#rhodium plated
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
sharkyswaters · 7 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
15 notes · View notes
yourfashionable · 4 months ago
Text
0 notes
olafinessejewelry · 1 year ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
3 notes · View notes
sonoor · 4 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
Elegant Gold Finish Kundan Pair Bangles at Sonoor
Enhance your traditional look with the Gold Finish Kundan Pair Bangles. These exquisite bangles feature a stunning rhodium finish gold that adds a touch of sophistication to your attire. Crafted with precision, these gold-plated Kundan bangles offer timeless beauty and a classic appeal. The intricate Kundan gold bangles design ensures a perfect blend of elegance and tradition. Discover this elegant piece at https://sonoor.com/products/gold-finish-kundan-pair-bangles-1 Add a touch of grace to your ensemble—shop now and shine with style! Embrace timeless beauty and make your special day even more memorable with this exquisite jewelry set. Shop now at the Sonoor Online Store!
0 notes
harshadgroupsblog · 1 year ago
Text
Rhodium For Gold Plating
Transform your jewelry and other items into exquisite gold-plated masterpieces with our top-of-the-line gold plating machines and solutions. Our machines are designed to deliver precise and uniform gold plating, giving your items a durable and lustrous finish. We also offer a range of gold plating solutions that are suitable for different substrates and applications. Our high-quality rhodium solutions are perfect for creating a bright, white finish on your gold-plated items.
Tumblr media
0 notes
bibelotjewelsindia · 2 years ago
Text
Rhodium Plated Silver Necklace
Buy a Gold or Rhodium Plated Silver Necklace, Charm Necklace, Animal Necklace, Double Layered Necklace, and Necklace Set. Bibelot Jewels Is A Leading Wholesale Manufacturer And Supplier Of Wholesale gemstone Jewelry, Gold, and Recycled 925 Sterling Silver Jewelry. Over 150+ Gemstones & Ready to ship 150,000 pieces of Jewelry.
0 notes
itsabouttimex2 · 9 days ago
Note
Can we get an eclipse King's continuation does y/n wake up?
Tumblr media
Eclipse Kings
Part Two: Barbed Dusk
(Part One: Mountain Monkeys) (Part Two: You Are Here) (Part Three: Wild Dawn)
(Extra One)
(You are a ragged little thing, unfit for luxury or lavishness. “Thankfully”, Macaque sees to curating your hygiene.)
They are covered in scars.
The Six-Eared Macaque; golden eyes dimmed in frustration and impatience, is now bereft of his crown. It had borne him a striking silhouette, each wicked spike on the circlet fashioned from gold.
You could not have known it yourself, and the shadowy king would never admit it to one whom he deigned a necessary pest as most, but… he had commissioned it only a week after losing his beloved Xiaotian.
With tear-stained cheeks and gouges torn into his fur from constant scraping, the simian had wobbled down from the mountain and into the nearest smithy, then threw down a glittering heap of golden coins. His only request had been; spoken brokenly, for “something that would hurt”.
The blacksmith had been hesitant at first. The request was unusual—not for the opulence offered, for he had forged again and again petty trinkets to sooth a lord’s ego. No, it was the pain. The simian’s trembling voice and sunken eyes spoke of a sorrow too vast to comprehend, but the blacksmith had seen enough grief bite down any questions. Instead, he had worked through the night, the rhythm of hammer on gold ringing out in the silence, a somber requiem for the monkey’s fresh loss.
So the blacksmith had fashioned him a twisted crown from that heap of treasure, taking what little was left as payment after beating the metal into a branching circlet that splintered out into harsh thorns, then plated it with rhodium to darken and reinforce the malleable gold underneath.
“It’ll hurt,” the man had reminded him, touching the crown only with his thickest gloves.
The look in Macaque’s eyes had told him enough- “I want it to,” spoken through his hollow eyes and gaunt frame and torn fur, but left unsaid on trembling lips.
And Macaque had taken it with his bare hands, punishing his treacherous fingers for “allowing” his son to slip through them.
He had not allowed his agony to end there.
The sharp tips bit into his scalp, drawing thin rivulets of crimson that trailed through inky fur, leaving raw furrows through its heartless embrace. He hadn’t winced or cried or paused, instead pressing it down further and further, lips curling into a grimace that might have once been a smile, his heart brittle and sharp like fractured glass.
It would hurt, but never as much as losing his son.
An unassailable grief, incapable of transmutation into vengeance or betterment.
Until you.
