#targaryen motif

[daielsal]

I’m not dead! Just really busy is all, I was finally able to complete this for now. To be honest it looks like it’s still unfinished, like it’s missing something. I may go back and attempt to add a filter in the sky (it’s just way too blue), but for now I’m going to leave it as it is. Again this is part of the ASOIAF x Harry Potter crossover universe that I’m working on. I think I may make a separate post that focuses only on the outfits, but for now I’m just going to leave it as it is.

Quick Summary: this focuses on my ASOIAF x Harry Potter crossover self indulgent head cannon. In my head cannon the Peverells happen to descend from Old Valyria, they happened to be a very high ranking family, even above the Targaryens in this case since they were still capable of using magic to its full extent and were not as limited compared to the others that practiced it. Of course the Peverells have their qualities that make them unique especially with the Necromancy aspect. Some events that occur in cannon Harry Potter also end up occurring in this AU, with the Peverells eventually marrying into different houses although their descendants are still held in high regard. The marriage and absorption into House Slytherin (which eventually falls into Gaunt) and House Potter still happens.

In this AU I like to think Harriel (Fem Harry) is closely related to the Targaryens, maybe Fleamont and Charlus mother or grandmother can be a younger Targaryen daughter who was married off into the Potter family. James and Lilly still end up dying, but I like to think the Targaryens were able to plead a case into why it should be them who should foster baby orphan Harriel (plus they get to raise a descendent of one of the most ancient powerful bloodlines that’s descend from Old Valyria). They end up winning their case and go on to raise baby Harrie.

As for Tom/Voldemort, the Gaunts still have some prestige to their name, but still end up in the poor state that they’re in just like in Harry Potter. Ominous is still alive, but he has distanced himself from the main family, he has also been able to build up his own fortune making himself very wealthy, unlike his other relatives. Marvolo and Morfín die, so that’s them out of the way. Before they die Merope was betrothed, but she ends up running off with Tom Riddle Sr. in this case. When Marvolo finds out he’s livid. Merope and Tom elope and do end up getting married, but it doesn’t pan out well. Tom Riddle is still conceived, but in the eyes of his grandfather and uncle he is nothing but a bastard. They plan on handing him over to the Fate or maybe Valyria’s version of it (still haven’t thought that out yet), but of course Marvolo and Morfín end up dying. Merope still dies in childbirth, so Ominous is the oldest remaining Gaunt besides baby Tom. Ominous is informed of this and goes on to meet baby Tom. Ominous meets newborn baby Tom, and Ominous comes to the conclusion that Tom Sr is incompetent to raise baby Tom. He’s able to persuade the Riddles into handing over Tom to him as he plans to raise Tom as his ward until he comes of age, once Tom is of age he will become the new head/lord of House Gaunt. They agree and Ominous does his best into raising Tom.

Tom is still his cannon age when he meets Harriel, but of course wizards/witches age slowly and live longer, plus I like to think that Tom is maintaining a spell that lets him age slower (he still supposed to look middle aged though). The Gaunts and Potters have a rivalry that has been going on for a very long time, reason into why the two look the way they do in the images/drawings. I would like to go more into depth about this AU, but this post has gotten long, so for now this is all the lore dump info behind my Crossover AU.

[franzkafkagf]

[vanesawye]

house of the dragon (2022- ) // my dark vanessa by kate elizabeth russell

[tweedfrog]

Ouggghhhh!!!! Sick and twisted ‼️‼️‼️‼️

[horizon-verizon]

I genuinely can’t think of a mother in asoiaf who could forgive the murder of her child. not dany, catelyn, cersei, rhaenyra...

catelyn murdered an innocent and intellectually disabled man, jinglebell, when her son was slaughtered in front of her. motherhood in asoiaf is rough and has teeth.

Very good point, anon...but notice how all these women also get bashed the most across the fandoms of hotD and general ASoIaF? Precisely bc their womanhoods-motherhoods are too teethy for their tastes.

[lilymarch]

alicent and the water motif.

[agentrouka-blog]

WOW! I never noticed that the line about Daario's purple eyes could be about Dany fantasizing about Rhaegar. People seem to take it as a hint about Daario also hiding some parentage (pls everyone stop how many more secret targies do you need) but I've never seen it in context (literally coming right after she fantasized about different men taking Irri's place in her bed and just a few hours after Barristan reinforced the positive image she had of Rhaegar).

It doesn't necessarily have to be Rhaegar himself (though it very well could be) but it absolutely represents a Valyrian/Targaryen image.

GRRM emphasizing that this in particular excites and attracts her, this out of nowhere flash of incestuous attraction to features that mirror her own, this unprompted reminder of their ancient incest practices - that's pretty alarming after she just rejected the opportunity to learn unpleasant truths about her family. She heavily identifies with something she refuses to examine closely.

