#septon

[darejani-artist]

✷ Young Septon Alicent ✷

Male Alicent Hightower commission

[desertdruidcrafts]

Modron hierarchs (minus the Hexton, which I drew here back in 2019) and the last of the inevitables, the zelekhut. Going to need these in Sigil for sure. Got some humanoids coming next, including a bunch of bards

[asoiafreadthru]

A Game of Thrones, Tyrion I

His legs were stiff and sore as he eased down off the bench. He massaged some life back into them and limped heavily to the table where the septon was snoring softly, his head pillowed on an open book in front of him. Tyrion glanced at the title. A life of the Grand Maester Aethelmure, no wonder.

“Chayle,” he said softly. The young man jerked up, blinking, confused, the crystal of his order swinging wildly on its silver chain.

“I’m off to break my fast. See that you return the books to the shelves. Be gentle with the Valyrian scrolls, the parchment is very dry. Ayrmidon’s Engines of War is quite rare, and yours is the only complete copy I’ve seen.”

Chayle gaped at him, still half-asleep. Patiently, Tyrion repeated his instructions, then clapped the septon on the shoulder and left him to his tasks.

[hariholiness]

Sri Sri Radha Gopinath at Durbuy, Belgium.

[keepingupwiththeboltons]

Sense i havent seen anyone else mention it, id like to say: props to orwyle for being the least sexist man on the green council 👏👏👏 keep brewing moontea king

[aeriondripflame]

septon eustace giggling and kicking his feet while writing his self insert oc daeron targaryen into the histories

[peachessndreamss]

Filled With Grace

Summery : High Septon Aemond request a private audience with a hight born lady the night before her wedding.

Characters : High Septon! Aemond Targaryen x f!reader

Warnings : Dub Con, power imbalance, coercion, heavy religious themes & behaviors, no use of y/n, she/her pronouns, unprotected p in v sex, corruption, loss of virginity, dacryhilia (if you squint), alcohol consumption, cannon divergent

Word count : 8 k

A/N : No one asked for this but it happened, also sorry in advance, sorry for what? sorry for everything. While English is my first language I'm also profoundly dyslexic, I've done my best to minimise spelling and grammar issues but I'm there still are plenty.

When Aemond Targaryen lost his eye he thought the worst of it was the scar but it turned out in the days and weeks after the incident, the cost kept mounting. Finding his father couldn’t look at him had been hard to take and they no longer spent the evenings together reading the histories, studying the great campaigns of ancient kings and speaking high Valeryian. 

The last time his father truly looked at him was the night he sat the boy Aemond down and told him he was going into the service of the Seven. With his injury he could no longer be trusted to defend his brother’s weaker side in battle or in Kingship, and so it had been decided by the small council that he would be handed over to the Septons and be trained in the Faith. He was sent across the city and into the tall towers of Baelor's Great Sept. 

When he wasn’t in training, or studying he would sit by the window and stare back across to the Red Keep, where his family continued to live their lives without him. 

In the early days there was heartbreak, longing and grief, as Aemond spent more time at the Sept the pain turned to anger, his heart hardened and his soul blackened. Still as studious as ever he studied hard, learnt the words and the rituals and felt nothing. 

At the age of 20 he moved back across the city, back into the Red Keep as the self-styled High Septon of the Red Keep. Despite his outward devotion to the Faith he opted to keep the name his family had given him, he believed his injury and his family’s reaction had stolen enough from him but they would not take his name.  

In the 7 years that followed his return Aemond had manoeuvred himself from returning outcast to centre of all courtly life. His mother, who ruled in his sickly fathers place, relied on him constantly, looking to him for guidance in both spiritual and worldly matters and while he didn’t sit on the Small Council nothing happened in the room that he wasn’t already aware of.

He was the beating heart and soul of the Red Keep, the spiritual leader who blessed and condemned as he saw fit. He quickly learned his religious titles protected him from suspicion, so when a body turned up in the Red Keep with a broken neck or floating in the bay he was above reproach, regardless of any known animosities or feuds. He learnt being irreproachable had many benefits and he began to explore the possibilities now open to him. 

Aemond was 23 years old the first time he'd had a high born maiden come to him before her wedding night, the first time had been less about the pleasures of the flesh and more about pushing the boundaries of the Lady who’d come to him as a willing sacrifice. The first time taught him that silence could be bought with loyalty and the promise of absolution, and if those two things weren’t enough, he always had fear. 

Aemond occupied the highest tower of the Red Keep, three floors of round rooms stacked one on top the other. The lowest level was his Sept where the faithful came for his blessings, confession, where his mother lit candles and prayed and where she would ask him to translate the signs and symbols she saw everywhere and claimed were messages from the Gods. 

The second floor were his audience rooms, official rooms where he might entertain visiting Septon’s or Lords who felt themselves in particular need of spiritual guidance. 

The highest level was Aemond’s personal chambers, kept in semi-darkness at all times, the stone walls were dressed in rich tapestries and the large bed hung with blood red curtains. This was his innermost sanctum, the space that bore witness to Aemond’s true self and was the place he brought the high born Lady’s before their wedding day. 

Tonight the room was set for such an event. The fire was burning in the hearth but all other lights had been extinguished. Goblets of deep red wine were sitting on the table, as well as a plate of sweets and cakes, in case she had a sweet tooth. Aemond knew the Lady who'd be visiting tonight, she'd been fostered at the Red Keep since her 12th name day and had grown up under the watchful eye of queen Alicent. Tomorrow she would marry Lord Tullly and the day after she would leave the Red Keep forever to take up her new role as lady of Riverrun, but tonight she belonged to him. 

The knock on her chamber door was quiet but unmistakable, it helped that the lady had been waiting for it. Sitting at her dressing table, her back ramrod straight while trying to make sense of her flickering reflection in the warped surface of the mirror. Tomorrow was her wedding day, but tonight she had an audience with High Septon Aemond.

When she had first come to the Red Keep she had been under the protection of Queen Alicent, who she had followed around like a lost lamb until she was 15 and had been passed into the service of her daughter,  Helaena, who she had served as a handmaiden while she waited for her father to broker a good enough marriage deal. 

The deal had now been struck, the payments made and contracts for lands, livestock and men signed and sealed. All that was left was the wedding and due to her close status to the royal family, no expense was spared, her wedding gown had been trimmed with silver and gold threads and beaded with thousands of tiny river pearls. She had wept the first time she’d seen it from the sheer beauty of the garment and after that moment she had willed every day to pass faster so she could wear it.

The High Septon of the Red Keep called all high born brides to his tower the night before their weddings, and while the reason was never overtly discussed, the older ladies of the Red Keep would share knowing looks and speak in innuendo around the younger ladies, lording their superior knowledge and understanding over the young and naive. 

But she had found by listening carefully both to the older women of the court and the giggling gossip of the serving women she’d come to the conclusion that she would be expected to give a private confession to the High Septon. Confession was usually a fairly private matter, with all people of all status expected to unburden themselves to their Septons but without further clarity she was left wondering what made these pre-wedding confessions something so hushed up and rarely talked of. 

“Enter” she called softly, turning from her reflection toward the door. 

A small serving girl stepped into the room, dressed in the same drab dress as all the other serving women and her hair covered with a square of the same fabric, she looked as indistinct as any other of the small folk serving in the Red Keep. 

“High Septon Aemond ‘as asked to see you, milady,” the serving girl said softly, her eyes cast downward as she spoke, “I'm t’take you to ‘im,”. 

The lady nodded and stood from the stool at her dressing table, she had known the summons were coming and so she’d not undressed from that night's celebration dinner. She was still wearing a deep blue silk gown, edged with silver threads and her hair was still twisted in its elaborate crown braid that had taken over an hour to arrange. 

While the dress and the hair were elaborate, they were still modest enough for the act of contrition she assumed she was going too. 

The serving girl stepped back and turned, moving silently down the corridor and the lady followed, wishing her own steps were as silent as they moved through the dark building, even in her silk slippers she could hear her footsteps and the swish of the fabric of her dress. 

