#technically he's a silver dragon would you believe it

[starberries-art]

His name is Shōbu, formerly Hanashōbu, he is a dragon magus.

My intent when making a character for Season of Ghosts was "I want to play a disgraced knight character and also I've been watching Frieren and really like it."

And somehow instead I ended up making a pretty dragon man who no less than three people in our group agree is giving "Kurama from Yu Yu Hakusho"

And like, I agree, and I'm not complaining.

[crossingthedreams]

humiliation — aemond targaryen x niece!reader

a/n: bro, for real, i can’t believe i’m posting day 10 - humiliation (@angstober) on the right day. seriously. i’m so fucking proud of myself! anyway, this can be read as a stand alone or a prequel to growing pains (aka day 08). and let me know what you think! 

masterlist

summary: we don’t choose our family, but we choose how we do politics. 

word count: 2k 

warnings: angst. slight sexual harassment. arranged marriage. implied targaryen incest (uncle/niece). aegon is an asshole.

It didn’t matter you were as much of a royal as they, as much of a Targaryen as they were. It didn’t matter if you rode a dragon and had silver hair. You were still the half-sister of Jacaerys, Lucerys and Joffrey, and that was enough for the Greens to treat you like a jester in court. 

Queen Alicent was not blatantly hostile towards you, but she was not friendly either. You saw the way she side-eyed you, that her father looked you up and down. Whilst her quarrel was with your mother, the Hand’s mind was much more cunning. He saw you as a piece not yet allocated in his board. Fortunately for him, you were sent as a bona fide present to court after your mother relocated to Dragonstone.

Your grandsire, the King, barely looked at you. Of course, he was terribly ill. Still, you were certain he just didn’t like the reminder his daughter was wed to, and clearing bedding his brother. 

As a young woman of a certain age, you knew whenever someone did the math, it was clear your parents conceived you before they were properly wed. The timeline was confusing, and you were undoubtedly the child of Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon, but were they or were they not wed at the time of your birth? Were you a bastard in technical terms?

To you, it didn’t matter at all. For some, well, that was a point of conversation constantly brought up. 

“Uncles and their nieces seem not to be bound by rules of wedlock, isn’t that right, Princess?”, a drunken Aegon moved his hand towards your leg at the dinner table. You slapped it away instantly, frowning towards him. 

His mother sighed, and his wife wasn’t paying attention.

“Prince Aegon, you ought to respect the Princess”, Otto Hightower said. You read between the lines. Her father will assassinate you. Your own father will disown you. 

Your gaze met Otto’s, and you nodded once, recognizing his attempts at decency. 

“Please, grandfather”, Aegon’s hand moved towards your face, and you deflected. He still managed to toy with a single lock of your hair. “She likes it”.

Once more, you removed his hand. Right now, silence was your finest ally. Enticing Aegon would only make him grow angry towards you or worse, take it out on sweet Helaena. How could Aegon be such an arse? His siblings sure weren’t as terrible.

Helaena was a good friend, and ever since giving birth she had grown even kinder, albeit a little weird. You and Daeron were closer in age, and he was ever courteous. 

And then there was Aemond. You had never seen a man so torn between the darkness and the light within themselves, except only, perhaps, for your own father. And when it came to your father, you only ever saw the good in him, and these horrible things he supposedly did were only stories. That wasn’t the case with Aemond.

You had seen him come and go from brothels, harm servants unnecessarily and even have you at the end of his insults. He could be a monster, prone to humiliating your brothers or even you yourself when he was threatened, and he seemed glad in causing chaos. 

But he was also loving. He would defend you from Aegon and others sometimes, even. He was the first to take you dancing, and he would be on the floor with you even past his feet hurt. He had taken it upon himself to make sure you became fluent in High Valyrian, a task your mother herself had given up on. After you first claimed a dragon, he flew many times with you, and all of the smallfolk made sure to watch when you took the skies together, as it was quite the sight. 

You were expecting him to defend you from Aegon right now, instead, he just quietly moved his food around his plate with his fork. 

“I often wish we could go back to Sunspear, Helaena”, you changed the subject. Your aunt, who seemed to be in a totally different world, looked at you alarmed. “Do you remember?”, you continued, stretching to see over Aegon and look directly into your aunt’s eyes. “The weather agreed with me much more than the rain”.

“Maybe we could see Daeron, too”, Helaena seemed excited for once. You didn’t have it in you to tell her Sunspear and Old Town were a far ride from each other.

“We should take the Cannibal and Dreamfyre and go”, you said, already smiling at the prospect. The smiles died when you mentioned your dragon, who seemed to be aggressive to all but you and, eventually, Vhagar.

“Oh, dear, I don’t think either of you should leave now”, Queen Alicent stated, voice sweet. 

“And why’s that, mother?”, it was Aemond’s turn to speak, for the first time during the whole supper. His head turned to look at his mother, who was in her usual seat besides the King’s seat, which lay empty. Viserys was much too ill and in too much pain. “Associating your daughter with the scandalous child of a scandalous mother is crossing a line?”.

The silence was deadly. 

You knew Aemond well enough to know the problem wasn’t with Helaena and you dreaming of Dorne.

Your eyes darted from Aemond to Alicent, and then to Otto. They all knew something they didn’t let out yet.

And every bone in your body told you — whatever it was they weren’t letting out, well, it was about you. 

Aemond stood up like a bolt and excused himself, marching angrily away. 

You had to find out what was going on, but leaving now would only bring more attention to both you and the matter, and it also meant dealing with an aggravated Aemond. Bad idea. 

After dinner, waiting until the dead of night and sneaking into your Uncle’s room to get the truth out of him? Sounds perfectly reasonable. 

Aemond was sitting, looking unbothered. You walked in from the secret passageway that connected most of the Red Keep, and he didn’t seem surprised at all. He looked like a true Targaryen Prince.

“Took you long enough”, he was examining his nails, and then his one lilac eye turned towards you. 

“I wasn’t aware we had an arrangement”. 

“Yet here you are”. 

You smiled softly, not showing any teeth. A conversation like this with Aemond could go in any direction, and, with your experience, you knew it was best to appear submissive.

“You have been informed your name is a constant in the Small Council, haven’t you, niece?”.

You raised your eyebrows, entering his chambers nonchalantly. With the King’s health deteriorating and talks of succession rising once more, you, the daughter of the heir apparent, were as valuable as gold. Of course you knew you were talked about often, and Aemond knew this as well. Therefore, you didn’t reply. He wanted to make a point, so he was going to make it. 

“There’s been talks about your future”, Aemond continued, leaning forward as you sat across from him in the room. “Matrimonial matters have been raised”.

You gasped. You tried not to, but you did. Your mother swore you would have a say in who your husband was. Surely she hadn’t delegated this matter to the Queen. Which meant you would be given as a shine prize to a nobleman, and he would consummate the marriage before your mother was even made aware of it. 

You felt sick. 

“Don’t worry. Aegon is not taking a second wife”, the smile could be heard in Aemond’s voice. You scoffed and turned to him.

“Is that all?”

“My grandfather wished to have you wed Daeron”. Your eyes widened. Certainly not a good match. Daeron was kind and sweet, but he lived distantly. You would not be sent to Old Town, there’d be no convincing you of that. “My mother opposed, of course”.

“How could the always just Queen Alicent have her child married to the child of the ‘scandalous’ princess Rhaenyra, right?”, you mocked and copied his words from dinner earlier. Aemond constantly looked angry, but now he looked just annoyed.

“There’s that, yes. Also, it’s not politically wise”, he continued. “Cregan Stark would be a better match, perhaps even a dornish man, since you seem so fond of those wildlings”. 

“Make your point, Uncle. Who am I to marry?”

“It hasn’t been decided”, he turned to you. “There’s a problem with your family, you see”.

“Our family”, you corrected. Whether he willed it or no, Aemond Targaryen was the younger brother of your mother, and he would have to live as such. 

Your uncle’s eye narrowed, then went back to normal. Sitting across from each other, you seemed almost the same height. His gaze went from your eyes to your neck, then chest, then covered legs, darting upwards to the ceiling quickly as he let his body fall even more on the sofa. He breathed deeply. “Yes, dear niece. Our family”.

“You should take me”, you said, without thinking. You thought too much, and a marriage between the Greens and the Blacks would be interesting for both, assuring both sides of the family were united. Wasn’t that the way your family did business? Marrying off their daughters? 

Out of this entire planet, Aemond was the only man you’d met that you’d be willing to marry. The rest were brutes, disgustingly aggressive or simply dumb.

From the look in his eyes, you knew Aemond was thinking about it. Your breath got caught in your throat. He surely had thought about it before, right? You were a beautiful girl, you knew this, and Aemond had a thing for women with silver hair. All men in King’s Landing wished they could have you, why would Aemond be any different? 

You kept forgetting that Aemond was, in fact, different. 

“I couldn’t wed you, niece”, he said, mouth a thin line. Your heart was racing in your chest. “What would we have? Not the throne, not even Dragonstone”. 

“Each other”, you replied harshly, fighting the tears in your eyes. “We’d have each other”.

“That’s not enough”.

The sheer humiliation that you felt was enough to make you stand up and motion towards the door. But you couldn’t leave through the front door, could you? Your reputation would be ruined forever.

So, with your heart simultaneously beating fast and not beating at all, you just stood there in the middle of Aemond’s chambers. You didn’t want to look back at him, but you had to turn to make your way out where you came.

You hadn’t heard Aemond, who quietly made his way to you, and was now towering above you. Your eyes locked, breaths mixing. If you were to stand on your tiptoes, your lips would almost reach his. Almost.

The problem with Aemond was this constant streak of ‘almosts’. You were sure his reasons for not marrying you were political more than anything else, and it pained you to know that the legitimacy of your brothers was a matter even now, when yours wasn’t. Your mother and her decisions… It had humiliated you once more. 

Your heart was beating so loudly you feared he could hear it from this distance. Still close enough so you could feel his breath, Aemond muttered in Valyrian, even though you were alone “Ao issi naejot jikagon sir (You should go now)”.

Quietly, with feelings of humiliation and something else you couldn’t quite name, you stepped away as you did as your uncle commanded, and left. 

[flmer]

★ oh no! it's the baby apocalypse! (2) ┊ wc:

content: talks of baby stuff, crackfic?

pairings: idia & malleus x gn!reader. (seperated)

note! I finally did the part 2! although the last part would be Kalim and Jamil.. This was stuck in my drafts and I just noticed now. part 1

idia.

idia is the type of dad to spoil his child since he doesn't really know what else to do, he isn't used to saying affectionate words but he does make it up by spending time with the child and spoiling them.

I believe that idia has some experience in handling kids because of ortho so he wouldn't technically be completely clueless about fatherhood. (also there's a chance that he watched those family animes)

when he first saw his child, he froze. he froze like an ice statue because he's in shock like wow?? is that really his baby?? (the baby literally has his fire hair.)

he's awestruck because of how adorable the baby looks and not to mention how cute it is... idia promises that he'd do anything to make his child smile

he spends his free time bonding with his child by watching numerous animes and playing games that's child friendly of course, even though the child could barely talk... but it is quite endearing to hear the nonsensical babble of your child and idia nodding along with whatever they just said as id he understands them.

“I probably won't be able to buy that much merch anymore... unless I make my child enjoy gaming and anime >:) ”

malleus.

he would isolate his child without knowing he's isolating his child inside his castle. it was how he was raised but his child won't be completely isolated just protected. malleus wants his child to not have the same childhood like the one he had.

malleus would be king by the time he had a child but that doesn't mean his child would rarely see him, no. malleus grew up without experiencing his mother and father’s presence in his childhood that's why he makes sure his child always sees him. malleus's child would practically be in the throne room playing with toys and malleus's tail and also talking gibberish nonsense with the guards that's stationed in the throne room mostly silver and sebek. the scenario goes like this: malleus on his throne listening to silver and sebek's reports while his eyes sometimes stray to his child and his mouth would twitch and turn upwards- the reason was because his child is now currently munching on silver's long cloak while their hand was occupied with grasping sebek's pants. it was an eandering sight.

the first time he saw his child, he cried. the fearsome dragon fae king was shedding tears like a newborn baby and it was because of the mere sight of his child. when the child first opened their eyes- malleus saw his own striking electric green eyes staring right back at him and that was what made him have a wide smile on his face as his child reaches for his horns with their small closed fists.

lilia sometimes makes sure to visit just so he could spend some time with his precious grandchild, yes, his bangs got burned again by a similar green fire that came out of the mouth of the baby he's holding. malleus saw this happen and his reaction was to chuckle while sebek fretted over lilia's now smoking bangs but lilia only waved him off saying that he's used to it by now, and silver is just standing there with a soft smile on his face.

malleus takes you and his child out every night to walk with him in a forest that malleus used to go to back when he was a child whenever he feels overwhelmed with his feelings. the forest is a beauty with it's thorned vines that seems to wrap around trees, there were also some glowing fairies lingering and lighting the beautiful forest. the forest was the meaning of peace and beauty.

malleus hums a familiar lullaby that he used to sing for you back when you both were still at nrc, his hands caressing you and your child's hair as he wraps his arms around the both of you protectively as if the both of you would disappear out of his arms.

[humanpurposes]

It Will Come Back

Chapter 3, Broken Bonds

Two sides of a family fight for their own claims to the Targaryen inheritance. Amongst the endless infighting, forced pleasantries and PR scandals, Jaya Velaryon finds herself face to face with a demon of her past, namely Aemond Targaryen. Love and hate are not emotions easily unlearned.

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Aemond Targaryen x Jaya Velaryon (OFC)

Warnings: 18+, dark elements, targcest (uncle x niece relationship) toxic family dynamics, angst, mentions of violence and trauma

Words: 7.4k

A/n: Also available to read on AO3, if you're that way inclined.

Now…

The heat is relentless this summer. Light bleeds through the stained glass windows of the Red Keep in beams of red, green, blue and gold, only to be lost to the dark wood floors, furniture and panelled walls. It is Aemond’s least favourite time of year, when the weather makes him irritable and the harsh light gives him a headache, when business tends to be busy and everyone is preoccupied with holidays and garden parties. He’s less inclined to distract himself with frivolity. 

His sleeves are rolled up, his long silver hair pulled into a ponytail, sweat starting to pool underneath the eyepatch over the left side of his face. He’s leaning over Aegon, one hand on the back of his chair, staring down at a laptop screen as they check over some details for next week’s event.

It’s not often Aemond finds himself in his brother’s office. Technically Aegon is his superior, ‘deputy operations manager’ according to the golden plaque on the door. This is more of a courtesy title because he couldn’t get a respectable job anywhere else, and it would be far worse for their father’s image to have a layabout son.

That’s the funny thing about the family business. It’s no secret that Viserys Targaryen didn’t want his sons involved in Dragon Bank, but his influence is not as all encompassing as he would like to believe, not since the Hightowers got a foot in the door thirty or so years ago… then another… then another. Viserys can make his demands and shout when he’s angry enough, but there is one truth he cannot deny; he needs them. He needs Otto. He needs Alicent. He needs Helaena and Daeron to stay perfect. He needs Aegon to not be a fuck up and that’s enough. And he needs Aemond because he’s good at his job. No one has an eye for detail like him, no one can make sense out of figures or persuade clients and investors like he can.

Why their grandfather wants him to look over PR and marketing nonsense is understandable, but irritating nonetheless.

Their father has been planning this event for years, Dragon Bank’s fifth centenary gala, with all the pomp and grandeur of a bygone era, held at their ancestral seat of Dragonstone Castle, just outside the city. Five hundred years since one of their ancestors forged a throne for himself in King’s Landing, building an empire that still has most of the country under their family’s thumb. Viserys intends to use the occasion as a reminder to the rest of Westeros that they cannot compare to the might of the Targaryens. So there can be no oversights. Everything has to be perfect.

Aemond’s eye scans over the diagram on the screen, circles surrounded boxes with names; the seating plan for the main ballroom.

