#rhaelana targaryen

[temporarily-your-saint]

Dull Blades

sneak preview of a benjicot blackwood x targaryen oc fanfic ~

word count: 469

tropes: slow burn, angst, daddy issues (lots of family issues in general tbh), forbidden lovers, marriage pact,

warnings: none for this right now! later on it will most certainly have mature themes ~

Helpless. She felt utterly helpless. It was hard to feel anything else in that moment aside from one other: rage. Rhaelana��s amethyst eyes clouded over into a blank stare as an echo rang in her ears.

“Rhaelana?”

She looked up to where the voice was speaking from. Nodding slowly, she walked around her father to pass through her chambers, into the hallway, and then down the cold stone stairs.

It couldn’t be true. They wouldn’t risk that. No, Otto wouldn’t risk that. It’s absolute barmy.

The princess turned down another hallway, scurrying to find her queen mother.

“Mother?” she called out, her voice echoing back to her in the empty halls. “Mothe–“ but before she could finish, a voice interrupted behind her.

“She’s gone. Your mother left on Syrax,” Daemon answered quickly. His eyes bore into hers as she turned around, searching for her thoughts. He recognized those eyes for they were her mother’s. She held that same lost but intense gaze moments ago before coming to tell his daughter of the heartbreaking news.

His shoulders dropped as he took in her appearance. She may have taken after her mother in beauty but his daughter truly carried his rage.

“Well, we must do something, anything,” the princess’s face shifted from anger to desperation as she plead with the king consort.

“That’s not my call to make, Rhaelana. At least not yet. For now, we must wait,” Daemon’s words were firm yet she could tell that he too was frustrated, aching for action. For now, they were to stay put and obey their queen. Though, there were no orders as of yet. But it’s all they had to work with for the time being and Rhaelana hated it.

Her eyes swelled with tears at his words. How was she supposed to wait? Her mother was now gone and her sweet, baby brother slain by their own kin. Their deceitful, wicked kin. Preposterous.

How had it come to this?

Yes, there had been ongoing tension when the family came together while her grandfather, King Viserys, had been alive. But this? To kill a boy. A young, boy. A messenger! She knew her brother had not gone looking for a fight. Oh, how her uncles had stooped so low…

The back of her hand found her cheeks as she wiped the burning tears that began to fall from her eyes.

She took a step forward as a harsh whisper erupted from her throat while the princess spoke, “I will end Aemond. It will come one day that I am to face him and you will not stop me. Nor mother.”

With those final words, Rhaelana strode past Daemon and back to her chambers. Seconds later he heard the old wooden door of her room slam.

Certainly, my daughter, he thought to himself.

══ ══ ══ ══ ══ ══ ══ ══ ══ ══

Hi, hello! I’ve been cooking something up while watching the second season. MAAAJOORRR brainrot mode. What started out as a little one-shot blerb in my brain has taken over completely, soooo here’s a little teaser for it. The two parts of Dull Blades will be incorporated into the fic but will have little tweaks! I’m planning on posting Part 3 of it but then that will be it until the actual fic ~

Anyways, I have been having so much fun writing Rhaelana and Daemon’s complicated father-daughter relationship and couldn’t wait soooo here you go—a lil offering before the season finale and before I post Part 3 and then the actual fic. 🤲

[temporarily-your-saint]

ᵂʰʸ ᵈᵒ ʷᵉ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵈⁱᵉ

ᶠᵒʳ ᵘˢ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ˡⁱᵍʰᵗ?

ᴬⁿᵈ ʷᵉ ʰᵘⁿᵍᵉʳ ᶠᵒʳ ˡᵒᵛᵉ

ᴬⁿᵈ ᵐʸ ˢᵒᵘˡ ⁱˢ ˢᵗᵃʳᵛⁱⁿᵍ

══ ══ ══ ══ ══ ══ ══ ══ ══ ══

A little mood board for my OC, Rhaelana, that I have incorporated into my most recent short fic. 👀 I’m thinking of making a full character sheet for her to post here too.

lyrics: starvation by AURORA

[temporarily-your-saint]

just another lil mood board for my oc, Rhaelana, in my recent fic. <3

oh, and also a playlist 👀

[temporarily-your-saint]