Despite living in the red keep for almost 10 years she could count on one hand the amount of times she'd been in the same room as Aemond Targaryen, he didn't waste his time on high born ladies under normal circumstances. The only women he ever seemed to speak with were his mother and his sister, she couldn’t be sure she’s ever even met his gaze, let alone have spoken with him.

At the foot of the high tower the serving girl opened a heavy door and led them up a tightly twisting set of stairs. They passed two doors on the twisting staircase before they reached the top and the final door. The serving girl knocked twice before melting back into the darkness of the stairwell. 

A voice from within bid her enter and with trembling hands she pushed open the door and stepped over the threshold. 

The room was so dark it took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust, still barely able to make out the shapes in the darkness but a rustle of fabric and a small movement drew her eye and from the blackness he appeared. 

He didn’t wear Septon’s robes, instead he dressed every inch the royal son he was, in tight black trousers and a black high collared tunic, he was covered from neck to toe in tight black fabric that looked as close to his body as his own skin. His silver hair was tied back from his face and he wore a patch over his ruined eye. His good eye fixed on her, the indigo of it lost in the darkness so that it appeared to be a blackhole instead. 

“My Lady,” he greeted, bowing deeply before straightening up and fixing his gaze on her face. 

“Your Royal Highness,” she replied, dipping her knees in a curtsey, averting her eyes from his face, “I am your servant,” she added. 

He moved toward her, his steps slow and deliberate, immediately the image of a stalking predator came to mind and her heartbeat quickened. 

“Will you sit?” he asked, indicating the two chairs set close to the fire, a low table between them holding two filled wine goblets and a plate of small fruit tarts, the exact same that would be served at her wedding banquet tomorrow. 

“If it pleases,” she replied, moving toward the chairs and stepping into the circle of flickering light cast by the fire. 

“It does,” Aemond replied, taking the seat nearest to where he was standing and furthest from the light. He relaxed deeply into the seat, crossing one ankle over the other knee, one of his long arms stretching away from his body and toward the table, the tips of his fingers caressing the thin stem of the wine glass. 

She followed his lead and sat, keeping her back straight and tall, crossing her feet at the ankles under the full skirts of her dress and letting her legs fall together against the arm of the chair in the way she'd been taught since she was old enough to sit in the company of others. 

“Eat and drink, if you like,” Aemond said softly, despite the softness in his tone the invitation felt dangerous. 

But she had been raised in the Queen’s household and had impeccable manners, she offered him a small smile and thanked him before lifting the goblet to her lips and taking a small sip. The wine was rich and strong, the scent of it alone causing her head to spin. 

Aemond never took his eye from her, taking in the details of this high lady who he planned to bring so low. He noted the gloss on her lips from the wine, the rapid rise and fall of her chest as she fought to master her heartbeat and the wide eyed look of fear on her pretty face which went straight between his thighs and caused his cock to strain against his trousers. 

“Do you know why you’re here my Lady?” Aemond asked after she’d shakily returned the wine glass to the table.

“For confession?” she replied, her eyes flicking toward his face for a second before looking away again after meeting his burning gaze. 

“To confess,” Aemond agreed, “and to meet with god,” he added softly, running his long fingers up the stem of the wine glass and cupping the curve of the bowl before bringing it to his mouth and taking a drink.

Aemond took a slow drink, running the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip before taking a shallow breath and placing the goblet back down on the table. The silence in the room was heavy, it deafened and roared at the same time and she was acutely aware of the sounds of her breathing and pounding heart.

“My Lady, the hour is late,” Aemond spoke, “why are you still dressed for banqueting?” 

She glanced down at herself, the silver beads and stitching of the deep blue dress caught in the flickering fire light and she could feel every place the fabric touched her body. 

“I didn’t want to be in a state of undress when you called for me, my Prince,” she replied. 

Aemond chuckled softly, “So you knew you’d be summoned to me tonight?” he mused, “and how did you know?”. 

In that moment she could have bitten her own tongue off to avoid saying anything further, how could she tell the truth without causing trouble for herself and the other ladies in waiting, gossip was considered below them, despite the fact that it made up a good majority of their days. 

“It’s known,” she started before her voice stalled, she squirmed in her seat under the heat of his gaze, “that’s to say, some of the other ladies who’ve been married have mentioned they had a private audience with you,”.

Aemond nodded, while he outwardly gave no sign, he was privately elated, the more that people whispered and told stories of him the more they would fear him and the more power he would have over them. He would have to try and learn the details of the gossip and whispers, and if necessary change the narrative. 

“I trust that what passes between us tonight will stay between us?” he asked, taking another drink, enjoying the rich and heady taste. 

“Of course my Prince,” she agreed readily and he nodded. 

A silence fell between them again, if she strained her ears she could just hear the sounds of the city, as distant as a dream from the covered windows. She dragged her attention back to the man in the room and she looked at him from under her lashes, not wanting to get caught staring. The flickering firelight cast his features in strong relief, his jaw and cheekbones looked like twin blades edging his face. 

“In the eyes of the Gods,” Aemond started, his indigo eye fixed on the fire, “we’re born naked, we live naked and we die naked. They see and hear all of our sins, even the sins we never speak of, or act on, they know them and they judge us for them. We are never beyond the sight of the Gods,”. 

“Of course, High Septon Aemond,” she replied, choosing to use his religious title as she felt the subtle change in him as he went from prince entertaining a guest to High Septon preparing for holy work. 

“And while they sit in judgement of us, I have the power to forgive sins, to wipe clean the slate of any man or woman who is willing to ask for forgiveness,”. 

Aemond turned his eye to her, catching her watching him, his gaze burning. 

“My Lady,” Aemond turned his face from the fire toward her, “are you willing to ask for forgiveness tonight? To confess your sins and be cleansed?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“I will,”.

He took a deep breath and nodded, a small smile twitching at the corner of his lips. 

“Then stand, my Lady, and you will confess as the God’s see you,” he paused for a tense second, “naked,”. 

A chill ran up her spine despite the heat of the fire. Although she had expected to be called to him she had not known what he would want when she was there, she’d had no idea he’d expect her to undress, and if he expected that what else might he expect? 

“My Prince, this gown is difficult to remove,” she spoke quickly, her heart thumping in her chest, “I’m sure the God’s will understand if I remain clothed,”. 

“Stand,” Aemond commanded, and as if touched by a white hot poker she jumped from the seat and stood like marble, her eyes fixed on the prince. 

“Gowns can be removed, repaired if necessary,” he said as he stood and stalked toward her, pulling a small blade from a concealed pocket at his hip, “your confession will not be complete unless you are as you were born,”. 

He moved toward her and with a single strong shove he pushed the heavy chair she’d been sitting in out of the way and brought himself behind her. His breath was warm on the back of her neck, his left hand caressed her left arm. 

“Please, my Prince,” she whispered as she sensed the movement of the right hand which held the blade. 

He took a steadying breath before sliding the blade beneath the silk ribbon that held the back of the dress closed, with only a little pressure the blade slipped through each twist of silver silk and the dress began to open, exposing the bright white shift underneath. She had made a small sound of protest but had gone silent. While the blade never touched the thin fabric of her shift she could feel the coolness of the metal and imagine the sharpness of the blade. 

The prince dropped the blade and used both his hands to pull the gown wider and push it off her shoulders, the weight of the skirt and the beading of the bodice dragged it down, slipping down her arms and off her hands. It landed in a pool of deep, glittering blue around her calves. 

“Better,” Aemond breathed, stepping back a little and admiring her trembling body. 

“If it pleases you,” she had to fight to keep her voice calm, tears pricked at her eyes and burned in the back of her throat. 

Perhaps this would be as far as he took it, perhaps this was bear enough for him. Perhaps she could confess in her underclothes and be gone, but she only believed this for a second as she felt him take two strong handfuls of the neck of her shift and rip them viciously apart. 

