#song aeri.

[brelanjoo]

observa la botella en silencio, casi con reverencia, antes de asentir levemente a la sugerencia de la pelinegra. ' me gusta tu estilo, eso tengo que admitirlo ' comenta en tono bajo, como si fuera un secreto del que la aún desconocida no debiese enterarse. desliza la botella entre sus manos con cuidado, examinándola como si estuviera calculando el riesgo, y finalmente le dedica una sonrisa cómplice. ' el más caro siempre tiene un toque especial, aunque te aseguro que en el fondo es el mismo brebaje que otros — solo que con un poco de glamour agregado en la etiqueta ' añade mientras saca la botella de su lugar y se inclina para susurrar, con una mano que procura discreción sobre sus labios. ' espero que el alcalde tenga el gusto suficiente para apreciar el sacrificio que estamos a punto de hacer en su nombre' toma entonces dos copas, alzándolas en señal de aprobación. sus piernas están tan cansadas de estar al servicio de sus propios vecinos que ni siquiera ha de pensar en moverse del área de la despensa. descorcha la botella con un ligero pop, preparándose para servir el espumante. ' entonces, brindemos por…' ojos viran hacia el techo, pensativa. ' veamos… ¿qué te gustaría que este brindis haga realidad? '.

estaba claro que la respuesta contraria fue suficiente para complacerla gracias a la forma en la que sus comisuras se alzan de a poco, hasta ensancharse del todo. nunca iba a rechazar un cumplido, aún si fue ella misma quien lo pidió. ' hagamos un énfasis en al menos ' de cualquier forma, estaba jugando desde el inicio de la conversación, por lo que su sonrisita complacida se transforma a una más pícara, pues si había algo que aeri disfrutaba, era salir de su zona de confort. por eso estaba ahí, en safe haven, y no en algún lugar de los ángeles, o de vuelta en corea del sur. y era precisamente por eso por lo que había decidido seguirla.

cuando se fija en la cava, analizando la selección de vinos que tenían para ofrecer, optó por encogerse de hombros, volviéndose hacia aquella mujer que ha logrado caerle bien. ' un vino espumoso suena bien ' comentó, y es que, siendo honesta, bebería lo que sea. ' ¿tomamos el más caro? ' alzó sus cejas, ofreciéndole una expresión que mostraba cierta complicidad. desconocía cuál era el más costoso, pero se guió por el que, visiblemente, le parecía más elegante. ' ¿qué dices? ¿este nos gusta? '

[nobodysuspectsthebutterfly]

The Knight of the Laughing Tree by Joshua Cairós

created for the 10th anniversary of The World of Ice & Fire

[ladydreamfyyreee]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 “𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐧, 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 & 𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐨𝐭𝐬“

𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐖𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍!!!🙇🏻‍♀️

𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧!!!🙇🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️

[sihtryggr]

fuck ass line. i like this one better.

[brelanjoo]

' si esto es un mal augurio, definitivamente no quiero ver lo que viene después ' responde con una sonrisa irónica mientras se sacude las manos, tratando de quitarse un poco del polvo acumulado. ' sería genial si pudiéramos evitar cualquier profecía oscura por el momento. ¿qué tal si nos enfocamos en no ser parte de la historia? ' su tono es ligero, pero el brillo en sus ojos revela que no lo dice solo por diversión. ' ¿te suena bien buscar un poco de café? oí que estaban sirviendo en la otra esquina '.

"perro" con @wadetae y @brelanjoo

' espero no tener que acostumbrarme a esto, esto no aparecía en la cosas que pasan en los apalaches ' le dice a la figura contraria cuando ha decidido tomarse un descanso tras terminar de limpiar. ' ¿no es esto como un mal augurio? de esos que aparecen en las profecías... ' no creía que eso significara el fin del mundo, literalmente, pero no podía significar nada bueno que tantos cuervos hayan muerto.

[novaursa]

https://youtu.be/qillYsPzEs0?si=zWRzrkWUSQ-jRaTA

Can you do this just with the Targaryens and Lannister? Sister!reader Targaryen vs Cersie Lannister 🫣🙏🏼

Fire and Gold

- Summary: Rhaegar chooses you over her. And Ceresi never forgives you for it.

- Paring: sister!reader/Rhaegar Targaryen

- Note: In this AU Robert's Rebellion never happened. Rhaegar marries the reader, Ceresi still marries Robert after Lyanna dies in childbirth along with their child.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Next part: 2

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

- A/N: I hope this was what you had in mind, dear anon. The story is fresh from the oven.