Daario (violent, amoral, arrogant, opportunistic) will continue to represent her escapist longing for her own dragon side throughout ADWD, including in the last chapter where she imagines him accepting of her in her feral state crouching beside Drogon eating the charred-raw horse they just hunted from the sky. And he never gives her emotional fulfillment, either. Yet she longs for him and the permission he represents to be a dragon.

[translannisters]

I do think Daemon is a man for the record. I am so very rarely the guy going "oh but actually this character just has gender feelings in a VERY CIS way" but while there's a very intentional mirroring between his envy of Rhaenyra and Rhaenyra's envy of him it's not in a way that I think justifies his inclusion in the "HRT would have fixed them" posts - gender is not IRRELEVANT to the status (as Viserys' unconditionally cherished daughter) that Daemon perceives Rhaenyra as having but it is secondary and instrumental. Ultimately Daemon's gender dissatisfaction has the same root as Rhaenyra's - he as well "will never be a son" (I will never stop being insane about this part of the 1x1 script btw.)

What Daemon definitely is is a bisexual man who is also a second son (disqualified from inheriting anything in the vast majority of cases) and who is perceived to take after his mother whereas his older brother is perceived to take after his father - Daemon's masculinity likely feels superfluous to him, like he would have done better as a sister (perhaps a GNC sister like Alyssa who sublimated all her GNCness into dying in the attempt to give her brother "an army of sons" - Daemon being the youngest surviving one.) This isn't a yearning towards womanhood its the exact same feeling of being inherently "castrated" that Rhaenyra, by way of their transmasculinity, feels. Because of his gender assignment at birth Daemon can move through the world without anyone knowing on sight that he's "castrated" - that his masculinity is without instrumental purpose - and that ambiguity creates that yearning for SOME kind of clear status/purpose (most notably the status of beloved daughtersisterwife. Which. The misconception on Daemon's part that Viserys ever unconditionally loved his daughter or his wife is truly something but that's a whole other post) that can be in a Trans of Gender direction but isn't really about that at its core. Am I saying Daemon is actually transmasc-coded instead you might ask. Well.

Anyway Daemon has never been hotter to me than in 1x4 when he looks like a butch so like. I get it. But that's a male bisexual tboy chaser unfortunately!!

[starry-eyer]

of course it’s an alicent profile pic saying this shit:

the thing is, i would’ve agreed with the original sentiment of this post if it wasn’t for the tags, but then this person goes mask off and proves to me that they were only pretending to offer meaningful criticism.

cause all i see in these tags is buzzword 🗣️🗣️ buzzword 🗣️🗣️ buzzword 🗣️🗣️

i just wanna know, why are the targaryens always singled out as the house that ‘regularly cannibalizes its own?’

these don’t exist ig: the she-wolves of winterfell, the current lannisters, and literally every House ever.

why are the targaryens held to such an unfair standard? and why are they held responsible for the sins of their ancestors?

it is literally so funny. but like… in an astonishing kind of way.

in these tags there’s no objective language used 🙅‍♀️ no care for nuance 🙅‍♀️ and no meaningful interaction with the main themes of the series 🙅‍♀️

OP kind of tries to pretend, but it’s all surface level shit. it’s clear that they’re blinded by their hatred of the targs and dany.

because george never holds things his characters can’t control against them. what a character should be judged by is their actions, and imo, that’s what george writes about: how individual characters actions and choices can shape the world around them (bonus if the character is a cripple, bastard, or broken thing and is trying to protect others); and he also puts a lot of emphasis on a characters intentions and how they come to their decisions, which gets us his famous ‘human heart in conflict with itself’ thesis statement.

george, someone who’s interested in the choices of the individual and how they get there, clearly thinks it’s important to showcase how different characters handle great power, otherwise he wouldn’t have so many POV characters in positions of such great importance.

on that note, asoiaf isn’t an anti-monarchy piece. you could easily claim that it’s a criticism of systematic oppression, systematic violence, corrupt institutions, and unbalanced social structures; it’s a sort of think piece on how people in positions of power destroy the lives of the common in their petty fights of greed and ambition, all whilst ignoring the incoming humanity ending threat.

and through this thought process, you get the title of the first book: a game of thrones. the political shifts are a game for these powerful people, and this motif is one of the most important statements to understand in order to interact with the series discussion on what it means to be a good ruler. this motif also comes up in a conversation jorah and dany have about the smallfolk: “It is no matter to them if the high lords play their game of thrones, so long as they are left in peace. They never are.” it’s high lords, not royals. it’s a critique of the whole social structure and political system, not a criticism of one family.

so, if you’re of this belief that petty power disputes are dumb and are angry that most high lords don’t give a shit about their subjects, then you should love daenerys, who’s one of the few characters who’s using her power to make lasting societal change.