Then a name catches his eye and it makes his heart stop. He doesn’t want to believe what he sees but there it is on the screen, in Times New fucking Roman: Jaya Velaryon.

He’s hardly heard that name, read it, or heard it in six years. He can already feel a dull ache creeping into his skull, which he knows will catch like kindling and soon become a burning, blinding pain behind the space where his eye should be.

Aegon, completely oblivious, huffs a little laugh to himself. “Shit, yeah, I meant to say there was an update with the seating. So this could turn out to be quite interesting– fuck, are you alright?” 

“Fine!” Aemond snaps, staggering back from the chair. His head feels like it’s been run through with a knife and his fingers fumble to get his eyepatch off. “Fine– fuck! I’m fine.”

“Sit,” Aegon orders, quickly standing and guiding Aemond over to one of the leather sofas on the other side of the room, where the sunlight isn’t so direct.

The pain is often like this, striking suddenly, spreading quickly like a forest fire, eating away at him like a disease. He has no choice but to endure it.

He feels the eyepatch slip from his face before something cold presses against the worst of his scar. He reaches up to clasp his hands around it. A glass water bottle, one Aegon is holding. His brother is useless most of the time but he does have his moments.

“Fuck it’s all red,” Aegon mutters. “Have you got meds with you?”

When Aemond opens his mouth to speak his jaw is trembling. “Office,” he says, gritting his teeth together, trying to control his breath and the extent of the pain. “It’s in my office.” He can see where the packet is in the first draw under his desk.

“I can go and get you some–”

“No,” Aemond says, grabbing Aegon’s arm so he won’t move. 

He can handle this. Every time this kind of pain flares up he thinks of how much it hurt that night, how terrified he was as he felt the blood gushing from the gash in his eye, slipping through his fingers. The pain had been so great he thought it might kill him. If he can get through that night, the first few hours in the hospital, the months of recovery or the years since, then he can get through a fucking headache. 

He closes his eye and breathes in counts of three. In through the nose, hold, and out. Between that and the bottle against his face, the pain starts to feel a little duller and the room doesn’t feel so close.

“Is it… you know,”

Did seeing Jaya’s name shock him so severely that his body went into meltdown? Is his heart still pounding in his chest at the thought of reading her name and the possibility of seeing her again? 

Aemond exhales irritably against the back of his throat, defeated, but always stubborn.

“I thought you knew,” Aegon says. “Mum said she was going to talk to you.”

“Evidently that conversation is yet to happen.” Maybe it was meant to happen tonight. It’s a Friday which means Aemond will go to his mother’s apartments in the Keep for dinner after work.

It’s a struggle but he breathes through the worst of it, and blinks a tear from his eye. The pain hasn’t quite faded but something else burns hotter through his blood. He clenches his jaw and his fists. “How long have you known?”

Aegon makes a startled stuttering noise. “I– well–”

Aemond glares at him.

“A few days. The note came from Rhaenyra’s office on Monday or Tuesday, I can’t really remember–”

“Grandfather knew,” Aemond says, a question, but he can guess the answer. If it involves Dragon Bank or a member of the Targaryen family, Otto Hightower will know.

“Of course he knew. He said it was a last minute decision, one that Viserys was insisting we all bend over backwards to accommodate.”

Of course he would, anything for the precious daughter of his favourite child, the girl who slashed Aemond’s eye out with a broken bottle. 

He hates her for it. He hates every burst of pain, like an echo of that moment pulsing through his head. He hates every person he catches staring at him, he hates the way his reflection looks with her cruelty carved into his flesh. Most of all he hates that it reminds him of her. In a way he is grateful too. Time helped to heal the wound and eventually he realised how he had been changed by that night, how it made him the person he is now. 

But for the first time in a long time he does not find any pride in it, cowering in his brother’s office like a child at the mere mention of her name. 

“I can’t go,” Aemond says, hating how quiet his own voice is.

“That’s alright,” Aegon says, “you can sit here for as long as you need.”

“I meant the party.”

“Oh right, sorry.”

“I can’t go, not if she’s going to be there.”

There’s a long silence, filled only by the hum of the AC and the distant sounds of the city far below the keep, car horns, engines, sirens, the occasional cry of a seagull.

“Why don’t you talk it through with mum?”

“Aegon,”

“She’ll want you to go. She’ll be upset if you don’t.”

“I can’t,”

“I know you two were close, but, you know, I’m sure you both regret how things happened,” 

“Aegon, for fuck’s sake,”

“She cut out your eye, you said you’d cut out hers if you ever saw her again, we were all caught up in the moment.”

Aemond pushes up from the sofa and tosses the water bottle at Aegon’s head, not stopping to see if he caught it or not, before he’s yanking open the door and marching into the hallway.

The Red Keep is older than Dragon Bank itself, a red brick holdfast that has loomed proudly over King’s Landing for centuries, even as the skyline of the city has come to meet over time. It’s easy to get lost here, with its grand hallways, winding staircases and hidden passages, if old rumours are to be believed. He knows this place like he knows his own mind. He walks to his office through empty stairwells and forgotten corridors.

When he finally makes it to his own office he closes the door and lets his back fall against it.

He takes a slow breath, holds it, pouts his lips and exhales steadily. 

Who else knows? Viserys would have sent the invitation, Rhaenyra and the rest of her little runts will know. Otto knows, clearly his mother and Aegon both know, and he couldn’t have kept that secret, he would have told Helaena or Daeron, most likely both.

Everyone knows. Jaya is coming back home to King’s Landing, and everyone knows but him.

His mother told him everything when she thought he was ready to hear it. The bandages had been removed from his face and the cannula had been taken out of his hand. The doctors wanted him to stay in the hospital for a few more days so all the drugs could wear off and he could start getting used to the disorientation of losing half his vision. Alicent wanted him home, in his own bed. So he left the dry air and the white overhead lights of his room in the hospital, back to Dragonstone.

She told him that while he’d been on his knees with his hand over his face, trying to stop the blood and the remains of his eye from spilling onto the ground, Viserys had barked out his orders. He didn’t want ambulances or sirens because it would cause a scene in front of the guests. The shame, the damage it would do to the family’s image. Otto had persuaded him away from such a nonsensical idea and convinced Viserys to get the guests inside the house so Aemond and Jace’s injuries could be seen to.

He remembered shouting and sirens, blue lights and his mother’s hand clinging onto his before he blacked out. He had gone in for surgery almost immediately and woken the following evening surrounded by white walls, his mother and Criston Cole at his side.

Aegon, Helaena and Daeron all stayed at Dragonstone while he was there. They said once he and Jace had been taken away, Viserys had gathered the entire family inside the house. With their faces all still red from crying and Jaya’s pretty white dress still coated in blood, he demanded to know the truth. 

They all knew what the truth was. Jace didn’t know his limits and Aegon didn’t care about his.

He could see it all happening in his head, walking towards the orchard with Jaya and Baela, catching Jaya when she tripped over a stone, her tipsy smile as she looked up at him, the pearl and the sapphire pendant settled against her chest.

Who knows what started the argument between Jace and Aegon, but suddenly Aemond had found himself between them.

“There he is,” Jace had sneered, but his voice quickly raised into a shout, “‘perfect’ Aemond Targaryen, fucking mummy’s boy, thinking he’s some kind of fucking diplomat!”

Aegon tried to shout back, “more of a man than you’ll ever be,” Aemond couldn’t make out everything through the way his voice slurred.

“Not so fucking perfect though, are you? You’re no worse than Aegon– no! You’re so much worse, aren’t you? Aren’t you!?

He’d watched Jace’s expression darken, his lips sneering into a sickening smile.

“You’ve got my sister wrapped around your fucking finger, fucking creep.”

He told himself Jace was just drunk. It didn’t matter what he thought… only it did. Jace could tell Rhaenyra or Viserys. Worse, he could talk to Jaya. She had always been devoted to her twin. She had picked Jace over Aemond before, in petty arguments when they were children. 

“You want her, don’t you? Don’t you!? She’s too good for you though, and you know it. You want her but you’ll never fucking have her!”

When Aemond’s fist collided with Jace’s jaw it was on pure instinct. He was sober enough to stop himself but he didn’t. He just kept going.

According to Aegon, when Viserys came to Jaya, she said that it was Aemond who had started the argument. Jace was in the orchard with the others, when Aemond had come from nowhere and threw the first punch. She had seen it, so had Baela, so had Luke and Joffrey. It was their word against Aegon and Daeron’s.

The official story was that it had been a tragic accident, one in which Rhaenyra’s children were certainly blameless.

She called him the night he got to Dragonstone but he let the phone ring. A week later she appeared in the doorway to his bedroom. She was hazy, or he was still delirious from sleep, his mother hovering over her shoulder, reluctant to leave them alone together.

He doesn’t remember most of the conversation now. He doesn’t want to remember it. He knows it ended with tears streaming down her cheeks, but her face was completely still. She didn’t flinch, didn’t distort her face, scrunch her nose or make an ugly shape with her mouth. She looked utterly beautiful and cried effortlessly. It wasn’t fair when he still had stitches sewn into his flesh to keep the left half of his face in place.

At one point she approached the bed and tried to touch his hand. He snatched it out of her grasp. When she tried again he pushed her away.

“Why did you do it?” she said. “You attacked Jace, why? Why? Why? Why?”

Because Jace could have taken away the one thing he thought was his, by right, by love. Instead he gave some bullshit excuse– Jace had threatened Aegon, insulted Daeron, insulted him. And what did it matter anyway? Viserys believed her. 

He needed her. He needed her and she pushed him away and cradled her coward of a brother in her arms. He needed her and she’d thrown it all back in his face with a slash of a broken bottle. He needed her, but she had made her decision.

“Liar,” he hissed. “You’re a fucking liar.”

He saw it in her face then, her desire to fight melting away. To Aemond that had always meant that she knew he was right.

“Show up here again, utter so much as a word to me again, and I’ll tear yours out as payment for mine.”

Some weeks later Aegon mentioned that she had abandoned her plans to go to KLU and instead found a place at the University of Pentos. She never tried to call after that and neither did he.

A layer of sweat clings to his skin and makes him shiver. He shrugs it off as he sits down at his desk, and spots a handwritten note sitting beside the keyboard of his laptop. Investment figures for Seasnake Shipping back to me by 7pm at the latest. Knowing Otto Hightower, that means an hour before the specified time.

In for three, hold for three, out for three. It always amazes him how well that trick works, he thinks as he takes out a packet from the top drawer of his desk and pushes out two tablets, the one good thing he’d gotten out of his year of therapy. He swallows the medication dry, suddenly regretting throwing away the bottle of water.

It’s nearly 6pm when Aemond has everything his grandfather wants, the names of Seasnake’s investors, the other companies they’re attached to, numbers and details he’s found buried in endless spreadsheets and pages of paperwork. He shouldn’t be able to see most of them but he has his ways. The Velaryons have been in business with the Targaryens for centuries and there are always trails to follow. 

A few familiar names appear, Rhaenyra Tagrayren, Daemon Targayren, married to each of Corlys’ children. Aemond was only a year old when his sister married Laenor, but he’s always known how sceptical his mother and grandfather were of the match. It wasn’t something Rhaenyra had to do. She wasn’t going to inherit Seasnake, that had been promised to Laena, the elder sibling, and she was already Viserys’ chosen heir, so what did she think she was going to get out of it? Not a loving husband, surely.

Other investors and partners include the names Stark and Arryn, both wealthy and well established families. He also sees the names Celtigar, Massey, Bar Emmon, old names, though not as respected as they once were.

He leaves a note for his grandfather at the top of the document: Seasnake is being directed by a man who built his wealth to match his own pride, supported by opportunists with more money than sense.

With that task done he opens a new email to inform his father’s office that he’ll be absent from the event. He types it quickly and reads over it once before he can talk himself out of pressing send. He doesn’t give a reason why; Viserys should know why.

This leaves him just enough time to pack up and get ready for dinner.

The Red Keep has a series of apartments separated from the offices, where Aemond spent most of his childhood. The building is known as the Holdfast, with its own gatehouse leading into the city and gardens surrounded by high red brick walls. Historically it was built to house the extensive members of House Targaryen, but it is mostly empty now. His mother has had her own apartment for a few years, since Daeron moved out. The only one of his siblings to still live here now is Aegon, at Alicent’s insistence. 

Walking from his office to the Holdfast brings him through courtyards and underneath old battlements, until he comes to a facade with towers, tall windows and an unsuspecting wooden door, save for the armed guards standing either side of it. His mother’s apartments are on the first floor, along a gallery and up the grand staircase, past portraits and tapestries. The hallways get smaller the further in you go and soon he comes to the private rooms.

Alicent often dismisses the staff on quiet Friday evenings. The minute he’s in the door he is met with the sound of one of her 80s playlists, the scent of spices and her favourite lemon and lavender candles. He finds her in the kitchen, dark blue jeans, a white shirt, black pumps and her auburn curls pulled into a bun to show off her pearl earrings, stirring two pots on the stove. 

“Criston’s got me learning another one of his recipes,” she says, only looking at him for a moment, “I’ve got rice on too, so I hope you’re hungry.”

Aemond approaches her to kiss her on the cheek and takes a look inside the pots, one filled with chickpeas, the other with black lentils. “Is Aegon here?” he says.

“He’s in the lounge, tell him to set the table.”

Aemond watches her, entirely absorbed in the notebook on the counter next to the stove, with handwritten instructions. Nothing seems to be especially bothering her, even though the centenary event has had her on edge for over a month. She looks no different from the last time he saw her, before he knew about Jaya, when she was supposed to talk to him, supposedly.

“I want a drink first,” he says, whisky with no ice. He pours it for himself slowly while his mother hums along to Tears for Fears. “Do you know why grandfather wanted that information on Seasnake’s investors?” 

“Hmm? Oh he’s probably doing one of his checks, you know what he’s like. Good to keep an eye on everyone,” she says. She has a glass of red wine next to the notebook, though by the looks of it she’s hardly touched it. “He said something interesting about Rickon Stark recently, his son Cregan is in King’s Landing.”

Aemond pulls his glass away from his lips, the sweet sting of alcohol slipping down his throat. “Shouldn’t be too unusual, they’re attending next week.” Staying at Dragonstone no less, some of Viserys’ most honoured guests.

“He’s staying at Queen’s Lodge.”

That takes him by surprise. “Hmm,” he says, bringing the glass to his lips again.

“He and Jacaerys are quite close, Aegon tells me.”

The Starks had visited Dragonstone once or twice as summer guests, back when they were all kids. Cregan was always talkative and effortlessly charming, but it was obvious to Aemond that his warmth was far more calculated than anyone else believed. He made sure Jaya kept her distance, but Jace followed him around like a lost puppy for the weeks he’d stay with their family.

They would have studied together at White Harbour, though Cregan was a few years older than Jace. They could have met again and reconnected. Aemond doesn’t interact with his nephew outside of necessity.

“And what would Aegon know about it?” he says.

“More than you,” a voice calls from the doorway. Aegon has ditched his suit for brown cargos and a comically baggy sports shirt, leaning against the frame. “Ran into them last weekend,” he says, grinning coldly and running his tongue over his teeth. “The Starks are making some close personal connections with our sister’s family.”

“Don’t be vulgar,” Alicent sighs.

Aegon scoffs and makes a dismissive gesture. While their mother is still distracted, he looks at Aemond and raises his eyebrows. 

“Set the table, Aegon,” Aemond grumbles.

His brother does as he’s told. Aemond helps Alicent bring the dishes in. She sits at the head of the table, Aemond to her right, Aegon opposite him, to her left. She says a quick prayer to the Seven, as she always does. She asks the Mother to protect her children and asks the Crone for wisdom, for a light in dark and uncertain times. 

“Speaking of close personal connections,” Aegon says, already having wolfed down half of his plate. Aemond already hates the tone of this conversation. “We’ll finally get to meet Daeron’s new bit,”

“Do you have to say it like that?” Aemond says.