Been writing little blurbs for a full fic of Dull Blades. I really want to dive more into this OC’s relationships with other characters (especially with her father, Daemon) and the complexity of them, along with her own personality too. I may write one more part of Dull Blades and then I plan on backtracking to the beginning of S2 to start the full fic there. 👀 From there, I’ll try to follow the show but I’ll be adding some of my own personal elements to it along with pieces from Fire and Blood as well. <3

[temporarily-your-saint]

Dull Blades

benjicot blackwood & targaryen oc

UPDATED! First chunk of this just? Disappeared??? So, edited it to include the missing first part!

warnings: angst?? no warnings, really? fluff & drabble for now & soft ben ~

I got this idea for a drabble from S2 of GOT when Catelyn Stark finds her son in disarray after hearing of his father. After watching the last couple episodes of HOTD (and reading Fire and Blood recently), it’s hard not to think about all of the heartbreak between the two sides. This little drabble follows an OC I’m creating, Rhaenala, having a moment to really feel and let out her frustration and sadness. She wanders off to the woods on her own once settling into the Riverlands only to then be discovered by a certain Blackwood. Also, I know, I know, okay! I know our boy didn’t turn out to be our boy, BUT LET ME COPE, OKAY. : ‘ )

Also, part 1??? Thinking about making a second part to this…

—

Swing after swing the blade got duller and even more damaged. The log had had it. She couldn’t help it though. Everything was falling apart as she knew it. Her house, her family, everything. It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair.

Her breath heaved as she swung her sword. In the distance, she could hear footsteps brushing along the grass and leather moving against each other as a voice called out.

She wiped her eyes, removing all evidence of frustrated tears.

“Hey!” She heard the voice as it got closer. It was a husky voice, perhaps a young lad.

“Hey! Princess!” Lilac eyes snapped up to meet the unknown voice. Her chest rose up and down quickly as she leaned over to rest. Who was this? This lanky, dark-haired man? Rhaelana was stunned by his boldness yet captivated.

Piercing familiar eyes met hers. “We need that sword, Princess. We need every sword necessary to end every life that defends the usurper. And…” he trailed off, his eyes scanning the blade in her hands. “You’re letting that one go to waste,” he finished his sentence softly as he slowly approached closer.

Blackwood. Benjicot Blackwood.

She remembered now. Head of House Blackwood. How could she be so dense?

The princess was sent by her mother to aid their allies with the battle against the Lannister army. Benjicot had sent ravens to the queen not long before asking for aid, so Rhaelana was drafted with Valax, her grown dragon with black onyx scales. The two were a formidable pair and more than capable of assisting their Riverland allies.

Her mouth parted with a bewildered cackle, laughing uncontrollably out loud. She couldn’t help it. This truly was a sightly scene for the young lord to find his princess, wasn’t it?

She sheathed the sword as she stood upright. “My apologies, my lord. I shall be more mindful,” her voice quivered on the last word, almost making her lose her composure. He could see that, of course. It wasn’t difficult to see that she was hurting, being torn apart in every direction. Most of all, she was grieving. Grieving for those that were already lost. Grieving for those that would welcome death soon enough. And what better way to let go than by hitting something? Oh, Benjicot knew that feeling all too well.

“Princess?” He continued to walk towards her, stepping slowly only inches apart now as they stood in front of each other.

“I should be going now. There’s people expecting me and—“ But as she began to step past him, an arm reached out, hand wrapping itself around her wrist.

“I wept,” he began to speak, answering the puzzled look on the princess’s face. “The first time I lay eyes on all the bodies. It was my first time on a battlefield and afterward I felt nothing but sorrow.” His words hung heavy in the air. “War is war, princess. And with family? I dare not imagine. But you have us. You have me,” he spoke softly while searching her eyes.

The young lord realized he still held her wrist and released her, snapping the princess harshly back into reality as he let her go.

“Benjicot Blackwood,” she spoke his name sternly. The young man straightened up, gaze never faltering hers.

“Thank you. I hope to see you at the meeting,” a hopeful gleam shined in her eyes as she spoke. Her body then glided past him, her shoulder brushing his arm as she passed.

The current state of her family was doomed. But her mother’s rightful place on the throne didn’t have to be. No, she was going to fight. She was going to fight with any and every weapon possible, dull or not.

A smile danced at the corner of the young lord’s lips as she passed by. His head bowed for a moment as he responded, “Of course, princess.”

Her figure walked away from him, towards the direction of camp. If there was one thing for certain, Ben knew they’d succeed with the princess at their aid. He recognized the look in her eyes all too well. The princess was proving to be all the more captivating than he could have hoped.