now, is she perfect? no. no she’s not. cause she’s a teenage girl trying to take down a slave trade that’s been around for thousands of years (hilarious that she’s actually fixing the mistakes of her ancestors…). but dany is learning and is doing her best to get better and is trying to empower the powerless. that sets her apart from almost every other ruler in asoiaf and makes her one of the most important POVs in this book series quest to find out what makes a good ruler. something something gods make kings and queens to protect those who can’t protect themselves…

with that in mind, i agree that the conclusion of the series won’t be a character sitting on a throne because of their blood or because of some divine right mumbo jumbo. imo, a character will only sit on a throne if they’ve been smart, gained allies, formed alliances, have control of an army, have gained loyalty from the people they wish to rule, have been honorable, maybe have a dragon or three, and are a hero.

dany has checked off almost all the boxes, so i think it’s safe to root for her. and considering the foreshadowing, i think it’s logical to guess that peace will be ushered in, even if it’s a hard won peace. and what’s wrong with believing that daenerys will be one of the ones who helps usher in this peace after all the work she’s done to protect those who don’t have the power to protect themselves?

[ilynpilled]

A Game of Thrones - Tyrion I

A Clash of Kings - Jon III

A Clash of Kings - Catelyn IV

A Clash of Kings - Theon V

A Storm of Swords - Jaime I

A Storm of Swords - Samwell I

A Storm of Swords - Arya VII

A Storm of Swords - Daenerys VI

A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

A Dance with Dragons - Melisandre I

POV characters & the dawn

[daielsal]

I finally finished it, and a bit faster than I expected. This is my first Fem Harry piece and my first HP piece of fanart to boot (and it did come out better than I expected). For a while I had this urge to draw a Harry Potter x A Song of Ice and Fire crossover piece (partially due to reading A Stranger in a Strange Land by QuillQ on AO3) which I’ve finally had the chance to create with some free time recently. I fell hard for the Peverells being one of the families that once inhabited Old Valyria and somehow found their way into the Harry Potter verse, probably due to also having some insight of the doom that would come to Old Valyria trope (come on, how is it possible that Daenys was the only one to have the vision of the doom occurring). Seeing as how the Potters descend from one of the Peverells (along with the Slytherins + Gaunts, which is something I wish to cover in some other future piece, trust me on that) I gave Harry a dragon motif for her dress (there’s also another animal but I’ll just leave it up in the air for now). In this headcannon of mine I like to think Harry would be named Harriel (of course those that know her well she would go by Harry). There’s this AU (multiple for this crossover now) I’ve been attempting to flesh out, but for now I just have this. For the most part I was mainly focusing on Harriel herself, but the background was a plus with the way it came out. Hopefully I can create some additional pieces for this concept sometime soon.

[franzkafkagf]

save me dog motif aegond…. save me

[artist-ellen]

Baela Targaryen

Young/child Baela. Daughter of Daemon and Laena Velaryon, rider of the dragon Moondancer. Baela is our "tomboy" of this show, she takes after Daemon's recklessness and is a direct contrast to her younger twin sister. I wanted to draw Baela in her dragon-riding outfit, but to have references to her mother and grandmother's fashion. The diagonal lines, the sea shell inspired gem and the wave motifs.

I am the artist! Do not post without permission & credit! Thank you! Come visit me over on: instagram, tiktok or check out my coloring book available now \ („• ֊ •„) /

https://linktr.ee/ellen.artistic

[presidenthades]

Early holiday present for myself and my readers :3

(Also, I’m planning to update Compromise this weekend, assuming I don’t get struck by a sudden catastrophe.)

I loved my Velargirls artwork by @shripscapi so much that I went and got the Targbros done too!

Details I want to gush over:

Aemond

His sapphire! I imagine in-universe people asked him if he would prefer to wear his eyepatch for the portrait, but by this time in his character growth he went “fuck it, I have a sapphire eye, just show it in the painting.”

Embroidery details on his collar! They’re based on traditional Greek motifs which remind me of waves.

Dragon scale pattern on his shirt! The jade green color is an homage to Vhagar, who is supposedly jade green (according to official sources) even though she looks brown on screen. 🧐

Breastplate and stance are supposed to convey that he’s a military man. He has that sapphire blue sash for a bit of pizzazz. Overall we didn’t want him being too fancy and ostentatious, because that isn’t his style, but we still wanted him to look princely.

His sword is Siren Song, as described in Compromise. So he does get his hands on it again eventually. 🤧

Aegon

Jace 100% picked his outfit for the portrait (to coordinate with her own).

Red is a prominent color to emphasize his Targaryen-ness. I also wanted gold for Sunfyre and themes. But I was afraid of red and gold being too Lannister, so we added some white into the mix.