Aegon ignores him. “Are you excited to meet Nettles, mother?”

Daeron talks about her constantly. They met in Oldtwon while they were both studying. Now he’s working for the Citadel Institute, she’s some kind of journalist, and they live together in a perfect little flat that looks out over the Honeywine river. Perfect, perfect, perfect.

“That can’t actually be her name, surely?” Alicent says.

“Perhaps it’s short for something,” Aemond says, prodding his food now to find himself with no appetite. He thinks about the drive he’ll have to make through the city, back to the empty house waiting for him on Silverwing Square.

“Nettles,” Aegon says, eyes on the ceiling like he’s trying to decipher a hidden meaning. “Nettles, like stinging nettles?”

“Oh, Aemond,” Alicent says, looking down at the uneaten food on his plate, “what happened with Maris Baratheon, why is she not on the final guest list?”

Aegon smiles, folding his elbows on the table and leaning forward, eager to hear an explanation like he hasn’t already coaxed it out of Aemond over too many bottles of wine at a steak restaurant on Conquest Street.

“Things didn’t work out with Maris,” Aemond says shortly. An understatement. The thought of their last conversation makes him nauseous.

“Aemond, sometimes I feel like you don’t love me.”

“I don’t think I do,” which felt untruthful, because he knew from the start that he never would. There were lots of things he liked about Maris. He liked that she was interested in him, he liked that she was blunt and unrelentingly honest, he liked that she had dark hair, and that she liked being fucked from behind and would let him press her face down into the pillow to muffle her moans. Soon the things he liked about her only felt like another reminder.

“Maris is old news, mother,” Aegon says.

“What a shame,” Alicent says, reaching for her wine again. “Oh well, I don’t think Viserys particularly likes her father anyway.”

“Well you know Aemond, always striving for perfection.”

Aemond’s eye meets Aegon’s over the table. His brother is trying not to grin, violet eyes bright from the light of the candelabra between them. Shadows catch on the hollow parts of his face, it makes him look tired but vicious. 

Then he looks to his mother. She eats slowly with small mouthfuls, not making eye contact with either of her sons. It’s not often he finds himself upset or angry with his mother, not since he was old enough to understand just how hard she has worked, or know what she’s had to put up with as the wife of Viserys Targaryen. Aemond knows she trusts him in a way that does not always extend to his siblings. 

But now all he can think is that she knows about Jaya. She knows, and she won’t even look at him.

Jaya could be in King’s Landing this very moment, lounging around Queen’s Lodge, looking out over the orchard she watered with Aemond’s blood while her mother fawns over her only daughter’s return.

He just needs to say it. He won’t go to Dragonstone if Jaya is there, he won’t stand to be in the same room as her, or breathe the same air as her. The thought already sends a feeling like flames licking up his spine that makes him restless with rage, with hurt and betrayal.

Aegon is still watching him and gives him a small nod. 

Aemond takes a soft breath through parted lips–

Until a sound comes from the hallway that makes them all freeze, the sound of the front door unlocking, opening, then slamming with an ear splitting bang!

Aemond feels his face harden, brows straining with every footstep that marches against the hardwood floors towards the dining room. 

Viserys appears in the threshold, dressed in one of his red and black suits, his face one of stone cold fury. He doesn’t look at Alicent, or Aegon, his eyes are fixed on Aemond.

He steps slowly into the room, placing one hand on the back of the chair closest to him at the head of the table, miles away from the rest of his family. His voice is quiet and clear through the stunned silence. “What the fuck are you playing at?”

Alicent makes a stuttering, scoffing noise. “Viserys–”

He holds up a finger to silence her, his eyes widening in warning. “Aemond,” he says, “you will answer me.”

Aemond keeps his jaw clenched at first. He can feel his teeth wanting to chatter, anger aching in every part of his body. He cannot afford to show any sign of weakness or remorse, not in front of his father. But why does it feel so difficult to speak? He swallows through a dry feeling in his throat. “I thought I’d worded it all very simply–”

“Look at me when I speak to you, boy.”

He hadn’t realised his gaze had fallen to the table. He looks up with an expression that is as passive as he can manage. “I would have thought it would be obvious why I can’t go, with the recent addition to the guestlist.”

His head is turned completely so that Viserys is in his line of vision, but he hears his mother make a small sighing sound. “Aemond, I was going to–”

“ALICENT!” Viserys roars.

Aemond feels himself flinch but his gaze is unwavering. Why does he think he has any right to barge in here, to ask anything of them? 

If Aemond were to stand he’d be taller than his father, but he finds himself unable to move.

“That’s all you have to say for yourself?” Viserys says to him. “This could be the single most important night for the family for centuries and you’re still holding onto childish grudges?”

Childish grudges. He was mutilated and forced to carry the blame because of a lie, but of course his father expects him to let go, to forgive and forget. 

He feels the leather of the eyepatch digging uncomfortably into his forehead and wishes more than anything he could just tear it off.

There are some things Aemond can argue with Viserys about, but they tend to be logical arguments, work related. The longer he looks at his father the more he remembers that no amount of sense could ever compare to the blind devotion Viserys has for his eldest child. There’s nothing Aemond can appeal to, not love or loyalty, not even sympathy.

“This is not about you, Aemond. This is about the bank, this is about the Targaryen name, our legacy, does that all mean nothing to you?”

“Of course it does,” Aemond says. He’s worked for nothing else his whole life, Dragon Bank, his heritage as a Targaryen, what is he without all of that? 

Viserys’ face softens a little, as if he thinks he’s made some kind of progress. “I’ve never known you to be selfish, it’s not in your nature.”

“Well then you clearly know nothing about me,” Aemond says, glaring up at him.

Viserys frowns. “You will be there, and I want to hear no more of it. You will be polite. You will grin and fucking bear it because that’s what the rest of us have to do.”

He’s delusional, he’s fucking delusional.

Aemond looks to his brother, slumped in his chair, his eyes even darker now. He has his hand around the stem of a wine glass. He’s been staring at the crimson liquid since their father walked in. He might have been expecting to be the target of Viserys’ anger tonight; he usually is. 

Aegon looks across at him, furious, exhausted, eager for this exchange to be over. He tilts his head in a questioning motion, though his lips stay firmly sealed.

All the years he spent trying to be the best that he could, how hard he pushed himself to get through that final year at KLU while recovering from his injury, all the hours he’s devoted to the family business, all the times he’s kept his mouth shut and his head held high, is this the hill Aemond is going to die on?

He won’t try to look at his mother, but he can guess she would have a similar reasoning. 

A fearsome wind from the Narrow Sea howls against the windows of Aemond’s black Jag. The road to Dragonstone is a desolate one, leading through a forest that might as well be nothingness in the dark. The headlights beam against the tarmac which turns and rises and falls, so he can never see what’s ahead of him.

There’s a burst of light as he approaches the gates. He hasn’t seen the gatehouse for years and remembers that he used to be scared of the stone dragon heads that stand open mouthed and teeth bared on either side, at the base of the turrets. Some hired security guard comes to his window, his demeanour changing completely when Aemond glares at him through a single eye. 

Cars line the acres of grass before the house, the driveway lined with lanterns and more statuettes of dragons. Dragonstone lies ahead in its full glory, lights on in every window, moonlight shining upon its ancient walls so the castle looms in shadows and silver. 

He must be one of the last people to arrive, the last of the important people, slotting the Jag next to a golden Dodge Charger he recognises as Aegon’s. The rest of the Targaryens all drive black cars.

He checks his reflection in the rearview mirror for as long as he can stand to look at himself, glaring at the blunt edges of the sapphire in his left socket, dull and dark in the low light. The flesh around his eyelids are twisted and red, the scar itself deep but clean. His mother had suggested they could get it looked at, to make his eye seem less severe, but that’s what the eyepatch is for, to cover up the worst of his injury, for the comfort of others and not his.

He slips the leather patch over his head and secures it in place, careful not to mess up his hair in the process. 

One day he’ll make her look at it, the sapphire and the scar, maybe then she’ll understand what she put him through. Not tonight, no, tonight he intends to play it safe.

He effortlessly exits the car, checking his cuffs as he walks up to the front doors. A server offers him a glass of champagne when he steps into the entrance hall which he takes a small sip from, parched after his drive from King’s Landing. He knows his way through the opulent halls that have stayed the same for as long as he can remember, towards the hum of at least a hundred voices. 

The ballroom glimmers with reflected light, mirrors, gold accents, crystal chandeliers, champagne glasses. The guests are all in their finery, tuxedos and floor length gowns, either in black or the colours of their houses. Some have started to take their seats around the circular tables, but many are still mingling.

Any head of silver hair stands out rather obviously, and the first he sees is his father standing in the centre of the ballroom, a smile on his face and his arm around his wife’s waist. Alicent is radiant in a gold gown that catches the warmth of the candles dotted about the room. She looks less than pleased being made to talk to Rhaenyra and Laenor– now there’s a surprise, he doesn’t usually make a habit of appearing at family events. Rhaenyra is in black, as is her husband, with a waistcoat embroidered with swirling gold patterns, like waves on the sea.

His eye continues to scour the room. He sees Helaena and Daeron with the girl he assumes is Nettles. He sees Aegon getting friendly with the Martell siblings. He sees Corlys and Rhaenys with Laena and Daemon. He sees Jacaerys standing with the Starks, closer than is friendly to Cregan. He sees those with the surnames Tyrell, Tully, Lannister, Arryn, all the others, and keeps searching.

She’s not where she’s meant to be, at the table closest to the high table where Viserys will sit with the board members. She’s not with her parents, she’s not at the bar, she’s not at the doors to the gardens. Each moment he does not find her fuels some kind of fire within him, adrenaline pumping through his blood, like he’s chasing something just out of his reach. 

A flash of loose, dark hair steals his attention. He doesn’t see her face at first but he notices when she nudges his shoulder as she passes him on his blind side, very nearly ending up with champagne down her silky, off white gown or spilled across the string of pearls sitting on her bare collar.

He apologises on instinct, reaching for a handkerchief in his pocket that has only ever been intended as decorative.

“No harm done,” the woman insists. “It’s good stuff, I would have been mortified to waste any of it.”

He recognises her face, the slanted nose, the sharpness of her cheeks, her bright green eyes and unsettlingly perfect smile. He’s seen her at press events, some kind of relation to the Strongs, but not close enough that she’d ever be invited to any personal occasions.

“Alys Rivers,” she says, holding out a hand for him to shake. “Deputy editor for Seven.” He’s heard of it, a high society gossip magazine, they often run stories about his family, Daemon and Aegon mostly, the rest of them clearly aren’t newsworthy.

“You used to work for the Harrenhal Observer, didn’t you?” he says.

“I did,” she says, “between you and me though, I think cousin Larys felt a little threatened.”

“Threatened?” Aemond says, noticing a pair of girls who are oddly familiar to him. He can’t place their names but he thinks they might be old friend’s of Jaya’s. They approach Jace, turning their heads around frequently like they’re looking for something. “How so?”

“He thought I was too opinionated,” Alys says, keeping her eyes on his.

“I didn’t think there could be such a thing,” Aemond says, though now he thinks he recognises the girls from one of the parties at Maegor’s Square, from years ago. One of them meets his gaze and quickly looks away. 

“The Observer is supposedly a neutral publication after all, I had a few things to say about the working conditions at the Casterly Rock mines which caused quite a stir.”

That’s where he recognises her name from. Viserys wasn’t happy with the article given their ties to the Lannisters and their gold. It sets off a silent alarm in his head, suddenly her gaze is a little too scrutinising for his liking and he’s aware of every breath he takes, shallow or deep, soft or sharp, she could use anything against him.

“I heard a rumour you weren’t going to be attending tonight’s event,” she says.

“It’s Dragon Bank’s fifth centenary,” he says, “I’m incredibly proud of all the work my family has put into the last five hundred years.”

“You say that like you’re expecting this conversation to go to print.”

“That’s why you approached me, is it not?”

She hums a gentle laugh to herself as her gaze roams over his suit, black, simple and perfectly fitted. She looks back to his face, he sees the way her eyes flicker to his left side. She smiles lazily in a way that makes him wonder if she’s trying to flirt, and places a hand on his shoulder, leaning in closer until he can smell the classic, musky scent of her perfume. He lets her do it, lets her lips get closer to his ear.

“I only wanted to see if you had something interesting to say,” Alys whispers over the noise of the party.

He glances up, towards the grand fireplace at the end of the room. Gold plated engravings of dragons intertwine and spread their wings, framing the fire that burns within.

She’s standing there, a glass of champagne in one hand, in an emerald green dress suited for summer, loose fabric, exposing her arms, her hair pulled up into a style that’s effortlessly elegant.

Their eyes meet. It’s like electricity strikes his heart.

Six years fades into oblivion, she looks different and exactly the same. He can almost believe he’s never known a life without her, but she’s always been there, hasn’t she? An unspoken secret, living in the lightest and the darkest parts of his mind. 

He can see the moment of recognition, when her expression goes from passive and proud to alert, eyes widening, lips falling, her hand lowering the glass to the nearest surface.

It’s dangerous how quickly he can already feel himself start to slip. He’s had seven days to prepare and part of him is still in disbelief that Jaya is a living, breathing person and not just a memory. Another part of him is calm and unsurprised, like he’s always known she was going to come back. To King’s Landing, to the family business, to him.

He doesn’t feel any pain, not in his head or his chest, but he feels empty, starved to the point of ravenous. 

Jaya starts to move through the crowd, towards the glass doors that lead to an outlook over the gardens and the sea. It only sparks excitement for Aemond, imagining all the thoughts that could be swimming through her head, anger, pride, fear. By the Seven he hopes one of those is fear.

“It’s been some time, hasn’t it?”

“What?” he says, looking back to Alys.

“I thought I’d refresh my memory a little before I came here tonight. It’s been six years since Jaya Velaryon was in King’s Landing. The two of you were close, weren’t you?”

Close. 

Close like the way Jaya used to hug him when they were children. She’d wrap her little arms so tightly around his chest or his neck that he could hardly breathe. He’d tell her to stop, shove her away, but then she’d only cry, and he could never say no to her after that. 

Close like their minds worked in the same way, when they only needed to look at each other a certain way to know what they were both thinking.

Close like the air of his bedroom the first night they kissed, feeling the shared warmth, her body against his, the softness of her skin, when she tasted like wine and smelled like smoke.

Close was never close enough, but what difference did it make?

“Then there was that accident at Queen’s Lodge. The press release was so vague, it only said you and Jacaerys were recovering from minor injuries…”

Aemond glares at her, the same look that would usually silence Aegon, but Alys Rivers is not afraid of his warning.

She makes a gesture to his eye. “I mean, clearly one injury was more severe than the other. Curious that Jaya left for Pentos so soon after that when she was due to start at KLU that year. Why did she leave, do you know?”

Aemond pushes past her without another word, towards the glass doors that only Jaya has passed through in the last minute or so. The other guests are starting to take their places at the tables now. He sees Rhaenyra and Laenor looking around the room, having gathered their other three brats. His own mother tries to capture his attention but his mind can only think of one thing. He walks towards the doors as calmly as he can, even though it feels as if his life depends on reaching them, on reaching her.

The doors lead out to a patio, seemingly empty right up to the balustrade. He walks to the edge, the noise of the party lost to the roar of the wind and the waves in his ears, no doubt his hair will be blown into a mess but he doesn’t care.

Everything below him is black, out of reach from the lights of the castle. Then he spots something, a flicker of flame far below him, down a series of steps, out of view, down at an outlook over the sea. She shields it with her hand, lighting a cigarette by the look of it, until the end glows with a red ember.

He walks slowly, savouring the sound of every step his shoes make against the paving stones. He keeps his hands in his pockets, single eye fixated on the shape of her shoulders, the curve of her spine and her waist through the dress.

He tries to guess the moment she realises when she’s not alone. She angles her head slightly as he reaches the bottom of the steps, still a good distance away from her. He watches her take one drag from the cigarette before she lowers it, resting her hand against the stone balcony.