You and Rhaegar have always known how to draw a crowd. The smallfolk line the roads, banners flapping in the breeze as cheers follow your every step. Rhaegar’s hand rests at the small of your back, his touch familiar and comforting. The two of you move through the throng with practiced grace, your smiles reflecting the adoration in the eyes of those gathered. The royal tour has been a triumphant journey so far, a celebration of unity and strength. Yet, beneath the surface, tensions simmer, particularly when it comes to the Lannisters.

It’s no surprise that Cersei Lannister would try to disrupt your journey. Tywin’s golden daughter has never hidden her disdain for you. You, the sister who Rhaegar chose over her, who embodies all that she desired but could never possess. Her presence is almost expected as you approach the encampment set up for the royal party. When you step inside the tent, the air is thick with unspoken tension. Rhaegar’s jaw tightens beside you, and you can feel the shift in the atmosphere like a gathering storm.

Inside, Robert Baratheon looms, his massive form imposing even in stillness. Cersei stands at his side, her face twisted in fury, her eyes burning with a hatred you’ve known since you were both young girls at court. The very air seems to crackle between you. But your attention is drawn to your children and theirs, lined up in a tense, volatile standoff. Your eldest son, Aelor, stands tall, his eyes a mirror of Rhaegar’s determination. Blood stains the edge of his blade, and a long, angry gash mars Joffrey’s cheek. The boy’s face is contorted with pain and rage, his hand pressed against the wound.

“What in the name of the gods happened here?” Rhaegar’s voice is a sharp, commanding presence in the room. The knights and guards around you tense, sensing the gravity of the situation.

Robert spits, his voice dripping with contempt. “Your damn spawn attacked my son. Maimed him, Targaryen. That’s what happened.”

Aelor’s voice rings out, clear and unwavering. “He insulted us first. He insulted me, my brothers and sisters. He insulted you, Father, and you, Mother. When he drew his blade, I defended us.”

Joffrey, clutching his wounded cheek, shrieks in a high, grating voice. “Lies! He called me a Lannister bastard, and then he—”

You narrow your eyes, your gaze locking onto Cersei. It is an open secret in the court that her children bear none of the Baratheon traits, their golden hair and green eyes a reflection of the Lannister line. You’ve never spoken of it openly, but now, the accusation lingers in the air, unspoken but heavy. Cersei’s lips press into a thin line, her fury palpable.

“How dare you,” she hisses, her voice trembling with barely contained rage. “Your vile little whelps—”

“Enough.” Rhaegar’s voice cuts through the tumult like a blade. “They are children, Cersei. This matter is settled.”

“Settled?” Cersei’s face flushes crimson. She turns to Robert, desperation sharpening her tone. “You will let this stand, my lord? He has harmed our son!”

Robert’s eyes flicker between Rhaegar, your children, and his wife. His face is flushed, whether from drink or anger, you cannot tell. For a moment, the entire tent holds its breath, waiting for the King’s decree.

But Rhaegar steps forward, his presence filling the space. “This is over. Children quarrel. It will not be escalated further.”

Cersei’s expression is a mask of fury, her body taut with indignation. Her eyes meet yours across the tent, and for a heartbeat, it’s as if the world narrows to just the two of you. There, in her gaze, you see the depth of her resentment, the wound to her pride that will never heal. You hold her stare, your silence as cutting as any word you could utter.

Cersei’s movements that soon follow are a blur, her hand snatching the dagger from Robert’s belt with a ferocity that sends a jolt of shock through the tent. She lunges at you, the blade aimed with a deadly precision that could only be born from hate. Instinct takes over, and you reach out, catching the weapon with your bare hand before it can pierce your heart.

The sharp steel bites deep into your palm, the pain immediate and excruciating. Blood wells up, spilling over your fingers and dripping onto the ground. Gasps echo through the tent, but no one dares to intervene. Robert’s roar reverberates around you, filled with anger and disbelief. “Cersei, what are you doing?!”

Your children’s cries pierce the air, frantic and terrified. Their small voices, shrill with fear, tear at your heart. The sight of their mother locked in a deadly struggle, blood pouring from your hand, is too much for them to bear. But you can’t look away from Cersei, can’t afford a single moment of distraction.

Her face is contorted with fury, a rage so intense it seems to consume her. “You ruined everything!” she screams, her voice raw. “You were supposed to be nothing more than a bargaining chip, another mad Targaryen girl! But instead, you took him—took the life that should have been mine! And now I’m shackled to this brute, trapped in a prison of my own making because of you!”

“You chose this,” you retort, your voice low, steady, despite the pain searing through your arm. “You and your father wanted too much. You thought you could seize the crown, twist the realm to your liking. But it was never yours to take.”

