#sigilsongs
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
@sigilsongs asked: [ COOK ] , kaeyira snow cooks a meal for robb stark. (she's a servant)
"There was no need." He calls out, his head still immersed on the papers before him and the map that had all the banners of the armies scattered around, at this hour of the night, the King in the North looks less his age and still, very much so, without the weight of the coat and stern look he bears for others. Mostly, Robb looks tired. The smell of freshly made food caught his attention and once eyes open and look forward, he sees the source. A kind smile alleviates the signs of a frown.
"Your Lord should have not bothered. Truly, I do not wish to be treated differently than my people." But he was different now. He is King, and even then, Starks had always been treated above others, by simple tradition of the North. Hair as the snow itself, he had seen her before around the castle. A bastard, they tell him, but he does not look ill upon that label. He had just named his brother Jon his heir, if things went south, had he not? "At least take some of the food for yourself. I know well you cook more than you eat."
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐄𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐃𝐀𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐒 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐄𝐍
Upon the birth of Prince Aemon's second daughter, a match was proposed by the man himself to King Jaehaerys, for the princess to wed Prince Daemon, second son of his beloved brother Baelor, when she was of age and continue the puracy of their bloodline but the match was rejected and Daemon made to wed Rhea Royce. Years later, the Rogue Prince made a similar request over the Princess' hand when her brother, namesake of King Viserys I, passed away and the Princess was able to hatch three dragon eggs from his funeral pyre but the request was request, perhaps advised by Otto Hightower, fearing the match, with three dragons that saw the woman as their mother and the Prince's fearsome Blood Wyrm and any future hatchlings of their dragons. But one cannot put a fire by ignoring it and eventually, the cousins grew curious of one another. To him, she was as close to a goddess that could be, A Valyrian beauty that embodied the three heads of their House. To her, Daemon represented everything she was not when it came to Valyrian strength; a man of support and strength and passion, whose fire could match her own. The tease of future suitors from across the sea could only be endured so far before the Prince became a dragon and took the princess, except the princess too was a dragon.
@sigilsongs daemon and daenerys ( @zobriefyre )
do not reblog unless tagged. mutuals are welcome to comment.
#sigilsongs#( interactions ) / ✷ sigilsongs.#( dynamics ) / ✷ daenerys and daemon please devour me .
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
@sigilsins / @sigilsongs asked: "I know you're being a brat just because you want to be choked." // reversed // Jaime is saying it to Elinor Tyrell ???
Jaime leaned back against the wall, arms folded, his gaze flickering over Elinor with the kind of piercing focus he reserved for reading the unspoken. The way she stood, one brow raised, lips twisted in a defiant smirk, only made him sigh—though he couldn’t entirely smother the spark of amusement in his eyes.
“You’re relentless, you know that?” he said, watching her with something between exasperation and intrigue. “Being a brat because you think you can get what you want by provoking it out of me?” He smirked, though there was a hardness to his expression, a challenge there, as if daring her to continue.
He let his words hang for a moment, as his steps drag him closer to her his voice dropping to something darker, a faint smirk touching the corner of his mouth. “Maybe you should be more careful with what you wish for, my lady.”
“I might just give it to you.” Simply because of the sheer insolence. "A better mind would not. But I think we both know I'm not a good man."
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
@sigilsongs asked: 💋 its from laegon targaryen - Send me a 💋 to shut my muse up with a kiss.
Jaehaera stood by the window, staring out at the darkening skies above the Red Keep, her thoughts as heavy as the storm clouds threatening to unleash their fury. The weight of the crown bore down on her that day more than usual, the whispers of her court echoing in her mind. If she did not produce an heir soon, what use would she be to the realm? The pressure was suffocating. She had been lost in her worries when Laegon approached her.
Laegon had always been a presence in her life, a source of quiet strength. Son of Laena Velaryon and Daemon Targaryen, he carried the fire of his lineage with a grace that soothed her nerves. He had never asked anything of her, never pushed, only stood by her side when she needed him most.
But today, something shifted. His hand touched her arm gently, pulling her from the depths of her thoughts, and before she could ask what was wrong, he kissed her. It wasn’t tentative or hesitant but full of the emotions she thought she had buried deep. Her lips parted in shock, her heart racing as the kiss lingered.
For a moment, she didn’t know what to do—didn’t know how to feel. Had she entertained thoughts like this before? Perhaps, in the quiet moments when she allowed herself to think of anything other than duty. But she had never let them surface. Or so she believed.
She could feel the tremor in her hands as she brought them to her chest, a shield against the unexpected warmth blooming inside her. She wanted to speak, to say something, anything, but the words failed her. He had been her solace, her friend. Now, in a single impulsive moment, everything had changed. “Laegon...” she whispered, her voice barely a breath. Could she afford to entertain this, to find solace in a man so close to her—yet not her king? "You should have not done that."