The soft fabric gave easily and ripped clearly down the middle, exposing her back and buttocks to him, again he gave the garment a soft shove over her shoulders and watched as it fell around her legs, landing on top of her gown like a blanket of snow. 

“Oh it pleases me a great deal,” he said, stepping around her, caressing her arm as he came to stand in front of her, letting his eye travel up and down her body.

He took hold of her hand and lifted it before giving her a gentle tug, unable to disobey, she stepped forward out of the mess of fabric and further into the golden light of the fire. The only thing she wore now were the soft silk slippers. 

Aemond studied her, the curve of her hips and buttocks, the softness of her stomach, the swell of her breasts that were topped with nipples several shades darker than her skin. As he watched gooseflesh crawled across her body, tightening her nipples into tight little points that he longed to reach out and pinch. SHe kept her face turned down and Aemond was transfixed by the curve of her cheek and the spiky shadows of her eyelashes. 

She felt as if his gaze was burning and freezing her at the same time, every part of her body was exposed to him and he looked at her without shame. No man had ever seen her in such a state. She had been taught her nakedness was for her husband and for him alone but now she was being looked on by her High Septon, her prince, and his eyes were devouring her body, claiming something that shouldn’t belong to him. 

“You are the Maiden incarnate,” he whispered as he dropped her hand and brought his fingertips to her chin. Lifting her head so he could look at her face. Though she still fought them she couldn’t help the tears that gathered in the corners of her eyes or the tremble in her bottom lip. 

“You might look like Her,” he started, his eye flicking to a small image of the Maiden he kept by the fire before returning his gaze to her, “but you are only human and therefore a sinner,” Aemond added with a sigh, as if disappointed to remember the woman before him was human and not divine, “so kneel,”. 

“My Prince?” she questioned, the humiliation was already beyond what she thought she could survive but apparently he had more in his heart. 

“Confession is given on your knees,” he explained calmly, “and so you must kneel,” he moved his hand from her chin to her shoulder, where he applied gentle pressure. 

She allowed her knees to bend and buckle beneath her, dropping onto the thick carpet. Aemond felt his cock throb as her breasts bounced with the impact, he fought the intense and dark urge to force his cock into her mouth, instead he took a deep breath and placed his hand on the top of her head. 

“Under the watchful eye of the seven, I hear your confession,”. 

Aemond spoke the words he learned as a boy during his time in the High Sept. Confession had already fascinated him as a child and he’d hardly dared believe that people would willingly tell him the darkest secrets of their hearts. 

“Under the watchful eye of the Seven, I give my confession,” she choked out, words she’d learnt as a small child and said hundreds of times in her life before now, but never like this. 

“I, I confess to having cruel thoughts about others,” her voice cracked as she repeated another line she’s said a hundred times before to Septon after Septon. Aemond, with his eye closed and his hand still resting on the top of her head nodded. 

“Go on,”. 

“And I’ve told lies,” 

“And, and, and,” she stumbled over her words, “I confess to having impure thoughts about men at court,”. 

Aemond felt a throb between his thighs, this is what he’d been hoping for. 

“What thoughts my lady?”. 

“Thoughts of what it would be like to couple with them,”. 

Aemond nodded benevolently and opened his eye, his gaze soft and loving as he watched the woman on her knees. 

“That’s to be expected, as a bride in waiting,”. 

“This is my confession,” she whispered. 

The tears in her eyes blurred her vision but she nodded, her resolve strengthened now she’d done what he’d asked. Aemond nodded again and closed his eye, turning his face upward and addressing the air above their heads. 

“The watchful eye of the Seven have heard your confession and I, High Septon Aemond Targaryen of the Red Keep, forgive your sins,”. 

She gave out a shuddering breath as a tear slowly tracked down her cheek. She had survived, she had done as she was told and she was forgiven her sins. 

His hand moved from the top of her head and he offered it to her, she took it and allowed him to support her back to her feet. She couldn't look at his face but instead her eyes focused on the floor at his feet. Again he moved his fingertips to her chin and lifted her face. 

“You did very well my Lady,” he said softly as he stroked his finger down the curve of her cheek. Despite the warmth from the fire his fingers were like ice on her skin, “and now, you will take God inside you,”. 

Her brows furrowed in confusion as a chill ran down her spine. Surely he couldn’t be talking about bedding her? Looking at her naked body was one thing but to give her maidenhead to him the night before her wedding was unthinkable but before she could voice any resistance he gently took her hand and led her toward the bed. 

She moved as he directed her, unwilling but unable to resist him. The bed loomed, dark and foreboding in the centre of the room, she’d been able to ignore it up until now. As they moved closer she noticed the hangings and the coverings were a deep blood red, edged with black. 

Aemond brought them to the foot of the bed, placing her so the back of her knees knocked against the bedframe and the plush bed sheets brushed against the bare backs of her thighs. 

Aemond stroked her cheek again before brushing the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip. 

“You've got nothing to be scared of my Lady, don't you want to know the Gods in the most intimate way possible?”. 

“Please my Lord,” she whispered, “l mean, I- I mean, my Prince,Your Highness, please,” she stumbled over her words, them coming out in a confused rush. 

“Don't worry about titles now, Maiden,” he whispered, leaning his face close to her, letting his lips brush against her cheek, “tonight you can call me God,”.

She turned her head to look in his face, catching sight of one beautiful indigo eye before his lips crashed into hers in a bruising kiss. One of Aemond’s hands slipped up her back and held her at the base of her skull as the other wrapped around her naked waist, his cold hand resting on the small of her back. He pulled her tighter to his body, feeling the hard press of her soft skin through the leather and linen of his clothes. 

Aemond licked his tongue along the line of her lips, desperate to taste her mouth, would the richness of the wine still linger on her tongue or would he be able to taste her fear? He broke away from her kiss and gazed down at her, noticing the tears in her pretty eyes and the wobble of her soft bottom lip. 

“Give yourself to me,” he whispered, “submit to me, and be filled with grace,”. 

She whimpered softly, a single tear slipping down her cheek. She felt nothing but fear, a clawing, ripping terror that started in her guts and filled every inch of her, she felt as if she opened her mouth to speak pitch black tar would come bubbling out of her throat.

There was immediate fear, what Aemond could do to her if she didn't give him what he wanted and there was the future fear, of the following night and her new husband finding her no longer the maiden he'd been promised. 

Despite the fear, Aemond's words awakened something else inside her, a pinprick of excitement in the doom, a flickering flame of need in the darkness of terror. Aemond’s grip on the back of her head tightened, her eyes focused on his face again, she found him beautiful and terrible. 

“Submit,” he said again softly before touching a kiss to her still closed mouth, “submit,” he breathed again, the sound barely audible above the thumping of the blood in her ears.

The quiet word sounded like a prayer, even though he held all the power in the few seconds after the soft plea had fallen from his lips she felt completely in control, she could deny him and walk away without further incident but she didn’t want to. She wanted to submit, she needed to give herself to him, her body and soul demanded it of her. 

“I submit, my Prince,” she replied, her voice little more than a hoarse whisper. 

Aemond brought his mouth back to hers and kissed her again, there was less aggression now and when he tightened his hold on her body there was a thrill of pleasure, like a seam of gold in the bedrock of her terror. 

He ran his tongue along her lips again and this time she parted her mouth and felt his tongue slip against hers instantly. Without thought she felt herself grip at the arm he had wrapped around her body, her fingers gripping vivaciously at the sleeve of his coat, feeling the strong and lean arm under the fabric.

As her fingers gripped him Aemond groaned into her mouth, feeling his cock throbbing against the lacing of his breeches, the press of her soft body was no longer enough, he needed to take her. 

He broke away from her mouth, his gaze focusing on her heaving breasts and the saliva coating her lips. His own heart was pounding and he felt like the room was spinning around him and she was the only steady point. 

“Lie down,” he instructed. 

