#reign of royals and rejects

[piratecore-art]

Watching the decendants movies tonight, so should I write....

[jeonggukookies]

the crown's kingdom || jjk

– summary: after rejecting many suitors, your mother chooses a husband for you, and her choice is none other than your worst nightmare: Jungkook, the prince heir of Aurum. How will you survive an arranged marriage with Jungkook, the one you hate the most?

– genre: royalty!au, enemies to lovers!au, prince!jungkook, queen!reader, arranged marriage - fluff/angst

– note: this is rewritten and reposted as i changed and added some NEW details regarding both oc and jungkook & loosely based on the history of mary stuart !! (i am so sorry)

– word count: 1.2K

The two countries, Caelestia and Luxuria, have been in conflict with each other for many generations now, with constant ongoing invasion battles and military campaigns, shedding hundreds of thousands of blood on each landmass. Being two border countries surrounded by the sea, both countries were hungry for the power, land, and wealth for it to be one.  

Tensions escalated even further after your father, the king, had been assassinated by a Luxuria anarchist. Luxuria soldiers saw this opportunity to put the Caelestia castle under siege, seeing this as their chance to finally take the country as their own. 

But what they didn’t know is that your mother, the Queen Consort, had given birth to his heir. 

The throne of Caelestia, was inherited by the daughter of King Constantine of Caelestia and Queen Consort Nylah, you, two days after you were born. 

During your childhood, your mother has been acting Queen Regent, taking care of all the responsibilities on your behalf since you’ve been crowned Queen. She wasn’t like most mothers, letting you live a privileged life, not wanting you to suffer through the hardships of royalty until you were of age. 

Despite spending most of your time with your many governesses and trying to play hide and seek in the castle with other noble children, the People of Luxuria still saw you as a threat. And by your seventh birthday, they were finally brave enough to send a message, that they still wanted your throne by seasoning your porridge with poison, intentionally killing your royal taster.  

With a failed assassination attempt, your mother sent you to the country of Aurum for your protection away from the Luxurians, hidden away from your own people across the sea. 

Not only were you the Queen of Caelestia, but because of your mother’s side, you were related to the Queen of Luxuria, meaning you could claim the Luxuria throne as yours if the Queen of Luxuria dies without a heir and if the people accept you.

Before marrying your father, she had been an Aurum noblewoman with land in Luxuria, and the Aurum court allowed you to be there for your safety and as a part of a small, meaningless alliance. 

Living at Aurum Court was almost the same as your own courts. The only difference was being with other Aurum royals. As a child, the Prince of Aurum had been a constant troublemaker, a reigning terror for his own people. He was known for cheekiness and confidence, getting out of tough situations with his charms and good looks. 

“Jungkook.” You forced a smile, entering the throne room after being suddenly summoned in the middle of the night. “What are you doing here?” 

He pointed in the direction in front of him, and there was his parents, the King and Queen consort of Aurum on their respective thrones with your mother standing next to his mother.

Your jaw dropped, not expecting her to be standing in front of you. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had seen her in person. The last few years, you’ve only been corresponding with letters to her. “What are you doing here?” 

“That’s no way to greet your mother.” She came forward to give you a quick hug and then returned back to her original position. “The Luxuria troops are getting stronger at the border.”

“And I’m sorry, how does this matter revolve around me and my country?” Jungkook asked. 

You rolled your eyes at Jungkook’s comment. As children, your personality always clashed with Jungkook. The two of you always tried to avoid each other at all costs.

Although you and Jungkook were raised together in the castle, experiencing the same exact royal lessons of courtesy, ballroom dancing and diplomacy, you never once could get along with Jungkook, turning everything with him into an argument or competition whether it was for academic endeavors or favoring the people of

the court.

“I took a risk coming here as Luxuria has barely allowed travel between our two countries,” she said. “I came here to finalize the alliance, that the two of you would wed.” 

Jungkook sighed. “It happened, didn’t it?” 

“What happened?” You asked, not understanding the context. “Hasn’t Jungkook been engaged with Princess Comet of Cometes since they were six?”

“The King legitimized his first-born and mistress’s son,” his mother explained.

Your heart dropped upon hearing the news. “She is no longer the Princess of Cometes?”

“I am afraid not, but good news, Jungkook, you have a new bride,” your mother announced. 

“This can’t be,” you insisted. “Surely, there’s someone else.” 

“My child, you will marry our son and make him the king of two countries, and then later put your claim on Luxuria once the queen dies. There, you two will have three countries,” the King said. 

But you never once wanted to rule Luxuria.  

“We have given you protection and will continue to do so for this alliance.” 

“But we cannot be wed,” Jungkook argued. 

“You will especially since you’ve scared all the other suitors away,” your mother said. 

You were fiercely known for your independence and stubbornness, always speaking your mind. Your honesty and independency allowed you to earn your title as the Ice Queen, but that was all because of Jungkook. 

Through the game of telephone and writing secretive notes around the castle, the whole castle knew how you rejected possibly the best suitor for love, Kim Namjoon. He would have given up his country for you, and everyone knew it. 

At the time you were thirteen, still lacking tact, you met with Namjoon in the library and told him that giving up his own country for someone was foolish and idiotic. And Jungkook, hiding behind the curtains of that room, ran with it, spreading the word that you broke Namjoon’s heart, needing more than him and his country as a power hungry queen. 

Kim Namjoon’s heart wasn’t the only one you broke. Prominent and wealthy families from neighboring realms had sent their sons to court you, yet their efforts left you unimpressed and unmoved. 

As the years went on, there were less and less potential suitors. No one wanted their son to marry someone who was an intimidating person, and no one especially wanted a queen that could not be controlled. 

“It’s time for this childhood rivalry of yours to end.” 

“Mother, you know he’s the reason why suitors are afraid of me.”

“Get over it,” Jungkook gritted through his teeth. 

“How dare he disrespect me as a queen?”

“He was thirteen.” Your mother groaned. “You will marry Jungkook for your people, for your country.” 

You stepped forward, distancing yourself away so no one could hear what you were about to say. “And you and I know he will not love me.”

As fortunate as your life was, there was still a burden to bear, a burden even heavier as a royal. You still sought for an union to secure your financial and political status in society. Despite being a queen and having almost everything you want, the one thing you want the most is the one thing you knew you couldn't have: love.

She sighed. “And we both know love does not matter for people like us.” 

“But did thou not love my father and he thee?” Despite his death, the story of your father and his legacy lives on, including his love story with your mother. 

“Indeed, we loved each other truly,” she said. “But stories like his and mine happen once in a lifetime. Perhaps, the promise of love and the future of reconciliation can come.” 

Taking a look over your shoulder. You see Jungkook smirking. “Well Ice Queen looks like we need each other after all.”

________

hello hello hello!

thank you for reading the prologue for this new series :) i am very excited! please let me know if you need more context or visuals of some things were confusing.

[brynn-lear]

Note: these are all yandere characters I had back in 2022. I'm describing them very vaguely. I can't bring myself to spoil even minute details I find intruiging even though it's unlikely I'll make this webtoon-isekai-otome game concept come to life. Shoutout to mochi and harmony. I would've forgotten these men exist if it weren't for them lol

Yan!Butler: People kept mistaking your deceased brother's butler as a nobleman, especially with how you both appear to be best friends rather than master-servant. His butler is one of your greatest allies and critic; not once has he missed his chance to tease you in such “polite” yet convoluted ways. But you at least know his sharp tongue comes from a place of affection, and not from disdain as he would with other nobility. Your older brother took him under the family's care when his small village was brutally extinguished by unknown assailants. That butler thinks all other nobles deserve gruesome ends. There's not a single day where he does not feel paranoid. So when you feel as though the pavement you passed by in your private gardens had splotches of red… you turn a blind eye. You trust your brother and his allies. As long as you ignore that what he does is far beyond ensuring your brother's safety, you can go on sleeping peacefully at night.

Yan!Eccentric Immortal: You honestly thought it was so weird for a wandering pink-haired tourist to wear red shades and a short-sleeved shirt with tons of hibiscus printed on it, but whatever floats his boat. At least, that's what you thought at first before you struck a conversation with him out of pure boredom. No matter how… “modern” he looks, he was dejected enough at the time to confess that he came to see how his hometown looks— only to discover it is practically unrecognizable. He kept pointing to business shops, claiming some used to be parks, a small forest, his favorite bookstore, and a place his old buddy used to have a successful shoe factory on. And then it hit you. This man you're with… is one of your ancestor's mayor turned revolutionary best friend who struck a contract with the devil. There's one small problem... You're involved in said contract.

("Oh, so he's immortal, huh… no wonder he was burying his face in his mushroom hat when we were walking around in the museum. On one hand, impressive that he was the first man ever photographed, but he's also the first photobomber ever. He was just cleaning his shoes and got in the way…")

[More descriptions utc]

Yan!Crown Prince: He is your childhood friend crown prince, who was once a quiet and lonesome kid. You belonged to the very few children who properly befriended him, but in each playtime, he always clung to you tightly. The adult nobles in your life had always made it a point to remind you to be wary of his lineage. “The royal bloodline’s first love is their last— and such obsession reigns supreme.” There is also a legend of how the first king confessed to his tactician after the war. However, he dismembered & hid her limbs when he faced rejection. The royal family has been plagued with unrequited love and unhappy marriages since then, yet you don’t believe him capable of perverse and violent thoughts. He harbors a hopeless puppy-like “one-sided” affection on another childhood friend of yours (THE main female lead) but he takes it “like a champ”, you're sure of it!!! Plus, the prince has grown so mature and independent, always asking for your counsel on politics more than personal affairs. You haven't met a man who enjoyed his duties as much as he does. If anything, he has distanced himself from you… Right?

Yan!Doctor: As a child from a loving noble home, you had remained firm in your stance on committing acts of kindness. When an injured kid your age was starving outside your estate, you did not hesitate to order your brother's butler to fetch food and drinks. Since he was nameless and you weren't one to gloss over a book of baby names— you gave him one that sounds like a dog’s. Years later, you've fallen gravely ill. No physician across the continent could help you despite your philanthropist reputation. But there was one who had done the impossible. The doctor cured you in under a month, and when you tried to cover his services, he said everything was paid with “three glasses of milk and a box of biscuits.” Honestly, you should've remembered who he was sooner, considering how strange his name was. Despite such a grand revelation that he apparently owes you his life, there's unbridled hunger beyond his “kind” eyes. Something lonely and unhinged.

Yan!Ex-Hitman/Politician: There was a boy you've always seen each time you went to church. You see him every week that you both watched each other grow up. Apparently he came from a noble bloodline just like you, but despite being the eldest, his parents greatly favored his younger sibling. Deciding he had no talent to best him, the boy went to the monastery to practice the word of God instead. You always thought he was an ambitious and good-hearted person— especially since it's not exactly common for someone in their late twenties to aspire for the position of prime minister and appear so incredibly wholesome. On your quest to find someone to help you solve the mystery behind your older brother's death— you found out that the kind mint-eyed man who often carved wooden toys and sewed plushies for the orphans was the notorious hitman who killed plenty of corrupt nobles in his prime. Could he be behind your brother's death…?

[whencyclopedia]

Herodotus on Lydia

Herodotus’ narrative on Lydia takes up almost one half of Book I of his Histories and the section dealing with King Croesus is among the best-known and often anthologized. The last section, in which he discusses Lydian women as prostitutes, is not as well-known but continues a criticism of the region earlier reserved only for its king.

Herodotus (l. c. 484-425/413 BCE) visited Lydia in the course of his travels and provides an account in I.6-I.94 of Histories. In the last two chapters, he describes the women of Lydia as prostitutes who sell themselves to build up a dowry for marriage and then discusses how this relates to the famous Tomb of Alyattes before moving on to a discussion of how the Lydians reacted to famine by playing distracting games and some of them relocating and changing their names.

His description of the young women of Lydia as prostitutes is thought to be accurate as the same is mentioned by Strabo (l. c. 64 - c. 24 CE) and Aelian (l. 175-235 CE) – Strabo at 11.14.16 of his Geography and Aelian at 4.1 of his Histories – regarding other cultures. Strabo references Herodotus as accurate and, at 5.2.3, also supports Herodotus’ claims below (I.94) on the Tyrsenians changing their name from Lydians after leaving the region.

Scholar Irene-Evangelia Georgiou, and others, however, have noted how Herodotus seems to use the description of the Tomb of Alyattes, and how it was funded primarily from prostitution, to encourage a sense of superiority among his Greek readers at the Lydians’ expense. He writes at I.94, “Now the Lydians have very nearly the same customs as the Hellenes, with the exception that they prostitute their female children” and then continues on, having already described the practice, without further commentary.