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
@sigilsongs / @arenagods / @sigilsins asked: "I don't give a fuck what the original terms of our arrangement were." from a spicy robert to elia martell
The hall was silent, its grandeur seeming vast and empty, though Elia Martell could feel the weight of every breath in the air. Robert Baratheon’s presence loomed over her, his broad frame blocking any escape. His hand, rough and calloused from war and hunting, rested possessively on her waist. Warmth radiated from his touch, seeping through the thin fabric of her dress, burning against her exposed skin. She did not pull away, but her dark eyes flicked around the room in search of someone—anyone. It was futile. The hall was deserted, save for the two of them.
Elia’s breath hitched, though her expression remained poised, ever the princess of Dorne, though her pulse raced. “Our arrangement was for one night,” she whispered, her voice soft but clear. She let the words linger between them, hoping to remind him, to calm the storm she saw building in his eyes. But there was something else behind his gaze—something darker, more dangerous. She knew where his mind had gone.
Rhaegar. The she-wolf girl. The whispers that reached even the farthest corners of Harrenhal had not spared her, nor had the quiet rage she herself had harbored against the man she once called husband. Her fingers curled lightly against Robert's chest, her body betraying the icy facade she tried to maintain.
"You behave like this because of him, don’t you?" Elia's words were barely more than a breath. Her thoughts spiraled with the image of Rhaegar and Lyanna, the scandal that had set kingdoms aflame. She had raged too, in her own quiet, refined way. But that rage was turning into something else—something dangerous beneath the stag’s touch. Robert's grip tightened, possessive, jealous. She could feel the heat between them rising, not just from anger but from the raw tension that neither of them had intended. And still, Elia did not move away. It was a man's touch, a man who wanted what he wanted. Rhaegar had not touched her since Aegon's birth, and with this, she felt disgraced, and the stag before her, pressed between her legs, is asking her to give herself again. "You are a greedy man, my lord."
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
@sigilsongs asked: ❛ if only you knew how much you truly mean to me. ❜ — from daerax
Dragonkeepers. The name is one from Viserys old stories but the order was thought to be gone. After the dragons danced and they died, no one wrote any longer about the dragons. They say many left, when Rhaenyra resorted to have more dragonriders in the war that ended with most dragons dead, the order refused. Others say they selfishly led the dragons to their death but now before her, some of them stood. Hail from Asshai they say and she remembers the key words told to her; in Asshai she would found her secrets. Who she is, how to speak of dragons. "I am no savior, Daerax of Old Valyria. I'm just my brother's heir, and rightful queen of the Seven Kingdoms." And what she had taken on this side of the sea to prove her worth.
"But I believe, if you are who you say you are, then you might help me with my dragons before I sail to Westeros." There is a short pause as the Queen walks down to be eye level with the Dragonkeeper and his order. Amethyst eyes look upon for a moment before nodding. "I been able to ride Drogon, but while Viserion and Rhaegal bond with me, they are considered wild. Perhaps you can help me with that." The dragon must have three heads, she been told. But as far as she been told, there is only one Targaryen like her. Is she meant to give her dragons to bastards who would betray her like they did Rhaenyra? "Who truly has enough Targaryen blood for them to become riders? Who can I trust?"
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
a plotted starter for @sigilsongs (alicent)
A SNOW , NEVER A TARGARYEN. that was the hand he had been dealt , the fault of his mother and father one drunken night in the north. he had been a SURPRISE to the king of the seven kingdoms , a lesser stark cousin standing upon his doorstep with a babe in her arms. but viserys had taken in his son , raising him alongside his daughter , rhaenyra , treating him NO LESS than a trueborn son. even the queen consort , lady aemma , had treated the boy with kindness , with jon viewing the woman as a MOTHER. but because of his bastardy , his father had informed him that he would hold no titles nor land ; however , he had reassured him that he did not love him any LESS than he did rhaenyra.
HE GREW UP IN THE RED KEEP , learning to fight in the yard with his father's kingsguard , acquiring an education from the maesters , and mingling with the noble children ( even if their parents SNEERED from the sidelines ). and as he had clung to his sister as a child , jon had grown alongside alicent hightower , daughter to his father's hand.
JON HAD TAKEN A LIKING TO ALICENT , his feelings growing as he got older. a FORBIDDEN romance , perhaps ──── a BASTARD and a LADY ; oh , her father would never allow it , no matter the LOVE they had for one another. they had been forced to keep their affections behind closed doors , with only rhaenyra clued in on the romance between her brother and best - friend. and though jon was the son of the king , bastardy or no , it would SULLY the hightower name for otto's only daughter to tie herself to a baseborn man. perhaps that was why courtiers whispered of plans to marry alicent to viserys , what with lady aemma deceased. she had been in his father's presence as of late , sorrow in her eyes whenever jon caught her gaze.