She obeyed without hesitation, needing to do nothing but let herself drop down onto the mattress and lay her head back on the plush coverlet. Aemond’s gaze moved up and down her body, from the silk slippers still covering her feet, up her shapely legs to their apex where her sex was hidden by a thatch of curly hair. Further up her stomach to her breasts and their aching hard nipples, her throat and the curve of her jaw all the way to the top of her head where the crown of hair was coming loose. 

Aemond moved directly between her legs, he bent and wrapped his hands behind her knees, yanking her forward so her bottom rested just at the edge of the bed. He kept her knees lifted and pushed her thighs high and further apart. Splitting open the lips of her cunt, exposing the glistening folds of her womanhood. 

She was totally transfixed by him, and from her position below him light cast his features in even sharper relief. It was easy to believe that he was a God, surely no mere mortal could look like him. 

As he stared between her legs he made a groaning sound from deep in his chest. 

“Hold your legs, Maiden,” he said softly. 

She replaced his hands with her own, keeping her sex exposed to him. There was an ache between her legs now that seemed to start somewhere deep within her lower belly and her body was acting and reacting in ways she'd never experienced before. Aemond's hands went to the laces at the front of his breeches, working quickly to loosen them and allow him to free his cock. 

With a soft moan he pulled the hard muscle free, squeezing it at the root and watching as a bead of pearly white fluid appeared at the tip. 

He stepped forward, pressing the length of his shaft between the soaked lips of her cunt, smearing himself in her arousal. She gasped at the contact, having never felt anything between her legs apart from her own fingers before this moment. 

His cock was hot, smooth and hard as he moved it between her lips and she felt her whole body awaken at the feeling of the blunt head of his cock touching the hardened pearl between her legs. 

Aemond watched with fascination as she reacted to his ministrations on her body. Her eyes widened and her mouth fell into a pretty O shape, Aemond felt his cock pulse with desire and he longed to see how many more reactions he could draw out of her untouched body. 

The two of them were now soaked in her arousal, the hair between her legs glistening with wetness in the flickering fire light.Aemond took a steadying breath as he angled his cock at her tight entrance. 

“Be filled with grace,” his voice was like a prayer as he finally pressed forward and pushed inside her. 

She gasped at the sudden feeling of stretching and pressure, it was nothing like she'd felt before and in a flash the arousal seemed to disappear and the fear was back, gripping her like a vice and making it hard to breathe. 

“Don't fight,” Aemond hissed, “submit,”. 

She took a steadying breath, her eyes fixed on his face as he stared between their body’s, at the place the two of them were becoming one. After the initial pain and resistance she found her body wanting to welcome him, she found her cunt pulling at him hungrily and willingly changing to accept him inside her. 

Once Aemond was resting deeply inside her he gave a shuddering breath. He couldn't hear anything but the pounding of blood in his ears and he could see nothing but the place where their bodies were joined. 

“We are one, Maiden,” he said softly, looking up at her face and finding her watching him, a single tear escaping her eyes as he pushed another inch forward, finding her body yielding and vice-like in its grip. 

“Don't weep,” he said, reaching forward and wiping the tear away from her eyes, “you are one with the Gods now,”.

Aemond gathered the tear on his thumb and brought the drop of liquid to his mouth, sucking it off the tip of his thumb. He brought his wet thumb down between their bodies and brushed it against the swollen pearl that peeked out from between her soaked lips. He could feel the tight channel of her cunt squeezing around him at the contact and a small moan slipped between her soft lips. 

Slowly he began to move his hips in a slow, grinding motion. He wanted to stay as deeply rooted within her body as he could but he desperately wanted to bring her pleasure. To share with her the religious experience he was chasing. He ground his hips forward and used his thumb to swipe and stroke at her pearl.

Her whole body was on fire, every part of her mind, her body and her soul was suddenly awakened with pleasure. She moaned and immediately felt a deep shame at the sound. Aemond could sense the sudden shift in her and he looked at her face. 

“Don't hide your sounds, my Maiden, they are prayers and I want to hear them,”. 

After that, any sense of shame melted away, how could there be shame between them now? He had heard her confession and now he shared her body. There was no longer space for shame. The pleasure began to build and a deep groan moved through her body and filled the room as she gave into the pleasure. 

Aemond changed from grinding to short, sharp thrusts, pistoning his hips and moving his cock in and out, the movements made easy by the arousal that slicked between their legs, spreading over her thighs. Her eyes widened and the grip behind her knees tightened as the pleasure inside her reached a fever pitch. She moaned loudly, thrashing her head against the bed, her eyes closing tightly. 

“Submit to it, Maiden,” Aemond moaned as he felt her body tightening around him, “submit and feel God,”. 

With his words she gave her body and mind over to the sensations, the knot that tightened within her belly and the tingling in her fingers and toes, every inch of her skin felt tight and hot and then suddenly, like a dam breaking, there was nothing but bliss. 

The muscles of her stomach  and thighs clenching, the tightening being echoed by the gripping tightness of her cunt around Aemond’s cock. Her blood felt like it was on fire as it raced around her body, burning her alive. Time seemed to stop and her body no longer felt physical, she had passed beyond physical and was now made of stars. 

Aemond followed her into bliss with a deep groan and a final deep and shuddering thrust, pressing himself as deep inside her as possible before spilling his seed. 

Panting and trembling, Aemond leaned forward, bringing his body over hers for the first time and placed a soft kiss on her lips. Still dazed she looked at him, through the haze of pleasure he could have been mistaken for an angel, she expected him to kiss her again but instead he straightened up and withdrew from her body. Tucking his wet, soft cock back into his breeches before roughly tightening the laces. 

Aemond went to the door of his chambers and opened them, letting the serving girl who brought her here inside. 

“Take her back to her room, repair her dress and stay with her all night,” he spoke quickly and firmly, the only outward sign of his recent activities was the slightly pink flush to his cheeks and the sweat gathered at his hairline. 

“In the morning, make sure you stay with her,” he added, glancing back at the woman still naked on his bed, her chest still heaving and her eyes still unfocused. 

“I must go to my Sept,” he finished before moving out of the room and down the winding staircase. 

The serving girl brought a large, soft blanket to the bed and encouraged the lady to sit up, her hair was a mess, half fallen out of its elaborate style. She wrapped the blanket around the lady and drew it closed over her chest. 

“‘ere milady,' she said softly, “so you don’ get cold,”. 

The serving girl gathered up the ruined dress and the slip before returning to the bed and helping her to her feet. The lady was unsteady on her feet and was shocked back to reality by the pain between her legs. 

She brought one hand to her mouth in horror, holding the blanket tightly around her body. 

“What have I done?” She whispered, glancing back at the bed. 

“Come on my lady,” the serving girl said softly, “let's get you back to your rooms,”. 

She followed the serving girl out of the room and down the winding staircase. The stone was icy cold on her silk slippered feet and the chill moved up her legs, quickly turning her whole body to ice. At the bottom of the final turn she stopped outside the door to Aemonds Sept, through the door the sound of his prayers were just audible. She placed her hand on the door, going to push it open but the serving girl placed her hand over the lady's. 

“We must go,” she urged. 

The serving girl led her back to her rooms, managing to avoid any other living being in the red keep. Back in the safety of her rooms she helped the lady into her bed, her naked body slipping between the soft sheets. 

“Sleep, milady,” the serving girl said, “I'll be ‘ere in the morning to help you get ready,”. She closed her eyes and without another thought she slipped into a dreamless sleep.

Aemond knelt at his altar all night, the sun was creeping over the city when he finally opened his eye and unclasped his hands. A great deal of his religious devotion was for show, he felt almost nothing for the faith and used it only to manipulate those around him to his will. But after a night with a highborn maiden he often felt the need to unburden his soul. 

He would not attend the wedding of his Maiden and Lord Tully, the ceremony would take place at Baelor's sept and the feast in the great hall. He wouldn't be expected to attend and he assumed his mother would pay him a visit after the festivities to fill him in on his brother's behaviour. He stood slowly from his altar to the Maiden, the candle he'd lit when he'd entered the night before was gutting and spitting as it gave its final flickers before going out, the wick drowning in a pool of its own wax.