Big chain! Aegon is contractually required to wear chains in fanart. 😂

Aegon’s outfit is the fanciest of the brothers, because as the consort of the future queen he has standards to uphold. #trophyhusband

The flower crown was shripscapi’s idea! Originally I wanted him holding a wrapped gift intended for Jace but wasn’t sure how to convey that. So shripscapi suggested a flower crown that matches the rose Jace is holding, to imply that Jace plucked her flower from the crown. 🥰 Aegon isn’t one to participate in tourneys, but he might be tempted for the chance to crown Jace as Queen of Love and Beauty. 🌹

Daeron

Face reference is Jack Cunningham-Nuttall, who was one of the actors theorized to be Daeron before S2 crushed our hopes and dreams.

We went for a more scholarly appearance for Daeron, who spent a few years studying and training in Oldtown. The robe he wears is apparently a style prevalent among scholars historically.

He isn’t planning to be a septon, but he is fairly devout to the Faith so he wears the seven-pointed star pendant. His book is also supposed to be the book The Seven-Pointed Star.

Cobalt blue is his dominant color, along with some copper accents like the pendant in his hat, because Tessarion. He also wears a bit of red to coordinate with Joff. We wanted the boys to coordinate with the girls because…

Tadaaa! Look at them, they’re all so gorgeous. 😭 Jace and Aegon match the most. Luce and Aemond share a whole spectrum of blues and greens. Joff and Daeron contrast the most without clashing; also, I love their polar opposite books.

And now the whole group. 🙇🏻‍♀️

[novaursa]

Legacy (the judgment)

- Summary: Tywin was the man who saved you from Robert's wrath. He was also the man who doomed you.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Tywin Lannister

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: what was promised

- Next part: high heart

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

The throne room was filled with an oppressive air, its gilded walls and high ceilings doing little to mask the dread that radiated from every corner. The Iron Throne loomed at the center, its jagged blades catching the low light, casting specters over the assembled crowd. Tywin sat upon the throne with his customary air of authority, his expression a mask of calm indifference as his sharp eyes surveyed the hall.

To his right, you sat in a high-backed chair, your posture regal despite the lingering discomfort of childbirth. The seat felt hauntingly familiar, the same place you once occupied during your father’s reign, though the room had changed. Gone were the dragon motifs and Targaryen heraldry—now replaced with the lion banners of House Lannister. Yet, the weight of the past lingered, a silent reminder of the cycles of power and loss.

To Tywin’s left sat Cersei, resplendent in a golden gown that mirrored her father’s austere demeanor but failed to hide the venom in her gaze. Her green eyes were fixed on the empty space where Tyrion would soon stand, her lips curling in disdain.

The other judges sat further below, Lord Mace Tyrell looking uncomfortable in his ceremonial robes, his ruddy face betraying his nervousness. Beside him, Prince Oberyn Martell leaned back in his chair, his expression one of casual amusement. His dark eyes flicked to you, his lips quirking into a faint smirk as if to say, How fitting that you’re back here, of all places.

You met his gaze briefly but offered no response, your attention shifting as the heavy doors of the throne room groaned open. A ripple of murmurs swept through the crowd as Jaime entered, his golden hand gleaming in the torchlight as he escorted Tyrion toward the throne.

The crowd fell silent as Jaime stopped before the throne, his green eyes flicking briefly to you. His expression was unreadable, but there was a tension in his movements, a subtle stiffness that betrayed his unease. Tyrion, by contrast, wore a mask of sardonic calm, his lips twitching with what might have been amusement as he glanced around the room.

“Lord Tyrion Lannister,” Tywin’s voice rang out, deep and commanding, silencing even the faintest whispers. “You stand accused of regicide, the murder of King Joffrey Baratheon. How do you plead?”

Tyrion raised his chin slightly, his sharp eyes meeting Tywin’s unflinchingly. “Not guilty,” he said, his voice clear and steady, though a flicker of defiance danced in his tone.

Cersei scoffed audibly, her hand tightening on the armrest of her chair. Tywin’s gaze remained fixed on Tyrion, his expression unmoving as he nodded to one of the attendants. “Proceed.”

The trial began with a parade of witnesses, each more damning than the last. Servants recounted Tyrion’s sharp words to Joffrey, the veiled threats that had peppered their interactions over the years. Cersei herself gave testimony, her voice thick with feigned grief as she painted her brother as a monster, a jealous schemer who had always resented Joffrey’s ascension.

You watched in silence, your hands folded neatly in your lap. Though your face betrayed nothing, your heart clenched as Tyrion sat through the onslaught, his expression growing darker with every word.

Oberyn leaned forward slightly, his fingers tapping idly against the armrest of his chair as he observed the proceedings. He caught your gaze again, his smirk returning, but this time there was something sharper in his eyes, as if he were silently assessing your thoughts.

When it was Jaime’s turn to testify, he hesitated for a fraction of a second, his gaze flickering to Tyrion before he spoke. “My brother has always been… direct,” he said carefully, his tone measured. “But he is no murderer.”

Cersei’s scoff echoed through the hall, but Tywin silenced her with a single look.