AND NOW , THE TWO STAND in an empty room within the keep , the door locked behind them , jon anxiously running his hands through his thick hair. mad. she was MAD to want to tell his father of them , what with viserys' having taken a liking to the young woman. rhaenyra would back them , of course , but where would that get them ? what would happen when otto discovered this forbidden romance ?
" YOUR FATHER WILL CONVINCE MINE to send me to the wall , " jon utters , his FEAR clear in his grey eyes. " he will never allow this , nor will my lord father. i've SEEN the way he looks to you , alicent. he wants you , and it is RARE the a king does NOT get what he wants. "
#sigilsongs#( ✗ ‘ blood of the dragon — verse’ )#asdfasdf i did a lot of history for context sake#hope this is ok!!! i am so excited :)))
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
Dragonstone was imposing, and she was surprised he was allowed to make home there while Rhaenyra was meant to be heir. But guess she had to remain in King's Landing in order to prepare herself for the throne. She does not mind the change, fresh air and less filled walls, court life seems gone now she remains there now as the man's soon to be bride. She supposes they are there to be wed on the tradition of Valyrian weddings, she does not see Daemon bend and pray to the Seven. "Some of these are in Valyrian." She said looking at a few of the manuscripts, treading carefully the pages on her hand. They show drawings of dragonriders and Valyria, her attention to the songs that had been translated and the ones speaking of weddings.
"Do you think I would look good in a dress like this?" She jest, showing him the drawing of the Valyrian costume dress and headdress, she is so used to wear neutral colors but the idea of wearing his colors thrills her regardless. "Issi īlon naejot. . .dīnagon kesīr?"Are we to. . .marry here? She frowns a little as she did her best to keep her pronunciation as she was instructed but she is not quite sure she said it right. She does not wish for her father to attend.
@sigilsongs asked: ❝ They have an astonishing library. Since you are so fond of reading, I thought you might join me? ❞ from Daemon, in their engagement verse 🙏🏾
And there is a short pause as hands pass over another drawing, Balerion and Valyria but her mind is focused on the impending nuptials. "Will there be a bedding ceremony?" Alicent cannot hide her blush at the thought to be seen or heard by someone who would report back to her father. But it is westerosi tradition, to confirm a bedding had taken place and after his marriage with Rhea Royce, surely the crown wants to confirm he did his duty, so did she. "If so, I just wish to be prepared. Septas had explained a few things but never much." And what they did only refer to a man's pleasure and made it sound rather painful.
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
@sigilsongs says laegon targaryen is a humbling 6'5
yeah well, I guess when you literally have l(a)eg in the name, you kinda have to deliver . . . but why so much of it?
#sigilsongs#ic . [ dash games ]#funny thing is he's not all that bothered by men being taller than him.#it's just the little brother who's not allowed.#like at all.#it's in the name LITTLE brother.#stick to the fucking script bro.
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
"It has been a while since you gave me the honor to dance with you." — aegon i targaryen (@sigilsongs ) to obsidia celtigar
"I was under the impression you did not wish to, Your Grace." She greets with a small bow, amusement and curiosity spread upon her lips. It had been a while since the King was seen on the feasts or participated in the dances at court. Queen Rhaenys was a force of nature that seemed to force the King out of his shell to have some fun outside of his kingly duties. "And I believed I have danced for you, not with you, Your Grace." She did at the festivities of his coronation and the announcement of the pregnancy of his son, a Celtigar tradition for the daughters to bring fortune.
Perhaps she had danced with him once, but he had been sullen then, and one could almost feel the hand of his advisors forcing his hand. This time seems different, and her hand lands upon his offered hand. "It's a Valyrian tune. My father said you might enjoy it. A little gift from House Celtigar to you, my King." Another one of her Houses' Valyrian kept secrets. They withhold them as a dowry upon suitors, mostly the dragons. Maybe this time, it will work.
She picks up on her dress as they move toward the room to dance and Obsidia feels like a queen for a fraction of a moment. "You are in good graces today. Is it the wine or have your spirits lifted?"
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
@sigilsongs asked: "Oh sweetness, someday a real man is going to make you see stars and you won't even be looking at the sky." — daemon targaryen
Daemon’s words lingered in the air, as rich and smooth as the smirk he wore. Daenerys arched a brow, her lips curving into a teasing smile, though a flicker of something unspoken stirred behind her violet eyes. “Real men sound like a distant dream these days,” she replied, her tone light but her gaze sharp. “Hard to recognize one when none have appeared.”