Somewhere below the walls of the Red Keep a bell began to toll, waking the city and signalling the start of a new day. Aemond left his Sept, closing the door tightly behind him, he took the winding stairs back to his private rooms. The wine glasses and the plate of sweets were still on the table and the coverlet on the bed was rucked up from his Maidens thrashing and keening. 

He could have knelt at the foot of the bed and placed his face where her arousal had soaked the fabric, he could smell the intimate musk of her body and let him become lost in memories. 

He made to move toward the bed but there was a barely audible knock on the door, Aemond turned toward the door instead and called the visitor in. 

His serving girl stepped into the room and closed the door silently behind herself. She was the only person in the Red Keep Aemond trusted without question. 

“Milady slept fitfully, asked for you when she woke and has now been taken by ‘er mother and sisters to be washed and dressed,” she reported, her eyes focused on her feet. 

“Thank you,” he replied, a cold distance in his voice. 

“If you ‘ave no further need of me, Lord, I’ll be gone,'. 

Aemond nodded and the girl left without another word or sound. Aemond took to his seat beside the fire, he drew a glass of red wine from the decanter on the table and drank deeply, scowling at the flames as they danced in the grate. 

Some hours later the bell in the Great Sept rang out, a loud booming sound that travelled through the hot air across the city and out into the bay beyond. Underneath the tolling bell the bride stood as if made of stone, the only indication she was flesh and blood were the tears streaming down her cheeks. 

The bride groom kept glancing at her nervously, was she weeping with joy? Unlikely he reasoned, was it sadness to be leaving the home she's known most of her life? Or was it fear of the night to come? He'd heard from his older, married brothers that virgin's could be fearful and unwilling on their wedding nights; he hoped he'd give a good showing of himself for her first experience of the marriage bed. After all, he'd never had any complaints before. 

After the sun had set on the heaving city and the wedding feasting and drinking were done the newly weds were finally alone in their bridal chamber. The room was awash with light from torches and a blazing fire, the bed was made up in Tully colours and food and drink set out on a small table by the open window. She waited at the end of the bed for him, sitting with her hands clasped in her lap, her eyes turned down and the skin of her face tight and sore from the tears she’d been unable to stem. 

Her new husband drank deeply from a wine goblet by the window, he was dressed in only his long white linen shirt and black leather riding boots, he drained his goblet and moved toward the bed. He’d decided he needed some extra liquid courage before taking his new wife to bed, he didn’t think he could cope with all the tears without something to help him forget the experience. 

“Lie back, wife,” he said, his voice thick with drink, “we’ll soon  have this done with,”. 

Across the Red Keep Aemond sat alone in his chambers, he’d removed the patch from his ruined eye and the sapphire caught the flickering light from the fire, he stared at the flames as they twisted and licked around one another. Separate tongues of flame merging into a single burning light before breaking apart again and reaching desperately for cool air being drawn down the chimney.

The door to his room opened without warning, he turned his eye toward the darkened doorway and watched his mother enter. Her cheeks were flushed red with the wine she’d taken at the feast and her usually impeccable hair was looking dishevelled from dancing. 

“Nice wedding?” Aemond asked as she sat heavily in the chair beside him and sighed deeply. 

“Lovely,” Alicent mused with a smile, “the bride wouldn’t stop crying but she always was a miserable little thing,”. 

Alicent looked over at her son, her smile was indulgent as she studied his profile. 

“You should have been there,” she said softly. 

Aemond gave a small shake of his head. 

“It wouldn’t be appropriate,”. 

“What would be inappropriate about you attending the wedding of members of the court?” Alicent argued. 

Aemond, not in the mood to argue with his mother remained silent and returned his attention to the flames, tomorrow he would hold a service of devotion for his family and the small council and afterward he might entertain the master of coin to see what he could learn about the plans to deal with the civil unrest that was coming from Dorne. 

“Anyway, I thought you’d like to know that Lord Beesbury has announced his plans to wed the Moreland girl before her next name day,”. 

“The Moreland girl?” Aemond asked, turning his attention back to his mother.

“Another one of your sister's handmaids, the one with the golden hair and the crooked smile, she’s sweet enough but I feel for her marrying an old dog like Beesbury,” Alicent replied before lapsing into silence. The memory of her own marriage announcement brought sharply to the forefront of her mind. 

Aemond’s fingers twitched against his knee, he knew the girl by sight and seemed to remember that despite the crookedness of her smile she showed it off willingly and often. He could help but wonder if she’d smile for him as he took her apart piece by piece. 

“Before her next name day, you said?”. 

“Hmm? Yes, about 3 months from now,” Alicent said, her mind now firmly fixed on the past. 

Aemond nodded his head and drummed his fingers faster on his knee, not long to wait. 

[gotham-at-nightfall]

Daemon Targaryen knighted by Jaehaerys I Targaryen

As charming as he was hot-tempered, Prince Daemon had earned his knight’s spurs at six-and-ten, and had been given Dark Sister by the Old King himself in recognition of his prowess.

By Jota Saraiva

[mirabritart]

Mob Psycho 100 - A Song of Ice and Fire AU ... CONTINUED!!!

Now featuring Mezato, Dimple, Serizawa, and Teru

[nobodysuspectsthebutterfly]

hello, I've sort of migrated here from Twitter. If you have the time I was wondering if the things I got from twitter/tiktok are correct.

In the books valyrian's are the only people in world who can bond with dragons?

In the books Targs are immune to heat/fire and sickness because their blood is magic?

Hightower's tower was made with dragon fire despite it predating Valyria?

There are other buildings around the world in asoiaf which also used dragon fire but also predate Valyria and their dragons?

Someone told me on tiktok that the OG asoiaf dragons went extinct and Valyrian magicians bred other magic creatures together until they got their version of dragons?

thank you for any help 🙏. I want to get around to reading the books but it's kinda daunting because there's so many of them and they're long and I'm a slow reader 😭

Hey, welcome to Tumblr! (Hope you survive the experience.) Sure, I can answer your questions (certainly better than tiktok and twitter lol sigh), but I do definitely recommend reading the books! Some people find it easier to go with audiobooks (I personally don't, since auditory processing isssues make me tune out in five seconds, same with podcasts, sigh), and that might be a big help for you? But anyway, answers below...

1. Yes... um... it's a question. It's stated that Valyrians are the only ones that can bond with dragons, and furthermore, only ones from the dragonriding families of Valyria. (This is part of the "Doctrine of Exceptionalism", which I'll describe later.) The "dragonseeds" who rode dragons during the Dance were supposedly bastards or descendants of bastards of Targaryens (I'll get to the details in a moment), and we have the example in the current books of Brown Ben Plumm, who Dany's dragons adore, and he is an extremely distant (by like 120 years) descendant of Elaena Targaryen and Aegon IV Targaryen.

However, the dragonseed and dragonrider Addam of Hull, per the histories a bastard of Laenor Velaryon (son of Rhaenys Targaryen), was almost certainly actually the bastard of Corlys Velaryon, and the Velaryons were not a dragonriding family. Though it's possible that one of the pre-Conquest Targaryen ladies married into House Velaryon, so it's not that exceptional. The greater problem is the dragonseed Nettles, of no known background, called out by the narrative as looking distinctly un-Valyrian (she's brown, and note the Velaryons are white in the books), who tamed her dragon by feeding it sheep until it started to like her. Many theorize that while Valyrian blood makes it easy to bond with dragons (due to likely blood magic/genetic bonding with dragons in ancient times, as they claim to be descended from dragons), it is still possible to create that bond the hard way, as the early Valyrians were once a mere tribe of shepherds who discovered dragons nesting in a local chain of volcanoes. The full answer is one of the greater mysteries of ASOIAF, and will hopefully be resolved in later books. (Along with whoever the riders of Dany's other two dragons will be.)