The trial continued, the accusations piling higher, the weight of the evidence threatening to crush Tyrion beneath its sheer enormity. You shifted in your seat, your gaze drifting to Tywin. His face was as unreadable as ever, though you had spent enough time with him to sense the faint strain in his posture, the unspoken calculation behind his silence.

As yet another witness took the stand, you glanced at Tyrion. His head was slightly bowed, his hands clenched on the table before him. For all his bravado, that strain now was beginning to show.

The sinister athmosphere in the room grew thicker with each passing moment, the weight of the accusations pressing down on everyone present. And yet, through it all, a single thought echoed in your mind: This is a performance, carefully orchestrated, a game with stakes higher than anyone here realizes.

The sound of the witness’s voice droned on, but your focus remained on the players of this deadly game, each one a piece on the board, moving toward an end that none of them could fully foresee.

The memory was vivid, as if it had only just occurred. You had been in Tywin’s chambers, a place that had become strangely familiar to you in recent weeks. The hearth was ablaze, its warmth filling the room as you cradled your newborn son in your arms. Damon stirred slightly, his tiny fingers curling around a strand of your hair as you hummed softly, swaying gently to soothe him.

Tywin sat at his desk, his quill scratching against parchment as he worked tirelessly on matters of state. Scrolls and letters were piled neatly before him, his focus unshakable as always. The faint clinking of his signet ring against the inkpot punctuated the silence. Despite his formidable presence, there was a strange domesticity to the scene, a quiet rhythm that had developed between you.

But the peace of the moment was fleeting. You had been turning over your words for days, waiting for the right time. Finally, you spoke, your voice soft but steady.

“What will you do with Tyrion?”

Tywin didn’t look up immediately, the quill pausing only briefly before continuing its path across the parchment. “Tyrion will stand trial, as is proper.”

“And then?” you pressed, shifting Damon slightly as you sat on the edge of a chair near the hearth.

He set the quill down, his sharp green eyes meeting yours, a flicker of irritation flashing across his face. “Justice will be served.”

You exhaled slowly, your fingers brushing over Damon’s soft hair. “Justice, or Cersei’s version of it? You know what she wants.”

“Cersei’s emotions are irrelevant,” Tywin said firmly, leaning back in his chair. “She may cry for blood, but she does not dictate the law.”

“Does she not?” you countered gently, though there was an edge to your tone. “She’s already laid the groundwork, turning the court and the people against Tyrion. And you’ve allowed it.”

Tywin’s jaw tightened, but he remained silent, his gaze locked onto yours.

“Tyrion is your son,” you continued, your voice softening. “You may not show it, but he is. And whether you care to admit it or not, he’s more like you than anyone else.”

Tywin scoffed faintly, though the reaction was muted. “Tyrion is a disappointment. He always has been.”

You shook your head, cradling Damon closer as you leaned forward slightly. “He is clever, resourceful, and determined. Just like you. You may not approve of how he uses those qualities, but they are the same ones you value in yourself.”

Tywin’s gaze darkened, but he said nothing, his fingers steepled beneath his chin as he regarded you.

“If you allow Cersei to destroy him,” you said quietly, “it will only weaken the family. Tyrion may not be the son you wanted, but he is the son you have. He has proven his loyalty to this house time and again, despite how you’ve treated him.”

Tywin’s lips pressed into a thin line, his silence heavy with unspoken thoughts.

You looked down at Damon, his small, peaceful face a stark contrast to the tension in the room. “You care deeply for legacy, Tywin. I know that better than anyone. But legacy is not just power and gold. It’s the people who carry your name. Tyrion is part of that legacy, whether you wish it or not.”

Tywin’s expression was inscrutable, his eyes flickering briefly to Damon before returning to you. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, measured. “What would you have me do?”

“Ensure the trial is fair,” you replied without hesitation. “Keep Cersei’s emotions from poisoning the outcome. And if he is found guilty—if there is truly evidence to condemn him—don’t let it be her hands that carry out the punishment.”

Tywin studied you for a long moment, the flickering firelight casting shadows across his stern features. Finally, he leaned forward, his hands clasped on the desk. “You presume much, Y/N.”

“Perhaps,” you admitted, your tone unwavering. “But I speak because I know you value strength and reason above all else. Tyrion embodies both, even if you refuse to see it.”

He didn’t respond immediately, his gaze dropping briefly to the papers on his desk. When he spoke again, his tone was quieter, almost contemplative. “You are more forthright than most. It is… refreshing.”

You blinked at the unexpected compliment, but before you could respond, Damon stirred in your arms, drawing both your attention. Tywin’s eyes softened imperceptibly as he looked at the boy, and you seized the moment.

“For Damon’s sake,” you said gently, “keep this family intact. He deserves to grow up surrounded by strength, not destruction.”

Tywin’s gaze lingered on you and Damon for a moment longer before he straightened, his mask of composure returning. “I will do what must be done.”