This silence on Herodotus’ part here has led some scholars, including Georgiou, to surmise that, in his last two chapters on Lydia, Herodotus is not-so-subtly suggesting Greek superiority in a way that is not apparent elsewhere in his work. As Georgiou notes, “Herodotus' implication is that the Greek way is the right way” in that, however wealthy and prosperous Lydia may have been, they still engaged in a practice that Greeks would reject as shameful (201). While this may be true, Herodotus’ criticism of Lydia is not reserved for the last two chapters of his narrative. It actually begins in I.6, continues all the way through, and is only overlooked because, for most of the account, it is directed at Croesus.

Herodotus on Croesus

Herodotus spends most of his time on the reign of Croesus between I.6-I.92 and, midway through I.6, seems to hint at how he will portray the Lydians to his Greek audience when he notes how “Croesus was the first non-Greek to have subjected Greeks to the payment of tribute.” He moves on from this point to his now-famous narrative of the Mermnad Dynasty (c. 700-546 BCE) and its fall. This sentence on tribute may mean little to a modern-day reader but, to Herodotus’ Greek audience, it would have been a reminder of the subjugation of the Ionian Greeks by Croesus whose story is then told in an unflattering light beginning with the first king of the Mermnad Dynasty.

The dynasty was founded by Gyges (r. c. 680-645 BCE) who had assassinated the last king of the Heracliade Dynasty, Candaules. Gyges, who had been Candaules’ bodyguard, had been forced by the king to hide in the royal bedchambers so he could secretly see the queen naked and corroborate Candaules’ claim that she was the most beautiful woman in the world. The queen noticed him, however, and, humiliated at having a bodyguard see her unclothed, offered him the choice of helping her avenge herself on her husband, as she recognized he had come up with the scheme, or being executed on the spot. Gyges chose survival, killed the king, married his widow, and assumed the throne.

Gyges and his successors Ardys (r. 644-637 BCE) and Sadyattes (r. 637 - c. 635 BCE) all died fighting Cimmerian raiders who were continuously sacking Lydian settlements. The Cimmerians were defeated by Alyattes (r. c. 635-585 BCE) father of Croesus (r. 560-546 BCE), who becomes Herodotus’ focus for the first part of Book I of the Histories. Under Alyattes, the first coins in the world were minted – made of electrum – while under the reign of Croesus, they were minted of gold.

After a power struggle with his stepbrother Pantaleon, Croesus took the throne and began systematically conquering the Greek city-states of Asia Minor. Once he had subdued Ionia, he then drew up treaties with the island cities off the coast in the Aegean and profited from these alliances in exacting tribute. From Herodotus’ mention of Croesus subjecting Greeks to payment of tribute in I.6, through his description of Croesus’ harsh military tactics in his war with the Greek colony of Miletus in I.17 and his predecessors’ tactics in I.18-I.25, his interview with the Greek lawgiver Solon the Wise (I.29-I.33) and on through I.94, Croesus – as well as his predecessors – are depicted as graceless and scheming tyrants while the Greeks, epitomized by the Solon meeting, are shown as wise and thoughtful. Croesus, as the central character of the narrative, is regularly shown as dull-witted, malicious, and greedy.

Continue reading...

[rise-my-angel]

"# have many thoughts on why they adapted Rhaenys the way they did and all of them strip what makes her so cool and i hate it"

I'd actually love to read your thoughts, I have some of my own but they boil down to turning her into a bizarre mouth piece for the writers (which is what most of the female characters in HOTD feel like) and not allowing her to potentially outshine Rhaenyra which is why all the women on TB lack personalities, it's easier to write for one or 2 women than it is to write for a whole cast.

Rhaenys in the book and Rhaenys in the show are basically two completely different characters.

Princess Rhaenys in the show is not my friend. Princess Rhaenys in the book is cool as all hell and a true Baratheon under it all.

Under a read more, I wrote you a fucking essay I am so sorry.

There isn't as much about Princess Rhaenys in the book due to the narrative style of Fire and Blood, but what we do know paints a drastically different picture. Rhaenys has the purple eyes, and she flies Meleys, but thats all about her that is distinctly Targaryean.

She was born to King Jaeherys firstborn son and heir Aemon, and her mother was Jocelyn Baratheon. So she has the long, straight black hair of a Baratheon with a streaks of white throughout from her age, she was a great beauty but never described in ways that other Targaryean women are, more in a way that she is a great beauty in terms of a Baratheon.

She was a woman who was very clever, very quick witted, but she was also known to be fearless, she had a red hot fiery temper and much like her mothers house words, she was a fierce woman with a fury within her.

As Aemons only child, she was seen by many to be his heir when he became King. Queen Alysanne even calling her their "Queen to be". Alysanne and Jaehaerys often did trips around Westeros called progresses, which was personally going to a Lords castle or keep, spending time with them, holding court, solving local issues and using that time to bond with his highest subjects, which was part of why he held such a long reign of peace, he used his dragons pruposley to make travel easy and personally visited the homes of his people.

Rhaenys would join him on this after she claimed Meleys, going on some progresses around Westeros and she became a very popular royal figure amongst the nobility, notably in the Dustins, Manderlys, Blackwoods, Celtigars, and the Starks.

Now, yes Rhaenys was up for a claim at the great council, but she was actually rejected early on because she was a woman. She then persuaded these lords on her side to push for her sons claim, Laenor, and it is Laenor who lost in the final vote to Viserys, not Rhaenys. Rhaenys and Laena were both rejected and so she pushed for her son without a second thought, she was fine not being Queen, she was the eldest sons firstborn child and she put her firstborn son up to be King.

After word came that Lucerys was dead, it was she and Corlys who were actually in command of the Black Council at the start of the war because Rhaenyra was too in greif to rule.

Then her greatest moment, Rhaenyra was the one who ordered Rhaenys to Rooks Rest and without any reinforcement. Rhaenys of course, listened to her Queen, but the fight is different.

In the books, Criston Cole has set a trap. Lure a dragonrider out, and when they arrived, they would be ambushed by Aemond on Vhagar and Aegon on Sunfyre knwoing the two against one dragon would be enough to defeat them.

"Princess Rhaenys made no attempt to flee. With a glad cry and a crack of her whip, she turned Meleys towards the foe."

Rhaenys realizes she has rode into a trap.

She knows if it were Sunfyre or Vhagar alone she might stand a chance, but against both of them she knew she was doomed. She had time though, she could try and turn to leave. But, Rhaenys is in her blood, a Baratheon. Baratheons don't run from such dangerous odds, even when facing certain doom, she never let herself be controlled by that fear. She did what Baratheons do, and she turned around and fought with fury. With my favourite line about her describing her perfectly:

So, what are the main differences here from the show that are so wrong? Lets talk the two big ones:

Rhaenys being given the Targaryean look instead of the Baratheon look is an attempt to give the feeling that she is a true Targaryean and thats why she is such a fearsome dragonrider. But, in the books, she looks Baratheon, and her personality is textbook Baratheon. By stripping her of the Baratheon look, she show is propping her up more as a Targaryean which feeds into this show's strange relationship with Targaryeans being divine and special. By taking away the fact that Rhaenys was the first and only Baratheon born dragonrider, it downplays the fact that Rhaenys did not fit into the typical Targaryean dragonrider persona which most were at the time. It makes her look like a Targaryean alone, and it severs that relationship in Fire and Blood of the less of a Targaryean someone appears does not equate to being less capable of the feats they claim only they are special enough to do. Rhaenys isn't the books biggest example of that, but she is the big start of it.

By making the final vote at the Great Council come down to Rhaenys vs Viserys, it paints the man vs woman image. Rhaenys and Laena were rejected very fast, and it was Laenor, her son, who Viserys won against. Not Rhaenys. The entire show though, follows this idea. That Rhaenys lost because she was a woman and that dictates so much going forward. It dicates everything she pushes for, women in power, not being in service to men, but Rhaenys was never like that. Rhaenys did not fight against the world she grew up in, she navigated it despite of it. She did not promote this woman in power idea just because she was rejected. She was Jaeherys grandaughter, and he was a man who did not treat the women in his life as equals. She would be used to being passed over for men, her grandfather did it with almost every woman in his family to the point it drove his wife away. Rhaenys in the books didn't stand for anything. She didn't do what she did because she wanted to stand with a woman over a man. It wasn't about that. In the books, her and Corlys essentially pick the lesser of two evils. In their minds, standing with the Greens means her family and grandaughters will be at the mercy of Rhaenyra and Daemon, but standing with the blacks, she is at the mercy of Alient and Aegon. One of those two is a more dangerous foe to her family, and she sides with the family that gives her granddaughters a safer chance. It had nothing to do with anything and the show doesnt even establiush why she chooses Rhaenyra, she just does and then starts promoting the idea that Rhaenyra is the woman who wants peace not the men startingg war and it turns her into a mess who is onyl here to lecture the audience that the men are bad.

Really, my biggest gripe is, Rhaenys as a Baratheon dragonrider has a lot of potential. Due to the structure of Fire and Blood we don't spend a lot of time with her, but we do know that the relationship between the Baratheons and the Targaryeans is extremely tenuous and sore. The Baratheons have long since resented the Targaryeans, and Princess Rhaenys literally was supposed to be the bridge between the families.

Queen Alysanne married Aemon to Jocelyn Baratheon so that the Baratheons can have an heir one day on the Iron Throne and hopefully stop the fighting and resentment the Stormlords had towards them. But by rejecting her and her family at the Great Council, it reopens that old wound. And the Baratheons become disillusioned more and more when Viserys makes no effort to mend that bridge.

Rhaenys is a Targaryean raised dragonrider, who was distinctly Baratheon looking with the feirce personality of a Baratheon, and that contends a lot with what the Targaryeans all stood for especially at the time and it could make for a lot of great scenes revolving around what is wrong with the Targaryean legacy. The more like a Baratheon Rhaenys was, the more the Targaryeans stood out as people who were doomed to destory each other.

Rhaenys was born to be the child that mended the bridge between the Targaryeans treating the Baratheons like lesser then, when they had once been their strongest ally. By making Rhaenys just another Targaryean, it erases that conversation of why the Targaryens were bound to lose. That even when they married the Baratheons into the family, they still screwed it up because they couldn't get over their biases of looking down on the Stags.

Rhaenys had potentiol to showcase a time in history that foreshadows whats to come. For decades before the dance the Baratheons resented the Targaryeans, and after the dance, that resentment will continue to grow until it explodes during Roberts Rebellion.

By erasing her as a Baratheon, it erases the potential of showing why the Targaryeans were doomed to lose. They always treated their Baratheon allies as war fodder, just like throwing Rhaenys into battle without any backup, and her personality and looks standing out against the Targaryeans could have shown why the conflict of Roberts Rebellion was inevitable.

The Baratheons were always going to fight back against the Targaryeans one day, and hotd lost its chance to use Rhaenys to lay the first stones and show why.

But, that paints the Targaryeans in a more negative light, because the Baratheons are in the right to hate the Targaryeans. So, they erased everything about Rhaenys that stood out.

Even her death. A very Baratheon move, refusing to flee from certain death, because she was a woman with fury who was willing to face her enemy head on no matter what it was about to cost her.

Instead, she has a confusing death where her going back is framed as brave, but its not. Rhaenys in the books knew she might have stood a chance against Vhagar alone. So in the show, shes just turning back for a battle that she might win. In the books, shes against Vhagar and Sunfyre. Shes turning back towards a battle she knows she will lose, but she does not run, because she is a Baratheon, and they do not run from their enemies. They face them even towards certain death.

Also, book Rhaenys never exploded hundreds of smallfolk with her fucking dragon. She never did that.

[tototalks]

Here we are, the last short story! I have absolutely adored this entire series and short stories, and will probably be re-reading in the near future!

Without further ado: ⚜️ The Adventures of Charls, the Veretian Cloth Merchant ⚜️

- I really like that Veretians and Akielons are adopting each other’s fashions with the merging of cultures… Akielons are still rejecting the sleeves though. I bet “to reject the sleeves” or to “have no sleeves” becomes some kind of dirty euphemism later down the line. 😂

- Laurent and Damen really are leaders that give back to their people and don’t put themselves on a massively high pedestal. If they want to run away for a bit and be Cousin Charls and Lamen, they’re gonna do it. The council are going to have such massive headaches for the entirety of their reign lol

- And Charls is such an MVP for carting around the King of Vere masquerading as his cousin who is also called Charls 💀

- It will literally never not be funny to see Charls NOT figure out who Damen is.

- It will also literally never not be funny when Charls starts to get suspicious and comes to a conclusion that is also wildly wrong. “He’s a merchant’s assistant!” 😮

- Credit to Damen for playing along. Were he not born a royal, this kind of life would suit him.

- Laurent and Damen sneaking off before the ascension is also fantastic. At the end of the day they’re both just people and enjoy freedom and adventure.

- No one was gonna tell me Damen has a dimple?! This is crucial information people!!

- “Wow, Lamen’s clothes suck and he’s clearly poor, but damn his Veretian is great!”