He comes close enough to realise she’s shaking, jaw clenched, looking almost determinedly out across the sea. The wind cuts across his cheeks like it’s burning his skin, so how she can stand to be out here with nothing to protect herself from the cold is almost admirable. It is also foolish of her.

Goosebumps bloom over her skin, skin he could reach out and touch if he wanted to.

And she won’t look at him.

She won’t look at him.

Tags (comment to be added to either)

General taglist: @jamespotterismydaddy @theoneeyedprince @tsujifreya @dreamsofoldvalyria

Series taglist: @aemondsbabygirl @persephonerinyes @sirenangelroyal @qyburnsghost @adragonprinceswhore @boundlessfantasy @asumofwords @summerposie @thedamewithabook @ammo23 @valyrianflower @jiminie-08 @magnificentdelusionr @hiddencurator

[kagooleo]

so with confidence I present my rarepair...fluffyriceshipping!

they were originally a joke ship (which was my last chance to get out) but they grew on me more and more throughout last year, and months later they've become my favorite pair to draw! their name was the funniest thing to make of them because i got to joke around with their jpn names

the tl:dr of them is that there's a lot of good drama to make of thirty-somethings with the weight of responsibility of their respective cultures on their shoulders, as well as their personal thoughts of the trainers of their respective regions, all this culminating together to be really compelling for me to develop, so I'll ramble a Whole lot more under the cut about them :D!!

~

ok now that the people that wanted to see more about what i'm crazy about when i'm not online are here you guys better prepare for the worddump lmao

before they meet its postgame and they’re both in their thirties (early to mid), lance post gsc/hgss still upholds his champion position and managing the dragon's den alongside any g-man/undercover rocket work on the side (in workaholic mode), riley post dppt is occasionally battling at the battleground but also holing himself up with patrols on iron island and doing egg research and training his aura (Also in workaholic mode)

i'd say all the work makes byron and roark try to get him a break from all that, convincing him at some point to take a vacation! see the sights my guy you've been workin yourself to the bone

it's canonically shown in hgss that riley does appear as a partner for the battle tower, so at some point he is in johto! the region resonates with his cultural sensibilities so maybe he revisits it again to instead actually relax there.

lance would probably catch his hat flying away when he's visiting elm's lab (a fellow egg researcher) in new bark and riley would have absolutely fell first for him (and i'm a sucker for meet-cutes,,,)

and from there they hit it off! being both skilled trainers in their own right they battle and go out to eat after and talk about their family (clair and the elders, for riley's case his family friends byron and roark), their culture (dragon clans and aura guardians), and then when they talk about their respective trainer kiddos (silver and dawn) something clicks between them (it’s a Really rough snippet but hopefully it’s decent)-

"Do you have any kids? I know the news loves to make up some kind of story about secret love affairs with a random person." the guardian says, awkwardly.

Lance smiles, "Oh, yeah! I have one but he's technically not mine." Riley chokes on his iced tea.

"I'm sorry?" A million thoughts roll through his mind as he processes his words said so matter-of-factly.

"Haha, sorry, sorry, I'm only partly joking."

"E-Elaborate..."

The champion explains the general gist of things as he's met him, Silver, his kid-by-odd-circumstance, was homeless for a while, but was training alongside some other up and coming trainers. Uncovering some Rocket related files, he learns he's the son of the boss of the entire organization, and after some on and off meetings he eventually got him a place to stay at the Dragon's Den, and soon after began living with him at his place when he warmed up to the idea of adoption.

There are times he gets overwhelmed with all that he's been through, and some nights its all too much. But Lance was there with him, stayed with him every step of the way, unlike the one who gave him that abandonment anxiety in the first place.

"He's my kid, not by blood, and maybe not by his family, either. But instead, by his own decision he chose to stay with me. I'd want him to keep the freedom he has now." Lance states, firmly. "And now he's grown up as strong as I believed he could. I'm proud of him, as much as he tends to deny that." Riley senses his draconic aura swell with pride, mixed with a humbling sincerity in his words.

"What about you? Any kids of your own?" the sudden flip of the question surprises the guardian briefly.

"N-Nothing adoptive but…I suppose it's similar, in a way to meeting them as you have."

The guardian's turn, now. Dawn was someone he met when he was training on Iron Island, and also served as a guide to get her through the caverns. When he felt something off in the aura surrounding the area, he eventually learned of Galactic causing the pokemon on the island to feel restless and agitated. With her, they were able to clear the island of their antics and even gifted her a Riolu egg on her journey. From there, he was impressed with how strong she was, and did hear from Cynthia that she raised his present up to evolving her into a Lucario. He couldn't have been happier.

That was the case, until he caught the aftermath of the events of Mt. Coronet.

What Cyrus did, the lengths he'd go to, and dragging the both of them into a mess that could have torn the world apart.

After that, Dawn stayed home for a while. Cynthia put him as a contact for her mom, who was really worried for her. With his aura and her friends, Lucas and Barry, they were a big help for her recovery. And eventually, after a lot of time and work, she became the region's champion. She messages every now and then to him, as processing any trauma is never an easy road, but he realized how lucky she was to have the people she'd met to keep her steady, and knew she'll be alright.

"I...still wish I could've done more for her," Riley says, quieter. "Cynthia told me about what happened in that other world, and it...it was a lot for Dawn, a lot of emotions to help her figure out." he finishes, sheepish.

"…I don't blame you for feeling that way, I wouldn't know what to do in a scenario like that, either." the champion says, unsure too.

"It's amazing, in a way. All these kids going through so much on their own. I'd be proud were it not so scary, realizing how young they are to go through what they have been through."

"There's only so much you really can do, as an adult. I've realized that fact a long time ago." Lance's aura felt oddly melancholic, as bright and pretty as it may appear. "It's either immediate or slow when things change for them, and sometimes you'll have to make a choice on the spot when the time comes for them to decide what they want to do." It sounds like he’s speaking from experience, but the melancholy makes it appear that he's had some regrets.

“I trust in them to find their own path, eventually. When they’re together, those kids are gonna be alright on their own.”

His reassurance helped, even if only by a small amount.

-

I should make some kind of master post about them at some point but WAH god I’m so happy I can actually put them together in pokemon masters, they’ve really grown on me and I’ve developed a lot for the both of them in my free time, but yeah this is the rarepair that’s been on my brain for ages now, a gaze into my goo brain 🤪

[ride-thedragon]

Nettles: A Retelling of Snow White.

This post comes from the conceptualisation from my mutual @lilyofthevalley-11

She pointed it out, and I've been spiralling about the concept ever since. Nettles is a character you can find a lot of parallels/ foils with in both her own story and context (dance era) and the main ASOIAF series (Daenerys and Brienne come to mind most obviously). So with both those characters being major subversions of the fantasy and story formation (Daenerys as the lead and saviour in the narrative/ Brienne as the white Knight and beauty of her story) it makes sense for George to use that method on a character he favours. With that in mind, this is meta and entirely speculative with proof I find, let's begin:

Tldr: Nettles is like snow white in the same way Jaime and Brienne are like Beauty and the Beast. George loves weird stuff like that. It's not exact, but it's prominent enough for this post.

THE OBVIOUS PARALLELS.

1. THE EVIL QUEEN:

The evil queen in the original story is the wife of the king after his first wife dies. In Nettles' story, the evil queen would be Rhaenyra. The similarity posed with both would be being replaced by a younger woman. Nettles is positioned as a character foil to Rhaneyra much as the evil queen is positioned as the foil to Snow White. Nettles is Rhaenyra's exact opposite in the narrative.

2. Mirror Mirror

Daemon gives Nettles a silvered looking glass as a gift in Maidenpool. we are told. Mysaria, in this instance, is the proverbial mirror that alerts the queen that Nettles is sleeping with Daemon.

3. Ways to kill.

Rhaenyra wishes for Lord Mooton to take Nettles head of at a table (eating) or in bed (sleeping) to 'free' Daemon from the spell he has placed on her.

This is the equivalent to the huntsman who was asked in the story to kill Snow White and bring back organs as proof of the murder.

4. Gifts and So on.

So Daemon at this point is essentially training Nettles in the ways of court and etiquette. He's also buying her a lot of gifts. In Snow White, she gets a lot of gifts as well, but they are meant to kill her.

Nettles gets a hairbrush, and Snow White gets a comb. Snow White gets a ribbon, and Nettles gets a bunch of clothes, but the famous apple can be seen as either the romantic relationship she and Daemon have that calls for her life or the actual food they were eating which technically was red due to the beets. But I have a third and better option for the apple.

5. Ser /Prince Florian.

Ser Florian is a character that adds a plea that Nettles is a child no matter what she's accused of or is doing. He shares a name with the prince from Snow White.

6. Caves, Houses, and Cottages.

It's basically up for grabs because she is sentenced in Maidenpool (like the dwarves cottage), and then she is in the Vale for a time but is found by the Arryns who fought for Rhaenyra to her knowledge (another cottage) but when Sheepstealer takes her away she finds the burned men who devote themselves to them (kinda like the castle in the end). Again, this isn't a 1 to 1 comparison.

INTERPRETATIONS

1. An obvious Appearence.

They both have distinct appearances that cause them some strife. Snow White is the most fair girl alive, and that's why the Queen wants to kill her. Rhaenyra reasons that Nettles is so common and un- Valyrian that she must've used spells to claim a dragon and get with Daemon.

2. Apples and Letter

In this context I think the most symbolic thing for the apple would be the letter and decree Rhaenyra sends to Maidenpool, disguised as a plea to save Daemon.

3. Dwarves, Maidenpool Men, and The Burned Men.

Thematically, I believe that both the men of Maidenpool and the burned men serve as different counterparts to the dwarves, Nettles learns and lives there for about 5 months and helps about by protecting them from Vhagar.

But when she leaves after the letter she runs into the burned men who become a sort of protection from what she believes would be a call on her life by a queen she doesn't know is living or dead.

MORAL PURPOSE.

Innocence and True Beauty.

I think the strongest argument for this comparison stems from the way both stories play out and how they are meant to be interpreted in a moral sense.

Both are stories where a vain queen can not fathom being replaced, so they choose to murder a young girl rather than deal with it.

The point of Snow White was that true beauty is more so aligned with behaviour more so than just looks. Snow White, being the fairest, doesn't mean a lot because we don't know anything about the queen other than the fact that she's older than Snow White.

Nettles is never said to be beautiful at all, but she is often contrasted with Rhaenyra as being caring and innocent. The looks don't matter as much as the innocence of youth and kindness.

SUBVERSIONS.

1. How does innocence look?

Now George chose to make Nettles a black girl at the centre of all this. Snow White is literally as white as snow, so there is a purposeful intentionality of changing the look of innocence. There is a history of Black girls being treated as women and not seen as innocent no matter how young they are, so it is important and influences the story.

2. What is true Beauty?

The Valyrians are seen as the ideal of Beauty in asoiaf but they are also not good people by any stretch of the imagination. In every way Nettles is described, she is the opposite of Valyrian beauty in every way, but she is also a marker of how beauty can be internalised as opposed to the decisions of others. True Beauty like in the original story is internal.

3. Damsels

A complaint I keep seeing about Nettles is that she does nothing in the narrative. As in all, her actions don't have a major narrative change and that she's mostly a passive character. But that kinda makes her a damsel trope. In the story, Snow White doesn't do much but clean and get almost killed a few times. The point of these characters isn't to drive the plot with action alone (she fights in the Gullet, takes over King's Landing, becomes a fire witch in the Vale, and tracks Aemond in Maidenpool) but to motivate other characters and become a catalyst for their introduction in the story.

Maidenpool is still loyal to Rhaenyra without Nettles, Daemon lives if she remains, Aemond doesn't fight if she still flies with Daemon, etc.

4. Kisses from Princes

What does the kiss from the prince do to Snow White? It wakes her up, gives her a life she wouldn't have, true loves kiss. In the original, it's funnier because he literally moves her from her coffin and dislodged the apple in her throat. Daemon saving Nettles serves the same purpose. It has the flare of Daemon Targaryen, but the point is that when he lets her escape, he saves her life from both Rhaenyra and having to fight Aemond.

5. Wrong and Right.

Finally, wrong and right. Snow White does nothing wrong despite what the woke mob (I'm being sarcastic because I've been rambling) wants you to believe. But Nettles isn't innocent. She might be stealing sheep from the shepherds to claim her dragon. She kills innocents in the Battle of the Gullet no matter how remorseful she is and then has a probable affair with a married man. But like snow white, Nettles is consistently said to be and treated like an innocent in the narrative. Her actions don't stain her as a bad person because she isn't. Put quite literally into perspective, she's one of the most innocent characters we meet because of the world she exists in. In a world that kills children for the sake of war and revenge, that starve and tax populations for the sake of power, a girl with the infathomable height of power that is flying a dragon, cries and mourns after what she experiences. When a prince pulls a sword on a maester after reading a letter, she asks what's wrong, and when she leaves the narrative, it's in tears again. Right and wrong in both stories mean many different things, but George adapted it to fit in alignment with Nettles' story and his world.

That's it.

🍎

[violetlunette]

So, I won’t mention names but a little flower with a crush on a certain “bat-lily”--which totally be a romantic nickname for a certain someone, just saying—brought the omegverse to my attention so I decided to share my quickie-quick thoughts on what I imagine the Dia boys would be.

Twst spoilers for book 7

Silver: Silver is an Omega, and a powerful one at that as his pheromones can make anyone feel at peace. As such, this makes him highly prized by Alphas who you can bet Lilia has had to beat off with his mage arm. This saddens Silver a little as he worries that being an omega causes his father trouble and he wants to protect and care for others, not the other way around.

Sebek: Also an Omega, a fact he loathes as he believes omegas to be weak and fragile, even though Lilia tries to tell him everyday that Omegas have their own strengths. He especially bemoans this as he wanted to be an alpha like his grandfather. Also, I really like him as a loud, bratty omega with an arc of accepting himself.

Malleus: Technically, he hasn’t presented yet as dragons don’t get their second gender till 500. (And I can’t decide as he’d fit omega and alpha. Comment with your thoughts.) Despite this, he oft steps into the role of alpha when his omega guards need it. Speaking of which, Malleus received a lot of flack for choosing omegas as his retainers, prompting the two to train harder.

Lilia: The only Alpha of Dia currently, though many mistake him for an omega or beta. I like him as an alpha as presents an arc for him old and young. As a young Alpha he didn’t believe he could care for Malleus the way needed because he was a rough and tough alpha who belonged on the battlefield. However, in his journey to hatch Malleus he learned there’s more than one side to alpha’s and that he didn’t have to have his fangs bared all the time. When he’s older, he struggles to accept the care he’s given as alpha are supposed to be the strong ones. He usually "scents" the boys as a warning to other alphas to back off or die.

And those are my quick thoughts! Feel free to share yours!

[ryuichirou]

Replies

Some replies! A couple of neutral ones, a couple of cursed ones oops.

eh-nonnie-mouse asked:

Idia is so cute in his birthday sleep wear. But I'm sure all his tops like him better out of it. Such sly men.

Yes! Bad men! Terrible men! They should leave it on, it’d be so cute if Idia got his sleep wear all dirty….

He really is adorable though… I can’t believe we managed to post Idia wearing his pjs for an entire week and this isn’t even all the sketches of him wearing it that I drew 🌚

Anonymous asked:

Hello, I was curious about something! Obviously in your headcanon Lilia is neither ''father of the year'' nor just a sweet spooky old bat, but do you envision him with a potential for fluff and vulnerability or is he truly a 100% tease?

Hi Anon! Even though we have preference towards the cursed side of things, Lilia absolutely has a softer side, especially now since he mellowed down a lot over the years. He genuinely loves his close ones, and he genuinely just wants to have a good time and for his boys to live a meaningful and happy life.