[temporarily-your-saint]

Dull Blades Pt. 2

benjicot blackwood x targaryen oc

word count: 2.6k

warnings: slight spoilers from Fire & Blood book, blood/war description

tropes: slow burn, angst, forbidden lovers??

PART 1: https://www.tumblr.com/chels-cosplay/754806134048800768/dull-blades

══ ══ ══ ══ ══ ══ ══ ══ ══ ══

The campsite was riddled with mud and bloodthirsty men spread throughout as the princess made her way back. This was war, she thought to herself. So many men lined throughout the grounds ready to die for her family, for her mother’s right to the throne. She found pride in it yet a strain of sadness pinged inside her chest at the thought. A sorrowful notion enveloped her mind as she realized the reality of it all. Many of these men, if not most, will die. But there wasn’t time to dwell for she needed to be strong and prove to these men that it was worth it, that her mother, and that she too was worth it. And she was here to help.

Heads turned toward her as the silver-haired princess threw open the tent flap. Respectful bows followed with mutters of “princess” followed as she passed the men inside to take her position at the head of the table. Her eyes fell down at the map in front of her. It wasn’t quite the extravagant, fire-glowing map she had at home but it would do.

“Princess, the Lannister army holds fast and we’re running out of time. The Kinslayer could fly over at any moment with that beast of his. We must act immediately,” Forrest Frey’s words broke her away from her thoughts. Forrest Frey, or known as Fool Frey, lead his house with nearly eight hundred men.

“Why do you think our queen sent me this way, Lord Frey?” Her words were harsh, challenging the man next to her. Of course she knew they were running out of time. Her dragon, Valax, was the only one that could even come close to challenging Vhagar. And for this reason was the only way she was able to fully convince her mother to send her to the Riverlands to fight.

Lord Frey’s lips parted as if to begin speaking but was quickly interrupted as the tent swung open. Deep brown eyes found Rhaelana’s as she sized up the familiar figure that approached the table.

“Good of you to finally join us, Lord Blackwood,” sarcasm teased the princess’s words as her face remained stoic, gaze never leaving his.

“Princess,” he responded with nod, a mischievous smirk itching at the corner of his lips.

Her eyes scanned across the table to the other lords and then landed back to Lord Frey. “As we were discussing…Yes, time is not our ally at the present. The Lannisters have the disadvantage being on these lands though their numbers are impressive. More than impressive. If I was informed correctly, they stand with nearly twice as many bodies. And as stated before, Vhagar could be in the skies at any moment,” She sighed as she stated the unfortunate facts. The defense of the Greens was a terrifying factor to swallow but they had the North, and she knew they fought like no others.

“Lord Roderick, you will take your wolves to the front. You’ll be leading us.” Her arm reached across the table to move the marker in position. “Lord Frey will follow with his knights and infantrymen on either side to enclose the Greens. And Lord Blackwood,” her voice breathed, meeting those familiar eyes once again. “Lord Rivers will set your archers on the north. We’ll march south to meet the Greens where we’ll attack near Gods Eye.”

She took a deep breath as her voice lowered. “I need all of your fighters to push the Lannister army as close to the water as possible. I came here with my dragon to aid you in this battle but I will not set these lands aflame. These are your kin’s land and I will not dare turn it to fire and ash.”

The lords watched her, understanding her command. Her eyes searched theirs, looking to find respect or horror or disgust, anything to help gage where she stood amongst these men. Then her eyes found the young lord’s across the table once again. He watched her in awe, determined to fulfill her orders and win this war for her mother, for her. She turned her gaze away, a slight blush reaching up her neck to her cheeks from the intensity of his gaze.

“Best make an end to these lions before the dragons come, Princess,” Sir Roderick spoke up, breaking her from her train of thought.

“Ready your forces, my lords. We march at dawn.”

══ ══ ══ ══ ══ ══ ══ ══ ══ ══

“It’s over, princess.”

Rhaelana’s eyes darted around the battlefield. It was like casting one’s eyes over a red sea—blood staining the grass as far as their eyes could witness. Death surrounded them.

Water dripped from the princess’s face as rain began to fall. It was as if the heavens cried for them. Gods, it was a cruel world.

Lilac eyes found the lord next to her as he spoke. She nodded, agreeing with him. “Yes,” she began, reaching up towards her own face to wipe splattered mud and blood from her face. “But more is coming. We will need to prepare but tonight we rest, Lord Blackwood.”