- Damen there trying to defend Charls surrounding the rumours he was deceived and Charls literally just tells him to stfu 💀

- Makon. We’re gonna have problems. Your seams? Wonky. Your fabric? Low quality. Your business? Dodgy. You are talking smack about the literal blood-related cousin to the King of Vere. They are a FAMILY.

- Every time Laurent uses his snakey qualities for good, an angel gains its wings. Undercutting Makon for the fabric was so satisfying, and everyone handled that with more grace than I would have. I would have literally laughed in Makon’s face.

- I really like the implication that Laurent has a soft spot for animals, horses especially, and generally creatures that are innocent (children included). Makes Damen’s gift super special, and this horse poisoning scene really sad 😢

- And in all the chaos, Damen is still finding time to flirt. Priorities.

- Another detail I adore is that Charls notices clothes before he notices physical appearance. He’s far more likely to say “the guy in the poorly woven woollen cloak” than “the guy with brown hair.”

- Laurent really hit the jackpot with Damen and the scary dog privileges that came with him. Someone need only tip a drink on this man and Damen’s started a whole bar fight.

- Also. Totally real that Akielons and Veretians still hold animosity between one another even after the merging of the kingdoms. Integration doesn’t happen overnight.

- This bar fight is everything. Damen is there absolutely murking everyone he sees and Laurent is ducked behind a table tossing olives and stealing lamb legs. Play to your strengths I guess!

- I can picture exactly no situation in which geese could make it better. Evil cobra chickens.

- We have adopted Alexon. He’s invited to the wedding.

- “A Prince’s hands are for refinement” I bet Charls and Damen keep this as a running joke even after everything is out in the open. Laurent lifts a pea and he’s like “Lamen! The king cannot possibly!!”

- If I was sat in disguise around a campfire with some borderline strangers and they started talking about my sex life, I’d simply ✨pass away✨. At least it was all good things and no scandalous rumours about Nikandros teaching Laurent how to wrestle 💀

- Seven hours? That’s cute. He barely survived one with Halvik’s girls 💀

- ALEXON!! Be the kind of nepo baby that uses their status like this.

- Literally need an entire book of Damen and Laurent sneaking out undercover in disguise to free slaves and bring down those trading them. ‼️📢Bring back the blue dress 2k24‼️📢

- Love that Charls always takes the opportunity to mention how strong and young and virile Lamen is, and how him and Laurent must be fucking like rabbits. Which, to be fair, is not too far from the truth lol

- It hurts my heart that the conversation Damen has with Charls could have happened with Auguste or Laurent’s father had Damen had the opportunity to court Laurent like he wanted.

- Laurent in gold looking absolutely ethereal at his coronation. That’s the post.

- HE FINALLY FOUND OUT 😂 WELCOME TO THE ROYAL FAMILY CHARLS!! You definitely know who’s getting to make the wedding trousseau 😉

This entire series has been an absolute ride, and thanks to everyone who’s shared in my (annoying) enthusiasm 😂 AO3 will be my new home, and any fic recommendations are 100% welcome! Love y’all! ♥️

[royaltysimblr]

Adelaide, Dowager Princess of the Isle

Princess Adelaide of Brichester was born in 1847 to Prince Willem-Maurits of Brichester and Infanta Antonia of Selvadorada. Her father was the second son of the reigning King of Brichester and her mother was a niece of King Felipe III of Selvadorada. Adelaide grew up at Emden Castle, a country estate of the Brichester Royal Family. Adelaide's father valued a high education, and thus had all of his daughters educated by tutors from the University of Brichester. Her mother Antonia was an affectionate mother who deeply cared for her children. However, she also had high ambitions, aiming to see her daughters become queens. Adelaide's sisters would become the Queen of Brichester and the Crown Princess of Brindleton through advantageous marriages. Adelaide and her sisters were often referred to as the Brichester Set, beautiful young princesses who became the most sought after brides in the continent.

Adelaide met her mother's cousins, the King and Queen of Selvadorada multiple times throughout her childhood. Before the Selvadoradian Royal Family traveled to San Myshuno for the wedding of Maria Christina to the Prince of the Isle, they visited Antonia and her daughters in Brichester. Maria Christina remarked that her cousin Antonia was "pleasant, but plain" and compared having 9 children to a "living hell". Adelaide was briefly courted by Maria Christina's older brother, Infante Fernando of Selvadorada in 1869, but he died later that year ending the courtship. That same year Maria Christina died in labor, leaving her husband a widower.

Queen Mary II believed that her granddaughters needed a mother figure in their life, and expected her son to give her a grandson who could inherit the throne of Windenburg and San Myshuno. Mary II employed her daughters to look for a bride for her widowed son. Mary's second daughter, Ophelia had met Adelaide at the wedding of her sister to Ophelia's step-son, the Crown Prince of Brindleton. Ophelia suggested to Queen Mary that Adelaide was very beautiful and kind, and being kin to Maria Christina, would make a wonderful mother to her children. Adelaide was invited to Statford Castle in 1870 along with her parents where they were introduced to the Queen and Prince Charles. Prince Charles was pleasant and kind to Princess Adelaide, however she was unimpressed. Prince Charles did not speak much and remained rather quiet, with his mother Queen Mary speaking for him. Adelaide initially wanted to reject Prince Charles, but her mother Antonia had other plans. Antonia manipulated her daughter into accepting the proposal by emphasizing the "shame" that would be brought on the family if she rejected him.

After two more meetings, Adelaide accepted the proposal and the couple became engaged. The wedding was a small intimate affair held at the San Myshuno Palace Chapel, with only close family in attendance. Charles and Adelaide's marriage broke down rapidly after the honeymoon. Charles left Honey House and never returned; instead, he stayed at his hunting lodge in Dunkeld. Adelaide was forced to become the sole parent in the lives of Princess Alexandra and Princess Charlotte, her two infant stepdaughters.

[autisticlancemcclain]

Lance takes the long way there, now.

He doesn’t have to. Technically, the way their rooms are set up, he’s barely any farther from the hanger he needs to be in come battle time. From the very beginning, it was he and Keith in the left wing by Blue and Red’s hangars, Hunk and Pidge in the right by Yellow and Green, and Shiro by the royal ring with Black. Shortest distance to their lions, most prepared for battle. It would probably make sense, logistically, for some room switching to happen, or at least for Keith to take Shiro’s room, but that’s���it’s not happening.

Lance has had the castle fully mapped out since his first month in space. Pidge may have reigned queen in the vents, but it was Lance who carefully marked down every tile that when stepped on opened a stairwell, every divot in the walls that cracked open a pathway. It was Lance to walk the six hours from the highest point of the castle’s peak to the lowest pitch of its bowels and boiler rooms. It was Lance who walked the echoing servant’s passages, brushing dust from his jacket when he made it back to a regular hallway only to realise that there wasn’t any, in a castle sealed for ten thousand years, not even a cobweb. (It was Lance, too, to discover the bunker rooms and hidden staircases of the Garrison. He most certainly didn’t sneak out every other night by merit alone. And further still it was Lance to knock on the wall behind his childhood bed and realise it was hollow, and find the tiniest of little holes, right where the wallpaper met the floorboards, just barely wide enough for narrow fingers to poke through and tug. Lance has always been good at finding small, hidden places, at poking and prodding until secrets are revealed to him. Lance has always been ineffably nosy, he’s just quieter about it.)

To get to Red’s hangar, you have to pass Blue’s. That’s how the rooms are set up. Blue’s zipline reaches out first, and twenty-two steps later is Red’s. On the first day after Lance had crawled on his hands and knees to beg by the barrier between him and his Lion, on yet another mission called to them in the night, Lance had swung down into Blue’s hangar by habit, and when his feet hit the floor he choked, realising, and had barely managed to sprint back up the way before Allura questioned why the zipline wasn’t at the beginning. He’d ducked into Red’s reluctant embrace with lungs that wouldn’t fully inhale and a throat that was closing.

He knew better than to try the passages, easier as they would be.

He avoided passing Blue’s hangar entirely, now. He already felt her absence, the gaping hole of her abandonment, all the way in his room, in the bridge, in the dining hall, in space. He felt the sharpness of it awake and in sleep. He felt it when he lay under his bed, knees pressed to his chest, eyes blank and head empty. He felt it when he felt nothing else. He couldn’t escape the hollow pain of her rejection, but he most certainly couldn’t stand to walk down the same paths he used to run, beam pulling at the muscles in his cheeks, heart galloping in his chest, sparks lighting up his head. The emptiness of her and of himself lingered there, in her spaces, and Lance couldn’t face them.

He goes around.

———

Lance knows it’s stupid and torturous. But he makes his way to the training room anyway, in the dead of night, once he hears Keith’s breathing finally slow through the thin wall separating their beds. It must take him an hour just to creep out of his bed and down the hall, socked feet soundless on the cool polymer floors, breath caught in his lungs, paranoid that someone is going to pop out behind him and ask him what the hell he’s doing (as if anyone has paid him that much scrutiny and attention in his life, except maybe Iverson).

Half of his hesitance is trepidation, but he refuses to acknowledge it.

The knowledge that this is a bad idea rings in his head for the entirety of the walk, but he banishes it the second he walks through the training room doors, locking them behind him, walking brashly in and throwing open the cabinet in the farthest corner. He snatches a headset before he can talk himself out of it, forcing his hands steady as he sticks the electrodes on his temple and under his hair at the back of his neck, like Coran did all those months ago. It feels far more daunting without the brush of the advisor’s gloves on his skin to accompany them.

He’s grateful at least that the headset doesn’t make him click through his own memories, search for particular snapshots the way he might search for sad songs when he’s already upset. It’s the same premise regardless, and he knows the only thing he’s going to do is devastate himself, but at least he’ll be devastated. At least that will be something.

The first memory to play must be early space, the first few days of the Voltron mission. There’s no death in his eyes yet. They look bright and brown and sparkling, the way they do in family photos, matching his mother and brothers and sisters. He watches as he crows, whooping to no one as he pushes Blue’s throttles as fast as they will go, whipping himself around in barrel rolls. There is no audio, but he can feel the team’s yelling in his head, the shouts to stay on task, but he remembers the way he felt like he was floating, like Blue’s energy was billowing around him, carrying him throw the air. He remembers feeling like his belly had bottomed out, like he was doing exactly what he was made to do.

The memory loops, same thirty seconds on repeat again and again and again and again and again and again and again and he lets it and he doesn’t cry and he doesn’t feel pain or sadness or loneliness or anything but the same bottomed out feeling, only now he knows he’s not floating, he’s falling, and every time he hits the ground it gives out from under him and he gets lower and lower and lower.

———

He ends up in Blue’s hangar by necessity. He knows Allura’s head injury is worse than she is letting on, and he’s simply closer to her.

He doesn’t let himself think as he sprints to her. He doesn’t let himself take in his surroundings (the deep blue accents the faint smell of the ocean the pinned up drawings from kids he’s gotten over the weeks and months the blankets and pillows he kept in the corner for rough nights the gigantic bottle of nail polish he had Coran synthesize for him to paint Blue’s claws the the the the the), keeping his eyes firmly on Blue’s, telling himself he’s not looking at her but through her, to his friend, who is hurt, who needs his help. By the time he makes it to Allura, by the time he helps her out of her seat and down the ramp, Coran has already come rushing in with his armful of medical supplies, whisking her away to a pod. He hears the rest of the team talking at the other end of the zipline, waiting for them, and he wills himself to follow them, for his feet to move, for his legs to function, and they don’t, and his knees stay locked, and suddenly he is a butterfly pinned through the chest, stuck in a glass box.

One by one, starting from the outer lights and making their way to the centre of the hangar where he stands, the overhead lights flick off, plunging him into flickering darkness except for the faint blue emergency lights, and the glow of Blue’s particle barrier up between them, and the deep yellow of Blue’s headlights. His eyes begin to lose focus, with the lighting change, until he is not staring through the particular barrier but at it, at his own reflection, at the way it lines up perfectly with the Blue Lion.

His legs give out from under him.

He’s not sure he feels it when he hits the ground. He’s lucky he doesn’t hit his head, although that’s in part because he cannot tear his eyes away, as if they are tied on a string to the Blue Lion. He feels stuck, and his mouth feels glued.

“You left me,” he manages, voice smaller than it’s ever been. He doesn’t feel her prodding at his mind in response, not like he should, but unless it is wishful thinking there’s a sharpness in the air now, the stunning smell of regret and of pain.

He wants to sink into it. He wants to let it envelop him, wants to let himself feel it in full, but he can’t, he doesn’t know how to let it seep into his pores. He tried to strain his ears, his mind, anything, to hear her, hear her apologise or excuse herself or anything, even tell him straight that she is done with him.