He isn’t the father of the year, and it’s fun to talk about him failing miserably and completely misunderstanding how children work (+ it’s fun to come up with fucked up headcanons teehee), but he still tried his best and did a pretty decent job. It absolutely wasn’t his intention to hurt Malleus or Silver, Sebek as well. He is also very loveable; there is a reason he has so many friends after all~

I can actually picture him having meaningful conversations with Idia about life and death and what’s the meaning of life and all. I can also picture him sharing quiet nostalgic moments with Silver or smooching Malleus’ cheeks or doing other stuff similar to that.

I could give you some specific headcanons if you tell me what Lilia ship I should write it about~ (Ryu says, literally drowning in hc asks that are waiting for months to be written… I am so sorry)

Anonymous asked:

Who in the cast would put their dick in their own ass?

Anon… This is a very good question… who is long and experimental enough…

My first thought is always Idia, but would he do it on his own volition? Maybe after a very heated internet argument to prove a point to himself… regretting it instantly… or maybe Ortho helped him with that? Or maybe the Tweels or Lilia made him do it..? How it’s a bullying scenario wow, AGAIN.

Malleus could’ve done it technically but it probably never even occurred to him to try something like that.

Epel would think about it… but he isn’t long enough…

(speaking of which, if the question was “who in the cast would try to suck their own dick”, the answer would probably be longer, because those idiots WOULD ABSOLUTELY TRY IT)

Anonymous asked:

Thinking about dragon Mal and Lilia sketch. What is Lilia gets sucked up in Mal's ass? Prolly won't be a big deal. I'm a sucker for anal vore

(this is related to a very special sketch on our 🔑acc hehe)

I wouldn’t be surprised if something like that happened at some point, Anon. They would get carried away, and Malleus would want to feel Lilia even deeper, maybe raise his hips too quickly and too much, maybe squeeze him inside too tight… and Lilia would just slide down there lol Imagining getting a near-death experience while fucking a dragon. It’s absolutely one of the most intense ways for Lilia to almost die… I wonder what he needed to do for Malleus to spit him out from there.

When he got out, he probably felt pretty good for Malleus~ the sensation itself I mean, he probably only realised what happened after he calmed down from his orgasm.

Honestly, I’m not particularly into any kind of vore, but hey, when it fits, it fits. Just like Lilia inside of Malleus’ dragon ass-

[emyluwinter]

I…..I don't even know where to start here, my dear.

It's not like "everything burns with a blue flame"

TWST decided to punch the OUT.

So everything is according to the old scheme. Then there are spoilers.

SHOO

So we continue to lead our news feed with Twisted wonderland AND THIS IS DAMN THE MOST DESTRUCTIVE EMOTIONAL UPDATE OF THE PLOT.

I love this game so much, you would know, it gives me such an emotional explosion that I need so much in life from time to time.

You can find now a bunch of different interpretations of a more detailed plot from the game. I will pay attention to what I remember the most

First. Grimm is my cute little gremlin/little devil. Scares poor cooks, a married couple hiding in the basement(?) to get brooms for to fly. And the funny thing is… YUU CAN JOIN THIS. YES. TIME TO BE THE MOST DANGEROUS!AND NOT TO SOLVE IT! Don't tell me Yuu doesn't enjoy a little chaos when he and Grimm start making a complete mess.

While the conversation was going on, the sound of a very hungry stomach sounded. Everyone immediately looks at Sebek.

Sebek burning with shame - …………… it's not me.

Silver didn't believe him for a split second!!*laughs*

And then this crocodile accuses that it's rumbling in Yuu's stomach! Sebek!!How could you!!Ahahahahahaha. First you say with the stubbornness of the rock that you will not be friends with us, and then you substitute that it is not you who is rumbling in your stomach, but the "person" Yes. Sure. Pffffff.

Sebek continues to deny it. But his rumbling stomach interrupts his own words. Ahahahahahah. Nice guy, just say you're hungry.

Silver DISNEY PRINCESS is already a canon, my dear. Sebek came up with a plan to use this "Princess of Diasomnia" so that they could escape past the knights of the Silver Owl. Use animals as a distraction. They really managed to escape. And when the "Dream" team (Yuu, Grimm, Silver and Sebek) were almost attacked, Lilia came to the rescue. Scolded his "not sons" for something they were inattentive. And Lilia was also attacked by birds thinking that he was dangerous to Silver. OMALVDPOALDVPODA

We were shown the castle of Princess Meleanor. (Mallenoa, it turned out to be not quite the right name from Japanese to English. We were shown how to do it right) This is a frame from the Sleeping Beauty cartoon. Such beautiful backgrounds. I like the visual style.

*San takes a deep breath*

WE WERE SHOWN MELEANOR. AND I'M ABSOLUTELY NOT OKAY. I AM WEAK AGAINST THE WOMEN THAT TOBOSO CREATES.

NO, JUST LOOK AT HER. THIS GODDESS.

With not the easiest character, but as Lilia said, Malleus is definitely more calm than his mother.

How powerful this goddess's thighs must be to lay this healthy egg….

Meleanor - * the most gentle dragon mom who loves the baby in the egg, sings a lullaby to him*

she's in a second

"I'LL SET YOU ON FIRE WITH LIGHTNING RIGHT NOW, IDIOT!!"

Lilia meanwhile with the face "I want to retire"

Meleanor considers her husband to be a world-class beauty and that Malleus will definitely grow up and receive beauty genes from his father. Ma'am, I want to know what your husband looks like since you worship him so much. I need to see him!! TOBOSO PLEASE. Who is this man capable of stealing the heart of Draconia?!

Oh, yeah….

Meleanor threw such information that set the fandom on fire. As if it's not enough for us right now..khem…

Lilia proposed to her when he was younger, and Meleanor also said that Lilia also loves Levan. And that they both spent more time together than any married couple.

Well … technically, "love" can be perceived in different ways, as a family, as a friend, as a dear fairy heart, and in romantic or not, everyone decides for himself. Lilia grew up with Meleanor and Levan, in fact, these are the two closest faeries that have been to him throughout his life.

TWST decided to tear our hearts to shreds, I'm not kidding.

Silver…..

….guys…..he's already having a tantrum for the third time probably happening. The screenwriters didn't spare him at all. Like us, too.

It's not like a panic attack, it smells like a nervous breakdown.

And yes, he was dragged away by ink due to the fact that his entire consciousness went to dust.

It wasn't enough for us to have one overblott, IT ALREADY SMELLS LIKE TWO AT LEAST

Sebek, Grimm and Yuu are trying to find Silver lost in the ink. They wander in the dark long a lot and Sebek is worried that we might get lost. Yuu takes them by the hand and Sebek is confused and confused. Phphhavadlp. This guy. Tsundere. You're in our gang, no excuses.

Silver is of course pulled out, Sebek swears with him, fights with him, swears again. He's crying eyes out. And they put up. Silver uses the magic of the ring to pull everyone out of the ink.

Yuu and their poor battered back from all these falls…Ahahahahaha

They notice that behind the Lily's footprints there are traces of knights from Silver Owls and rush to help.

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand

this is the end of the chapter.

Considering that there will be a new event in October.Which will stretch until mid-November? I think that we can expect updates to the plot of the main story in December. Perhaps. But this is not accurate.

As we can see, they try not to "artificially stretch the plot" as sometimes happens. And to work it out carefully and in detail. Keep in mind that we are only approaching the middle of the story somewhere. Because Ortho is still waiting for us with dogs and Styx And the fight is not in a dream with Malleus.

+Analysis of the consequences.

And I reааааааally hope chapter 8 for Yuu and Grimm.

Let's summarize the results.

Silver turned out to be the son of the Knight of the Dawn, immersed in a deep sleep because of the three fairies until the war ends. CANONICALLY SILVER IS TAKEN FROM THE HISTORY OF AURORA And that "only love can wake him up" Lilia, who was staggering next to an abandoned castle for 300/400 years, it is unknown why.

-huh?…is there a baby crying somewhere?

The unique magic of Lilies. - check The unique magic of Sobek. - check

It remains only to learn the unimalkuyu magic - Ace, Grimm and Ortho!

[hanafubukki]

Yes, OT3 and No longer you are renting free in my head. Go hit Dawny fantasy of his romance with the strange kind girl he found in the wood one day when said girl is like "Yeah. We cannot be together. Cannot say much but I know what will happen and the future is dark". I mean, even without OT3 involved, this song is so much for Dawn 😭

"The song of past romance"

"The sacrifice of men"

"Portayal of betrayal and a brother final stance"

The only difference is that Dawn don't seem to be the kind who would choose the Monster route, and commit a massacre out of hate/revenge. But yeah, self hate and imposter syndrome are my guess. "I do not deserve my wife. They say I am an hero, but I just have the blood of a mother on my hands." Please. I don't want to think of how tortured this man was when Leia belly started to show. Happy, we will have a child. Sad, I made another child orphan. Happy, the baby moved. Sad, no news of the hatchling dragon that should have already been born. Happy, the baby is born healthy. Sad, I must return to war.

And this guy died alone on a battlefield against other humans as greedy as them. Who knows what he had thought at that time ? Worried ? Relieved ? Dissapointed ?

This man take too much space in my brain for the little screen time he had.

- 🦋 Anon

Hello 🦋 Anonie,

“This man takes too much space in my brain for the little screen time he had”

THE WAY I FELT THIS.

As of right now, he’s been in only TWO chapters 🦋 anonie, just two! And the way he has gripped me??? I want to laugh and just be that Kermit frenzy meme. (Those two chapters were long, but that’s not the point shhh)

….did you know it’s been about…311 days since they reveled KOD as Silver’s bio father? (Give or take a day because of time zones, etc.) I mean who’s counting? Hahaha certainly not me, what are you talking about?? ☺️🥰

(My yume with KOD was recently 300 so that’s how i know 💞🫶)

…wait that means it’s been 311 days since Meleanor was revealed as well… @rayroseu and @kitwasnothere happy 311 days to you both 🥹🫂💞

No Longer Human just hits me in the feels 😭😭💞💞 the future is dark for KOD but bright for his son and I think that’s all that he would have wanted for his family. How frustrated or helpless would he have felt to meet someone he likes who keeps putting a barrier because they know that future and don’t want to be hurt? How would they feel knowing they can’t save him? 😭😭 (this is why I have 10 AUs in my head where he lives, I want him happy ahhh 💞💞)

In canon wise, yes! I agree! It is still a KOD song. For all of the points you mentioned above. What I really love that you pointed out what the opposites of KOD and Lilia. KOD wouldn’t become the monster like Lilia would. But technically, it’s all about perspective in this case, because the label of “Monster and killing for hate” well, the faes or humans might disagree no? Depending on the side you ask?

Not to go too deep, since I talked about it before in this post, but based on perspective. Everyone can be the hero or the villain.

BUT YESSS THE PARALLELS OF MALLEUS AND SILVER EVEN BEFORE THEIR BIRTHS. How must he have felt? To know that he has this happiness while taking away another’s? But at the same time, I want to believe that before he went to war for the last time. He tried his best to make peace with the faes. There’s a reason why the humans turned on him and Leia and maybe this is why.

I want to believe that as he laid there. He at least knew that his son would live happily in a peaceful time with people who love him.

After all, that ring just shows how loved Silver is by KOD doesn’t it? Always shining and helping him, showing him precious memories, and that smile at the end. He’s truly happy for his son and I think with that thought alone. He was happy.

[give me his damn name twst. I love calling him Dawn and all the symbolisms he is and all that without the name and such. Love that in story telling but dang it, give me a name. If I have to wait until the book 7 light novel…I think I will scream. 😆🤣]

[theworldisquietheretooquiet]

An unhinged attempt to fit deaths in the Silm into the 15 Fears/Entities of The Magnus Archives

THE BURIED

Fingolfin

So in all honesty I struggled to put Fingolfin in one of the others, but he’s here because he was figuratively weighed down by the weight of the ruin of the Noldor… and Morgoth crushed him under his weight, which was “like a fallen hill.”

THE CORRUPTION

Aredhel

She dies to a poisoned wound inflicted by her husband, which is very symbolic of an entity associated with infection and unhealthy love.

THE DARK

Eluréd & Elurín

They are taken by monsters into a dark forest, and their death is a fate unknown in the dark… I’m not crying… MAG 173 vibes.

THE DESOLATION

Maedhros

This works so well and was what originally sparked (ha) this idea. Throwing yourself into a “gaping chasm filled with fire” is exactly what a victim of the Lightless Flame would do. This fear is the manifestation of pain, loss and unthinking/cruel destruction, especially of potential. Maedhros both experiences this and is the perpetrator of this on countless occasions. His death is the consequence of these actions – his last sensations are “pain unbearable”, “anguish”, and “despair”.

Also, the parallels to Agnes Montague! Both are angsty redheads who were held up as the hope of a people only to fail in that role completely and die a meaningless self-inflicted death…

(I promise the others won’t be as long oops)

Aegnor & Angrod

Really all deaths in the Dagor Bragollach fit here – dying in despair in dragon fire is very Desolation.

Aerin

Unlike the others I don’t believe she ever gave into utter despair, and her death by fire has some defiant rage in it. Yet her life was marked by pointless pain and her death by destruction; she burns herself alive to avoid the revenge of the Easterlings.

THE END

Maglor

He’s haunted by inevitable death throughout the narrative - the unstoppable end of all his brothers, cousins and Beleriand itself. Assuming he fades, he dies the closest to a mortal death from old age of any elf.

Morwen

She dies nearly as soon as Hurin finds her on the grave of her children, one of the last of the Beorians, a ‘dead’ people.

THE EYE

Húrin

As Thingol tells him “for he that seeth through Morgoth’s eyes, willing or unwilling, seeth all things crooked”. A figure that keeps constant watch and horrible knowledge that may destroy you are both of the Eye.

THE EXTINCTION

Turgon

The Fall of Gondolin represents that final extinction of all Noldor culture, power and craft in Beleriand – and it was brought down by a Noldo (Maeglin). Destruction by our own doing is very Extinction.

THE FLESH

Celebrimbor

(Yes I know he doesn’t technically die in the Silm sshhh) But being made into a human banner and paraded by the enemy is quintessentially Flesh fears of reshaping and mutilation.

Finduilas

She was “fastened to a tree with a spear”, which is the sort of physical mutilation this entity represents.

THE HUNT

Finrod

He killed a werewolf … with his hands and teeth. Yeah.

Celegorm

This boy is the biggest avatar of the Hunt. He literally canonically served the god of hunting. And his hunting after the silmaril led to the second kinslaying and his death.

Ambarussa

If we go with the idea their own followers turned on them and killed them at Sirion, it has the Hunt energy of predator becoming prey.

THE LONELY

Maeglin

Kind of leaning into popular fanon here (because it has been a while since I read tfog) but his betrayal of Gondolin links with his isolation as Eöl’s son, Sindarin and the way he was raised in Nan Elmoth. Plus his whole being a creep for Idril thing as a desire to not be alone.

THE SLAUGHTER

Dior

The sudden, awful violence of the second kinslaying basically.

Fingon

His death signifies to me the pure, horrifying, unmotivated violence of war which the Slaughter represents. They “beat him into the dust with their maces, and his banner, blue and silver, they trod into the mire of his blood.”

THE SPIRAL

Fëanor

There’s the lies spread by Morgoth, Feanor’s own deceit of Fingolfin at Losgar and his description as “fey”, all which lead to his death, and lies, false friendships, deceit and madness are all characteristics of the Spiral.

Thingol

He was mad to speak to the dwarves like that and not expect consequences lol. Also his obsession with the silmaril is a little like madness. And I guess you could say the dwarves ‘deceived’ him as they never intended to give him the Nauglamir.

THE STRANGER

Beleg

Case 1.0 of Túrin killing a love interest because of mistaken identity.

Nienor

Case 2.0 of Túrin ‘killing’ a love interest because of mistaken identity. Feat. Accidental incest. Also Nienor experiences the creeping sense of knowing something is not right but not how.