Her eyes flash, and with a snarl, she presses down, driving the blade further into your grip. The pain is blinding, but you refuse to let go, even as the dagger slices across your forearm in a brutal arc. You cry out, the sound sharp and involuntary, as the blade carves a deep, angry line from wrist to elbow. Warm blood streams down your arm, pooling at your feet.

The lords and ladies around you recoil, horrified, but none move to intervene. Fear holds them frozen in place, their eyes wide, their faces pale. The tent, filled with the sound of your children’s desperate sobs, seems to close in around you.

“Look at you,” Cersei hisses, her voice dripping with venom. “Bleeding for a throne you think you’re owed, just like your father. You’re no different from him. Mad, arrogant, and dangerous.”

“And you,” you bite back, your voice shaking with pain and fury, “are nothing but a bitter, power-hungry fool. You think you can cut me down? You think you can break me? I am not my father, and I will not be cowed by you.”

With a furious cry, she shoves the blade again, but you twist, forcing the weapon away. The dagger slips from her grasp, falling to the ground with a dull thud. You stumble back, clutching your bleeding arm, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. Pain throbs through every nerve, but you stand your ground, refusing to show weakness.

Rhaegar is at your side in an instant, his face ashen with worry. “Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice tight with concern, his hands gentle as he examines your injured arm. “Gods, what has she done to you?”

Robert steps forward, his face a mask of barely restrained fury. “Have you lost your senses, woman?” he growls, rounding on Cersei. “You draw a blade on the Princess of the Realm, on your king’s daughter? Are you so eager to invite Aerys’ wrath upon us all?”

Cersei glares back at him, her chest heaving, her hands shaking. “I don’t care!” she cries, her voice breaking. “All my life, I’ve been promised things that were taken away. I was promised Rhaegar, promised a crown, and now I’m nothing! Stuck here, with you, and this—this farce of a marriage. I’m trapped, and it’s all her fault!”

“Enough.” Robert’s voice is like a hammer striking stone, his eyes blazing with anger. “You’ve gone too far. This is beyond foolish, beyond dangerous. You think Aerys will turn a blind eye when he hears of this? His daughter bleeding at your hands?”

The name of your father seems to cut through her fury, a flicker of fear passing over her face. The threat is real—everyone knows the Mad King’s unpredictable wrath, his unquenchable thirst for vengeance. And you, his beloved daughter, lying wounded at her feet? The consequences could be catastrophic.

Rhaegar’s arms wrap around you, his touch gentle as he guides you away from the scene. “We need to get you to the maester,” he says softly, his voice tight with worry.

You nod, the pain throbbing with each heartbeat, but you keep your gaze on Cersei, refusing to look away. “Remember this, Cersei,” you say, your voice steady despite the agony. “You brought this on yourself. You chose your path, just as I chose mine. And you’ll find that you’ve made an enemy you can’t afford to have.”

With that, Rhaegar leads you out of the tent, your children trailing behind, their faces pale and tear-streaked. The lords and ladies part before you, their whispers already spreading like wildfire through the camp.

This skirmish is over, but the repercussions are only beginning.

[wodania]

jaime and cersei sharing wardrobes

bonus under the cut

[gotham-at-nightfall]

Valyrian Couples: Part II

Aegon IV Targaryen, Naerys Targaryen and Aemon (son of Viserys II) Targaryen

Daemon I Blackfyre and Daenerys (daughter of Aegon IV) Targaryen

Brynden Rivers and Shiera Seastar

Aelor Targaryen and Aelora Targaryen

Aerion "Brightflame" Targaryen and Daenora Targaryen

Jaehaerys II Targaryen and Shaera Targaryen

Aerys II Targaryen and Rhaella Targaryen

Jon Snow and Daenerys Targaryen

By Jota Saraiva

PART I

[ransprang]

Jaime Lannister x Fem!Reader Hcs

Fueling my Nikolaj and GOT brainrot~ enjoy

NSFW and SFW -

1. Man protects you like a dawg. He will not have anyone touch you or get too close without drawing his sword the second they take a step closer (Not even your parents).

2. Jaime loves having sex the second you both are alone, he just can’t help it. A quickie in the meeting room, in his chamber, after shower. He loves it when he stands tall and you’re on your knees sucking him off as a to thank him for protecting you.

3. Jaime loves carrying you over his shoulder. He’s strong, and you’re his. In the palace he will subtly tease you by carrying you over his shoulder to your room.

4. Jaime loves restraining you, he will tackle you down, pinning your hands above your head. He likes to be in charge, and fuck you to relieve his stress from the long day of managing Cersei.

5. Jaime would like to have children with you, and possibly favour them over Joffrey. As they are his to claim to the public, and he can love them freely also protect and raise them.