Until you had wandered into their stately pagoda, wandering through the lavish halls and snatching their food, leaving the trail of an all too familiar scent in your wake.
Until you had ran from them in fright as so many had years ago, twisting through woods just as jagged and thorned as the crown that Macaque had finally pried from his forehead, smashed and discarded at the empty grave they had fashioned for their found son.
You had led them back to him.
That thought alone keeps Macaque’s hands gentle as he lathers a thick sponge with fragrant soap, wetting it and rolling the squashy corpse* against your forearms.
His mate, holding his own sponge, tends to your legs with a manic smile- it hasn’t dropped even after a full night of sloppy celebration and utter destruction. Every last little memorial and shrine they had created now lay in pieces around the pagoda, only sparing what little the prince himself would have use for- the clothes and toys they had left on these altars as gifts that would have been now resided in the boy’s room-
“It’s Y/N’s room, too,” the little one had insisted, forcing them to make arrangements appropriate for both a demon toddler and a mortal… whatever age you were. Folding screens and an extra mat.. but nothing else. Not from malice, though- they simply hadn’t quite learned what else to put in “your” room.
There was no need to separate what was his from what was yours- you simply didn’t have anything at all. Every little luxury you had accumulated in that muddy rattrap was all for your brother.
The boy’s bed, piled high with plush animals and soft quilts, had been eagerly pushed closer to yours, left with “only” a few pillows and a single blanket as he excitedly prepared to sleep in warmth and safety for the first time in years.
(Only was not a word you knew. There was no “only” in the life of one who owned nothing.)
“You had enough of a nap on the way here,” Sun Wukong sighs. “So stay awake a little longer. We can’t let you go to bed filthy or injured.”
You want to protest. To scream and cry and plead for them to take their hands off of you, to let you return to that familiar; if squalid, hovel, to let you- and your brother- go back to the only home either of you had ever known.
But words die on your chapped lips, too exhausted to be parted for begging.
You just lay there in the tub, head held aloft by one of Wukong’s muscled hands, completely incapable of moving or protesting. You just… sit there, and accept the reluctant doting.
MK (“Qi Xiaotian”), the kings and all their soldiers and maids say. You don’t think there’ll ever be a moment that you’re used to that. ) sits next to the tub with worry in his little black eyes, trying his hardest to focus on the book he was gifted by his fathers- hand-drawn pictures of him decorate each page, detailing his growth from baby to toddler. Supposedly it would “stir his memory”, but the effort seemed futile- he had simply been too young to remember anything before you.
Neither of you were truly “home” in this pagoda, no matter how they tried to push you into believing that.
MK would adjust, definitely. He would come to enjoy plush toys and doting maids and loving fathers, ample food and warm water. He could grow to love silk pillowcases and wool blankets. He could grow to love warm halls and loving fathers.
He hadn’t lived like you had. No, MK had spent his time safely inside that wretched dump, playing with whatever toys you could scrounge for him, chasing little bugs and cooing at the occasional rabbit or squirrel that came in for shelter.
This was going to be harder for you.
The warmth of the water feels unfamiliar, outright alien in its softness . You are too used to icy streams that prick at your skin, the dry rasp of dirt and grime. Here, the milky water cradles you like a cloud.
Help.
You are being helped .
And you know what that means. Help comes at a cost. A leering smile from a vendor who would try and tail you through the woods. A begrudging shove of stale bread into your hands after a trade. Mumbled curses about a “pest” under the breath of a housewife giving you a chunk of too-ripe fruit.
What price will this cost?
The thought churns uneasily in your gut as Sun Wukong tilts your head upward, his golden eyes studying your face. They gleam like the sun, but there is no warmth for you.
(Not yet.)
They’re calculating, cataloging each bruise, each scrape. Every pale white line scarred deep and unremovable. The truth of agony is plain on your skin, a map of suffering written in purples, blues, and scabbed reds.
It does not miss him that his son is, in turn, totally unblemished.
Admiration without love. Gratitude without familiarity. Respect without want.
You have done him a greater favor than any other being could provide- you are owed praise and repayment, that much the vaunted kings know.
You are deliverance from grief and agony and a haunting eternity of wondering “what could I have done to save him?”.
But you are not his child.
The golden king’s hands are steady as he finishes rinsing the soap from your hair, the last traces of filth swirling down into the bathwater, which drains into a little bamboo pipe leading outside.
One of them, you don’t care to see which, wraps a towel around you. It smells faintly of mint and ginseng- things the rich put in their soaps and lotions.