THE VAST

Eöl

He gets yeeted to death. Simon Fairchild is jealous.

Elenwë

Dying an ‘insignificant’ death in the unfathomably deep and barren void of the Helcaraxë is very indicative of the Vast.

THE WEB

Túrin

He is the poster child for being trapped in a machination, and not knowing it, Morgoth makes his will not his own with the curse. With his many names he tries to escape the web Glaurung and Morgoth cast over him, but to the end he only furthers his own doom – “master of doom by doom mastered”. (Even his sword was working against him RIP.)

[daemonsdivorcerock]

THE RED COUNCIL || d.targaryen

SUMMARY: viserys targaryen is dead. his succession left in doubt. all (name) targaryen has to her claim is a few words and a stolen right. war is coming to the seven kingdoms and the dragons will dance. sister against sister. kin against kin.

REQUESTED: yes/no

PAIRING: daemon targaryen x fem!targaryen reader

AUTHOR’S NOTES: part four of the shrew of king’s landing series. reader is described as having silver hair. cregan stark is slightly aged up in this btw.

WARNINGS: bucket loads of incest, parental death, allusions to murder, war, mentions of usurping, slight cregan stark/reader, mentions of “blood and cheese”, pregnancy, stillbirth, miscarriage etc

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

VISERYS TARGARYEN IS DEAD. HE HAD BEEN FOR LESS THAN AN HOUR. (Name) could not help but feel a form of guilt as she stood there, alone, with a hand on her stomach and tears running down her cheeks. Her father was dead. Her mother was dead. Her parents were dead.

Daemon had walked into the chambers after being summoned. He was respectfully quiet as he did so, hands on his wife’s shoulders. “The King is dead,” (Name) uttered quietly, as Daemon toyed with her silver locks.

“Indeed he is,” Daemon spoke, in a similar manner, holding his wife close. Everybody expressed their grief in a myriad of ways. Daemon preferred to bottle his feelings to avoid talking about them. (Name), on the other hand, sought comfort in others, “We must summon the Small Council,”.

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

“Couldn’t we have begun this meeting when the sun has risen?” Tyland Lannister had asked, a smile on his face and a joking tone to his voice.

Sitting around the table, was the Red Council. Alicent had been informed the news firstly, as the Dowager Queen, then Otto as the former Hand of the King. Sitting at the head of the table, (Name) sighed. “The King is dead,” she revealed, causing the smile on Tyland Lannister’s face to drop and the room to fall silent.

“How long?” the Grand Maester queried, adorning beige-coloured robes, from across the table next to Ser Lyman Beesbury, a favourite in the council of (Name)‘s.

Daemon, who stood behind his wife, hand on her shoulder, confessed; “An hour ago, at most,” the Rogue Prince said, “(Name) was with him in his final moments and witnessed his death,”.

“He went peacefully in his sleep,” (Name) described, interlocking her fingers and resting her hands on the table. It felt odd, knowing that her father was dead, “He expressed…regret in not naming me as his heir and apologised,”.

“I believe we should confer the issue of King Viserys’ sucession,” Otto Hightower spoke, leaning forward slightly, “In regards as to who shall ascend the Iron Throne,”.

(Name)’s eyebrows furrowed. “My father has barely been dead an hour and here you sit, Otto Hightower, implying his succession!” (Name) snapped, “My sister, the Princess Rhaenyra, was named formally as heir twenty years ago by my father. The lords of the realm swore allegiance to her. To challenge my sister’s claim would be treason,”.

“That may be so, Princess,” The Grand Maester piped up, catching the room’s attention, “However, as in accordance with the King’s final words and the technicality of you being his firstborn child, you have every right to ascend the Iron Throne,”.

Alicent Hightower, who stood behind her father, uttered, “Princess (Name) also has a legitimate heir, the Princess Daenerys, who in turn also has a legitimate heir, the Prince Jaehaerys. Princess Rhaenyra has no legitimate children,”.

“It is well known that the people referred to my wife as “The Realm’s Joy”. She has a good relationship with the common folk and listens to their pleas,” Daemon said, as (Name) looked up at him.

Otto Hightower spoke up again, “I and others present in this council recall the Princess’ political and other suggestions in regards to the welfare of the Kingdom. In all valid points, the Princess (Name) would be an ideal candidate to be the next ruler of the Iron Throne,”.

“I acknowledge your points, councilmen,” the Princess spoke, “But Rhaenyra is my sister. What is stopping her from coming to the Red Keep and staking her claim? What is stopping her from putting me and my family to the sword?”.

“You do have allies in other Houses, Princess,” Daemon mentioned, “Lord Borros Baratheon. Lord Grover Tully. I recall you had a brief liaison with Lord Cregan Stark in your youths,”.

(Name) smiled, recalling the times she spent with Cregan Stark. “Houses Lannister, Tully, Redwyne, Tyrell and many minor houses have notably supported your cause as heir,” Otto mentioned.

“There has never been a Stark who forgot an oath,” (Name) backfired, “Lord Rickard Stark swore allegiance to Rhaenyra upon her ascension. My mother was an Arryn, yet the Vale would also have loyalty to Rhaenyra. I am also unsure about House Velaryon. Dorne is positively out of the question, House Martell remains neutral,”.

All this talk of war and politics made her head hurt. She let out a soft wince of pain, holding her stomach. Her white nightgown had been stained a dreary crimson, panic darting in her eyes. “Princess?” Otto asked, almost a hint of concern darting in his eyes.

“M-My labours,” (Name) muttered, holding her stomach, “I-I think I have begun my labours,”. She doubled over and scrunched in pain.

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

It was the early hours of the following morning when the Red Keep had been awoken by the screams of blistering agony. Adorning a blood-stained nightgown, (Name) keeled in pain, her knees almost buckling.

The handmaidens begged her to let them help. She knew deep down. Her mind rebelled against the idea. Rejected it completely. But in her heart, she knew. She knew this baby was dying. Her ninth child.

Daemon was trying to keep the Small Council at bay, the lot of them like wolves begging for a scrap of instruction. She sank against a wall, screaming and sobbing. Her hair was mussed and wild and face drenched with sweat, pieces of hair sticking to her forehead.

Eventually, the physical pain subsided when the baby came out. But the emotional pain was only just beginning. She breathed heavily for a minute or two, the sound of silence was deafening. The maids were sobbing. Through teary eyes and a dishevelled heart, she picked up the blood-stained infant.

During the birth she felt inward how Meraxes was roaring she screamed. The link between dragon and rider must have been more real than she had assumed.

She wasn’t moving. Her daughter wasn’t moving. The baby felt warm still. She had tufts of silver-coloured hair and half-closed lavender eyes. (Name) pressed a kiss to the baby’s forehead.

The baby was small and deformed. Her limbs were thin as twigs and her body was covered in grey scales. She was gaunt and slender and lacked a nose. Daemon had come in, finding his wife sitting emotionlessly, holding their child.

He joined her on the bloody floor, holding her as she screamed and sobbed, about how “it was unfair”, and how she “should have died instead”. She refused to let the Silent Sisters prepare the baby’s body for a funeral later.

Visenya Targaryen died loved and lived briefly, her corpse burnt by Meraxes’ flames. She knew that her mother and father would protect Visenya in heaven. Protecting her. Blinded by grief and mourning, the Shrew of King’s Landing took to the Red Keep.

Rhaenys Velaryon had declared her allegiance to (Name)’s cause before departing for Driftmark with Baela and Rhaena, to reunite with Corlys Velaryon after he was found at sea.

All that was left was the coronation.

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

[humanpurposes]

(Teaser) It Will Come Back

Chapter 3, Broken Bonds

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

A/n: I feel bad that it's been forever since this series had an update, and I'm just feeling silly today so I thought I'd share a lil something of what I've been working on (to hopefully motivate me to finish the chapter lmao).

Now…

The heat is relentless this summer. Light bleeds through the ancient stained glass windows of the Red Keep in beams of red, green, blue and gold, only to be lost to the dark wood floors, furniture and panelled walls. It is Aemond’s least favourite time of year, when the weather makes him irritable and the harsh light gives him a headache, when business tends to be busy and everyone is preoccupied with holidays and garden parties. He’s less inclined to distract himself with frivolity. 

His sleeves are rolled up, his long silver hair pulled into a ponytail, sweat starting to pool underneath the eyepatch over the left side of his face. He’s leaning over Aegon, one hand on the back of his chair, staring down at his laptop and they check over some details for next week’s event.

It’s not often Aemond finds himself in his brother’s office. Technically Aegon is his superior, ‘deputy operations manager’ according to the golden plaque on the door. This is more of a courtesy title because he couldn’t get a respectable job anywhere else, and it would be far worse for their father’s image to have a layabout son.

That’s the funny thing about the family business. It’s no secret that Viserys Targaryen didn’t want his sons involved in Dragon Bank, but his influence is not as all encompassing as he would like to believe, not since the Hightowers got a foot in the door thirty or so years ago… then another… then another. Viserys can make his demands and shout when he’s angry enough, but there is one truth he cannot deny; he needs them. He needs Otto. He needs Alicent. He needs Helaena and Daeron to stay perfect. He needs Aegon to not be a fuck up and that’s enough. And he needs Aemond because he’s good at his job. No one has an eye for detail like him, no one can make sense out of figures or persuade clients and investors like he can.

Why their grandfather wants him to look over PR and marketing nonsense is understandable, but irritating nonetheless.

Their father has been planninging this event for years, Dragon Bank’s fifth centenary gala, with all the pomp and grandeur of a bygone era, held at their ancestral seat of Dragonstone Castle, just outside the city. Five hundred years since one of their ancestors forged a throne for himself in King’s Landing, building an empire that still has most of the country under their family’s thumb. Viserys intends to use the occasion as a reminder to every individual and family in Westeros who thinks they are even slightly important that they cannot compare to the might of the Targaryens. 

There can be no oversights. Everything has to be perfect.

His eye scans over the diagram on the screen, circles surrounded boxes with names; the seating plan in the main ballroom. Then a name catches his eye and it makes his heart stop. He doesn’t want to believe what he sees but there it is on the screen, in Times New fucking Roman: Jaya Velaryon.

He’s hardly heard that name, read it, or heard it in six years. He can already feel a dull ache creeping into his skull, which he knows will catch like kindling and soon become a burning, blinding pain behind his eyes and in the crevices of his scar.

Aegon, completely oblivious, huffs a little laugh to himself. “Shit, yeah, I meant to say there was an update with the seating. So this could turn out to be quite interesting– fuck, are you alright?” 

“Fine!” Aemond snaps, staggering back from the chair. His head feels like it’s been run through with a knife and his fingers fumble to get his eyepatch off. “Fine– fuck! I’m fine.”

“Sit,” Aegon orders, quickly standing and guiding Aemond over to one of the leather sofas on the other side of the room, where the sunlight isn’t so direct.

The pain is often like this, striking suddenly, spreading quickly like a forest fire, eating away at him like a disease, and he has no choice but to endure it.

He feels the eyepatch slip from his face before something cold presses against the worst of his scar. He reaches up to clasp his hands around it: a glass water bottle, one Aegon is holding. His brother is useless most of the time but he does have his moments.

“Fuck it’s all red,” Aegon mutters. “Have you got meds with you?”

When Aemond opens his mouth to speak his jaw is trembling. “Office,” he says, gritting his teeth together, trying to control his breath and the extent of the pain. “It’s in the office.” He can see where the packet is in the first draw under his desk.

“I can go and grab some–”

“No,” Aemond says, grabbing Aegon’s arm so he won’t move. 

He can handle this. Every time this kind of pain flares up he thinks of how much it hurt that night, how terrified he was as he felt the blood gushing from the gash in his eye, slipping through his fingers. The pain had been so great he thought it might kill him. If he can get through that night, the first few hours in the hospital, the months of recovery or the years since, then he can get through a fucking headache. 

He closes his eye and breathes in counts of three. In through the nose, hold, and out. Between that and the bottle against his face the pain starts to feel a little duller and the room doesn’t feel so close.

“Is it… you know,”

Did seeing Jaya’s name shock him so severely that his body went into meltdown? Is his heart still pounding in his chest at the thought of reading her name and the possibility of seeing her again? 

Aemond exhales irritably against the back of his throat, defeated, but always stubborn.

[twistedwonderlandsimps]

People being scared of Mal!Yuu but it's really just resting blank face. Does Malleus mind his older sibling following him around? I'm pretty sure at that point Dire just knows not to say anything about Yuu being in the wrong class.

Lilia probably takes being followed the best, then Silver (who might be a little like ???). Sebek probably handles it terribly.

Poor Leona though. Now there's two lizards hanging around the school.

What’s funnier is that while there are people who’s scared of Mal!Yuu, Malleus is still the feared Draconia out of the two of them. Case in point, Ace and Deuce. These two who share a braincell may have actually not realize that Mal!Yuu was a Draconia and have gotten into shenanigans with them, only realizing their heritage soon after but by that time they’re like, “Yuu and Grim aren’t scary at all. 100/10, would defeat the Dwarf’s Mine monster with them again. :D” After that, it’s just downhill from there. Yuu gets caught up in overblot after overblot but they do meet and acquire more friends so that’s a plus.

I believe Malleus doesn’t mind his older sibling following him to class. He sees it as a way of them bonding together and everyone's having a good time so all is right. Though, the students in the class they were in were all suspiciously silent and their backs were straight and stiff as boards, pointedly looking at the teacher in front and refusing to look behind them where the two dragon fae were sitting seem to say otherwise.

Also, yes, Lilia likes being followed by Mal!Yuu! They knew each other way, way back before so it isn’t a surprise if Yuu gets into shenanigans because of Lilia and become close friends because of this. (enemies to lovers to amnesiac, very slowburn, >300k fic lmao you wish) Unfortunately for Lilia, though, it seems the Mal!Yuu still can’t remember much of anything before they woke up from deep sleep so he can’t act overly familiar with them.

Silver’s pretty much neutral about being followed to class and Yuu even helps carry and move them around when he starts feeling drowsy when walking through the halls. Mal!Yuu’s going to make sure Silver arrives to class on time!

Sebek handles it terribly because this is like Malleus 2.0 following him around, only older and was technically the heir to the Valley of Thorns if they only didn’t willingly give that title to their own brother. Don’t worry, though, he relaxes a teensy, tiny little bit when he joins the braincell group.

Poor Leona. He’s just sleeping and the moment he wakes up, Ruggie’s already telling him about the rumors that Malleus’ apparently older long-lost sibling appeared and was now going to this school. He stares at Ruggie for a moment, turns to the side and goes back to sleep. He doesn’t want to deal with whatever thatis. He also learns that Mal!Yuu’s willing to give the title and being next-in-line as the heir for the Valley of Thorns to Malleus and he’s like ‘Damn, why can’t Farena be like that? Tch.’

[write4tomorrow]

Part 1: Heat and Victories

Pairing: Druig x Sorcerer!Reader

Summary: **** (SPOILERS) **** AU where all the remaining Eternals stay on earth after the events of the movie. You are a sorcerer like Doctor Strange and have been working as his assistant since Thanos’ downfall. Doctor Strange has been keeping close watch over the Eternals after the Celestial emerged from the ocean.

Genre: Adventure / Fluff

Word Count: 1392

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Epilogue (complete)

With a warm cup in your hands, you sat outside of a crowded Italian cafe. To the beat of street music, you tapped both your sorcerer’s ring and your sling ring against your ceramic cup. Maybe you could go out dancing later. Well, only if your mentor allowed it.

The little city square was busy and the Italians around your table don’t seem to notice you at all. Even the rhythmic clanking against the mug didn’t seem to disturb anyone. Looking around at the beautiful architecture, you suddenly found yourself wishing that your mentor would let you explore more.