He thinks of how his best friend has been pulling away from him for weeks, how he chased after the taxi that drove his sister to the airport when she left for school, how he used to leave a space for his father’s boots every single day by the door long after everyone else had given up, how he would duck away from the first of his mother’s kisses when she picked him up from preschool, sniffling. There is a toddler in his head, feet planted on the floor, hands clenched at his side, tears and snot screaming down his face, cheeks bright red in rage, screaming at the top of his lungs YOU LEFT ME! YOU LEFT ME BEHIND! YOU DON’T WANT ME ANYMORE! YOU LEFT ME AND I WILL NEVER EVER FORGIVE YOU! and the voice is loud and echoing and the only thing he can hear and he has heard it all his life and he has never learned how to block it out, how to make it go away, and it will never go away and never grow up.

“I hate you,” he chokes out, and the lie is bitter on its way out of his throat, and he doesn’t regret it at all.

He drags his legs upright and steady with his hands and flees.

———

pt 2

[stardust948]

To keep on theme with the recent Urzai week:

Do you have any headcanons for them? Either canon atla of your own au

I have some for both!

Canon:

It was always an arranged marriage whether Ursa was a noble's daughter or if we're following the comics and she grew up as a peasant. She and Ozai had a bit of an awkward start, but they learned to get along mainly out of survival. (The Fire Nation Courts are brutal especially when you're the Firelord's least favorite).

Ozai is lowkey a simp. Ursa said one genuine nice thing to him, and he nearly went into an angst coma.

Ursa reigned Ozai in a lot which is why things immediately went down the drain after she left.

PDA is frown upon for Fire Nation royalty, so Ozai would make up for it by buying a lot of gifts for Ursa.

Ozai always planned for Ursa to return and rule by his side which is why he never remarried. She eventually fell of radar and presumed dead.

Once Ursa returned after the war and sided with Zuko's anti-imperialism, Ozai saw it as a betrayal and personal rejection much like how Azula viewed Mai and Ty Lee after the Boiling Rock. (Yes, Ursa was previously an imperialist like the rest of the Fire Nation Royal family).

Brave is the heart that loves / Dragon AU:

Ozai and Ursa did shortly break up after they ran away together. Both were very stressed from trying to survive on the streets and got into a huge fight.

They spent a couple of days apart before tracking down each other. They both apologized and promised to support one another from then on.

Zuko was conceived that night.

Frenemies / High School AU:

They got together freshman year when Ozai filled as the Dragon King when the original actor Ikem got sick. It was Ozai's first real play in the Performing Arts high school he fought his father tooth and nail to enroll in, so of course he was nervous. But Ursa helped him through it.

They had an impromptu kiss on stage during opening night. The director liked it so much he added it to the script permanently. Ikem was highly pissed because he was going to use the play to confess to Ursa, but Ozai beat him to it.

They had an on again off again relationship throughout high school. It was either a lot of PDA or screaming matches. Sometimes both at the same time.

The relationship became toxic senior year, so Ursa broke up with Ozai for good. But by graduation, they were on friendly terms after some personal growth.

A few years later, they reunited at Hakoda and Kya's wedding and decided to give their relationship another chance. Since they're more mature this go round, it worked out and they get married sometime later.

Their friends, the rest of the Gaang's parents, NEVER let them live down their cringy high school years.

Apothecary AU:

Ozai set out to make Ursa his pawn, but he ended up becoming hers'.

He becomes legit depressed after Ursa was fired from her apothecary job to the point Iroh convinced Azulon to let her return.

Ursa loves it when Ozai drops his stern prince act and goofs around with her.

The whole palace knows they're courting before they do.

Ursa's a little unhinged in this AU and often experiments on herself to test the medicines. Ozai had learned the hard way not to eat her food or tea.

That said, Ursa was way too eager to help Ozai assassin Azulon. She had the poisons already picked out and ready to go. Ozai should be concern, but he's too far gone at this point.

Very match my freak energy.

Rivers in the desert AU:

Ozai and Ursa's relationship was really more of a partnership with benefits before they were forced to flee. After being separated, romantic feelings began to develop.

There is an inversion appearance wise. Ursa's darker skin tones, which made her stand out like a sore thumb in the royal courts, allowed her to pass for Earth Kingdom with the right clothes. Ozai is the exact opposite.

~Going into spoiler territory~

Ursa cannot, for the life of her, believe Ozai knows how to use a stove now. (Ursa: "Who are you and what have you've done with my husband???") Ozai took Ursa's airbending pretty well. (It was a long day and he's tired.)

Both had changed a lot once they reunite but Ozai a bit more self-conscious. He did not have access to his expensive beauty products for years and body type had changed. He's still fit but his abs are gone. (Nearly starving to death will do that). Ursa assures him it's alright and she likes that his body is softer now.

They both have gray hair strands (The Gaang is great, but we all know what they're like.)

Once the Fire Nation is defeated, they swear to not have any more kids. Kiyi was a pure accident.

@urzaiweekblog

[itarille1]

He must grow greater (Part 1 of 2)

Aragorn and Faramir

One of the most compelling narratives in J.R.R. Tolkien’s masterpiece The Lord of the Rings is the story of Gondor, the realm described as the bastion of the West (the free peoples) against the Dark Lord Sauron. 

Gondor had been without a king for hundreds of years.  After the last king disappeared to answer the taunting call of an enemy, Gondor had been ruled by the Ruling Stewards—noble men with high but not royal lineage—who ruled in the name of the king, “until he shall return”.

At the time of the War of the Ring (the main story of The Lord of the Rings), the Ruling Stewards had governed Gondor ably for nearly a thousand years, and “until the king returns” had become a common saying to describe improbable events.

When Aragorn, a descendant of the kings, finally came to Gondor to claim the crown, the book recounts how the last Ruling Steward, Faramir son of Denethor, willingly surrendered the ruling authority to him.  Faramir’s acceptance was contrasted with Denethor’s outright rejection.  Gandalf—a representation of wisdom in the story—clearly stated that Faramir’s choice was the wise one.

Not only did Faramir accept Aragorn, but he also loved him.  In their first meeting, after Aragorn healed Faramir from the Black Breath which had nearly claimed his life, (Faramir) “looked on Aragorn... and a light of knowledge and love was kindled in his eyes...”.  He immediately acknowledged Aragorn’s kingship: “My lord, you called me.  I come.  What does the king command?”

Aragorn returned Faramir’s love with honour and friendship.  During his coronation, Aragorn confirmed Faramir and his descendants as Stewards of Gondor, and later in the story, he granted Faramir a princedom. 

The book does not delve into Aragorn – Faramir relationship in the years that followed, but it does state that Aragorn’s reign ushered in a golden age for Gondor, and it was implied that all was well for the King and the Steward. 

In one of his letters, Professor Tolkien provided more detail about Faramir’s important role in Gondor under the King’s reign.  Again, it was implied that all was well between the King and the Steward. 

In summary, we have here a prince (in all but name), who was supposed to succeed his father as the ruler, but willingly stepped aside to make way for the anointed king. And there was great love between the magnanimous prince and the rightful king. 

David and Jonathan

If this sounds familiar, perhaps it is because there is an older story with a similar motif: that of David and Jonathan. 

The Old Testament (the first book of Samuel), tells the story of Jonathan, the eldest son of Saul, the first King of Israel, and David, who would eventually ascend the throne, displacing Jonathan. 

Like Faramir, Jonathan loved David at first sight. 

“... Jonathan’s soul became closely bound to David’s and Jonathan came to love him as his own soul.” 

Early in their friendship, Jonathan “took off the cloak he was wearing and gave it to David, and his armour too, even his sword, his bow and his belt.” 

At that moment, he may not have known yet that David would one day be king.  

Yet even after it was clear that the LORD (God) chose David to be the next king, Jonathan’s love did not waver.  He said to David, “And may the LORD be with you as he used to be with my father...” 

“Have no fear... you are the one who is to reign over Israel, and I shall be second to you.” 

Like Aragorn, David returned the love.  In one of their final meetings, David “fell with his face to the ground and bowed down three times”.  Then they kissed each other and both shed many tears.  Upon learning of Jonathan’s death, David lamented: “Very dear to me you were, your love to me more wonderful than the love of a woman.” 

In his poem David and Jonathan, St. John Henry Newman, a gifted poet and writer, ventured that it was well that Jonathan did not live to become David’s second-in-command.   

My interpretation of Newman’s poem is that Jonathan’s death acted as an influence on David (a spell was o’er thee), safeguarding the mighty king from arrogance (to cool earth-joy and kingly pride). 

It is probable that the joy of battle and the grandeur of royal ceremonies would have reminded David of Jonathan (the pale calm spectre of a blameless friend).  Note that David knew Jonathan as a mighty warrior, perhaps even looked up to him in his youth—Jonathan was already a captain of a thousand when David was a mere boy. 

Curiously, Newman seems to suggest that if Jonathan had lived to David’s reign, their bond of love and friendship might have been broken. 

Ah! had he lived, before thy throne to stand, Thy spirit keen and high 

Sure it had snapp'd in twain love's slender band  

Would the pressures of kingship have broken their bond?  Perhaps.

Aragorn, Faramir and Boromir

Did the pressure of kingship and duty break the bond of love between Aragorn and Faramir?  While there may have been occasional disagreements, as in any relationship, I’d like to think that their band of friendship did not snap. 

For one, Aragorn was presented as a wise, noble leader, one that would surely know how to navigate the delicate dynamics with a capable right-hand man who had once been the former ruler. 

A stronger reason (at least in my headcanon) to hope that their friendship remained intact is Faramir’s upbringing and character.  As the second son of the Steward, he had been raised as the spare, the understudy.

I imagine that a ruler’s second son would be raised to master the skills and knowledge necessary to support his elder brother, and step into his place should the undesirable happen.  However, he would also be trained to stay in the background, stepping forward only when needed.

With the threat of war and Gondor’s dwindling power, Denethor would have raised both Boromir and Faramir to be stout captains and effective leaders (he needed as many commanders as he could get). 

On the other hand, given his great love for Boromir, and the bitter memory of his own father preference for Captain Thorongil over himself, the heir, Denethor would have made sure the primacy of the heir was clearly observed by all during his reign.  He likely had a frank conversation with Faramir to make clear his expectations and Faramir's place.

Raising a spare prince is a tough job.  Do it wrong, and you risk creating a frustrated, or usurping, spare. Do it right, and you get Faramir. 

In Tolkien’s own words: 

(Faramir) had been accustomed to giving way and not giving his own opinions air, while retaining a power of command among men, such as a man may obtain who is evidently personally courageous and decisive, but also modest, fair-minded and scrupulously just, and very merciful. 

In short, Faramir was used to being a capable second, and was content with it.  This served him extremely well in the Reunited Kingdom. 

And that brings us to Boromir.  Had Boromir lived, I believe he would have loved Aragorn—not less than Faramir did—and eventually accepted him as King.  But, as Newman predicted for David and Jonathan, it is very likely that their “love’s slender band” would have snapped.  

This is Boromir we are talking about: the prince of the White City, the formidable Captain General, the hero of Osgiliath, who blew the Horn of Gondor more mightily than any Steward’s heir before him.  And you ask this man to surrender his ruling authority—for which he had been trained since birth—to bow to a king, to be the king’s servant all his life? 

I admire Boromir, and I think Tolkien knew best, when he gave Boromir a heroic death at Parth Galen. 

...

[mynahx3]

For Her, His Heart Yearns

Hello everyone!  This is Part 1 out of 2 of my Knight! Nanami x Queen!Female! Reader at 4.2k words (0-0) This is done in collaboration with @kentopedia collab, Love Through the Ages Hope you like Part 1, Part 2 will be done shortly! I haven’t written in a bit so any feedback is welcomed. Enjoy lovelies <;3 Will have mature themes such as violence and death. Lowkey a slowburn x mutual pining. Different ruling structure cause it's fantasy lol. Reader is aged around 25-30 Nanami is aged around 30-35

Chapter 1

In your life, duty was something you had to always uphold. Sacrifice anything and everything for it. This is what you were taught; the very essence of it is ingrained in your brain. Things were the way they were for hundreds of years, with the women in your position always completing what needed to be done. As the queen, you made it your purpose to be a person worthy of the throne. Nothing less than perfection was expected of you by your family and peers. The entire kingdom praises the very ground you stood upon. A heavy weight was on your shoulders, one you carried with dignity and grace. 

In spite of your attempts to delay it, it was time for marriage. One to build political relationships and strengthen the kingdom. Known across the land as a beauty, kind yet stern when needed, blessed with a brilliant mind along with your looks. It was no surprise you had many courting options, suitors from far and wide came to court you. You knew that your choice would have far-reaching consequences. The future of the kingdom rested on your decision and you were determined to choose wisely. Even so, every suitor had been rejected, much to the dismay of your father. From the elves to the dwarves, no one was deemed worthy, for your eye has already been caught by someone. 

Sitting on your throne next to your father, you frowned, looking at yet another asking for your hand. This one is old enough to be your grandfather. An expression of boredom is clear on your face; your eyes are looking over the court in front of you. Nobles looked upon the royal family with gleaming eyes, each interested in your decision. The grand halls of the throne room are littered with marble, gold, and paintings that line the walls. Paintings that depicted the history of your kingdom. 