It wasn’t the answer you’d hoped for, but it wasn’t a dismissal either. You nodded, knowing you had planted a seed, even if Tywin would never openly acknowledge it. As the memory faded, your attention returned to the present trial. Tyrion stood before the court, defiant and alone, but you held onto the faint hope that your words had reached the man seated on the Iron Throne.

Witness after witness had been paraded before the court, each painting Tyrion in a darker light. You sat silently to Tywin’s right, your composure a carefully maintained mask, though inside, you felt a growing sense of unease.

Tyrion had held himself together remarkably well through most of the trial, responding to the accusations with biting sarcasm and cold wit. But now, as another name was called, you noticed the subtle shift in his demeanor.

“Shae,” the court crier announced.

The air in the room seemed to freeze. Tyrion’s head snapped up, his mismatched eyes narrowing as Shae stepped forward. Your own heart sank as you recognized her, the woman Tyrion had once confided in, loved even. She was dressed plainly, her usual warmth replaced by an icy resolve as she avoided Tyrion’s gaze and walked to the stand.

You cast a quick glance at Cersei, seated on Tywin’s left. Her satisfaction was evident, a smug smile curling at the corners of her lips as she watched Shae take her place. It became painfully clear that Shae had been turned, manipulated into playing a role in this farce of a trial.

“What is she doing here?” you muttered under your breath, your voice barely audible. Tywin didn’t react, his gaze fixed on Shae as the questioning began.

“Shae,” the prosecutor began, his voice dripping with false sympathy. “You served as a handmaiden to Lady Sansa Stark and were in close proximity to Lord Tyrion during his time as Hand of the King, is that correct?”

“Yes,” Shae replied, her voice trembling slightly, though whether it was from fear or anger, you couldn’t tell.

“And during that time,” the prosecutor continued, “did you observe any… troubling behavior from Lord Tyrion?”

Shae hesitated, her hands twisting in her lap. “Yes,” she said finally, her voice growing stronger. “He… he was cruel. He spoke of Joffrey with hatred. He said he wanted him dead.”

You felt Tyrion’s entire body stiffed from where you sat. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the edge of the table before him, his jaw clenched so tightly it looked as though it might shatter.

The prosecutor pressed on, his tone becoming more insidious. “And did Lord Tyrion ever discuss how he might carry out such a desire?”

Shae looked down, as though ashamed. “Yes. He told me… he told me he would strangle the boy. With his own hands.”

The words sent a ripple through the courtroom, gasps and murmurs filling the air. Tyrion’s face twisted with a mixture of rage and pain, his control slipping with every word.

You leaned forward slightly, your heart aching for him. It was clear to anyone who truly knew Tyrion that the accusations were absurd, but in this room, truth mattered little.

“Why are you doing this?” Tyrion’s voice cut through the noise, raw and trembling with fury. He stood slowly, his gaze locked on Shae. “Why are you lying?”

Shae flinched but didn’t look at him. “You broke my heart,” she said quietly, the tremor in her voice betraying her conflicted emotions. “I loved you, and you threw me away like I was nothing.”

Tyrion took a step forward, his voice rising. “I sent you away to protect you! To keep you safe from them!” He gestured to Cersei and Tywin, his voice dripping with contempt. “And now you stand here and spit their lies like a puppet.”

Shae’s gaze finally lifted, but it was filled with a mix of anger and shame. She opened her mouth to respond, but Tywin’s voice cut through the tension.

“Enough,” he commanded, his tone icy. “The witness will step down.”

Shae hesitated, her lips trembling as though she wanted to say more, but she obeyed, retreating from the stand. As she passed Tyrion, she avoided his gaze, her steps quick and unsteady.

Tyrion turned to the court, his eyes blazing with fury. “Is this what passes for justice?” he spat, his voice echoing through the hall. “A parade of lies and manipulations, all to satisfy Cersei’s thirst for vengeance?”

“Mind your tongue,” Tywin said coldly, his gaze hard.

Tyrion laughed bitterly, the sound sharp and mirthless. “Why? So you can pretend this is fair? So you can continue this charade as if the outcome hasn’t already been decided?”

The dread in the room was set ablaze, the air crackling with the weight of his words. Tyrion stepped forward, addressing the gathered lords and ladies. “I did not kill Joffrey, but I wish I had. Watching him die gave me more satisfaction than I’ve felt in years.”

Gasps erupted from the crowd, and even you couldn’t suppress the flicker of shock that crossed your face.

“I wish I was the monster you think I am,” Tyrion continued, his voice rising, his anger boiling over. “If only to tear this family apart the way it’s torn me apart.”

You could feel Tywin’s gaze shift toward you briefly, though you kept your eyes on Tyrion, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I demand a trial by combat,” Tyrion declared, his voice ringing out like a bell, silencing the murmurs in the crowd.

The room fell into stunned silence. Even Tywin’s composed mask slipped for a fraction of a second before he regained control. Cersei’s face twisted in fury, her hands clenching the armrests of her chair.

