead, he continues walking, right past and leaving the hall in a fit of anger and rage. Alicent knees have begun to ache from being crouched. Rhaenyra clears her throat, and Alicent eyes slowly go back to her. Dark bags rimmed Rhaenyra’s eyes, only drawing more attention to the extremely dark limbal ring that surrounded deep amethyst. When Alicent heard about Lucerys’ death, it had shaken her to her core. Frankly more for Aemond’s sake than for Rhaenyra’s or the boy’s. The thought of peace still naively in her mind. Alicent always seemed to the last one to arrive at the right conclusions. A fatal flaw of hers unfortunately.

You were already ill-fated, you foolish boy! Why make yourself accursed as well!

But when Alicent heard of Jacaerys’ death, she knew what was to come. There are few things a parent loves more than their first born.

…. Alicent had never known what the smell of burning flesh was like till Aegon.

“I have decided to spare your life,” the few people that stood in the hall, her council, begin to whisper to each other. Rhaenyra shifts uncomfortably at the eyes on her. “For the sake of my father, who loved you once.”

Alicent blinks once, then twice, then three times. She is almost a bit disappointed. Rhaenyra has taken so much and now she has taken death off the table too.

And is that what they are calling what Viserys did to her? Love? Rhaenyra could not possibly believe that. Not now after everything. After the way Rhaenyra would so seamlessly twist the knife when she had the chance, when she was backed in a corner. Rhaenyra knew there was no love there. Not for Alicent and definitely not for her children.

The words crawl up her throat before she can stop them. She must know. “And what of my girl? What of Queen Helaena?”

The queen part slips out truly on accident, a panicked slip of the tongue, but Rhaenyra’s mouth curls a bit in a sneer.

If her Helaena is to die at the hands of one of Rhaenyra’s butchers, to meet the same evil fate Jaehaerys did, then Alicent might beg for the sword. Or a rope and one of the high ceilings of the Red Keep.

Something cold and numb flashes behind Rhaenyra’s already hallow eyes. As if she is just now remembering that she had a sister that still occupied the castle.

“The princess will be spared as well.”

Rhaenyra waves a ringed hand at the guard to have Alicent taken away. Before she can even register was has happened, she is dragged away by the arms.

“Let her be bound in a manner fitting of her new station,” Rhaenyra sits in the Irone Throne elegantly as Alicent goes.

Alicent’s frantic eyes look at her father’s limp body one last time. His blood spilled on the ground. His head separated from the rest of him. It is the first and only time Alicent has ever seen her father so… small.

If Otto was alive now, and they were alone, he would tell her that he was right. He said as much after Jaehaerys was killed. Right before Aegon snatched the hand pin off his grandsire’s jacket and screamed at him that all that cunning had gone to waste by Otto being a ‘bastard that was too thick in the head for his own good’. Otto would say they should have had mercenaries go to Dragonstone and do the deed while they had the chance. He would still be alive. As would Gwayne and Jaehaerys. Helaena would not be in a fugue state beyond repair. Alicent’s boys would be home, and well. Daeron could have come back to King’s Landing for a coronation that was not rushed nor interrupted. Aemond would not have blood on his ledger.

Aegon would be king with no one in his path.

You know it. You're no fool and yet you choose not to see it. The time is coming, Alicent. Either you prepare Aegon to rule, or you cleave to Rhaenyra and pray for her mercy.

She stumbles all the way back to the Holdfast with thoughts swirling in her head.

Alicent did not prepare Aegon, the way she should have. But she was not prepared for such things; so how did anyone expect her to know better. How can a child help a child. How does the blind lead the blind. She may not have done what she needed for Aegon, not in that moment. But she refuses to cleave now. Mercy is not a luxury she has been granted for some time.

Have you ever imagined yourself on the Iron Throne?

No, of course not. Alicent can be naive, but never stupid. Never foolish or too hot on herself. Her veins have turned ice cold. She does not have her children the way she would want to. Alicent has never had a dragon to threaten others with. The army at her disposal is elsewhere fighting a futile battle. Not even Criston is here.

She just has herself, and right now that has to be enough. It must be enough.

[coffeebooksrain18]

Something I never understood is why the show runners had to do the whole "good vs evil" trope. Like thats not why people watched GoT, we watched it cause it had complex characters that did bad things but we could understand why they did them. Like even Joffery Baratheon could be understood in the sense we all understood he was bad shit cause he was a incest baby.

But HotD makes it where if TB does something it's out of sacrifice and good will, but if TG does the same exact thing in the same exact way its made out to be out of greed and cruelty. When in reality all of these characters are cruel, greedy, have made sacrifices, done things for the good of others.

If I wanted to watch a Good Vs Evil show I would go to Disney not a asoiaf show. And Ryan Condal and Sara Hess need to fucking get that instead of treating us like we're dumb and just can't get the nuances. We can, your just horrible show runners and show writers who are so prideful and full of yourselves you can't admit when your wrong and that you've ruined this story to the point it's not even close to the same as it was in the book.