“Keep your eyes on Kingo,” Doctor Strange’s voice crackled in your ear. You scowled and pulled your baseball cap lower on over your face. After taking a sip from the warm mug, you sprinkle some herbs into your drink. You are not a warrior. Yes, you know how to fight (with and without magic), but you are better at serving as Doctor Strange’s eyes and ears. You need to make sure your physical and mental shields were raised and strong. The tricks that Doctor Strange had taught you were alright, but you created a light powder mixture that amplified the strength of your mental shields. Now you carried a little pouch of yellow powder with you constantly because of how well it helped you keep your defenses up. It tasted awful, but after drinking it every day for almost five years, the taste no longer bothered you.

“If you can see me, you can see Kingo,” you hissed, “and if you can see Kingo, why do you need me here?” Over the small earpiece, you heard the Doctor sigh.

“I am too recognizable to be there in person,” Doctor Strange explained. You knew this, of course. You could go places that the former avenger couldn’t. It was part of the reason your sorcerer's ring was attracted to you. While Doctor Strange had the Cloak of Levitation and the Eye of Agamotto, you had the fabled Merlin ring. A little ring of silver with a dragon skull on it, it was your favorite part of being Doctor Strange’s apprentice. You still didn’t know the depth of its power. It primarily served to channel your power into one place. But after spending the past two days in Italy, following Kingo and Sersi around like a breathing shadow, you were beginning to feel stifled.

“Do you have eyes on Sersi?” You glanced around as Kingo signed a poster for a fan. You took another long sip of your drink as you discreetly looked for Sersi. She left the Domo this morning to sightsee around at a museum, so you hadn’t seen her in a few hours. Where was she? What were the Eternals doing in Italy?

Something about their behavior during the months after the appearance of the celestial living within the earth seemed suspicious. While you considered Doctor Strange to be a paranoid man, you did believe him when he told you that the Eternals were hunting something. But for what?

“She left the museum about an hour ago. You should see her soon but-”

Without warning, Doctor Strange’s voice cut off. You immediately sat up straighter and began calling for Strange over the ear piece. No response. This wasn’t a technical malfunction. The Doctor made these earpieces himself with magic and the best Stark Technology. What was going on?

Everyone in the cafe suddenly stopped talking. Their eyes glowed an iridescent yellow and their heads slowly turned toward you. A strong pressure began to wash over your mind. In waves, something oppressive tried to force its way into your thoughts. Silently, you thanked yourself for remembering to drink your dose of yellow powder for the day. Still, even with that defense, the magic trying to overcome your mind was insanely strong.

“Okay, time to go,” you whispered to yourself as you tried to discreetly rise out of your seat. You were gritting your teeth, hoping that your head would stop throbbing. Distracted by the oncoming headache, you almost didn’t notice a strong hand gripping your shoulder. With a firm push, you were forced back into your chair.

“Nice try, beautiful,” an accented voice purred, “but we have a bone to pick with you.” You looked over and found Druig taking a seat opposite you. His eyes were glowing like the silent people around you. The pressure in your mind escalated just a tad but you forced yourself to focus on the eternal in front of you.

“Please,” you began as kindly as your temper would allow, “get out of my head.” There was a part of you that wanted to jump to your feet. You couldn’t tell where the strange spike of energy came from but you wanted to do something. Fight, perhaps. Or maybe sing? Or jump for the moon? Whatever this feeling was, you wanted to channel all of it towards Druig.

“Well, see, here’s the interesting thing,” Druig’s eyes never left yours, “I can’t seem to get inside.” With an appraising glance, Druig looked you over. Your fists were clenched and your knuckles were white, but other than that, you kept your composure. To be honest, Druig had expected someone a little more meek. Despite just meeting you,

“Druig,” Kingo called as he made his way over to you, “Stop playing with her.” After pulling up a chair and taking a seat, Kingo tossed a small golden device on the table.

“Our friend Phastos - you know him? - he made that,” Kingo explained, pointing to the box. “It’s blocking all communication between you and your master.”

“He’s not my master,” you replied, reaching for your drink. Before you could stop him, Druig pulled the cup out of your reach. His enchanted eyes still didn’t leave your face. He let out a small, quick smirk which felt too much like a challenge for comfort.

“What’s your name, little witch,” Druig asked.

“Call me y/n,” you answered, as you placed your hand over Druig’s, which was holding your cup. With your Merlin ring, you begin to heat up Druig’s skin. If he wants to challenge you, then he better be prepared for the consequences. You locked eyes with Druig, watching for the pain to register in his face. The pressure in your mind began to increase.

With a small laugh, Druig pulled his hand away from yours, giving in to the burning pain you inflicted. After examining the minor burn, his eyes stopped glowing and the horrible feeling in your mind left.

“Hello, y/n” Druig said, holding his hand against his chest. You took a last sip of your drink. It was a small victory, but it was a victory nonetheless.

Druig lightly brushed his fingertips along the burn on his hand. He could still feel the sweltering heat but he could also feel the lingering touch your hand left on his. And your eyes. Your gaze pierced him to his seat. It made him want to stand and fight or run or laugh or dance. There was something about you that gave Druig a rush of feelings. He was surprised you didn’t back down from him. He enjoyed they way you didn’t shy away from his gaze like so many did. Even now, as the two of you refused to look away from each other, Druig noticed a small smile creep over your face. He suddenly realized that he was having trouble stopping himself from grinning.

“Dude, she’s perfect,” Kingo said to Druig. The two exchanged a look before Druig gave a small nod. You noticed that it was the kind of exchange that family members gave one another and you wondered what it would be like to have a connection like that. Doctor Strange probably didn’t even know you were in trouble right now. Why else wasn’t he here?

“Let’s go,” Druig stood then, looking down at you.

“Why would I do that?” You leaned back in your chair, continuing the game of chicken the two of you had started. You put your drink on the table and crossed your arms over your chest. Again, you and Druig lock eyes. Neither of you spoke, but Kingo could only take so much.

“Just tell her- look,” Kingo said, turning to you, “we need a spy. We really need a spy.”

“Let’s make a deal, little witch.” Druig smirked.

Part 2

A/N: thank you so much for reading through this! Anyway, this will be an eight part series. Please let me know what you think 👉👈

Also, let me know if you want to be added to a tag list (thank you @misselsbells06 for the suggestion!)

[esther-dot]

There is so much speculation about the Snowsequel! We have the “doom” side and we have the “Jonsa can still win” side and it’s kind of entertaining to see both sides lol. I am a bit surprised by the antis reaction too, it’s incredible how much they still hate Sansa when by show canon the one who actually won the game of thrones and wears the crown that was supposed to be Dragon Barbie’s was Bran??

Funny how they don’t say anything about how Bran will die and how much Jon hates him? Hmmm.

Anyway, I was wondering something about the show. We could say that technically all the Starks had a happy ending except Jon. In spite of the awful writing we can see how Sansa has a purpose, Bran is ruling, and Arya is out there having fun and discovering stuff.

But Jon is...punished, or exiled, or something like that, leaving audiences confused. They refused to present Jon as the villain and yet, he didn’t end as a hero either.

I find it quite suspicious, because in the final montage they present all the Starks as happy, and let Jon keep his sword and Ghost and his wildling friends and that is not the ending of a failed leader, or a broken man, cursed by kinslaying. Either Jon is part of the pack and somehow ends on top like the rest of them, or...falls and ends like a villain. In which case his ending should have been even worse that it was.

So, to me, Jon’s ending is purposely obscured and there is something inexplicable about his not cursed ending (as there is for Tyrion, but I digress).

Do you think the show omitted essential info (idk, something about Brandon’s Gift or something) about how Jon ends in the North again?

I’m on the “doom” side but I’m cheering on the “Jonsa can still win” side!

It really doesn’t matter to me if the rest of the fandom likes Sansa or not, but the obsessive hatred of her in some corners is disturbing. I guess maybe D&D spared Bran some hate by ignoring him instead of subjecting him to their crap writing and the the fandom kinda follows their lead and ignores him too. Silver linings? 😬

“...and let Jon keep his sword and Ghost and his wildling friends and that is not the ending of a failed leader, or a broken man, cursed by kinslaying”

I like your evidence that Jon isn’t cursed/this isn’t meant to be a hopeless ending for him. It’s certainly possible that D&D, out of fear of backlash if they gave Dany’s assassin a good ending, chose to send him to the Wall again rather than give him an unambiguously good ending. The riding off with the FF thing could have even been them thinking, “well gee, he’s our second most popular character, maybe it’s too much to send him to the Wall. Let’s fuzzy this ending to allow people to imagine it anywhere on the scale of back in the Watch or fucking off forever to make snow angels with Tormund.” I did think a lot of s8 was written to manage the audience, not to tell a good/believable story, so I wouldn’t put it past them to have had such a though process. There’s also the possibility that the weirdness around Jon’s ending could simply be the product of their failure to communicate well. The actors have said things that contradict the director of any given episode and D&D contradict that, and each other, and themselves, so that may be the explanation. They were each telling a different story? I mean, reading the finale script was surreal because some of what was said wasn’t really the same as what we saw 😂

When I heard Martin was on board for the Jonsquel, I did think maybe it pointed to the endgame being Jon in exile before a Jonsa reunion when they’re older. I’m not sure who pointed this out after the finale, but it would be another parallel between Aragorn and Arwen if this was the case. Aragorn fell in love with Arwen but then went off as a ranger for some time before they were reunited. It’s possible Martin thought to the end the stories with a promise that a sequel could explore, but then again, it could just be him trying to prevent HBO from going further off the rails with Jon. I’m trying not to read too much into it because I’m not sure that he could put the kibosh on anything even if he really disliked the idea, so I don’t think it confirms anything.

Jon, Lord of the Gift, is a very popular theory in our circle and for good reason. I can’t remember who started it now, but I think of it as istumpysk and agentrouka-blog‘s baby, each of whom I consider more an ASOIAF expert than myself. However, I totally believed Martin that GoT’s ending would be his, and in spite of how I feel about the ending, I’ve never been able to let that belief go, no matter how much I want to. I’m not going to try to persuade people not to believe in alternative endings, I’d like to believe it myself! This one in particular has lots of quotes that make you go 👀👀👀

"Who holds this land?" Jojen asked Bran.         

"The Night's Watch," he answered. "This is the Gift. The New Gift, and north of that Brandon's Gift." Maester Luwin had taught him the history. "Brandon the Builder gave all the land south of the Wall to the black brothers, to a distance of twenty-five leagues. For their . . . for their sustenance and support." He was proud that he still remembered that part. "Some maesters say it was some other Brandon, not the Builder, but it's still Brandon's Gift. Thousands of years later, Good Queen Alysanne visited the Wall on her dragon Silverwing, and she thought the Night's Watch was so brave that she had the Old King double the size of their lands, to fifty leagues. So that was the New Gift." He waved a hand. "Here. All this." (ASOS, Bran III)

(each time we get Brandon confusion sirens go off in my head!)

and

"What happened to them?"         

"They died or went away." Brandon's Gift had been farmed for thousands of years, but as the Watch dwindled there were fewer hands to plow the fields, tend the bees, and plant the orchards, so the wild had reclaimed many a field and hall. In the New Gift there had been villages and holdfasts whose taxes, rendered in goods and labor, helped feed and clothe the black brothers. But those were largely gone as well.

and

After. The word was a spear thrust. After the war. After the conquest. After the wildlings break the Wall . . .          His lord father had once talked about raising new lords and settling them in the abandoned holdfasts as a shield against wildlings. The plan would have required the Watch to yield back a large part of the Gift, but his uncle Benjen believed the Lord Commander could be won around, so long as the new lordlings paid taxes to Castle Black rather than Winterfell. "It is a dream for spring, though," Lord Eddard had said. "Even the promise of land will not lure men north with a winter coming on."    

If winter had come and gone more quickly and spring had followed in its turn, I might have been chosen to hold one of these towers in my father's name. Lord Eddard was dead, however, his brother Benjen lost; the shield they dreamt together would never be forged. "This land belongs to the Watch," Jon said.

(ASOS, Jon V)

and

Jon ignored that. "I have given you fodder for your horses, and once the stair is done I will lend you builders to restore the Nightfort. I have even agreed to allow you to settle wildlings on the Gift, which was given to the Night's Watch in perpetuity."  (ADWD, Jon I) it’s included in The World of Ice and Fire

and

Though in these days it is said that Lord Ellard Stark was glad to aid the Night's Watch with the Gift, and took little convincing, the truth is otherwise. Letters from Lord Stark's brother to the Citadel, asking the maesters to provide precedents against the forced donation of property, made it plain that the Starks were not eager to do as King Jaehaerys bid. It may be that the Starks feared that, under the control of the Castle Black, the New Gift would inevitably decline—for the Night's Watch would always look northward and never give much thought to their new tenants to the south. And as it happens, that soon came to pass, and the New Gift is now said to be largely unpopulated thanks to the decline of the Watch and the rising toll taken by raiders from beyond the Wall.  (The World of Ice and Fire - The North: The Lords of Winterfell)

The fact that this is an old Stark grievance and Ned and Benjen had plans to deal with it is very promising. Rectifying that old wrong, making the land safe and purposeful again, that definitely seems like it would fit really well as part of the endgame. I always liked the idea that Jon could take the throne, but instead makes it possible for Bran to be king to right the aftermath of the conquest (if we assume independence for Dorne as well, not just the North?), so if the followup to that is Jon getting to live out an abandoned dream…that’s beautiful! And it makes sense that Jon would be the candidate who can best keep peace between FF (those who settle South of the Wall, any who don’t) and the Northerners. So, it certainly is an idea that we can look at the books and argue there is evidence Martin is heading there.

And I do believe that D&D were so determined people wouldn’t guess the ending that they could have chosen not to do the necessary set up and then sent Jon to the Wall because there didn’t have anything else to do. I’ve also seen spec that their ending is premature, that Jon is sentenced but then Sansa as QitN brings Jon home. After s8, it’s impossible to think D&D cared much about Jon/his ending, so I do always have that little bit of hope that theirs is a variation of the ending, not the real ending.

I have a big gripe with the ending as it stands for Jon reasons (obviously) but also, I don’t think the Watch should continue to exist? Forcing these kids to swear away wives/children/their lives is gross. But, I don’t have anything that I can point to as proof that the Watch will be disbanded. I find that possibly wishful thinking on my part. Although, I don’t know why we spend so much time witnessing the futility of making kids forswear family if there isn’t some change. And the one thing that does give me hope there (and this would indicate Jon’s ending is something else) is that I believe the Wall will fall, so something about how the Watch functions will change. One other thing that seems promising is the inclusion of the idea of being a shield/protector of the North in both the Watch’s vows and the Gift idea:

“the shield that guards the realms of men” which makes the quotes about the Gift very very interesting: “as a shield against wildlings” and “the shield they dreamt together would never be forged” (AGOT, Jon VI; ASOS, Jon V)

If the Others are completely gone, the main problem in the North would be reconciling the two cultures, finding a way for the FF to live without being a threat to or threatened by the Northern lords. Jon could be the means of progressing Ned and Benjen’s plan into the future/using his sympathy and understanding of the FF he’s developed through the series while continuing to shoulder this role he picked up in AGOT.

And yet, because of things Martin has said in general about the tone he wants for his ending, because of what he’s said about his favorite type of romances (I am a firm believer in Jonsa, just not the HEA kind anymore), and lines in Jon chapters that in hindsight are pretty upsetting, I accept that he always intended Jon to go back to the Wall or a self-imposed exile. I’m not happy about that, but there are some things I just can’t believe were D&D’s idea. It’s a little too tidy when s7-8 had so so so much sloppiness.

I was rereading AGOT, and I simply can’t accept that Martin wasn’t writing AGOT, Jon VIII without thinking of ways to further test Jon. I don’t think he wrote that convo with Aemon solely about Jon attempting to leave the Wall in AGOT, or about Jon trying to leave in ADWD. It feels like the grounding for Jon’s final test, the same way we’re clued into Bran’s role in defeating the others in AGOT, the same way we’re hammered over the head with Arya’s noncomfority and strong sense of justice, the same way Sansa is the voice against violence and the representation of innocents who suffer as a result...Jon’s fate seems clearly fixed in the author’s mind with the love/son/family issue mentioned before he joins the Watch, brought up again here, and so damn likely in the end. And, the sacrifice that it would entail makes the ending meaningful. If Jon were to betray and/or kill Dany onyl to escape any consequences, I think it wouldn’t tell the story Martin wanted to tell with him.