You exhaled slowly, the weight of Tyrion’s words settling heavily in the room. The game had just changed, and the stakes had risen higher than ever.

The cold stone walls of the dungeons were damp, the faint sound of dripping water echoing through the halls. Jaime Lannister made his way down the dimly lit corridor, his expression was a mix of frustration and concern, his strides purposeful as he approached Tyrion’s cell.

Tyrion sat on the small bench inside, his head leaning back against the wall, his eyes closed. When Jaime’s footsteps stopped just outside the bars, Tyrion opened one eye, his lips curling into a wry smile.

“Well, well,” Tyrion drawled, sitting up and gesturing grandly. “The Kingslayer graces me with his presence. To what do I owe the honor?”

Jaime sighed, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. “What are you doing, Tyrion? You had a way out, and you threw it away.”

Tyrion chuckled humorlessly. “Ah, yes, the way out where I grovel before our dear father, admit to crimes I didn’t commit, and let him send me to the Wall to freeze my arse off for the rest of my days. Tempting.”

Jaime gripped the bars tightly, his expression hard. “It was better than this! You think I don’t know what Cersei is planning? She’ll name the Mountain as her champion, Tyrion. Do you really think you can win against him?”

Tyrion shrugged nonchalantly, though there was a flicker of unease in his eyes. “I’m not dead yet, am I? And who knows? Perhaps the gods will favor me.”

“The gods?” Jaime’s voice rose, incredulous. “You’ve never put stock in the gods, Tyrion, so don’t start now. This isn’t a game anymore.”

Tyrion leaned forward, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Oh, it’s always been a game, Jaime. You’re just upset because I’ve decided to play by my own rules.”

Jaime slammed his golden hand against the bars, the sound ringing out in the still air. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Father was going to spare you. He wouldn’t let you die. All you had to do was plead guilty, and he would have sent you to the Wall. But now…” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Now, you’ve spat on his mercy, and you’ve undermined all the efforts made to protect you.”

Tyrion’s smirk faltered slightly, and he raised an eyebrow. “Efforts? What efforts?”

Jaime leaned closer, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “Our stepmother—Lady Y/N—has been working tirelessly to sway him in your favor. She’s risked more than you know to ensure you had a chance. She even convinced him to temper Cersei’s influence over the trial.”

Tyrion froze, his gaze sharpening. “And you think that would have worked? You think she, of all people, could change Tywin Lannister’s mind?”

“She already has,” Jaime shot back, his tone firm. “Father listens to her more than you realize. More than he listens to anyone.”

Tyrion blinked, genuinely taken aback by the revelation. “I suppose the dragon has tamed the lion after all,” he muttered, half to himself.

Jaime’s jaw tightened. “And now, with this stunt, you’ve disregarded all of it. You’ve thrown her efforts—and any chance of clemency—away. Cersei will use this trial by combat to destroy you. She’s already chosen the Mountain. Do you have any idea what that means?”

Tyrion’s expression darkened, and he let out a bitter laugh. “Oh, I know exactly what it means. Cersei’s idea of justice is ensuring my head is mounted on a spike. She’s wanted me dead since the day I was born.”

“And now you’ve handed her the perfect excuse,” Jaime said, his voice heavy with frustration. “Why, Tyrion? Why do this to yourself?”

Tyrion’s gaze hardened, his voice low but laced with venom. “Because I’m tired of being her scapegoat. I’m tired of being the monster everyone blames for their misery. If I’m to die, Jaime, I’ll die fighting. Not crawling to our father for scraps of mercy.”

Jaime shook his head, his frustration palpable. “This isn’t bravery, Tyrion. It’s foolishness.”

“Call it what you will,” Tyrion replied, his tone defiant. “But at least I’ll die on my terms.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence stretching heavy between them. Finally, Jaime straightened, his expression grim. “If this is truly what you want, then so be it. But don’t think for a moment that you’re the only one paying the price for your pride.”

With that, Jaime turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing down the corridor. Tyrion watched him go, his smirk fading as he leaned back against the wall, his thoughts a tumult of defiance and regret.

The warm midday sun streamed into the garden, the air heavy with the scent of blooming flowers. You sat on a stone bench beneath a canopy of vines, cradling a cup of water in your hands as you gazed out over the vibrant greenery. Despite the serenity of your surroundings, your thoughts were troubled. The trial had left an unsettling tension in its wake, and your concerns for Tyrion weighed heavily on your mind.

The sound of footsteps drew your attention, and you turned to see Prince Oberyn Martell approaching, his movements as graceful as ever. Dressed in his signature Dornish attire, the colors of House Martell proudly displayed, he carried an air of effortless confidence. His dark eyes sparkled with mischief as he gave you a slow, exaggerated bow.

“My lady,” he said, his voice smooth as silk. “Or should I say, my queen in all but name? How lovely to find you among the roses.”