The silence stretches, broken only by the soft lapping of water and the occasional creak of the tub as one of them shifts. You think you should feel safer in this moment, surrounded by warmth and covered neck to ankle, but the unease still roils in your stomach, a highly coiled spring just waiting to snap.
The unease is not lost on MK, who cuts through it like hot butter.
Y/N!” He cheerily calls, catching your attention. You turn your head slightly, just enough to meet his gaze. He’s holding the book up for you to see, a wide, gap-toothed grin plastered across his face. “Look! This is me! When I was a baby!”
The drawing he points to looks almost too real, imperceptible from reality aside from the lightly yellowed edges. An infant demon with wide, curious eyes, bundled in blankets, his tail peeking from the swaddle You glance at the page, then back to MK, who looks at you expectantly.
You don’t know what he wants you to say.
You don’t even want to speak.
But you manage a “It’s cute,” voice cracking from disuse. It’s the first thing you’ve said since they brought you here, and it feels strange. “ Very cute, kiddo.”
The silence grows tenser for your words, winding further through the room and forcing it into unease. And, like before, MK keeps going in spite of it.
“You’re gonna get sick if you don’t wear something warm,” MK fussed, tugging on the towel with one little paw. “You need to put some clothes on! And you need something to drink!”
“Your Baba can get them something to wear,” Wukong coos, tapping one clawed finger against his son’s rosy snout. “The maids sewed up some nice clothes for the two of you.”
“Moonlight, if you’ll get the paste, I’ll run and grab what they made.”
Macaque nods and releases you to sit alone on the floor, turning to scrounge through his lavish cabinets, each one stocked with a costly product that you couldn’t put a name to, paired to a price that would make your eyes water if you heard it spoke aloud.
You sit motionless on the tiles, towel wrapped tightly around your bruised shoulders. The plush fabric is too heavy, too soft. It’s not comforting—it’s suffocating. Every nerve in your body screams at you to run , but… to where? To what ? There’s no dirty stream to lose your scent in, no puddle of mud to smear yourself with for camouflage. There is no place left but here .
As you think on escapes, Macaque’s shadow coils- like a wispy vein of smoke- along the floor, and for a moment, you swear it’s alive, flickering toward you like a snake.
But you blink and then it is still, unshifting and steady.
You don’t imagine things often. You can’t bring yourself to think that this was one of those rare circumstances.
…he’s even more dangerous than you had believed, and with that dawning revelation a little spark of hope is squashed in your chest.
The sable king turns to you with two glads jars, both smelling of fresh herbs even through their seals. One he sets on the wooden rim of the bathtub, and the other he brings to you- the contents glow from within, faintly white and luminescent, as though moonlight itself had been processed and bottled.
“This is going to sting,” the king warns, dipping his claws into the glittering paste to scrape out a generous, gelatinous lump. “But it’ll keep you from getting infections.”
Everything hurts, and you are tired. So, so very tired that your eyes smear the colors of the world all around, incapable of perceiving fine details. All the embroidery of Macaque’s kingly robe, purple and black and silver, blend into a dark blob as he approaches, as he kneels, peels away the top of the robe, and begins to smear the paste across your upper body.
The searing sting is immediate , sharp enough to make you gasp, breath catching in your throat. It feels like fire crawling across your skin, burning out the grime and decay that had wormed under your flesh. It hurts, worse than icy waters soaking your feet in winter, worse than all the hounds that bit at your heels as you leapt fences, worse than all the beatings you had taken when your thieving was thwarted.
Throughout all your life, only one thing has brought worse pains- hunger. But even that feels like a distant memory now, boiled away by the sensation of prickling, running through your skin in a steady march.
Macaque pulls away with a little huff, shrugging his shoulders as you twitch and writhe in place.
“Be grateful. That stuff costs an eye and a half.”
It’s strikingly casual for a demon of his status, speaking almost like a…
Maybe he had spoken like this to MK once.
Maybe he was settling back into it, with his son back, and simply didn’t think to harshen his tone with you, given his preoccupation with unscrewing the second jar.
“This is something we’ve been trying to spread in that mortal village of yours- a paste blend to scrub teeth with. Mint, ginseng, and some rock salt…”
“…why, um. Why is it… why just for mortals and not demons, too?”