"The men have earned it. Rest that is," Benjicot's head turned to meet Rhaelana's gaze, taking in the sight of the princess with a hint of melancholy.

He was an unwaveringly loyal supporter of his queen and had grown quite fond of her daughter, the princess that stood before him. His respect for her only grew during the battle as she fought alongside the men and women that gave their lives for the true crown. The fire that grew within her, a pure dragon through and through, was also impressive and a sight to behold. One that he would remember for the rest of his days.

His gaze dropped to the mud, flecked with red and brown, at their feet. Rhaelana’s eyes found his face, studying the young man. He was handsome with his high cheek bones and rounded face. A slim figure but a mighty and brutal force on the battlefield. She had quickly learned why he adopted the name “Bloody Ben” from the rest of the men.

“We can rest while we hold a funeral pyre tonight, princess. My men deserve that, at least. We have lost more than not. If you’ll permit it, that is.”

The princess’s eyes fell to the saturated ground as he mentioned the funeral. So many had given their lives. Her heart silently broke for those now laying before her amongst the muck. More than half of their men was gone.

“Listen to me, Lord Blackwood,” she spoke softly, almost in a whisper. “Every fight. Every battle you survive, you have to see the end. You must gaze upon those that are now gone.” Her voice hitched at the last word. “We at least owe them that. And we must never forget what it cost us.”

With that, she glanced at the young man next to her and reached out to touch his arm, almost as a condolence. Or maybe she needed to touch someone in that moment that was living, just to find some sort of warmth and comfort.

She then nodded her head toward him, dismissing herself as she strode past him and into camp.

Benjicot’s gaze followed her as she walked past him. He couldn’t help but miss the warmth that radiated from her hand as she left. Gods, and the comfort. It was only for a mere second but he ached for that comfort again, ached for any sort of relief from this hell he stood in. The young lord had seen death before but not like this. Never like this. Bodies of boys, barely even reached manhood scattered throughout the carnage now engraved into his brain. Rain drops hit his face, mixed with salty tears that trickled down, falling onto the blood-soaked ground.

══ ══ ══ ══ ══ ══ ══ ══ ══ ══

As the sun finally set, Benjicot’s thoughts kept drawing him back to Rhaelana. He thought of the melancholy look in her eyes and the tremble he'd heard in her voice. Her words echoed in his brain, not able to draw himself out from the memory of her.

The lord felt an odd sense of protectiveness towards the young princess. A protectiveness he loathed to ever admit out loud, especially since he knew she could hold her own. He had seen her fierceness first-hand on the battlefield, so it was almost comical to feel as if he needed to be the one to protect her. She had come to the Riverlands to do exactly that but for the North and for his men.

After eating a few bites of bread and smoked venison, Benjicot rose from his tent and picked his way through groups of men, looking for the Queen's daughter.

Rhaelana sat near the fire that was at the center of camp. The log below her dampened her legs and tunic but the flame before her kept her warm and dry enough. Luckily the rain had let up before nightfall but the chilly air still brushed along her face. Her cheeks appeared rosy, a flush spreading from her there up to her nose from that cool breeze. She certainly was not used to the chillier and wetter climate that the Riverlands provided.

She brought the mug she held to her lips, drinking in the strong ale and allowing the alcohol to warm her as well.

Benjicot's eyes continued to scan the camp until he caught sight of the young princess sitting by the campfire. Her silver hair and small frame was near impossible to miss. He approached her, stopping behind her toward the side.

"You will catch a chill," he drawled, his voice playful though a hint of worry was there. He stood behind her to shield her from most of the still-cold night air.

A smirk played at the corner of her mouth. She took one more sip and then turned toward the man next to her. The princess recognized his voice before she even turned her gaze toward him.

“If a cold takes me then I think that would be the least of my worries, my lord,” she teased as her purple eyes found his.

She tilted her chin toward the fire as she spoke, “Come, join me, Lord Blackwood.”

A smile tugged at his lips in response to her jape and Benjicot made a show of sighing before rounding the fire and sitting down next to Rhaelana. He boldly sat close to the princess, their legs almost touching.

"I dare say you're only asking because of the warmth I may offer," he teased back, watching the embers dance across her face.