Tales of the dragons who hoarded treasures and of knights saving the land. The most known tale of the white robed mage and first king at the center, the very start of your kingdom. The two had found the legendary Stone of Laztierite, a stone of which not much is known other than its ability to give powerful magic abilities. That was when humanity gained an upper hand over the evil magical beings that reigned over them. Together, with the mage’s magic and the king’s mighty army, they used the stone to effectively seal the evil beings into the dark world. This resulted in the stone disappearing to be found once more, as the rumor goes.

After the war, the white robed mage and first king married, founding the Aitrerus Kingdom, which has reigned over the land for centuries, unifying humanity and magical beings together. At times, the evil still escaped, but it was rare. When it did, it corrupted the minds of anyone it touched. The most affected were dragons and their worshippers, who still ruled over some lands. Lands to which no one ventured due to their heinous actions and beliefs. They were forsaken, no other kingdom interacted with them. Centuries later, humans and magical beings lived in peace, now only fighting over land and politics. The stone lost to time; not one soul knew of its whereabouts now.

Twirling a strand of your hair around your finger, a sigh came from your lips at your thoughts. Those tales were surely false, no magic pebble saved the day you thought with a yawn. Today was yet another day of failed proposals, and your father was equally frustrated. You couldn’t wait to end the day; your back was sore from sitting for so long. The plush, comfortable bed and sheets are calling to you, eager to be done with the uncomfortable corset digging into your ribs. While you no doubt looked exquisite, as your handmaidens always made sure you do, you yearned to be in your simple nightgown with your hair cleaned. Now you were dressed in the finest of silks, a deep blue dress with white lacing, and jewels around your neck and ears. An armored chest plate over your dress, dipped in silver and encrusted with more gems, is a good combination of fashion and protection. You couldn't wait to remove your heavy armor and relax in the comfort of your own room

As the suitors continued to plead their cases, you couldn't help but wonder if you would ever find someone who truly understood you. The weight of your father's expectations and the pressure of finding a suitable match weighed heavily on your shoulders. You couldn't shake the feeling that maybe true love was just a fairy tale. Getting lost in thought, you didn’t realize your father dismissed everyone early, seeing the exhaustion in you. Your father turns to you from his seat next to the throne, a sulk on his usually joyful face, footsteps sounding off as everyone left. 

"You need to start taking this seriously," he said sternly. "Your older brother is off in the gods'  know where, doing what he pleases. I won't be around forever to help make these decisions for you." The weight of his words settled in your chest, and you knew that the pressure to find a suitable match was only going to increase. He had only stepped down from the throne due to the sudden passing of your mother when you were fifthteen. It happened during the birth of their next daughter who was stillborn.  She was the love of his life, the grief of losing both at the same time caused him too much pain to continue ruling. 

"I understand, father." You replied, your voice meek, a far cry from the back talk you gave him constantly over the years. Reaching out, he lovingly rubs your hand, eyes just like yours but sadder, dimmer. His hands are slightly wrinkled now from his age, another reminder to you of the importance of your future marriage. 

"You are my only daughter, and I want to see you happy and successful," he said softly. "I will support you in finding the right partner, but ultimately, the decision is yours to make, my sweet flower." With a heavy heart, you nodded in agreement, knowing that the future of your family's legacy rested on your shoulders.

With that, he takes his leave, sending a warm smile to you. Alone in the vast room you lose yourself in your mind once more as you gaze off at nothing in particular. A light tap on your shoulder jolts you to attention. Looking to the side where it came from, you see your knight, Kento Nanami.

He is from a loyal noble family that guarded the royals for hundreds of years, sworn at your birth to protect you when he was only five years old. He stood broad and tall with blonde hair; it was styled neatly, framing his face with warm chocolate eyes, stern like always. It was a wonder he wasn't married yet. The stained glass windows behind him cast him in a soft, ethereal light, adding to his aura of strength and nobility.

"You're going to make your face stay like that, Sir Nanami." You smiled in a teasing tone at him, leaning up to poke his nose. The two of you are quite fond of each other.

He chuckled softly, a rare sight from the stoic knight. "I cannot help but be serious when it comes to your safety, my lady," he replied with a hint of warmth in his voice. The bond between you two was unbreakable, built on years of trust and companionship. 

Getting up, you pat your dress down, taming the wrinkles that have set into the fabric. Without a hitch, Nanami walks by your side, making your way to your room. Going through the many halls, the windows were open to let in the spring air. Smells of honeysuckle and jasmine were flowing with the light breeze. Your little cousins and other children of servants chasing each other with laughs of joy.

The castle was immaculate, with servants running around to maintain it. Each sent you a small smile as they ran by. Normally they would have to curtsey, but you didn’t care for the formalities all that much. Something you got from your father as he is a kind man—too kind at times. He always made sure the servants were treated with respect and fairness, setting an example for you to follow as you grew up. As you reached your room, Nanami waited at your door like normal. Rolling your eyes, you pull him by the collar of his chest plate and into your room. 

"Come have tea with me!" You demand, letting go of him, moving to sit at your table set on the balcony. The sunset casts a golden glow over your room, and the sky is painted in hues of blue, pink, and orange. “I had them bring your favorite tonight.”

Sitting across from you, he poured the drinks into the fine cups. The silence was enjoyed between the two of you with the calming tea. Your balcony gave a beautiful kingdom view from your room always gives you joy. Hills and valleys were filled with flowers that were blooming. The town within the walls is as lively as ever; sounds of laughter and happiness are normal occurrences. Your kingdom was a peaceful one for centuries. As the night grew darker, the sound of the crickets filled the air, creating a peaceful atmosphere. Nanami's presence always brought a sense of calm and comfort to your evenings.

“Your father was awfully restless today.” He broke the silence, looking over at you with soft eyes, recognizing the stress you had over today. 

“He wants grandbabies in his old age.” You laugh, finishing the tea, rubbing your temple. “He wants to go live off the coast, away from this drama, but it may be years before I find someone."

"You'll find someone you think is right when the time comes." He assured, leaning over to take your hand, squeezing it gently. Your smile growing at his kind action, squeezing his hand back; his soft moments were only for your eyes to see. “You deserve to find love, my lady. Be loved just as you give it . Everything you do is for your kingdom and loved ones. Is there a reason you think you do not deserve it?”

Your breath halts in your throat, and words stick as you try to speak. The look in his eyes clearly asks for more; it makes your stomach have butterflies. Looking at Nanami, you thought the moonlight made him look even more handsome. His chiseled jaw and cheekbones were accentuated. With a tint on your cheeks, you turn from his gaze. Taking your hand from his, you miss the way he winces a little. 

"Yes, yes. I'll surely find true love, just as my parents did." You laugh, dismissing his question with a wave of your hand, sarcasm dripping from your voice. Ignoring the pain in your own heart you felt at the action, the two of you knew there were feelings growing; neither of you felt it was right to confess. Teetering on the edge of something more each day but both of you were too scared to take the plunge into the unknown. Too scared to get hurt more than anything. 

“Your majesty. You are more than worthy; any man or woman would be lucky.” He tells you, taking his hand back, his eyes unwavering as he keeps eye contact. The tension between you two was palpable, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. It was clear that neither of you was ready to confront the truth of your feelings. You smile meekly, shaking your head to get up from your chair. 

“I appreciate your kind words, but I should head to bed. The hour is awfully late.” You dismiss, moving to ring the bell for your maids to help you change. 

“As you wish, please rest well tonight.” He gets up, taking your hand to kiss the back of it before he leaves. A twinkle in his dark eyes at your flushed face.

Now comfortable, you lay in your plush bed, free of the tight corset and suffocating layers. As tired as you were earlier, you couldn't help but stay awake, thoughts of him flooding your mind. The moonlight filtering through the curtains illuminated the room, casting a soft glow on your face. The weight of unspoken words lingered, creating a bittersweet ache in your chest. Sleep eventually comes to you as you drift off into dreams filled with his presence, a smile tugging at your lips. The night passes slowly, the memories of the evening replaying in your mind like a cherished melody.

Nanami retreats to his chambers after checking everything is in order, trying to stay busy while his mind races. Images of you run through his mind—how you admired the flowers in the gardens and when you sit upon the throne with your subjects. How you acted was like day and night at times: rigid with people you weren't fond of but then sweet to those you cherished. Your beauty glowed even when you didn't know someone was watching. He found it funny how you would puff your cheeks out in frustration when struggling with a new hobby or when your book turned sour. How kind and playful you were to your cousins and nephews, always playing with them when you could. Not caring when they dirtied your expensive dresses.

Changing for bed, he settled down, expressing a slight regret at his actions tonight with a sigh. His heart is torn between his duty to protect you and his own desires, unsure of how to navigate the complexities of his emotions. As he laid in bed, the soft glow of the moonlight illuminates his conflicted expression, a silent witness to the inner turmoil he grapples with.  

The peace of the night is broken by the sound of shrill screams that wakes you with a shock. The sound of fighting is going on outside your door. Sitting up in bed, you shake in fear, moving quickly for your sword displayed over your fireplace. You pause, listening intently for any clue as to what is happening outside. With a racing heart, you steel yourself for whatever danger may come your way. With your sword pointed at the door, you quickly slip on a pair of riding boots you happened to have out and prepare yourself for the fight to come. Breathe halted as the fighting died down and you heard footsteps approaching your door. 

With adrenaline coursing through your veins, you brace yourself for the unknown threat that awaits on the other side, your hands shaking as you hold the blade. While trained, you were rarely put in real danger thanks to Nanami at your side constantly. Taking a deep breath to calm your nerves, ready to strike down whoever it may be, raising it up just as they open the door. Relief filled your veins as you recognized the blonde head of hair entering your room. Blood was painted across his white dress shirt, dripping down his own sword. He wore casual clothes, black slacks, and a white shirt with a ruffled collar, having just woken up as well.

"Kento?" You called out in confusion, stepping closer to him and pointing your sword down. He didn't respond, making his way to you with haste, looking over your form for any wounds. Seeing him seemed to have broken down any walls you made, the stress of the situation coming down. You dropped your sword, wrapping your arms around him in relief, feeling the tension leave your body as he held you close. 

"I'm here." His voice was smooth and calm. He hugged you tightly, minding his sword as he did. More screams come from the hallway, making him go back to attention. Letting you go, he grabbed your black cloak nearby from the coat post. Putting it over you, he cupped your shaking face gently with one warm, calloused hand, looking into your eyes with urgency. Thumb rubbing your cheekbone comfortingly, trying to ease the fear he saw in your teary eyes. His face was firm as always, with a level head on his shoulders from his experience. 

"We need to go. We don't have much time," Nanami urged. Without waiting for a response, he led you out of the room and into the night, his grip firm and reassuring. The seriousness in his eyes told you that whatever lay ahead was not to be taken lightly.

Going through the halls, you saw bodies of servants and knights alike, walls painted with their blood and viscera. Men who were not of your kingdom laid with them in black armor. This was clear from the red sigil on their chest, the sign of evil dragon worshipers. Hurriedly, he pulled you through the halls, passing the windows to the courtyard. Down below, it was pure disarray. Fires are going with more bodies on the ground. The knights of the kingdom were defending the castle with their lives. Luckily no one found you two as you made it to the stables safely. Tears welled in your eyes, stinging as they went down your face while he went to his horse. The smell of smoke and blood was overwhelming.

“Where’s my father?” You questioned him, pleading with him for answers. His silence only provided the answer you needed, knowing there was a slim chance of him making it. He was old and had his own faults, but he didn’t deserve this end. 

"I could only make it to you first. I'm sorry." He simply said, moving swiftly to get his white horse, helping you onto him. Getting on behind you, he grabbed the reins, snapping them sharply to ride off.

You both only made it over the hill before an arrow shot into his shoulder from behind. Making a grunt of pain, he looked over his shoulder at a group of men chasing on horseback. Ripping it out, he urged the horse to run faster. More arrows shot around before someone yelled at them to stop, saying they wanted the queen alive. Holding him tighter, you pressed your face against his back. He rode towards the dense forest ahead, wishing to lose them there. Just as you were near the forest line, a fireball was sent nearby, sending the horse flying. 

Coughing, you weakly propped yourself up on your hands, your vision blurry from hitting the ground so rough. Just over you was a dragon, smoke escaping from its sharp teeth, ruby-red eyes looking down. Its vast, inky black body blocks out the moon behind it. Worshippers move to surround you, whispering to each other in glee. Nanami lay nearby, attempting to stand. Blood came from his temple, dripping onto his face. His sword was on the ground in front of you. Grabbing it, you pointed it up with a sharp glare, ready to defend yourself to the last moment, standing in front of Nanami. The dragon looked down at you in interest, with more of its goons surrounding you two.