“Yaoguai grow their teeth back once they’re damaged- doesn’t matter if they rot out or get snapped. A new one grows in after the old. Mortals need to take care of what they’ve got. So one of our, ugh “Sworn Brothers”- with a real soft spot for squishy little mortals - worked to make this stuff with another of our “brothers”. He even gave us a crate for our own citizens.”
“…he seems nice,” you remark, thinking on the existence such a benevolent immortal. “I hear most demons just eat mortals.”
“Most yaoguai do,” he snaps, eye twitching at the term you used. “And those yaoguai have tried to break into our village before, and my mate has always protected all of you, even before I came in and married him. Now we protect all of you from yaoguai together.”
(…if he weren’t twice your size and equipped with claws and fanged canines, you might’ve seen fit to call him something mean.)
“Now, open your mouth.”
“…excuse me?”
“It’s an herbal paste. For your mouth. You wet it with clean water and scrub it over your teeth- it scrapes out filth, and there’s not much else you brought with you into our pagoda.”
“Hmm, almost like I didn’t bring shit because-“
Snapping through the air like a whip, he interjects with a snarled- “Language .”
Macaque’s eyes are narrow, golden irises flickering with a dangerous edge that makes your stomach churn. He leans closer, looming over you, and you’re suddenly reminded - and quite vividly- of the disparity in your sizes, in your positions. His shadow shifts, darker, heavier, wrapping around your silhouette in a way that feels utterly suffocating .
Your mouth clamps shut instinctively, a primal reaction to the unspoken threat. A dozen instincts claw at you: run, fight, scream—but there’s nowhere to run, no fight you can win, nothing. So, you simply sit there, jaw tight, avoiding his gaze, your whole body trembling like a leaf in a storm.
The shadow king exhales sharply through his nose and leans back, his oppressive presence retreating as he composes himself. When he speaks again, his tone is quieter, though still sharp enough to make you flinch.
“You’ve had it rough,” he says, somewhat reluctantly. “I get it. But you’re under our roof now. Which means you obey our rules. Watch your tongue, brat.”
Submission is a bitter taste you’ve rarely sampled- rare is it that you lie down and grudgingly accept a losing lot. But there is no choice now- he is stronger, faster, smarter. You have lost without even making a move.
“You haven’t been here a day, and you’re already biting a hand that hasn’t had time to feed you.”
“I didn’t ask to be here”, is what you want to say, to scream about the unfairness of being ripped away from a home that you were at least familiar with… but you’ve been cowed, and thus, simply open your mouth.
Reluctantly, you open your mouth.
“Good,” he says, his tone softer now, though still carrying that edge of command. He dips a soft-bristled tool you hadn’t noticed before into the herbal paste and scrapes up a small amount, before lightly dipping it into a small jar of water, then maneuvers that unfamiliar tool into your mouth with some small measure of gentleness.
The first bristles touch your teeth, and the sensation is strange. Foreign. Not painful, exactly, but intrusive. You flinch, more out of instinct than anything else, and Macaque pauses, his eyes narrowing just slightly.
“It won’t hurt. Or taste bad. Azure made sure none of this would be unpleasant for a mortal.”
You try to nod, though it’s awkward with the tool in your mouth. Macaque takes it as a cue to continue, brushing your teeth with a deliberate circular rhythm. long. But, true to his word, the paste doesn’t sting or leave an acrid aftertaste- instead, it’s cool and herbal, with a faint sweetness from the mint. The bristles tickle more than anything, and after a moment, your teeth start to feel… bare.
Stripped of grit and mud. Of moldy leftovers and bits of sand.
The grime that’s been built up after years of poor living is stripped like bark is peeled from a tree, in that all that is left under the coating is a smooth, soft white. The sensation is uncomfortable in its newness, leaving your mouth feeling raw and exposed. Your tongue darts along the surface of your teeth, licking again and again at the lack of filth.
“There,” Macaque huffs, pulling back as he dips the brush into a bowl of water to rinse it clean. “Clean enough that you don’t have an excuse for getting sick.”
You swallow thickly, avoiding his gaze. You don’t feel like thanking him. Not after everything.
Instead, you glance toward MK, who’s still engrossed in his book. He’s watching you through the corner of his eye, waiting for some kind of signal. You don’t know what he expects from you—a smile? A reassurance?
It seems like you’re as much a stranger to him as he is to you, despite your efforts to keep him safe all these years.
A demon prince hailing from the kings of Flower Fruit Mountain, heir to the throne.
To you, he had only ever been a sweet little brother.
Did you realty know him at all?
The thought alone is too much.