Rhaelana’s smile never faltered as he teased while he made his way to sit next to her. She hadn’t quite gotten used to his wit and brazenness but was always pleasantly surprised by the young lord.

She adjusted her posture and brushed his leg with her own, playfully taunting back. A quickened pulse drummed in her ears as a light blush spread over her. His proximity was intoxicating and the alcohol she sipped only heightened her own boldness.

“And maybe I would like to enjoy some company,” she teased back.

Feeling the princess move closer, Benjicot dared to shift a bit closer to her as well. He knew they needed to behave for her sake, for her honor. She was the princess after all. But gods, did she captivate him.

Her words made the young lord look at her, taking in the slight blush that spread over her face. Despite her being age eight and ten, more than marriageable, in that moment she looked like a young girl flirting with peril.

"What sort of company would you like?" He asked, his voice lower and slightly breathier than usual, daring her to answer.

Her eyes fell from his stormy eyes to his lips. She traced over his handsome features with her own lilac ones. She memorized the scar that lay above his lip, the crook of his teeth as he smiled, the way his eyes beamed toward her with eagerness. He felt so familiar, so comfortable to her.

Her gaze then met his once again as she spoke, “Yours, specifically,” she stated boldly, her words falling from her lips in a whisper.

The answer surprised him and yet it didn't. Benjicot had noticed the glances she'd given him when she thought he wasn't looking. The way her hand lingered on his arm when she needed him to stay by her side after the battle. The way her eyes had trailed to and settled on his face every time he spoke.

As she sat next to him now, with their thighs and knees pressed together, he felt as if his heart was suddenly lodged in his throat. He swallowed once, hard.

"And what does my specific company entail, princess?" He asked quietly.

Of course she noticed that he was nervous. Or maybe excited? Both? She understood for her own nerves ran through her body and electrified her. The princess had never been this close to him before or any man for that matter. That fact made her heart pound in her ears, almost sure that he could also hear it.

Her voice didn’t rise above a whisper as she answered his question. “You are to keep your princess safe, Lord Blackwood,” she responded, the teasing never leaving her tone.

Benjicot’s mouth quirked to one side. In her playful tone he could hear her bravado, her attempt at hiding her own nervousness.

He moved even closer, closing nearly all the space that was between them.

"Well, that is my duty...my lady,” as he spoke, he reached upwards carefully. His hand hovered over her cheek for a few beats before gingerly tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

His fingers lingered on her skin, just above her cheek, feeling the warmth from her body.

He moved closer, so close that he could smell the sweet scent of lavender and ale that emitted from the young woman. She was intoxicating. He was close enough to count the minute freckles that dotted her nose as his eyes scanned her face.

“Benjicot. Or, Benji. You can call me Benji," he said quietly, gaze finding hers once again, then drifting down to her lips.

He suddenly felt very, very nervous. For the first time in his life, Benjicot Blackwood had no idea what to say or do next.

Rhaelana’s mind raced. He was so close, so close she could move just a mere couple of inches and she’d—

“Princess,” his voice whispered, snapping her from her thoughts. “We should turn in until the morrow.”

Gods, he wanted her to oppose him. He wanted to stay here, warming the princess during the bleak night. But he knew better. He knew they couldn’t risk unsolicited eyes surveilling their current position.

The princess’s heart sank as she drew back away from Benjicot at his words. Of course, how could I be so careless? Maybe it’s the ale… Did I read into him wrong?

She took one last sip of her ale, emptying the cup and stood from her seat next to him. Disappointment clung to the inside of her chest, causing her heart to ache as it clenched around it with every beat.

“Goodnight, Lord Blackwood. Until the morning,” Rhaelana nodded her head towards him and then turned away to strode towards her tent, dismissing herself.

Benjicot sat dumbfounded, disappointed, and confused. He knew he had done the honorable thing, especially by preventing any sort of gossip that could potentially spread if the wrong eyes gawked at them. But why did he feel so discontent?

He decided then that he would make things right with the princess in private where wandering eyes couldn’t defile hers or his reputation.

══ ══ ══ ══ ══ ══ ══ ══ ══ ══

HI, HELLO! I was so excited to write a second part and now that we’re here, I am even more thrilled to continue on with a third one. I truly thought I was only going to do a one-shot but uh, I live for a slow burn romance. Thank you all for taking the time of day to read this little blurb that’s been stuck in my brain. I am clearly still all aboard the fancast Benjicot train. :’) We only know pain here, huh?