“Run!” Nanami commanded, barking your name with such a harsh tone. It would've made you shake if it was different circumstances. His hair falling over his face as his eyes scanned over everyone. 

Making the first move, you strike down the closest assailant. Knowing how to fight was a skill every royal was taught. Swiftly move between them, dodging their attacks while sending your own. It helped that they wanted you alive; most of them were trying to grab you over kill you. Standing, Nanami defended you, grabbing a sword from a fallen worshiper nearby. As you both continued to fight off the dragon's goons, you felt a surge of adrenaline fueling your movements. Each strike and parry was executed with precision and determination. The odds may have been against you, but you were not going down without a fight.

Exhaustion soon caught up to you. Being unused to fighting this long, you panted for air. A few bodies lay at your feet dead. One of them saw an opportunity, striking you over the head while taking your blade from you, tossing it away. Falling to the ground with a grunt, you see the dragon land before you. It's sulfur smelling breath hitting your form. The heat of it makes you squint, struggling to stay awake. Nanami screamed your name and tried to run to you but was quickly stabbed through in his distraction, blood seeping from his mouth at the gaping wound in his abdomen. They pulled the blade out, making him fall to his knees. He could only watch as they gathered around you. His vision filled with black dots before passing out, the gushing blood made a pool in the grass under him. 

"Sleep, little queen." It grumbles, its voice is deep and ominous. The last thing you see before succumbing to unconsciousness is the dragon's red glowing eyes, filled with a mix of curiosity and malice. The world fades to black as you drift into a dreamless slumber, unsure of what fate awaits you next.

Later on, you awaken in a plush bed. Still wearing the blood splattered clothes from before, thankfully. Daylight came through the barred windows nearby. The chambers are warm, filled with fur along the floor and silk sheets. Dark reddish stone with almost black hardwood floors. The room is opulently decorated, intricate tapestries adorning the walls and a flickering blue fire in the hearth. Your head had a sharp pain from being hit from behind, making you move idly to sit up. Getting off the bed, you walk towards the door tentatively. As you reach for the doorknob, someone new opens the door, making you jump back. They wore a red cloak, their hood obscuring their faces from view.

“Master is glad you’ve awoken, he hopes the room pleases you.” They say, voice with a slight rasp to it, hands clasped together.

Not giving them a chance to talk further, you try to run past them, only to be slammed into the stone wall by an unseen force. Pain spikes from your head at the impact as you drop to the floor. You struggle to regain your balance, realizing that there is something unnatural about the servant. They walk towards you, shaking their head at that attempt. 

“That’s awfully rude.” They laugh cruelly. "Master doesn't like it when his guests try to leave."

"What do you want, mage?" You ask, glaring at them harshly, anger rushing through you as you bare your teeth to them. Their eyes gleam down at you, laughing a bit at the sight. “Where’s my knight?”

"You'll know soon enough," they say, harshly pulling you up by the arm and dragging you towards the door. Their sharp nails are almost piercing your flesh from their grip. Moving through the dark halls, several red cloaked people roamed about, none sparing either of you a glance. Their snake-like language is foreign to your ears. Moving deeper into the fortress, you go down many stairs, the smell of sulfur and rotten eggs only getting worse. Opening a door, they throw you in which almost makes you fall over. Catching yourself, you turn to hit the door. Letting out a frustrated yell, you kick at it, pounding it with your fist.

"Little queen has a bite to her." A deep voice calls out, a deep laugh from its throat, a voice you knew. Turning, you stood still, the very dragon laying in a giant heap of gold before you. The treasures of the world surround the beast in the cave structure.

"Surprised to see me, little one?" The dragon's red eyes glinted mischievously as it slowly rose to its feet, towering over you with a smirk. You realized then that escaping this fortress would be much more difficult than you had anticipated.

"What do you want?" You ask, voice firm. Surprising yourself at how you acted put together. Your blood rushing in your ears from your heart pounding.

The dragon's smirk widened, revealing sharp teeth as it replied, "Nothing big, dear. I just want to rule the lands."

You felt a chill run down your spine at his words, a cruel laugh coming from them. It vibrated your entire being from his size. 

"You see, little queen, I require something to do that." He continues, moving closer. "The blood of a white robed mage, to be exact."

A laugh slipped from your lips, your hand covering it from the outburst. It was unexpected for the dragon to believe in such fables. The dragon's eyes narrowed at your reaction, sensing your disbelief.

"Believe what you will, but the power of the white robed mage is real inside you," he growled, his tone deadly serious. Your heart raced as you realized the gravity of the situation, knowing that you must find a way to stop him before it's too late.

"What do you plan to do with me, beast?" You asked, standing your ground as it wrapped a tail around you. Not yet squeezing, but the threat was apparent. Leaning closer, you felt the hot breath of the dragon breathe down on you, its red eyes watching you.

"To devour you, my dear little queen," he explained, closing its eyes and pausing to take a whiff of you. "With you, I'll have all the power needed. No one can stop me as I gorge down on humanity. The blood of innocents will run down my throat."

You shivered at the thought of being devoured by the dragon, but you refused to show fear. With a defiant glare, you whispered, "You may have power over others, but you will never have power over me." The dragon's eyes narrowed in response, a hint of respect in its gaze as it considered your words.

"Oh? No groveling? No begging for mercy?" He chuckled. "Careful now. I may like you, little queen."

Hope you liked this! hehehehehe can't wait for the next chapter

ALSO dont fuck the dragon!!!!

[piratecore-art]

New decendants fic posted! It'll be a longer project.

[royal-confessions]

“I genuinely feel that the claimants to several defunct thrones who still call themselves prince and Princess are absolutely pathetic. Your people have rejected you, and you still want to impose yourself on the commoners and force them to give you deference because you believe your lineage is superior. Stop using your titles!!!” - Submitted by Anonymous

“I find it so cringe that people from abolished monarchies still use their titles and force them down our throats and do THE MOST to stay relevant for example the Greek “royals” and it gets worse with families that haven’t reigned in ages like the Bourbon-Two Sicilies” - Submitted by Anonymous

[asongofgoldenfireandblackblood]

Six moons subsequent to the coronation of Westeros’ first Ruling-Queen, ravens have once more been sent to summon every caliber and shade of the kingdom’s noble families back to Court at The Red Keep...

...This time to celebrate the wedding of Queen Rhaenyra’s heir, Crown Prince Jacaerys, and his cousin, step-sister, and betrothed of nearly twenty years, Princess Baela. They have flown out, however, to meet a Realm steeped in far more tension, ambition, and gossip than most could have dreamed half a year ago.

The soon-to-be-newlyweds are, of course, a source of much of the whispers and more, many speculating the only reason such a pairing has only lasted so long because of the new Queen’s desperation to restore favorability towards her family’s Valyrian looks in her son’s progeny after her own poor luck in the matter, the Prince held only by his duty to a union made when he had hardly learned to walk, and the new Princess wholly satisfied with such an otherwise suspect arrangement because of her own intent to rule not with but through her blushing groom. Another couple amongst the Targaryen Royals, Prince Aemond and Princess Rhaena have set gossip of their own aflutter, with a courtship lasting all these past six moons and no proposal seeming to dawn on the horizon, spectators have proposed the second son may have been more infatuated with the chase than its subject, while others murmur the proclaimed Pearl is only using him as a shield until someone better comes along…or comes of age.

All the while halfway-reliable reports that Prince Aegon the Younger has been spotted on many an evening gallivanting through the streets of Fleabottom, his younger brother Prince Viserys has grown fond of playing kissing games with his own, male companions, and their sister Princess Visenya has been all but neglected during her Queen-Mother's latest pregnancy, causing the girl in turn to act out with uncharacteristic misbehavior and grow sour towards the nearing arrival of her new siblings. More worrying still, in the five moons since his betrothal to Lady Alannys Greyjoy, Prince Joffrey has spent more and more of his time with the Ironborn. Some say this is his way of rejecting the Faith of the Seven, leaving the Gods for the Drowned God, becoming more barbaric because of their influence on him, and leaving behind the kind and courtly boy he was in trade for the temperament of a Greyjoy.

Queen Rhaenyra herself has, unsurprisingly, sparked even more whispers throughout her court and across the kingdom than all her children combined. After the very first weeks of her reign were marred by an attempted poisoning, a speculated miscarriage, a shock pregnancy announcement, and even more shocking political appointments, her Grace could not be faulted for attempting to draw the public eye anywhere else, but she has not. While her supporters and detractors alike found the new installation of stained glass in the high windows of the Red Keep's Throne Room honoring The Seven unveiled during her coronation to be impressive, it was not hard to notice the wrought iron seven pointed star which had hung above The Iron Throne for nigh on two decades had been replaced by the Targaryen sigils that had not hung there since Septon Barth became Hand to King Jaehaerys.

Meanwhile the new Queen's closest ladies have caused gossip of their won to fly between loose lips and the cracks in the Red Keep's walls; Lady Roslin Vance believed to be conspiring with the head housekeeper and whispered witch of her brother, Lord Larys', stronghold at Harrenhall to kill him via magical means after a long string of failed assassination attempts in vengeance for her assertions he was behind the deaths of their father and older brother. The interim hand of the Queen and her lead Lady-in-Waiting, Lady Calla Celtigar has further drawn rumors that she has soured since Queen Rhaenyra's coronation at odds with Her Grace over her pregnancy, others speculating she dislikes the public attention she receives as Hand, and the boldest claim that she was scorned in illicit advances by one of the Lords of the Small Council. These murmurings accompanied by whispers that the Lady Celtigar has been taking keen note of powerful Lords of the Realm, especially those who seek high positions on Queen Rhaenyra's council, and her judgment as thorough as it is fierce.

As the Dowager-Queen Alicent has all but entirely absented herself from Court in favor of spending her days on Dragonstone and tending to the affairs of her children and grandchildren, speculation has grown that the new Queen's disregard towards The Faith showcased in everything from her change of heraldry, to the appointment of Dalton Greyjoy to her small council, and now the invitation of a Dornish Envoy to attend the wedding and restart diplomatic negotiations between the two kingdoms has driven Queen Alicent to flee her own home of the past three decades over the hostility. Although, those less charitable in their views on the Dowager claim she has done so not from Rhaenyra's hostility, but out of self preservation, as to spare herself the prying eyes of the continuing investigations into who was behind the attempt on her stepdaughter's life the night of King Viserys' funeral. All the while, the head of the aforementioned party from Sunspear, Ruling-Princess Aliandra, is believed to have arrived looking for a Westerosi groom of her own, perhaps even from the long time rival-Kingdom's royal family itself.

Speaking of Dragonstone, the elder Prince Aegon has been causing his own, characteristic share of speculation; most pressingly that he has been harboring several aggrieved parties in familial disputes between fathers and their daughters and wives, slowly building up his own harem for Seven only know what ends, without a care in the world as to what Lords he angers in the process. Meanwhile, since Queen Rhaenyra ascended the throne, Princess Helaena has been involving herself in the ruling of Dragonstone more often than noticed before causing claims this is because Helaena feels she is robbed from her right to be Queen, and she is making up for this by ruling Dragonstone. Or, worse yet, she is readying herself for the duties of being The Queen. Princess Rhaenya too has been acting most unusually spending long hours on the island's sept and eliciting rumors that she has already lost her tongue as punishment after a secret admire made her with child, though the Princess herself did finally come to threaten any more slander against her would be met with dragon fire. Her twin, Prince Daeron, on the other hand, who has spent the past half year serving as the commander of the City Watch for his older sister's new reign, has casually confirmed but not yet to which one it has seems that the Prince Daeron has gotten over his fear of the sea and been traveling on many days to Storm’s End to see his future wife, whoo he's been heard calling his "shining light". Even one of the youngest amongst the family, Princess Jaehaera is whispered to be dabbling in Valyrian blood magic, seeking to use ancient and forbidden practices to enhance her connection with dragons, some claiming even to resurrect a dragon long believed to be dead whilst conducts strange rituals in the dead of night, and using her own blood in these experiments.

Across the bay on Driftmark, the most unexpected news was announced by Princess Rhaenys, that the five and fifty year old is pregnant once more, causing speculation of dangerous treatments from Asshai, a plot to produce a new heir for Driftmark over Prince Lucerys, and turmoil within the Princess' and Lord Corlys marriage. The Sea Snake himself has recently been making frequent appearances at court without his wife, which while catalyzing rumors of turmoil in and of itself, has now become fuel to a raging fire of gossip and conspiracy over whether he has set off on a voyage to Qarth against his own will on orders of the Queen, or in a purposeful attempt to absent himself from his wife's potentially perilous labors. Meanwhile—the so-called "White Worm"—Lady Mysaria, has purportedly welcomed home her own bastard daughter with Prince Daemon, once believed to have died in her cradle, Zhaerina, after many years spent away from the Crownlands. And in the midst of it all, whispers are growing that a girl from Spicetown has claimed the wild dragon called "Sheepstealer" on the isle's shores, perhaps a royal bastard claiming a perceived-denied inheritance, perhaps something even more dangerous.