She glanced at Daemon, she suspected he wasn't speaking of husbands or thrones. He rarely did when he turned his charm on her. Daenerys’ thoughts drifted for a moment, unbidden, back to before her brother’s death, to the idea she had lived with for years—Viserys’ ambition had always meant them. She would have married him, sealed their bloodline as Targaryens always had. It was fate, her duty.
But Daemon was speaking of something else entirely. Not duty, not marriage. Her teasing smile softened as she stepped closer to him, her voice a touch lower now, tinged with that same sharp edge. “Any marriage that’s arranged for me would never make me see the sky,” she murmured, her words carrying weight beyond the playful banter. “Stars aren’t found in cages.”
6 notes
·
View notes
Note
I wish we never met, you are too hard to forget. (from Jon Snow oop)
she takes a step forward , one she perhaps shouldn't have taken , as the whispers in westeros were faster than its winds , but she needed to . ❛ is somebody demanding you forget me ? ❜ the furs on his shoulder now coursed between her fingers , her gaze fixated on the buckle keeping his cloak in place . ❛ i don't want you to forget me . ❜
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
@arenagods / @sigilsongs asked: [ SHIELD ]: jahaegar of old valyria uses their own body to shield helaena from an attack.
Helaena's heart pounded in her chest, the chaos of the crowd swirling around her like a storm she could not control. She had never seen the people so angry, so feral in their rage. Her guards struggled to hold the mob at bay, but it felt as though the walls were closing in, their jeers and the occasional tossed stone becoming more dangerous by the moment.
Before she could draw her next breath, Jahaegar, a descendant of old Valyria and fiercely loyal to the crown, was suddenly at her side. His tall, imposing frame blocked her view of the approaching attackers. His voice was steady but she could not remember what he said, only that she was being dragged away.
A rock came hurtling toward her, but Jahaegar threw his arm up just in time, the sharp edge grazing his forearm as he shielded her. Helaena, trembling, clung to his side. She was no warrior, no dragonrider in this moment.
Once inside, the doors slammed shut, and the carriage lurched forward, leaving the frenzied mob behind. Helaena could only sit there, staring at Jahaegar as he caught his breath, blood staining his clothes. "You saved me," she whispered, her voice fragile with disbelief. And then a short pause, as she looks at his arm. "You are hurt."
1 note
·
View note
Text
@sigilsongs asked: "i’ve never met anyone as kind as you." — say Laegon Targaryen, having both survived the Dance
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧'𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧, 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝. Some would say more meek and docile than kind. Jaehaera barely speaks or weeps, simply does what is expected of a queen, with lessons sprinkled through her life by her grandmother and her mother and the last oens from her father, when the marriage was arranged with her cousin. "I'm sure they are kinder people in the world, my prince. Ones who carry less burdens than I do."
That perhaps she does so much out of guilt for the damage her family caused. Most dragons are gone now and Morghul has barely been rode because Aegon does not like the sight of the dragons, and he remains on the pit or in Dragonstone, where he at least roams free with what dragonkeepers remain. "I always heard your mother was as fierce as she was kind."
1 note
·
View note
Text
@sigilsongs asked: "Safe. When you're with me, I want you to feel safe," says Quenton to Myra
not the marriage she decided or wished. she had been content to marry her knight in mooton colors but destiny, and her father, had other plans themselves, approved by their new king. quenton qoherys is not the man she expects. he is tall and fierce, handsome and built and nothing alike the men she knows from westeros. he looks like a warrior but he speaks gentle prose and myra cannot help but to blush and know he means it by heart. one should only see eyes to know that the man was speaking in truth.
"I do not fear you husband. and i know you will keep me and, god's willing, any family we have in the future." he might be older but the maids do whisper and queen rhaenys herself had said quenton was a man of many talents.
"though I hope your sword will be sharp enough to protect against the ghosts that await us." quenton had gained harrenhal with this marriage. but people already spoke the castle was cursed after balerion's fire had burn it and harren the black down. not the most gentle home for a bride but she will make due. all tully's do after all, they adapt.
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
The weight of the crown is heavy. But Arianne had said she was born to be a queen. What a cruel fate that was, when this came at the expense of her little brother Tommen's death. Sylva helps her dress, discarded are the more Dornish clothes and back are those clothes that are more for a queen of the realm. Her coronation, the true coronation was in a few short days but she felt it was an expensive affair. "Could we not do this in a quieter manner. The realm certainly does not need more of us spending their money in a show like a coronation."
She thought of a parade through the city and visiting all through, from Flea Bottom to the Crownlands and then, the best thing to do would be to make a tour through the lands but there is still a war going on. "I wish you could stay here with me. All of you. This court is all full of vipers and those who would prefer to have me dead." At least she is far from her Uncle Stannis, but there are many things to think of. @sigilsongs ft sylva.
2 notes
·
View notes