The warmth of the bath, the suffocatingly tight towel, the newness of your teeth, the watchful eyes of a being so much stronger than you. It’s all too much. You sit down and draw your knees up to your chest, clutching the towel tightly, a silent plea for space that you will not receive.
The tension in the air again grows palpable, but before it can thicken further, the golden king reappears, his arrival announced by the clink of glittering beads against tile. Sun Wukong strides in with a bundle of neatly folded clothes in hand, his gaze flicking between you and Macaque.
“I can take over from here, moonlight.”
166 notes · View notes
stochastique-blog · 9 months ago
Photo
Weird
Tumblr media
Kenneth Jay Lane Rhodium-plated cubic zirconia earrings (see more Kenneth Jay Lane)
2 notes · View notes
sir-walter-elliot · 4 months ago
Note
Sir Walter, I must ask... What is your skincare routine?
You are very wise to ask such a thing—more would do well to follow my advice for the skin, and I have no scruples in sharing my methods so that more people will benefit from luminous skin and I will not have the misfortune of looking upon so many frightful scarecrows!
My skincare routine is thus.
In the morning, I first wash my face, neck, and hands with elder-flower water. I apply a paste of white wax, almond oil, and spermaceti to my lips. My face is pinched between the fingertips for 10 minutes to bring a rosy glow to the skin. Finally, I anoint my face, neck, and hands with Gowland, and apply a fine white lead-based powder over it.
(I say "I" do these tasks, but of course it is actually my servants who attend to me and perform all the duties I am describing.)
In the afternoon, I fumigate my face, which is very efficacious in preventing or even removing wrinkles. (Not that I personally have any wrinkles to remove, but I mention this only for others who do have such a misfortune.) My servant puts some powder of the best myrrh upon an iron plate, and heats it sufficiently to melt the gum. I then hold my face over it, with my head covered with a napkin, for 20 minutes. My face is then washed with milk. Another layer of Gowland is applied.
Before I go to bed, I wash my face with rose-water, then apply a paste of boiled egg whites, alum, and almond oil. This remains on for 30 minutes, then is removed with Venice soap and fresh rose-water. Five drops of oil of rhodium are applied to the skin and gently massaged in. Then a final layer of Gowland is applied, of course, and my eye mask secured on top.
So, you see, it's really quite simple for anyone to follow.
59 notes · View notes
gemville · 10 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
Modern Moghul's Mahtab Ring In Rhodium Plated Sterling Silver and Gold Vermeil With A 13.65 Carat Tanzanite Cabochon and 1.96 CTW White Diamonds
Photo Courtesy: Modern Moghul
Source: jckonline.com
102 notes · View notes
tiarascrowns · 10 months ago
Text
Damiani Diamond and Pearls Tiara
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Damiani Diamond & Pearls Tiara Baroque
Exceptional Tiara by Damiani. Diamonds, pearls Metal: white gold 18K (no rhodium plating). Diamonds weight: 41,50 carats color G-H clarity VVS-VS Japanese pearls: 9,60 grams. Total weight: 256,45 grams.
1st Dibs
82 notes · View notes
olafinessejewelry · 1 year ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
2 notes · View notes
kouriimei · 5 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
FFXIV Hydaelyn - Inspired Handmade Earrings (Pierced/Non-Pierced)
"Hear… The song of Creation's end Feel… The sorrow at Hope's Demise Think… And find your way in the darkness." - Hydaelyn
The definition of unconditional love, unyielding strength, and undying belief - Hydaelyn, the version of Venat that we are most familiar with - re-imagined into earrings. Take her on your journey as you explore the world, the very world she loves.
Hydaelyn earrings feature: 🩵 Matte rhodium-plated teardrop ornamental frame. On one hand, it represents the tear she sheds when you give her Your Answer. On the other hand, the 'leaves' that surround the teardrop are reminiscent of her 'wings' 🩵 Light aquamarine coated heart to represent her unconditional and undying love for you and the world, connected by another aquamarine coated bicone bead inspired by her primal crown 🩵 Dreamy, iridescent, and small little Elpis beads wire-wrapped on the teardrop ornamental frame; they shine softly and beautifully as her primal form does 🩵 A light sapphire crystal-like bead on the bottom, to represent the one and only Mothercrystal.
Available starting June 20th, 2024 11am PT
‧‧‧✧‧‧‧ K O U R I I M E I . E T S Y . C O M ‧‧‧✧‧‧‧
20 notes · View notes
rubycocoshop · 10 months ago
Text
Where Can You Find the Best Jewelry for Women in the USA?