2. Per GRRM, Targaryens are not immune to fire, but they do have some heat resistance, and enjoy things like hot baths and hot weather. The only one actually immune to fire was Dany, and specifically only during the miracle of her dragons' birth. (During her taming of Drogon right before she rode him the first time, she received burns on her hands.) Many Targaryens have died or been injured by fire, including Viserys Targaryen (Dany's brother and his "golden crown"), Aerion Targaryen (he drank wildfire because he thought it would turn him into a dragon. It didn't), Rhaenys Targaryen the Queen Who Never Was, Daeron "the Daring" Targaryen, Aegon II Targaryen, and Rhaenyra Targaryen.

As for illness, the "Doctrine of Exceptionalism" was a religious precept that King Jaehaerys I worked out with the Faith of the Seven, to give the Targaryens an exception on the Faith's anti-incest stance. It stated that Targaryens were different, exceptional, special people, closer to gods than men, because of their unique silver-gold hair and purple eyes, because they alone rode dragons, and because they never got sick. "There was fire in the blood of the dragon, it was reasoned, a purifying fire that burned out all such plagues." However, only a few years after Jaehaerys made this agreement (and married his sister Alysanne), their 7-year-old daughter Daenerys died of the Shivers, a severe-flu-like epidemic. (This put great doubt in their heart, but did anyone do anything about it? lol no.) Their daughter Maegelle later died of greyscale, and their son Baelon died of appendicitis. Later Targaryens have died of other epidemics, of the pox, of tuberculosis, and other diseases.

However -- some Targaryens have shown surprising resistance to illness. Aegon III sat with many victims of the Winter Fever epidemic, and never showed any symptoms. Dany herself cannot recall ever getting sick. (She is not immune to being poisoned, though.) There may be something specifically connected to being a dragonrider (though Baelon was one), or more specifically being a potential Prince That Was Promised? Again, this is connected to the greater mysteries of ASOIAF, to be resolved later.

3 & 4. The base of the Hightower -- not the tower itself, but its first level -- is an ancient fortress made of fused black stone, which is similar to Valyrian construction made by melting stone with dragonfire (such as the castle of Dragonstone, the walls of Volantis, and the Valyrian roads). However, it predates the Valyrian empire by millennia, and is plain without decoration, unlike how the Valyrians would twist the melted stone into artistic forms. There are also other ancient structures in the world, the Five Forts on the eastern border of Yi Ti, that are also made of this fused black stone in this plain style. Some maesters also think the Hightower fortress's labyrinthine design is similar to the Mazes of Lorath, also ancient structures, made by a vanished giant not-quite-human species (called the Mazemakers) in pre-history. GRRM has said "there were dragons everywhere, once" (there are indeed records of dragons in Westeros before Valyria, and dragon bones found in far distant places in the world) and the truly ancient Asshai'i histories claim to have taught the Valyrians the secrets of dragons, so there's a theory that there was a dragonriding culture long before the Valyrians who left behind these fused black stone structures. (More on this in the next answer, and you can see an older theory post of mine on the subject here. Also note I am certain this culture was not the Great Empire of the Dawn, they're unrelated.) One more great mystery!

5. Yeeahh... this may be true. Or it might not be. Septon Barth (Jaehaerys's Hand of the King, and a great researcher into the origins of dragons, with theories that made maesters call him crazy and the Faith burn his books) apparently theorized in his Unnatural History that the Valyrian dragons may have been created via bloodmagic, possibly by breeding wyverns (flying reptiles that do not breathe fire), possibly with firewyrms (wingless/legless earth-boring creatures that do breathe fire). There's also (as I said above) Valyrian legends that claim they found dragons nesting in the Fourteen Flames, but ancient texts from Asshai claim that dragons first came from the Shadow (the mountains around Asshai), and an ancient nameless people brought them to Valyria and taught the Valyrians the magic needed to control them. And there's a myth from Qarth that there used to be another moon that cracked open like an egg and millions of dragons came out. We do not yet know the true answer.

GRRM recently said "Septon Barth got most of it right", but what is "most"? Was there an incredibly ancient vanished species of dragons that the original Valyrians re-created? Did these Valyrians somehow breed these new dragons with themselves to make them easier to control? What we do know is that occasionally Targaryens have had monstrous dragon-like stillbirths. We do know that very rarely a dragon egg has hatched a "broken thing" that dies quickly, or a monstrous wingless wyrm that attacks its cradlemate, with no known reason why. We know that in the ruins of Valyria since its Doom, there are apparently mutated creatures that can lay eggs containing "worms with faces" and "snakes with hands" in human flesh, a horrific experience witnessed by Septon Barth that sent him on his path. It's a great great mystery, and there will apparently be an answer one day.

BTW, many of these huge mysteries were introduced in The World of Ice & Fire, if you want to read just one book. However, TWOIAF is not a story like the actual books, it's a history/geography book, and if you want more than lore, if you want addictively enjoyable characters and amazing dialogue and a truly excellent story, again I highly recommend reading the main books. The lore and the mysteries are very interesting, sure, but they're not what's really kept me in this fandom for 13 years now, you know?

[pookiebearhelaena]

Goodbye, goodbye bigger than the whole sky

“Bastard blood, shed at war,” Alicent replied. “My son’s sons were innocent boys, cruelly murdered. How many more must die to slake your thirst for vengeance?”

The Dowager Queen’s words only fanned the fire of Rhaenyra’s wroth. “I will hear no more lies,” she warned. “Speak again of bastardy, and I will have your tongue out.”

[nogoodsheepstealing-greatgrandma]

TG on Criston Cole: "He's not the step dad he's the Dad Who Stepped Up! 😍"

Criston Cole in F&B: Literally Humbert Humbert (or, at best, Woody Allen).

Afterward, he gave the seven-year-old Princess Rhaenyra the victor’s laurel and begged for her favor to wear in the joust.

“Ser Criston protects the princess from her enemies, but who protects the princess from Ser Criston?” *

*said at a point when Rhaenyra is the same age as Dolores Haze btw.

Among the changes to the character's ages in HOTD, it's ageing up Rhaenyra when she first meets Criston Cole that grosses me out the most. And to add insult to injury, they don't even get an older actor to play an older Criston Cole after the time jump - Emma D'arcy is actually older than Fabian Frankel.

And to those who say sympathetic jilted lover Criston Cole is more interesting... well we've heard that story before. With Jorah Mormont's depiction in GOT, for starters. And everywhere else in our culture, men like Criston Cole are afforded sympathy and fascination (it's honestly a relief that most audiences outside of tumblr thankfully hate Show Criston - pls leave the actor alone though), while their victims are depicted as seductive temptress 'nymphets'.

Look no further than JK Rowling's favourite 'tragic romance'.

(sure jk, trans women are the problem, but humbert humbert isn't?)

Book covers and film adaptations of Lolita love to age up and sexualise Dolores and completely miss the point, but Vladimir Nabokov named actress Catherine Demongeot as the most book-accurate casting. Who looks very disturbing up against the 1997 film's casting for Humbert Humbert:

She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock.

And wouldn't you know it, Daemon returns from the Stepstones when Rhaenyra (15) is around the same age that Dolores was, when Clare Quilty convinced her to run away with him.

And when Criston proposes to Rhaenyra ahead of her upcoming marriage to Laenor, she is again the same age as Dolores (17) when Humbert tries to get her to leave her husband for him.

Obviously Rhaenyra's story is by no means directly comparable to the horrific abuse suffered by Dolores Haze, and besides we don't know precisely what happened between Rhaenyra and Criston*. But Rhaenyra was also much much younger (7) when Criston came into a position to start grooming her, and at the end of the day she was still only a 12-year-old child when rumours of a sexual relationship began. The parallels are there, and CSA is a common issue throughout GRRM's work.

It certainly wouldn't be the first time GRRM has made a reference to Lolita in ASOIAF:

You see, she had absolutely nowhere else to go.

Littlefinger and Lord Petyr looked so very much alike. She would have fled them both, perhaps, but there was nowhere for her to go.