You managed a faint smile, though your unease lingered. “Prince Oberyn,” you greeted him, gesturing for him to sit beside you. “What brings you to my quiet corner of the world?”

He sank onto the bench with the ease of a panther, his gaze fixed on you. “I wanted to see how the most intriguing member of this… lion’s den is faring after yesterday’s entertainment.”

“Entertainment?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow. “You speak as if it were a play, not a trial.”

He chuckled, leaning back against the bench. “Was it not both? The intrigue, the betrayals, the grand declarations. It had all the makings of a fine Dornish tragedy.”

You sighed, your fingers tightening around the cup in your hands. “It was no tragedy for you, Oberyn. But for others…”

His smile faded slightly, and he tilted his head, studying you. “You’re worried for the Imp,” he said, his tone more serious.

You nodded, your gaze dropping to the cup. “Tyrion is… not without his faults, but he doesn’t deserve this. Cersei’s hatred for him is blinding, and my husband—” You hesitated, then sighed. “Tywin will allow this charade to continue if it suits his plans.”

Oberyn’s lips curled into a sly smile. “And yet, you sit here, torn between loyalty to your husband and concern for your stepchild. You are a fascinating woman, Y/N.”

You gave him a sharp look. “This is no game, Oberyn. Tyrion’s life is at stake.”

He nodded slowly, his expression turning thoughtful. “You are right, of course. It is no game. But perhaps you’ll find solace in knowing that the Imp’s fate may not be as grim as it seems.”

Your brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Oberyn leaned forward, his dark eyes locking onto yours. “I will be Tyrion’s champion.”

The words hung in the air between you, their weight sinking into your chest. You stared at him, a mix of surprise and apprehension crossing your face. “You would do that?” you asked quietly. “Why?”

He tilted his head, his smile returning, though it was tinged with something darker. “You know why, Y/N. Elia. My sister, murdered by Gregor Clegane under orders from your husband. Our nephew and niece, butchered. This is my chance to avenge them.”

You swallowed hard, the name Gregor Clegane sending a chill down your spine. “And you believe you can defeat him?”

Oberyn’s smile widened, his confidence radiating from him like the sun. “I know I can. The Mountain may be a brute, but he’s slow, clumsy. I’ve trained my whole life for this. I’ve dreamed of this moment.”

You hesitated, your concern growing. “And if you fail?”

“I won’t,” he said simply, his tone unwavering. “But even if I did, what better way to honor my family than to die fighting for them?”

You shook your head, your hands trembling slightly as you set the cup down. “This isn’t just about you, Oberyn. If you fail, Tyrion dies as well. And I… I cannot bear to see another innocent life taken in this pit of vipers.”

Oberyn reached out, placing a warm, steady hand over yours. “You have a kind heart, Y/N,” he said softly. “But kindness alone will not save him. Justice will.”

You met his gaze, the intensity of his conviction almost overwhelming. “I hope you’re right, Oberyn. For Tyrion’s sake, and for yours.”

He smiled, squeezing your hand gently before releasing it. “You’ll see, Y/N. By the time this trial is over, the Mountain will fall, and justice will be served.”

With that, he rose gracefully from the bench, offering you a slight bow before turning to leave. You watched him go, your heart heavy with conflicting emotions. As you gazed down at the roses blooming around you, you couldn’t shake the feeling that the thorns were drawing closer.

[agentrouka-blog]

how do you reconcile "targaryens are evil and abusive for practicing incest" with shipping a brother and sister lol

Because that sentence is an incomplete strawman, I don't have to reconcile it with anything.

The Targaryens are abusive for forcing incest, to the point where it has become a normalized part of their (single-family) culture. Its practice and the preference that they develop for it is tied to their sense of inherent superiority over others.

The line must be kept pure, Viserys had told her a thousand times; theirs was the kingsblood, the golden blood of old Valyria, the blood of the dragon. Dragons did not mate with the beasts of the field, and Targaryens did not mingle their blood with that of lesser men. (AGOT, Daenerys I)

Their incest heap is not accidental or freely chosen. It's either abjectly forced or culturally ingrained from birth, and it is part of a supremacist worldview born in a slaving culture that violently subjugated vast parts of Essos and drew untold numbers into slavery. Beasts of the field, as they were. The Targaryens are a continuation of that line, and it's why after 300 years they were as isolated from Westeros as when they invaded.

It's remotely comparable to Jaime and Cersei who were also raised to view Lannisters as inherently better than others, like little wannabe Targaryens, which likely played into how the relationship between them developed. And yet the truly problematic thing is how they act to enable their relationship (murder, causing political instability and war) and how they treat each other (codependent, violent).

It is not remotely comparable to Jon and Sansa, who are not shipped for being an incest couple (by most, anyway) but for being a pseudo-incest couple that will struggle with this fact until they are miraculously rewarded with a surprise twist where they become a culturallly acceptable degree of related - capable of openly marrying.