6. Jaime likes being just a boy around you. No pressures to fight or decisions. He likes teasing, making jokes and possibly be obsessed with building blocks which makes you look at him sometimes think, how at the core hes just. a. guy.

7. When you watch him fight or be an exceptional swordsman you want him to fight you similarly but in the bedroom, without his clothes on and definitely with a different sword of his. You could testify Jaime was skilled with his other not so miniature sword as well.

8. Cersei would love bullying you, in order to push you away from her beloved brother. Jaime wouldnt never rage at her, but would protect you from all her evil schemes and will never let anyone or anything harm you. They will have to face him before you.

9. Jaime takes off his metal hand and stares at where his wrist used to be sometimes, but he will only show such level of sadness and vulnerability in front of you.

10. Jaime loves pounding you with your legs over his shoulders, he loves to watch your breasts bounce bringing him closer to the edge faster.

Your twin,

Admin Sav

[m-malyar]

The young lion and the Mad King’s fire (Jaime thinks it's time to quit this job) 🔥

[malleefies]

Viserys and Daenerys selling Rhaella's crown. pretty filter version and good-quality version inst*gram KILLED the quality so im putting two versions...but hi!!! hey :) bawling over them

[brelanjoo]

levanta la mirada apenas lo suficiente como para reconocer a la dueña de aquella voz, vagamente familiar, y notar el teléfono en su mano. había abandonado el propio hacia tanto tiempo (o al menos así lo sentía) que le sorprende que otros lo tengan cerca aún, cuando no podían resultar más inútiles. ' ¿tienes conexión? ' es lo primero que pregunta, e instantáneamente se da cuenta que le daba razones por preguntar si estaba hablando sola. sacude la cabeza entonces, antes de incorporarse en el sillón para comentar: ' no, hasta hace un rato estaba jugando a darle misiones a un crío que hace como unos diez minutos me está ignorando ' supone, si es que en el peor de los casos no ha dejado el aparato por ahi. ' eso o la madre no quiere que juegue más en la lluvia ' podía ser, también. ' ¿no has visto a un tipito de como metro cincuenta, pecas, rubio? '.

había estado deambulando mientras cojeaba, sin rumbo alguno, sin saber si le convenía estar por un lugar con más gente, o más desolado... lo cierto es que temía que, de la nada, los todavía cuerdos la atacaran. le dolía la pierna, y sabía que no podía hacer demasiado esfuerzo, pero detestaba estar inmóvil.

estaba con su celular, aún sin señal, grabando lo que podía con intenciones de documentarlo, pero se detuvo al escuchar a la contraria cuando entró a la comisaría. decidió detener la grabación, y simplemente enfocarse en ella, aunque sin acercarse demasiado. ' hey, ¿con quién hablas? ' inquirió, finalmente. ' ¿o estás hablando sola? ' lo cual también era una posibilidad, creía. parecía.

[nobodysuspectsthebutterfly]

“Yet when the jousting began, the day belonged to Rhaegar Targaryen. The crown prince wore the armor he would die in: gleaming black plate with the three-headed dragon of his House wrought in rubies on the breast. A plume of scarlet silk streamed behind him when he rode, and it seemed no lance could touch him. Brandon fell to him…” —A Game of Thrones

Rhaegar Targaryen defeats Brandon Stark at the Tourney at Harrenhal by Mark Smylie

created for the 10th anniversary of The World of Ice & Fire

[efpizza]

Queen Rhaella (Mother of Rhaegar, Viserys, & Dany) being dressed after a visit from Aerys

Grim concept, but I had the idea for this drawing from these passages:

"Whenever Aerys gave a man to the flames, Queen Rhaella would have a visitor in the night. The day he burned his mace-and-dagger Hand, Jaime and Jon Darry had stood at guard outside her bedchamber whilst the king took his pleasure. "You're hurting me," they had heard Rhaella cry through the oaken door. "You're hurting me."

"(The maids were) whispering after she was gone. They said the queen looked as if some beast had savaged her, clawing at her thighs and chewing on her breasts"

(jaime, a feast for crows)

[wolfienation]

i love being a part of the niche collective of targ fans who aren't targ dickriders. like no i do not believe in targ restoration. no i do not believe in valyrian blood superiority. no i do not think these ppl should be ruling in any capacity idc what aegon was dreaming about

like idk guys to me they're blonde neurotic egotistical psychopaths with severe mommy/daddy issues who 90% of the time are too busy fucking each other literally or fucking each other over to make a single, politically competent decision for the realm. lets not forget they have dragons, which are the asoiaf equivalent of fire breathing nukes, who make them feel like gods on earth.

and i find that endlessly fasinating

[femaleidols]

"i want you for my team" - so does everybody else.