On Septon Eustace and Mushroom

*I do find it interesting to note that of the two accounts of Rhaenyra and Criston's 'split' (by two people who weren't in the room), it is Septon Eustace's account that puts Rhaenyra in a more favourable light. Mushroom tells the more pornographic account that casts Rhaenyra as the one trying to seduce Criston. Meanwhile Septon Eustace insists that Rhaenyra was the one to refuse Criston - including arguing that if his vows as a Kingsguard mean so little to him, then why should she trust he'd honour any marriage vows?

As I often argue, interpreting F&B is far more complicated than insisting one account always tells the truth, one account always tells propaganda etc. Neither account obviously views the relationship through the lens that Rhaenyra was only 7 when they met, neither of them care to raise concerns of grooming and CSA . This is still the same world after all that thought it was perfectly acceptable for a 12-year-old Laena to marry Viserys, or for a 12-year-old Sansa to marry Tyrion. This is the world that spread rumours of Rhaenyra's lost virginity when she had barely begun puberty.

Mushroom is clearly pro-Rhaenyra, and clearly fond of her (he wants us to know for instance how good it was to hear her laugh, his account expresses the most how broken she was after Luke's death) - but he's writing his account years after her death, and most likely after departing Aegon III's court for White Harbour. His priority, as a dwarf and entertainer, is to write was sells, and salacious tales sell. Just look at the pornographic tales the slavers spread of Daenerys, or how Shae depicts Sansa as a seducer withholding sex to convince her husband to commit regicide, or the play Arya performs in that bawdily depicts Tyrion raping Sansa for the masses. Mushroom at least wasn't the one to actually come up with the Brothel Queens story** - Archmaester Gyldayn credits Aegon II with making that story up - but any loyalty Mushroom had to a long-dead woman wasn't enough to stop him including a popular story. Mushroom's gotta eat.

**to those who still insist the story is true (despite Gyldayne attributing the rumour to Aegon II), do you honestly think if the Queen and Queen Mother had actually been gang-raped there wouldn't be multiple sources verifying it and expressing outrage?

Septon Eustace meanwhile is a misogynist who hated Rhaenyra and wished to justify his allegiance to the Greens. Which is why he'll make up ridiculous stories about Rhaenyra cutting herself on the throne while wearing armour, or Sunfyre eating her in 6 bites and leaving behind one leg for the Stranger, or how Rhaenyra got fat and ugly after giving birth to 5 children. Which is why he'll have Aegon II say "what sort of brother steals his sister's birthright?" - a statement that doesn't match with the rest of his documented words and actions:

Word of Rhaenyra’s coronation reached the Red Keep the next day, to the great displeasure of Aegon II. “My half-sister and my uncle are guilty of high treason,” the young king declared. “I want them attainted, I want them arrested, and I want them dead.”*** Cooler heads on the green council wished to parley. “The princess must be made to see that her cause is hopeless,” Grand Maester Orwyle said. “Brother should not war against sister. Send me to her, that we may talk and reach an amicable accord.” Aegon would not hear of it. Septon Eustace tells us that His Grace accused the Grand Maester of disloyalty and spoke of having him thrown into a black cell “with your black friends.”

***spoken in response to Rhaenyra publicly offering him a pardon

So Eustace has a tendency to demonise and whitewash - which is what makes it interesting when he passes on the opportunity. For example, why would he refute the rumours that Rhaenyra's children are bastards? Surely that claim would have supported his case against her? Why does he give quite a positive, even glowing, account of Jacaerys? Probably because he approved of and genuinely had no issue with Jacaerys, other than that he didn't believe the throne could pass through the female line anyway. True or not, he didn't need to claim Jace as a bastard, and Jace's actions didn't fit any cultural stereotypes. Because it seems there are certain lines Septon Eustace won't cross.

So Septon Eustace has some commitment to telling the truth (some truths anyway). Which is why his own account of Aegon II often contradicts itself, as shown above.

So back to his account of Rhaenyra and Criston. Why not cast Rhaenyra a wanton seductress, trying to tempt Criston Cole away from his Kingsguard vows? Why depict Criston, a fellow Green, as an oathbreaker? Why tell us that Rhaenyra did the right thing, turning Criston down and even expressing disgust that he would abandon his vows? Because for all Septon Eustace dislikes Rhaenyra, casting her as a wanton seductress would be crossing a line. He doesn't need it to be against female succession - her great sin is being a woman who doesn't gracefully abdicate in favour of her brother, and that's enough.

And because his account is probably closer to what happened. While he wasn't in the room, no more than Mushroom was, he was in a position to hear about it from Criston. As a fellow Green, and above all as a Septon. Someone who Criston might confess to. And it is Septon Eustace's account that tells us Criston Cole was the one to slit Lord Beesbury's throat. While he may try (sometimes anyway) to sanitise Aegon II, he makes no such effort with Criston Cole. If you wanted to legitimise your support for the Greens but were unable deny their crimes, it makes sense to allow someone to be the villain.

And supposing Criston did confess, he probably would have displayed the same delusional self-pity and self-justification as Humbert Humbert. And Septon Eustace, just like everyone else in Westeros, certainly wouldn't have considered Rhaenyra a possible victim of grooming and CSA.

Just look at Catherine Howard as a historical example. When she was 13 she was molested by her music tutor, Henry Mannox:

“At the flattering and fair persuasions of Mannox, being but a young girl, I suffered him at sundry times to handle and touch the secret parts of my body, which neither became me with honesty to permit nor him to require.”

This 'affair' was used as evidence against her in her trial for adultery and subsequent execution.

The Princess and her White Knight

Again, we don't know what precisely happened between Rhaenyra and Criston. We don't know if their relationship is comparable to Catherine Howard and Henry Mannox, or if it escalated anywhere close to the horrors of Dolores Haze and Humbert Humbert. Or if anything actually happened at all, or maybe at least not till Rhaenyra was older. Maybe their relationship is more comparable to Soon-Yi Previn and Woody Allen, who had been her stepfather since she was 10.

We have snatches of the truth from Eustace and Mushroom, we have what we can determine of their access to the truth and their motives for telling their accounts the way they do. We have Rhaenyra's young age, Criston's constant access to her, the timing of the rumours, her later relationships with older men, the violent hatred Criston has towards her after she rejects him. We have the fact that CSA is a common reoccurrence in GRRM's work - Daenerys and Jorah, Sansa and Littlefinger, Jeyne and Ramsay, Tyrion and Tywin, Aeron and Euron. We have the salacious stories that are already spreading of victims like Daenerys and Sansa, and we can speculate how future maesters and septons and fools might write about them, the way they write about Rhaenyra.

Whatever happened, my understanding is that Rhaenyra was a child in a court that her stepmother was actively making a hostile environment for her. Who had to deal with the beginnings of puberty in this environment, where adults were already speculating on her sexuality, on top of all the other scrutiny she would face as heir. Yes she had a father who doted on her, but when it came to Alicent he always refused to take sides, he always tried to placate and please and keep the peace. Yes he was steadfast in his decision to keep Rhaenyra his heir, but he did nothing to reprimand Alicent, he allowed this hostile environment to flourish, leaving his barely pubescent daughter to deal with it on her own. Alicent even publicly quips about Rhaenyra's relationship with Criston Cole, and she gets away with it.

Daemon does not return from the Stepstones till after the 5th anniversary tournament Viserys throws for Alicent, when Rhaenyra is 14/15. Before then, Rhaenyra's main confidant, probably her only confident on the subject of Alicent, was her sworn shield and constant shadow Criston Cole. Whatever happened between them, she was young and emotionally vulnerable. And lonely. Yes she had a party of supporters at court - but what is that to a child? She needed a parent to confide in, and when it came to Alicent her own father could not be that parent.

We know Rhaenyra was a precocious child, 'bright and bold' and proud. But we also know that beneath that she was anxious - she was known to compulsively fidget with the rings on her fingers out of anxiety. What kid in her situation wouldn't be anxious? Just when did this compulsive habit begin? Rhaenyra may not have been in anywhere near as vulnerable a situation as Dany, but she was still a vulnerable kid. And so Criston would have been important to her.