The ending of this Jaime chapter seems very significant when it is followed by the Jon chapter in which he is sent off to assassinate Mance:

Defeated in the Whispering Wood by the Young Wolf Robb Stark during the War of the Five Kings. Held captive at Riverrun and ransomed for a promise unfulfilled. Captured again by the Brave Companions, and maimed at the word of Vargo Hoat their captain, losing his sword hand to the blade of Zollo the Fat. Returned safely to King's Landing by Brienne, the Maid of Tarth.

When he was done, more than three-quarters of his page still remained to be filled between the gold lion on the crimson shield on top and the blank white shield at the bottom. Ser Gerold Hightower had begun his history, and Ser Barristan Selmy had continued it, but the rest Jaime Lannister would need to write for himself. He could write whatever he chose, henceforth.

Whatever he chose . . . (ASOS, Jaime IX)

The crimson and white is very Jon, there’s always a lot about those two colors and him, blood on snow, and there’s this very interesting quote in the following Jon chapter:

"Aye," Slynt said. "A blind man with a chain about his neck, who does he think he is?"

Aemon Targaryen, Jon thought, a king's son and a king's brother and a king who might have been. But he said nothing. (ASOS, Jon X)

I always thought there was a lot to mine in the Jon and Jaime parallels although I haven’t read all that much about them. I wrote this little thing after s8 though because again, some of this stuff folds together a little too well to be a coincidence. But anyway, this idea of determining who you want to be, accepting the consequences of those actions and what people may then think of you, choosing your fate...this will be a huge thing for Jon going forward, and the line “he said nothing” really gives me pause. I find the idea that Jon might choose to be Snow rather than Stark or Targ very compelling. The idea of him remaining Snow only has meaning if he makes that choice, creates himself, chooses his own path, so to me, having the chance at a Stark crown and then a Targ one, refusing both, that’s rewarding. It’s my preferred reading. And, it actually brings me back to your mention of Jon’s sword. It isn’t the Stark sword, and the Mormont bear was replaced with Ghost, so it fits well with Jon’s being his own person, shaped by Ned’s ideals but influenced by other mentor figures, given a weapon that Ned didn’t offer him the same way Jon’s additional mentors teach him things/encourage him to function in ways Ned wouldn’t have…lots of fun things to think about there. Also, Bran has a peculiar line that could eventually be a parallel line to Jon’s, wishing for Summer, rather than the Stark sigil, on his chest,

“He would sooner have had Summer than a silver wolf on his breast” (ACOK, Bran III)

By that I mean, Jon having Longclaw in the end of GoT and Bran a raven sigil isn’t necessarily out of nowhere. The idea that neither is an extension of House Stark but rather, the outgrowth of good things into far bigger, and also, far more personal things...well...that seems very likely although, not really what we would want if the endgame is Jon married to Sansa in Winterfell.

This ASOS chapter stresses me too. The combination of R+L=J, Jon having to assassinate someone, and all of it preceded by this--

A grim day. Jon Snow wrapped gloved hands around the bars and held tight as the wind hammered at the cage once more. When he looked straight down past his feet, the ground was lost in shadow, as if he were being lowered into some bottomless pit. Well, death is a bottomless pit of sorts, he reflected, and when this day's work is done my name will be shadowed forever. Bastard children were born from lust and lies, men said; their nature was wanton and treacherous. Once Jon had meant to prove them wrong, to show his lord father that he could be as good and true a son as Robb. I made a botch of that. Robb had become a hero king; if Jon was remembered at all, it would be as a turncloak, an oathbreaker, and a murderer. He was glad that Lord Eddard was not alive to see his shame. (ASOS, Jon X)

Well, it looks like a bleak future for our boy. I’ve written alternative interpretations of this quote, and I suppose someone could argue that it is about Jon attempting to leave the Wall in ADWD, but the Aemon reference means this is also about what comes later imo. I’m dragged back to AGOT by this quote, where Jon leaves the Wall and thinks of Aemon and honor and betrayal there as well.

When Jon did not appear to fetch the Old Bear's breakfast from the kitchen, they'd look in his cell and find Longclaw on the bed. It had been hard to abandon it, but Jon was not so lost to honor as to take it with him. Even Jorah Mormont had not done that, when he fled in disgrace. Doubtless Lord Mormont would find someone more worthy of the blade. Jon felt bad when he thought of the old man. He knew his desertion would be salt in the still-raw wound of his son's disgrace. That seemed a poor way to repay him for his trust, but it couldn't be helped. No matter what he did, Jon felt as though he were betraying someone. Even now, he did not know if he was doing the honorable thing. The southron had it easier. They had their septons to talk to, someone to tell them the gods' will and help sort out right from wrong. But the Starks worshiped the old gods, the nameless gods, and if the heart trees heard, they did not speak. (AGOT, Jon IX)

and

But he had not left the Wall for that; he had left because he was after all his father's son, and Robb's brother. The gift of a sword, even a sword as fine as Longclaw, did not make him a Mormont. Nor was he Aemon Targaryen. Three times the old man had chosen, and three times he had chosen honor, but that was him. Even now, Jon could not decide whether the maester had stayed because he was weak and craven, or because he was strong and true. Yet he understood what the old man had meant, about the pain of choosing; he understood that all too well. Tyrion Lannister had claimed that most men would rather deny a hard truth than face it, but Jon was done with denials. He was who he was; Jon Snow, bastard and oathbreaker, motherless, friendless, and damned. For the rest of his life—however long that might be—he would be condemned to be an outsider, the silent man standing in the shadows who dares not speak his true name. Wherever he might go throughout the Seven Kingdoms, he would need to live a lie, lest every man's hand be raised against him. But it made no matter, so long as he lived long enough to take his place by his brother's side and help avenge his father.

(it is very similar to the ASOS quote)

and then we have this weirdness

He could not see the smile. Hard as he tried, he could not see it. He found himself thinking of the deserter his father had beheaded the day they'd found the direwolves. "You said the words," Lord Eddard had told him. "You took a vow, before your brothers, before the old gods and the new." Desmond and Fat Tom had dragged the man to the stump. Bran's eyes had been wide as saucers, and Jon had to remind him to keep his pony in hand. He remembered the look on Father's face when Theon Greyjoy brought forth Ice, the spray of blood on the snow, the way Theon had kicked the head when it came rolling at his feet. He wondered what Lord Eddard might have done if the deserter had been his brother Benjen instead of that ragged stranger. Would it have been any different? It must, surely, surely … and Robb would welcome him, for a certainty. He had to, or else … It did not bear thinking about. Pain throbbed, deep in his fingers, as he clutched the reins. Jon put his heels into his horse and broke into a gallop, racing down the kingsroad, as if to outrun his doubts. Jon was not afraid of death, but he did not want to die like that, trussed and bound and beheaded like a common brigand. If he must perish, let it be with a sword in his hand, fighting his father's killers. He was no true Stark, had never been one �� but he could die like one. Let them say that Eddard Stark had fathered four sons, not three. (AGOT, Jon IX)

And here is where I give up! As always happens when I start looking at passages to help me come to a conclusion, I get less clarity the more I think about them! Not only do we have Jon wrestling with who he wants to be/who he is, what he can/can’t accept of how others view him, betrayal/honor/love/duty, we also have a lot of Stark and Targ stuff in these chapter, as expected. But what the heck is that last thing supposed to mean?

We can interpret all of these in a couple ways, say it’s about one instance and one instance alone, but to me the ASOS chapter means Jon will voluntarily kill Dany. Except, it makes no sense that he would be punished for killing her as she will have burned KL by that point, but that Ned and Benjen thing did make me wonder if, at least at one time, Bran was meant to judge Jon for deserting? Ned was very judgy about Jaime, but there could be no finding fault with Jon if he kills Dany after she’s burned KL to hell. All the same, it’s an odd quote, and it’s interesting that Ned and Benjen are also referenced in that dream for spring idea, so perhaps the idea shifted?

I enjoyed reading Martin talk about his process the other day and I do try to bear in mind he may start down one path towards his goal only to have to give up and forge a different path to reach it:

The judgment idea felt like something he planned to revisit, at least when writing AGOT, because I think Bran has to be contrasted with other leaders so that we have a sense of his justice, not sure how that could possibly work here though. Martin did have Arya kill a deserter which felt very ominous to me. As in, if Starks are killing people for deserting, it wouldn’t be just to show favoritism to a family member and let them go unpunished, but she isn’t Bran so maybe we can ignore that. Obviously no Starks will be killing each other, and the idea of Jon going back to the Wall is dumb as heck, but imo, there’s something Martin wanted to say there once, maybe not now?

Basically, there’s enough stuff in the books that worries me that I can’t convince myself D&D made up his ending entirely on their own. I’m not sure of the path Martin will take to get there, but to me, the biggest indicator that we’re moving somewhere that Martin always intended with Jon --and that it’s the Wall or exile, *cries*--  is the way he builds on Jon’s Aemon connection and what he chooses to include as he does:

It made him feel odd. "My lord, why have you told me this, about Maester Aemon?"

"Must I have a reason?" Mormont shifted in his seat, frowning. "Your brother Robb has been crowned King in the North. You and Aemon have that in common. A king for a brother."

"And this too," said Jon. "A vow." (ACOK, Jon I)

and then

"Aye," Slynt said. "A blind man with a chain about his neck, who does he think he is?"

Aemon Targaryen, Jon thought, a king's son and a king's brother and a king who might have been. But he said nothing. (ASOS, Jon X)

 and then this

"His Grace is not an easy man. Few are, who wear a crown. Many good men have been bad kings, Maester Aemon used to say, and some bad men have been good kings."

"He would know." Aemon Targaryen had seen nine kings upon the Iron Throne. He had been a king's son, a king's brother, a king's uncle. "I looked at that book Maester Aemon left me. The Jade Compendium. The pages that told of Azor Ahai. Lightbringer was his sword. Tempered with his wife's blood if Votar can be believed. Thereafter Lightbringer was never cold to the touch, but warm as Nissa Nissa had been warm. In battle the blade burned fiery hot. Once Azor Ahai fought a monster. When he thrust the sword through the belly of the beast, its blood began to boil. Smoke and steam poured from its mouth, its eyes melted and dribbled down its cheeks, and its body burst into flame."

Clydas blinked. "A sword that makes its own heat …" (ADWD, Jon III)

It isn’t conclusive, but the Aemon quotes keep getting those additional “of a king” tidbits that may very well be true for Jon too in the future as they feel increasingly pointed. The fact that Jon’s all important honor/duty vs love conversation with Aemon kicks off all of this and seems to predict a lot about his entire arc and possibly his ending with his attempts to/breaking vows for the Starks, and then there’s the assassination/stabbity stab stuff in such close proximity to those references...well, I don’t think it’s nothing.

I suppose that means, yes, the show omitted essential steps in how Jon ends up where he is, likely, Jon refusing the crown which paves the way for King Bran, and if it is a fate of his own choosing, and in that choice he protects the Starks, his ending would be that of a hero (to us), but a subversion of the generic fantasy in which the secret prince becomes king or the hero is rewarded. If Jon’s actions give him a HEA, it undercuts what it cost him to make those choices, and I’m no longer thinking that’s something Martin will do. He seems pretty into making things painful. 

Jon might be in the Watch, possibly even a Lord Commander (again) who makes good on all the promise of the Watch which would be an answer to that mess. He might oversee the settling of the FF in the Gift and see it used the way it was meant to be and keep the peace so maybe that’s how the Gift fits in to such an ending. Or, if his end is in real exile, that Jorah is at the Wall and Jon must stay beyond the Wall for some time, maybe D&D weren’t that wrong?

Another thing D&D (may have) cut that would make Jon’s ending a little more filled out is the fulfillment of this quote:

Benjen Stark stood up. "More's the pity." He put a hand on Jon's shoulder. "Come back to me after you've fathered a few bastards of your own, and we'll see how you feel."                 

Jon trembled. "I will never father a bastard," he said carefully. "Never!" He spat it out like venom. (AGOT, Jon I)

I’m not sure that the child would be a bastard as I’m a fan of the secret wedding idea, but it’s possible other characters think the child is because Jon can’t be with Sansa due to new hatred for the Targaryens post Dany funtimes. Perhaps, instead of getting that, instead of being King to Sansa’s Queen, it may be Sansa who rules and then her son after her, in which case, Jon would be “uncle” to a king, to callback to that last Aemon quote, and round out all the dad/uncle confusion that happens throughout the story, and circle all the way back to this moment.

@sepedarodatiga wrote about foreshadowing in the show for a Jonsa baby (link) and @istumpysk wrote about book foreshadowing (link), and I think that could be the missing sweet in Jon’s bitter. The idea of Jon not being able to publicly be his son’s father, it’s crappy, but I think it’s very possible that was Martin’s intention when writing AGOT because in the all significant Jon and Aemon convo, we have this:

My grandfather named me for Prince Aemon the Dragonknight, who was his uncle, or his father, depending on which tale you believe. Aemon, he called me …" (AGOT, Jon VIII)

We all seem to be on board with the Jon is Aemon idea, most Jonsas recognize Aemon the Dragonknight as being big Jonsa foreshadowing, so the whole “is it the father or the uncle?” idea...I suppose it could just be about parentage reveal and Ned/dad/uncle, but considering how the son stuff crops up with Jon, I think it’s likely talking about his future, not just his past.

I know this is really rambly and nothing conclusive, but part of my inability to decide on anything specific is that each path prohibits or secures certain endings. If Jon accepts legitimization as a Stark, even if the truth is later revealed to some or becomes public knowledge, I don’t think he could be with Sansa. I just think going from being Jon Snow to Jon Stark to a Targaryen is too much to make the people accept in such a short period of time. So, if he becomes KitN, it’s possible he feels that it is necessary to self-exile because he never should have been king (regardless of any assurance by Sansa to the contrary) and secures her reign by leaving. If on the other hand he refuses it all, defends Sansa as the true Stark heir, well, then when the truth is revealed, we have far less of a mess and it works with my preferred version in which he rejects both Stark and Targ crowns. The problem with that is that I do think Jon bending the knee makes sense as a statement about choosing peace (where Robb didn’t), so he’d need to be king for that. Which brings me to another beloved theory in which Jon becomes KitN, the truth is revealed, so he marries Sansa to keep the North unified, and if that’s the case, if he then bends the knee to another Targaryen, the North may be pissed. If he then somehow ends up entangled in the mess in KL, I’m not sure that he can emerge without being perceived (by non Starks) as yet another Targ in the worst sense. That could be a reason he leaves. He wouldn’t allow his chance at happiness prevent Bran and Sansa from peaceful reigns.

Of course, the one thing we know for sure came from Martin is King Bran, and if Jon or Northern armies are involved or present during the burning of KL (rather than, say coming to the city too late to stop Dany, too late to save Aegon?), then I don’t see how Bran is the peace candidate. Like, how will he distance himself from Jon so effectively that people will voluntarily choose him to rule after that? So, perhaps Jon will arrive too late, deal with the mess, and then get to go home and live in peace. Hope springs eternal no matter how hard I try to prevent it. :)

Anyway, if I had to pick one path, I’d say, it’s a variation of the Aemon stuff. That feels right to me, and then a similar ending at the Watch or exile for some, as yet to be determined, very believable reason. 😑

So, the answer to your question is yes? They stripped his ending of all agency and meaning, I think Jon will have experienced good things that make his sacrifice worth it to him, but also, no, I don’t think it will be that different.

And I really think the meaningful stuff would have transpired pre exile, so I’m not sure that the show will retroactively be able to make it make sense, and I fear, would just continue the course s7-8 set for show Jon. :(