Throughout the Kingdom the most widely remarked upon matter has quickly become the negotiations to maintain peace between The Iron Islands and The Reach. While most of the conditions are expectedly concerned with safe passage and trade agreements, wards, though some have claimed hostages, have been exchanged on both sides in the form of Lord Dalton Greyjoy's youngest daughter by one of his "salt-wives" Alla Florent, the legitimized bastard Penny Greyjoy, and the Castellan of High Garden and late-Lord Lorence's eldest cousin Jon Tyrell's son, Henley. The Lady-Regent Clarice Tyrell, for her part, has seemed significantly more pleased with this arrangement than either Ser Jon or Lord Dalton, leading many to believe the once gentle and fair image of the Lady Regent of the Reach has soured through using these children as her pawns. Not least of all because by taking away her greatest detractor’s heir, the highborn and common folk alike speak on the evilness of her ways in which she ensures that Jon Tyrell is brought to heel. A seemingly never-ending source of gossip as of late, however, the Lady-Regent has also drawn many judging eyes for the long visits she's taken with Lady Sabitha Frey over the past half year, and while both women's supporters claim it is simply Lady Clarice supporting her newfound friend through a twin pregnancy, the boldest amongst their opponents claim Lady Sabitha's pregnancy is a sham all together to hide that she has truly fallen in love with The Golden Rose.

The little Lady Penny has even sparked gossip of her own, reports highly divided in claims that she brought an entire boat of wild animals she claimed to be "pets" in accompaniment to her wardship at High Garden, rebuked by glowing praise she is stunningly poised for a girl her age, much less one of Iron Islander origin, and has won the hearts of all those who reside in and visit her new home with her compassion and sweet wit. Lord Dalton, in turn, has been spending a remarkable amount of time on the island of Dragonstone with Prince Aegon after the pair first grew close around Queen Rhaenyra's coronation, sparking many a rumor that all of his salt-wives are, in fact, simply a facade to true his true amorous feelings; rumors not assisted by the fact Princess Helaena has begun to grow most wroth at the Lord Greyjoy's presence. Further, The Lady of House Hightower and wife to it's elderly head, Lord Ormund, Lady Sam, has purportedly been evading her own embarrassment that—while one of the harshest voices at the table in the peace dealings between The Reach and The Iron Islands—her eldest sister, Lady Sansara Serry, has grown near-mad with love for Lord Dalton, going so far as to beg to run away with him in secret before she and her husband left court after the Coronation.

There has been no shortage of rumors concerning the young ladies of Court either. Lady Cerelle Lannister was claimed to have been buying poisons a few moons ago, and only a fortnight before the ravens were sent was accused by the Red Keep's chief ratcatcher of kidnapping many of the castle's cats for hereto unknown purposes. Meanwhile, Lady Maris Baratheon was recently speculated to have wed in secret to a rich man and possibly taken the spot as the heir of Storm’s End though Princess Rhaenya has finally spoken and defended her close friend on this rumor, alongside Lady Maris reaffirming she will not be the heir. More recently, however, she was caught seen holding hands, with the Lady Elaena Snow while the two were extremely close, embroidering beneath the Red Keep's heart tree while Princess Rhaenya was away from her ladies' side and purported to have been out with the yet to be identified man she's whispered to be hoping to marry soon.

The third Baratheon sister and Lady in Waiting to Princess Rhaena, Lady Ellyn, has been noted to be away from court interactions for an advance of a moon's time, a rarity for the Baratheon daughter, who was most seen at court. Reportedly, Lady Ellyn had a public spat with her elder sister Cassandra that caused her lord father to withdraw her from public outings and causing her not to have spoken to her family and friends except her elder sister, Maris, the Princesess Rhaenya and Rhaena, alongside her Lord Father. The two Baratheon sisters have reportedly been in each other's company for an abnormally advanced time, even for sisters. Though, the most scandalous whispers have been elicited from two of Princess Baela's Ladies in Waiting, Lady Alannys Greyjoy and Lady Teora Grafton. With their recent betrothals to Prince Joffrey and Ser Petyr Mooton respectively, the notably sharp witted, cunning, and some claim wild young women have given many cause to believe they intend to secure their unions with an heir or two as quickly as possible, and then—one way or another—dispose of their grooms to live in comfortable widowhood where no may question their notoriously strong wills.

The young Knights and Lords of Court may still outdo them, however, Lord Cregan Stark's continued frequenting of Court combined with his distaste for it's politics showing no signs of fading has caused must speculation he has continued to be drawn back to the so-called nest of vipers by a woman who has earned his heart's affection. Amongst the Manderly sails, sailors speak on the position and strength of the Greyjoy fleet among the ships of Westeros. They question the Queen for Lord Dalton Greyjoy's position as Master of Ships and the favor offered to his children. Torrhen Manderly shares their words and often speaks of concern over the strengthening of House Greyjoy. Torrhen himself, however, has been a recluse at court, more often found at the docks of King's Landing. He only comes to the castle for his lady sister and accompanies his liege lord, Cregan Stark, but most believe Torrhen himself wishes to be away from the 'nest of vipers' known as King's Landing. He is in turn, not the only young heir who has turned their ire towards the Lord of the Iron Islands, Joss Westerling earning the court's attention for over a moon in his show of uncharacteristic bravery in defending his House and home from the Lord's seeming carelessness for other's hard earned gains.

Amongst the prominent Rivermen in King's Landing, Oscar Tully caused quite a scare amongst the Court disappearing for a fortnight with no trace and drawing speculation of kidnapping or even an accidental death before returning unharmed, gossip only sparking further when it was discovered his older brother and heir to Riverrun, Kermit Tully, was mostly unconcerned with his disappearance, and only moderately pleased when Oscar returned. One of Crown Prince Jacaerys' closest friends Ser Willam Vance has drawn speculation he is carrying on a secret affair with a highborn lady already married to a powerful lord. Several witnesses claimed they have spotted the two meeting in secluded corners of court gatherings, exchanging stolen glances and secret notes also that Willam has secretly been considering renouncing his position as heir to House Vance, wishing to free himself from the responsibilities and pressures of nobility, to flee with his forbidden love. All the while the heir to the Iron Islands himself, Toron Greyjoy, has spent the past half year under the command of Ser Steffon Darklyn, learning the ways of the sword of mainland Westeros as a way to inconspicuously remain at King’s Landing. However, voices have begun to grow in the claim that he is preparing to assassinate Daemon Targaryen if the need to meet the mainland’s biggest military asset with force draws near should the Iron Islands go to war with the Crown...

...And so begins Arc II of A Song of Golden Fire and Black Blood.

[hello-nichya-here]

Is there any way for Aegon to become king without usurping Rhaenyra? And can the Lords that chose to support him really be called traitors when their parents and grandparents were the ones to swear to Rhaenyra, not them?

"Their parents and grandparents were the ones to swear to Rhaenyra" by that logic, Aegon The Conqueror was the one who swear he would not harm or disinherit these people's families if they bent the knee, thus neither Rhaenyra nor Aegon II, or any Targaryen really, is obligated to keep that promise.

That would also mean none of the lords are entitled to the loyalty or obedience of any of the smaller houses that are under their rule. And neither the super important nor the practically irrelevant houses need to support either of Viserys's children, or any Targaryen at all, and can just declare themselves kings - after all, they were not the ones to swear to them.

There's a reason why the war that put Robert on the throne is still called a REBELION, even by the people that consider his reign legitimate. Why Jaime gets dragged through the mud for stabbing the Mad King in the back. Why Dany still calls the Baratheons and their supporters USURPERS even though she no longer believed her brother would have been a good king. Justified or not, they were breaking their oaths towards the real king, the real heir(s), and the entire royal family.

Unfair or not, Westerosi society is based on the system of "The head of the house decides EVERYTHING, his relatives have to obey them, and his descendents are OBLIGATED to remain loyal to those he bent the knee to, even if he's been dead for a while." The parents and grandparents of these lords swore to Rhaenyra, and thus they will be oathbreakers if they suddenly go "Actually, we're supporting someone else instead."

(Not to mention, not ALL of these lords are descendents of someone who swore to her. Lots of them were the ones to bend the knee when Viserys named her heir, so them supporting Aegon is even worse on the Traitor Scale).

Now, regarding Aegon II becoming king through legitimate means, there were a few possibilities:

1 - Viserys changing his mind for real and standing before the realm to say as much. Rhaenyra's claim is all based on the fact that Viserys CHOSE her and he has absolute authority. If he used that same authority to name Aegon instead, there would have been nothing she or anyone else could do about it, not even the lords that swore to her. It'd be kind of like house Clegane supporting Targaryens/Baratheons over the Lannisters, despite being their vassals, because royalty out-ranks nobility. The de facto ruler out-ranks the heir.

2 - Aegon marries Rhaenyra. They can't fight for the throne if their biggest claim to legitimacy is each other and their heir is the same. At most you'd have people arguing over whether that makes Aegon king regent or king consort.

3 - Rhaenyra dies of natural causes (or by some scheme Aegon and his supporters played no part in) before she can have any heirs. That would make Aegon the heir by default, even if Rhaenyra had been crowned already because, well, gotta put SOMEONE on the throne, and Aegon would be next in line after her in that scenario.

4 - Rhaenyra, of her own free will, rejects the crown and openly supports her brother's claim. If the throne is hers by right, then she also has the right to give it away.

[unicorncornflakes]

Little One - Story AU! | Chapter 2

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Paring: Reader x Aemond Targaryen.

Summary: You are the only daughter of Jacaerys Velaryon, future lord of the tides. After the victory of Aegon and his side in the war, your family suffers the rejection in Driftmark. There you must always give an account to the king's new hand, Aemond Targaryen. However, when the time comes, Aegon and his court claim you as Queen Helaena's lady-in-waiting. As a new piece of the Greens' strategy to coerce your father, you are taken to King's Landing to begin your life in high society. Aemond will be, much to his pleasure, in charge of guiding you in this new stage.

Tags: Alternate Universe/ Enemies to Lovers/ Emotional Hurt/Comfort Drama & Romance/ Eventual Smut.

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st, at some points.

Tag-List (If you wanna be tagged in thi series or all of my work, let me know): @thedamewithabook @bluevxnus

Author´s note: Pls, enjoy! Feedback, shares and comments are always welcome!

Word Count: 3.5K

"What do you think, princess?" One of the tailors looked at princess Jaehaera, who looked sad in front of her mirror. Aemond, sitting as he watched, with a cup of wine in his hand, looked at his daughter, Aegon's daughter. This was how he had to see her, and how he had tried to see her thus far. Jaehaera was his niece in the realm's eyes, but that didn't exempt him from acting like her father most of the time. At a table in the young princess's chambers, the Hand of the King was sitting watching as she tried on the last dress he had had ordered for the princess, who as always seemed to enjoy only her solitude.

"Fine" she replied in a small sweet voice. And that was all he said to her, showing no emotion on her face or in her voice, barely blinking. Just looking in front of the mirror. The tailor looked at Aemond as if he expected some directive more than just 'Fine'. He took another sip of his glass in silence, just before speaking.

“It's a good dress. I like the use of green and gold" Aemond replied, without a smile, just staring at the tailor, almost as if he could read what he was thinking, tasting the fear he had of him... he liked having that power over others. He took another sip and the tailor didn't know what else to do. This was not a conventional royal family in any sense. Fear, secrecy, and unease seemed to reign throughout the red fortress ever since the greens had won the war. They were all puppets and Aemond the main puppeteer. The silence was still heavy in Princess Jaehaera's chambers and the tailor dared to speak once more.

"Then, if it's fine with you, I'll retire to make the final arrangements, my prince" said the poor man. His gaze dropped from him. He could not bring himself to defeat that cruel look that Aemond seemed to maintain all the time. Several of the maids ran to help Jaehaera undress her and she just sighed sadly. She was the living example of what the war had done to the children who had spent their childhood in it. Aemond worried that she was so lonely, but he too had been a lonely child, and he hadn't fared so badly, had he? The tailor was preparing to leave when Aemond spoke with authority.

"Wait," he said, taking his hands behind his back and slowly approaching that man. The new dress twisted in his hands. Aemond's presence was more than any of this fortress could bear. “The other dress that I ordered you…” he began saying, but the tailor interrupted him.

"Is that dress also for the princess, my lord?" he asked confused, but soon realized his mistake. He had interrupted the one-eyed man at his request. Fear could be seen in his eyes at such audacity, and Aemond only smirked, as if taking mental note of the challenge.

“Do you think Princess Jaehaera will wear so many see-throughs at a tournament holding?” he asked arrogantly, perversely inviting that man to interrupt him again. Aemond couldn't see it, but Jaehaera looked at him for a moment in confusion. Finally, she just continued to be dressed by her maids.