He wants me, she realized. He loves me as he loved her, not as a knight loves his queen but as a man loves a woman. She tried to imagine herself in Ser Jorah’s arms, kissing him, pleasuring him, letting him enter her. It was no good. 

It was a long kiss, though how long Dany could not have said. When it ended, Ser Jorah let go of her, and she took a quick step backward. “You … you should not have …”

My great bear, Dany thought. I am his queen, but I will always be his cub as well, and he will always guard me. It made her feel safe, but sad as well. She wished she could love him better than she did.

My bear, my fierce strong bear, what will I do without him?

My bear, she thought, my old sweet bear, who loved me and betrayed me. She had missed him so. She wanted to see his ugly face, to wrap her arms around him and press herself against his chest.

We don't know how much or in what way Criston took advantage of Rhaenyra's dependence on him, or how 'receptive' Rhaenyra might have been (friendly reminder that no matter how 'receptive' she might have been, it's still CSA). Again, it may be that nothing physically happened at all until Rhaenyra was 17 (after 10 years of grooming of course). Whatever happened, we can certainly imagine that Rhaenyra was devastated to lose him, and to Alicent of all people. He had been her confidant and her champion, he had been at her side since she was 7 years old, not long before losing her mother (who was the same age as Criston btw).

My understanding of Criston meanwhile is that he genuinely adored her for those 10 years as her sworn shield. That he was passionately protective of her, fiercely devoted to her, and possessive. Much like Jorah with Dany. Maybe, like Jorah, he tried to kiss her. Maybe much worse happened, and he deluded himself as many abusers do that theirs was a misunderstood romance. Maybe he never touched her at all, but fantasised about it. Maybe he convinced himself that he was a man of honour, maybe he spent those years waiting till Rhaenyra was older, by her side the entire time (cough, grooming).

Whatever happened, he was enraged that 10 years of grooming were ultimately unrewarded. He probably, deludedly, cast her just as cruel and selfish and ungrateful as Humbert Humbert did Dolores Haze.

Despite our tiffs, despite her nastiness, despite all the fuss and faces she made, and the vulgarity, and the danger, and the horrible hopelessness of it all, I still dwelled deep in my elected paradise - a paradise whose skies were the color of hell-flames - but still a paradise.

There is nothing more atrociously cruel than an adored child.

But I was weak, I was not wise, my schoolgirl nymphet had me in thrall. With the human element dwindling, the passion, the tenderness, and the torture only increased; and of this she took advantage.

Don't you love living in a world where multiple think pieces debate whether or not Rhaenyra abused Criston Cole? (Also a world where a book like Lo's Diary gets published...)

If there is any truth to Septon Eustace's account that Criston wanted to elope with her to Essos, then I can imagine that he wanted to possess Rhaenyra entirely for himself (however romantic he may have believed his motives). The 'black fury' that descends on him during the wedding tourney certainly tells us he is violently jealous to see Rhaenyra begin a relationship with Harwin. He probably stewed in fury while Rhaenyra's attention was on Daemon (maybe hypocritically casting him as the villain the way Humbert Humbert does Clare Quilty), celebrated when Daemon was banished, and grew desperately possessive at the thought of losing his exclusive access to her again. Much like Jorah:

“You have been a better friend to me than any I have known, a better brother than Viserys ever was. You are the first of my Queensguard, the commander of my army, my most valued counselor, my good right hand. I honor and respect and cherish you—but I do not desire you, Jorah Mormont, and I am weary of your trying to push every other man in the world away from me, so I must needs rely on you and you alone. It will not serve, and it will not make me love you any better.”

I can't believe I'm giving Jorah Mormont credit here, but at least he doesn't respond to rejection with violent hatred of Dany. Or at least, he hasn't yet.

Now Rhaenyra's relationship with Daemon is another matter, and will require another essay. In sum, there is a broad spectrum between 'pedophile' and 'healthy relationship', and when I say Daemon's relationship with Rhaenyra is healthier than her relationship with Criston I have to admit the bar is very low indeed. Though I do take into consideration GRRM's description of Daemon as a grey character, 'equal parts light and dark'. Anyone is at liberty to declare death of the author and interpret Daemon as they see fit, but authorial intent (however fallible you may consider it) is not irrelevant. That authorial intent is the foundation upon which the characters, relationships, events, themes etc is built.

Ultimately, Daemon was not in Rhaenyra's life between the ages of 8 and 15 - he was in a relationship with an adult Mysaria, and then he was off to the Stepstones until Viserys and Alicent's 5th anniversary tourney. This isn't to endorse whatever may have happened in the 6 months Daemon was in King's Landing before his banishment - however you interpret his actions and motives. But simply to say that when it comes to grooming and abusing pre-pubescent to early-pubescent girls (oh this has been a disturbing essay to write) - Criston wins the "Creepy Even By Child Brideros Standards" Award.

So... is Criston the Step-Dad Who Stepped Up? Sure, if your Step-Dad is Humbert Humbert or Woody Allen.

[asongofstarkandtargaryen]

I wouldn't blame them, if they actually did. I mean the man does sound annoying.

Septon Cellador began to sing as well, his voice tremulous and thick with wine.

Gentle mother, fond of mercy,

save our sons from war, we pray,

stay the swords and stay the arrows,

let them know...

Donal Noye rounded on him "Any man here stays his sword, I'll chuck his puckered arse right off this Wall...starting with you,Septon.

Mammoths trumpeted in the gloom, strange voices called out in stranger tongues, and Septon Cellador prayed so loudly and drunkenly for the dawn to come that Jon was tempted to chuck him over the edge himself.

[thewatcher0nthewall]

How Cruel can The Gods be?

[atopvisenyashill]

in the middle of my pyramid of needs is a book written by septon barth and edited by maester marwyn thats nothing but targ dirt

Marwyn has been trying to get Jaehaerys Is A Dumb Bitch, His Whole Family Is Whack, And Me & Alysanne Have Done Most Of The Actual Ruling: A True Telling By Septon Barth and Seven HELLS What The Fuck Is Wrong With My Family: A Tell All Memoir From Archmaester Vaegon published for the last decade, to the point that he tried to get an audience with Robert to be like heyyyy can i please pretty please publish my books shit talking the Targs but unfortunately for him Yandel was also there trying to get funding for his latest vanity project and fucking bodied him before he could get anywhere the Red Keep.

[15-lizards]

Re: ASOIAF fashion (very, VERY cool headcanons/ideas btw, I love them!!), what do you imagine clothing for septons/septas to be like, both for simple priests and nuns and for high clergy like the High Septon?

The book description of rainbow decor and crystal jewellery seemed really cool, and I feel like it's kind of under-utilised in fanart?

Definitely a difference among rankings. Begging brothers, poor fellows, and traveling septas and septons are indistinguishable from the average common folk. Old brown and black robes that they have on hand, belted with a cord, only the bare necessities on their person as they travel from place to place. Both because of their low status and the fact that they choose to take vows of poverty

The average septon or septa, with a position in a minor house, fares slightly better in terms of clothing. They have an ounce more respectability, and dress in simply spun wool and cotton with little decoration, though it’s clean, neat, and orderly. There are more standards for this rank. And they are in uniform with other septons and septas, probably given to them by their motherhouse or septry.

A rank above are those that run the motherhouses and septries, or those that teach in the houses of the lords paramount. These clothes are well made, probably by the better tailors around. Outfits are custom made, not given out by the Sept. Often made with extra decoration, designs, and possibly even color. They are holy enough to be given importance, and this shows through their fancy vestments compared to those of lower ranks

And then we have the big dog, the High Septon. Absolutley no concept of the values of modesty or humility. He dresses like the gods himself told him he was the most important person in the world. Heavy robes that are dyed richly and shining with gold and silver thread. Large, expensive symbols of the seven. Dedication to being the most ostentatious person in the room. The crystal crown is heavy enough to snap someone’s neck