RubyCoco is an online jewelry store in USA that offers a wide range of rhodium-plated women's jewelry, including rings, necklaces, and bracelets, aiming to make your moments unforgettable and showcase your style.
0 notes
sansa286 · 2 years ago
Text
On...Targaryen (Valyrian) Hair Colors!
Tumblr media
Season 1 wigs were superior imo.
Game of Thrones and House of the Dragon have a habit of making all Targaryen hair look rather one-note, and in the same bleached platinum-blonde color. However the books offer a wide variety of descriptions which I plan on covering today.
Disclaimer: The pictures used are to show color, not texture. In the books there are several different textures, and in the show the Velaryons have afro-textured hair and locs. Not every example (or most) is going to be texture-accurate, this post is is purely about the different shades of hair color found in the family.
Silver-Gold
The most common hair color Valyrians are said to have is "silver-gold". Aegon I, Rhaenys, Visenya, Rhaena Targaryen (Aenys's daughter), Daenerys, Viserys and many others of Valyrian descent (as well as Hightowers) have been described with this color. Interestingly in the portraits GRRM commissioned years ago, their hair looked something like this:
Tumblr media
Source
The difference between the silver and the gold is stark (pun not intended.) However other depictions have been more blended to resemble something like this:
Source
That is personally how I first imagined Daenerys's hair in A Game of Thrones looking.
2. Silver-White
The Dragon Twins Baela and Rhaena Targaryen (Prince Daemon and Lady Laena Velaryon's twins) are described as having "silver-white" hair. Which can be interpreted as a very bright silver color with no hints of gold or blonde.
Tumblr media
Source
Tumblr media
Source
Tumblr media
Source
The wig department for HotD better take notes! This is what Rhaena's locs should've looked like.
3. White
King Aegon III Targaryen is described as having hair so pale it appeared white. White differs from silver due to silver having a gray base.
Tumblr media
Source
Tumblr media
Source
4. White Gold
Prince Aemon (son of King Jaehaerys I & Queen Alyssane) was said to have white gold hair, which was considered rare. White-gold can be interpreted as just a very pale blonde/gold color. You may think that white gold is silver-looking in color, but that is only because much of modern-day white gold has been plated with rhodium to reduce the pale yellow color. White gold that hasn't been plated is a (very pretty) pale gold color, which is what I'm assuming GRRM meant because I am fairly certain rhodium plating wasn't a thing during the medieval period.
Tumblr media
Source
Tumblr media
Source
5. Honey
Not all Targaryens are pale haired! [Best] Queen Alysanne's hair was said to be honey colored. It was believed that her hair came out this way due to her grandmother being Lady Alarra Massey, who was Andal not Valyrian.
Tumblr media
Source
Tumblr media
Source
6. Dirty-Blonde
Princess Alyssa Targaryen (daughter of King Jaehaerys I and Queen Alysanne) was said to have dirty-blonde hair without a trace of silver.
Tumblr media
Source
Tumblr media
Source
8. Brown
I'm including Prince Jacaerys Velaryon and his bros here, because while his parentage was disputed, and confirmed in the show, he's still a Targaryen on his mother's side and would have taken on the name Targaryen when he became king. Jace is said to have brown hair. No flowery language used to describe it by GRRM...just brown.
Tumblr media
Source
Tumblr media
Source
7. Black
Yes, there are black-haired Targaryens! Rhaenys Targaryen (daughter of Prince Aemon and Jocelyn Baratheon) had black hair, as did the children of Prince Rhaegar and Princess Elia Martell (sweet Princess Rhaenys and Prince Aegon.) Aegor Rivers, also known as "Bittersteel" (the son of King Aegon the Unworthy and Barbra Bracken) also had black hair.
Tumblr media
Source
Tumblr media
Source
239 notes · View notes
bibelotjewelsindia · 2 years ago
Text
https://www.bibelotjewels.com/categories/necklaces
Buy a Gold or Rhodium Plated Silver Necklace, Charm Necklace, Animal Necklace, Double Layered Necklace, and Necklace Set. Bibelot Jewels Is A Leading Wholesale Manufacturer And Supplier Of Wholesale gemstone Jewelry, Gold, and Recycled 925 Sterling Silver Jewelry. Over 150+ Gemstones & Ready to ship 150,000 pieces of Jewelry.
For More Info:- https://www.bibelotjewels.com/categories/necklaces
0 notes