"No, of course not, my lord," the tailor replied quickly, almost bowing to be forgiven. Aemond smiled again, amused by the situation, and returned to square himself on the ground, maintaining his always powerful posture.

"The girl who has to put it on is already here," he informed without expressing any emotion, although he was excited by the prospect of seeing you in that dress. "Tomorrow I would like you to come back with it and we can try it out to her"

"So it will be done, my lord," said the tailor, bowing a thousand times, just before leaving. Aemond smirked again and turned away. Jaehaera was already dressed again and she had leaned on the balustrade of the balcony that overlooked her room. Aemond moved to stand beside her. It was a good day.

“Hm, today is a good day for flying” was all he said and Jaehaera didn't even look at him. She this she kept watching as Morghul, her dragon, and Tessarion, Daeron's dragon, flew together through the sky, almost in perfect synchrony. Two more of the few survivors of the Dance "Maybe we could go flying together today." Aemond tried to sound excited at the prospect of spending time with her, but he knew it didn't sound natural. Few things moved Aemond anymore.

"Uncle Daeron and I already said we'd go flying together today," she whispered back. "But thank you, Uncle Aemond." Jaehaera had enjoyed the stories Aemond had told her when she'd been a child, but that was all. The beautiful memories that the princess had of her 'Uncle'. Aemond was not a loving and charming man like Daeron, not even a man given to pleasure like Aegon. He only knew obligation and duty.

Aemond turned, ready to leave Jaehaera's chambers. He would spend the rest of his day until dinner in the library. He could go see Helaena or his mother, but he would only find them mourning the loss and damage of the war. Aemond Targaryen must have been the loneliest and most feared man in the seven kingdoms.

You felt your skin burn, completely stung by the victory of that sponge she had used to scrub your body. You had told that girl, which had gone to attend to you in the bathroom, that you knew how to clean yourself. But she this she seemed to have despaired seeing your soft and slow movements during the bath and had ended up taking the sponge and doing it herself. It was clear that she used to work fast. She must not have given her time to do all his tasks in that big castle. She finally looked at you with relief when you got out of the tub and began to dry yourself off. You did it briskly while she sighed with relief and began to prepare her dress for that night.

“At least you know how to dry yourself. That reassures me” the woman told you as she took out a garment from her own trunk that she herself had brought there “By the way, my name is Mistra. I'm going to be the one to help you bathe and dress for the time you're here” she sighed tiredly as she took another green garment out of the new trunk.

"I have brought my own clothes" you answered her, pointing to the trunk that she had prepared for you in Driftmark before leaving. You walked over wrapped in the towel, and when you opened it, it smelled like home. You felt tears well up in your eyes, but you didn't cry. You couldn't cry there, when would you come back? Maybe never and that saddened you more.

Mistra looked at you for a single moment as if she took pity on you, but she only continued afterwards preparing the green dress while she watched as you looked for another one in your trunk. You brought her a black dress, with the heraldry of the Targaryens with turquoise blue motifs. You liked that dress. You showed it. As if it were what you wanted to wear and the poor woman smiled sadly, as if that garment reminded her of better times.

"You can't wear that garment. Come on, it would give the one-eyed man and her mother a heart attack if they see you with that ” she spoke to you as if you were in Driftmark. You smiled at her crazy ways, but then you remembered your father's words. You couldn't trust anyone, what if that woman and her words were just a way for you to fall into Aemond's trap? Your smile faded at that moment and the woman noticed it. You remained silent while she dressed you. You saw your reflection in the mirror. You were dressed completely green. You didn't like it and you looked the other way. "Don't worry, you'll get used to it. We all did it when they won” Mistra sighed, and you turned to look in the mirror. You wanted to go home.

Aegon took another swallow from his wineglass, until it was empty. "More," he ordered, and the cupbearer came running to refill it almost to the brim. The swollen features and scars that covered part of his face from the war made it almost impossible for Aegon to breathe or drink, but that didn't stop him from drinking. Aemond looked at him. He was sitting in the center of the table, in the king's place. They hadn't started dinner, but Aegon was already on his fourth glass of his wine. Aemond was standing behind him, waiting for the rest of his family to dine. Silence prevailed between the two brothers. Aemond had arrived on time as always, and Aegon had been brought there by the guards, on Aemond's orders. What was not done in that place if it was not under his command? The first to appear were Helaena and Alicent. Helaena was dressed in mourning for her dead children, she had almost lost her mind in those years, and Alicent was carrying her with difficulty to her chair. Aemond came over to help them, while Aegon continued to drink. Looking at the sadness and madness that reigned in that room, Aemond wondered if he had been worth the victory. But of course he was worth it. He was almost king. The room was barely lit, as it always was when Aegon dined with them, as if that would prevent the rest of his family from seeing his burn-scarred body. Now not only was the atmosphere hostile and gloomy, but it was also poorly lit. Aemond heard Daeron's laughter down the hall, and Daeron appeared with Jaehaera on his arm. The young woman's eyes always lit up when she was with her younger uncle, but they soon became dull as she entered the room, seeing that unfortunate spectacle, which more than inspired glory and triumph, exuded fear and grief. Daeron kept smiling, at least he didn't stop doing it even under the circumstances. Always gentle and nice.

“And (Y/N)?” Daeron asked, moving closer to Aemond in a whisper, having released Jaehaera to his mother. “I think you should set her as Jaehaera's lady-in-waiting. They are more or less the same age, and the princess could use a little company” Daeron whispered close to him, genuinely concerned for his niece and the loneliness that surrounded him.

"Since when have you thought and not obeying, brother?" Aemond snapped, giving him a dirty look. He fixed his only eye on his younger brother, as if he wanted to scare him away. But Daeron kept on talking to him.

"Then why did you bring her?" the knight snapped, and Aemond was just about to respond when everyone else in the room fell silent. All eyes were on the small figure that appeared dressed in green through the door of that room where they always dined. Daeron and Aemond looked at you, even Aegon stopped drinking. You felt clearly uncomfortable and looked at the only figure you knew in that room. Aemond was looking at you now with a smirk and moved closer to you. While the guard announced you. “Lady (Y/N) Velaryon” You had never been announced before and you felt your stomach turn. Aemond took your hand and led you before the others in the room. You saw Queen Mother Alicent sigh as if she didn't believe what was happening, as if the last place she expected to see you was there. She looked at her middle son as if after dinner she was going to talk to him. Aemond led you to the center of the room and there he released you. Daeron smiled as he stepped behind a young woman who must have been a little older than your age, with violet eyes and silver hair. She must be Princess Jaehaera. Daeron placed a hand on her shoulder and caressed her. You felt yourself as if you were a dog that had just been adopted, a pet for the use and enjoyment of that family. You looked at Queen Helaena, who was staring at the ground, almost as if she wasn't there.

"So, in the end, Jace did know where to put his cock" Aegon laughed, raising the glass to his misshapen lips and watching you in silence, almost as if devouring you. Everything that Aemond's cold, distant gaze hid was shooting out of Aegon's eyes. You have never felt so exposed. They introduced you to everyone who was there. That's how you met the princess, the queen and the queen mother. The latter didn't even dare to look at you, as if your presence only bothered her. But, the worst was when arrived at Aegon II's turn. He made you kneel before him and forced you to kiss one of the rings he was wearing. You realized that the war had destroyed him, but he tried to smile at you with his best smile and spoke to his brother with an amused tone “Aemond. Very good acquisition. She's very pretty when she's kneeling down.” You felt your cheeks turn red and you looked down at the ground.

Aemond did not reply. He only told you to sit down for dinner in one of the corners of the table, next to the princess. You prayed before dinner, much to your bewilderment, because in Driftmark few times they thanked the sitters before dinner, but you weathered it the best you could. You opened your eyes in half of the offering, and while you saw Aemond also with his only eye closed, Aegon looked at you funny, at the same time that he drank from his cup. He even winked at you and you closed yours again tightly. You didn't know if you could get used to that. Once the prayers were over, you began to eat. While Aegon ate without measure, the others took small bites. It even seemed to you that Aemond did not even take any food to his mouth, only occasionally his glass of wine.

Daeron was the only one smiling at that table. His eyes lit up every time he looked at Jaehaera and tried to get the two of you to talk, without much success. Everyone at that table seemed sad, and you could only be lost in thought as you turned the food on your plate.

"What a pretty little girl," Aegon whispered to Aemond, who, as always, had sat to his right at that dinner. He brought the glass back to his lips without taking his eyes off of you. You didn't even see it, too deep in your sadness to attend to anything else "Do you think that she already...? You know?" he indicated his younger brother with a suggestive grin, taking a sip again. Aemond didn't even speak. I just take another small sip from his glass. His throat was suddenly dry from imagining Aegon in the same bed as you. He was sure that it was the idea that was going through the king's rotten head at that moment.

"According to her parents she hasn't bled yet," Aemond replied for the first time taking a bite of the pheasant they had served. There was also roast pork, but he never ate pork. It was a matter of principle.

Aegon snorted in amusement at those words. "Yes of course. Those boobs belong to a girl who doesn't bleed” said the king without taking his eyes off your cleavage. Aemond had you had another of the green dresses put on you for his enjoyment. Not Aegon's.

"Anyway, your grace is not going to fuck her" Aemond replied without looking at him, continuing to eat, wishing his brother would shut up for once. He leered at you with the only good eye of his. You were very pretty that night, but he wasn't going to touch you. He had promised himself. He wasn't going to fall under the spell of legs spreading for him again. What had happened with Alys was proof of that. He couldn't fail on such base instinct again.

“So… have you brought her for yourself? To Fuck her and deliver the final blow to those bastards?” Aegon laughed, finally breaking away from whispering in Aemond's ear with his alcohol-laden breath. The one-eyed man on that occasion looked at him in a bad way.

"No. I just want to prevent her parents from trading her for something that could be a threat to our power” he said through his teeth, trying to explain, as if that was the only excuse for which he had brought you there.

"You will speak ‘your power’" Aegon replied as he returned his attention to his food. Was it the only reason? Well, he also felt that he controlled Jace that way and any desire for rebellion that much better. He now he had a hostage in king's landing. Those were all the reasons why he had brought you here. He lied to himself.

Helaena made no sound. Since she had lost Maelor and Jaehaerys, she had not enjoyed any of his encounters with Aemond. With her gaze fixed on the ceiling, she waited for her brother to finish his duty. She didn't want to get pregnant again, but she prayed to all seven of them for it every night Aemond came to her. At the beginning of marrying Aegon, Aemond's visits had begun to happen due to the lack of appreciation that the king had had for Helaena. She needed an heir, and Aemond had made her two before the war. They had fulfilled his part of the bargain. Her younger brother had never shown much sign of enjoying it, though she had at first. She had caressed and kissed him in search of a simple touch of love. Aemond had sometimes smiled, sometimes, very rarely, laughed, and sometimes he had returned her kisses. But not now, now it was just the obligation to maintain a status quo that didn't make anyone happy.

Aemond continued his methodical thrusts of her, not even looking at his sister who lay beneath him, her legs spread and her body drenched with the sweat that dripped from his body. Now Aemond was even thinner, but he was still slender and strong. His white skin was seen on many occasions crossed by scars that were even whiter as a result of the Dance and some confrontation that he had had afterwards. He continued his duty by pinning his one eye against the wall. He had undressed out of habit, as if it would help either of them finish sooner, and he had left the eye patch on. They would finish soon. He told himself. He worked on his mind to get aroused. He thought of Alys and the encounters he'd had with her in Harrenhal. Always torrid and passionate. He thought of her seeking his release and continued to move his hips almost desperately to finish. Something like a snarl escaped his lips at that moment, just as he remembered that time he'd fucked Alys on her fours and she'd smiled over her shoulder as if she'd enjoyed it. He wanted to believe that she had enjoyed it.

One of his hands grabbed one of Helaena's thighs and moved her under him. He was close to his climax. He buried his head in the pillows. Gods. He pictured you. It was a simple moment. You, like Alys, seemed to enjoy it. You screamed his name like he was a god while you cumed. All your hair scattered across the pillow as he kept pounding into you. You yelled at him that you loved him and he still didn't slow down. He growled again and gave two last thrusts that released him from the tension that had occurred in his lower stomach. He had verified in recent times that if he thought of you, that duty became a little more enjoyable. He came out from between Helaena's legs, who was still in that position. The maester had instructed her not to move afterwards, thus increasing the chances of conception.

Aemond got out of bed and went to the table where there was a single glass of wine. He took a drink while he looked out the large window of the room. He heard his sister cry, trying to control herself and return to silence. He placed both hands on the cool stone and stretched out his back. He was tired. But, he realized why he had brought you to King's Landing. You smiled. You were the only person he had seen genuinely smile in all those years. He remembered the first time he had seen you swim on the beach, so smiling and pretty, and he told himself that he also wanted to be the reason for your happiness. He hated himself for wishing for something so stupid.