#that and Aegon IMPROVED westeros

[whateverthought]

Also, anyone saying the Targaryens are not the bad guys in most if not all of their history, that their Dynasty is not Rotten, is wrong.

What about the Incest, the Blood Purity ideology is not clicking? What about Aegon the Conqueror 'Going West' does not scream COLONIZER?

Do you honestly believe George R.R. Martin wrote these books with the intention of, these people who view themselves as Gods with a Divine Right to Rule, are right? These dictators and colonizers who ride the fantasy equivalent of a Nuke, who use them to burn down villages and towns and commit War Crimes, are the good guys?

Be For Real

[perfinn]

you're out of touch, i'm out of time

aegon ii targaryen x reader

wc: 3.3k

summary: you have a tendency to pick up strays, but when you pick up the king of westeros (who was supposed to have died hundreds of years ago), things begin to get a little complicated

cw: NSFW, f!reader, aegon being a creep (shocker), aegon being deeply pathetic (also shocker), aegon is drunk or possibly hung over, attempted sex (aegon begs for a handjob but doesn't get one)

masterlist, read on ao3, divider by saradika

You’ve always been too nice. You’re aware of this unfortunate fact, though you staunchly refuse to admit it’s a weakness. Has this trait left you without necessities from time to time because you gave them to someone who needed them more? Yes, but you sleep better at night knowing that that homeless girl had sturdy new shoes, even if you had to walk home barefoot. You can always handle a bit of discomfort if it means improving someone’s day marginally. It’s not as though you’re without any sense of self preservation– you know when to say no, or when to walk away. When someone is out for their own self interest, or just plain dangerous. 

You’re smart about it. Mostly. Sometimes, though, your sympathy gene takes over, and you approach the danger because you feel there’s more beneath the surface. So far, it hasn’t put you in any troubling positions. Still, first time for everything. And as you stand on the edge of the pavement, toes of your shoes swinging down into the gutter as you sway back and forth, you wonder if you’re about to break your successful streak.

There’s a man in the busy city street, raving and desperately trying to get someone’s attention. Usually, he’s the type you’d regretfully ignore for your own safety, but he seems different. He doesn’t seem like the usual King’s Landing crackheads. He’s dressed too nice, for starters. Strange, yes, but still nice. In fact, it looks to be better quality than anything you own. And he’s young– which isn't uncommon in this situation, but it always makes your heart ache when they’re young. 

He looks desperate, terrified, and as another person ducks their head and walks past him, you feel yourself moving toward him. You don't know why. Maybe because you know if you leave now, you’ll not sleep tonight for the sheer guilt of passing him by. He spots you making your way over and turns to you, seeming to hope against hope that you’re going to acknowledge him. 

“Hi,” you say in a calm, even voice. It's a tone you’ve gotten quite good at. You’re not professionally trained by any means, but these things generally come with the territory. “Let's get you out of the road, okay? You could get hurt.”

“What the fuck are those things?” He demands of you as a car stops to let you take him across. You wave your thanks to the driver, who looks mildly disgruntled, and take the young man gently by the arms to get him onto the pavement. “Where are the horses?”

You know he must be confused, so you’re gentle with him. “There's no horses,” you say, still holding his arms as he finally looks away from the disappearing car and into your eyes. He looks so deeply afraid, but you notice he does take a moment to look you over. You let him, trying to see the best in him and hoping it's just curiosity. It doesn't matter right now anyway, you tell yourself. “Are you okay?”

“No!” He snaps. “Course I’m not bloody okay! Where am I?!”

“You’re in King’s Landing,” you say. “Let's get you somewhere quiet, okay? Are you hungry?”

“This,” he laughs in disbelief, looking around. “Is not King’s Landing, I know what King’s Landing looks like!”

“Okay,” you nod. “I believe you. Let's go sit down, I’ll buy you something to eat.”

The man looks at you with what you think is an offended scowl, but the offer of food does seem to intrigue him. “And wine?”

“No,” you say, and he deflates. 

He scratches at his chin, but nods in agreement. “Yes, fine.”

You smile, a bit of relief easing the worry in your ribs. Sometimes people won't cooperate, or they’ll turn you away when you say you won't buy them booze or give them money outright. This young man seems to be content enough without wine, so you wave your hand and lead him down the road toward the nearest fast food joint. 

He follows behind you, panicked eyes still looking around as though he's never seen the world before. It's not wonder, but something close to anger, indignation maybe. You make it to a diner you like, opening the door for him. He's clearly astounded by the ugly cacophony of colours inside, but you can't blame him. You don't come here for the aesthetics. 

“Go sit down?” You tell him gently, framing it like a suggestion as you point to your favourite booth. He scowls, but does as bid. 

The teen behind the counter takes little notice of your strange company. It's King’s Landing, he's probably seen something ten times as strange already today. Once you’ve paid, you join your new stray, sitting down across from him and folding your hands on the table. 

“So, what's your name?” You ask him, and he looks away from the bustling street outside the window to stare at you in what you assume is disbelief. 

“What’s my name?” He echoes, leaning slightly over the table. “Are you serious?”

You blink. That’s… not a question anyone’s ever been mad at you for. You learned quickly which questions to steer clear of to avoid pissing people off.

He scoffs, leaning back in his seat and tapping a dirtied fingernail against the peeling surface of the table. “Aegon,” he says, almost experimentally. Like he's testing the waters. 

You nod politely, and tell him yours.

He stares at you. “Nothing? Aegon? You’ve not heard the name Aegon?”

“Well, of course I have,” you say, confused smile pulling at your lips. “It's a common enough name. I think I knew a guy in school named Aegon–”

“You have been to school?” Aegon asks, eyebrows shooting up and a laugh spilling from his mouth. He leans back, dragging his hands over his clammy face. “Have I been drugged?!”

You’d put serious money on that being a resounding yes. 

“This is crazy,” he says, leaning forward again. He says your name slowly, glancing around before his eyes land on you. “Can you tell me what's going on?”

You bite your lip, thankful when the cashier calls out your order number. You rush to get up and get it, fearing you may be way out of your depth this time. He talks like he’s never seen the world before, and his comment about you having gone to school… none of it makes any sense. You’ve never even had the thought of dropping someone off with someone who’s better equipped to handle problems of this magnitude, but Aegon has you really considering it. When you return with the tray of food and set it down, Aegon has the specials menu in hand and is squinting at it. 

“I got you what I usually get,” you say, setting the tray down and placing his wrapped burger in front of him, leaving the fries on the tray. “Aegon, I want to help you, but I’m at a bit of a loss.”

“That certainly makes two of us,” Aegon says, unwrapping the burger curiously. “What meat is this?”

“It’s beef,” you tell him, unwrapping your own. He watches as you take a bite of yours, and he nods as though in satisfaction before taking a hefty bite of his. “Aegon, I want to understand what’s going on in your head. Can you just…”

You’re not sure how to say it, really. It’s invasive, and you don’t want him to feel like you believe he’s crazy, or lying.

“What’s your deal?”

He chews slowly on his burger, eyeing you suspiciously. “My deal,” he echoes, lips turned down in a scowl. “Is that I’m the King of Westeros.”

You nod slowly, biting into your burger so you don’t have to answer right away. You hope if you stay silent long enough, he’ll feel compelled to keep talking. 

“King Aegon,” he says slowly, like you’re the deluded one. “Aegon Targaryen, Second of His Name, Protector of the Realm, all the rest. Are you serious?”

You swallow your mouthful and nod. You’re not particularly well versed in history, but the titles ring a bell. It’s some sort of messiah complex, you’d wager. Trying your best not to seem dismissive, you pull out your phone. “Let me see,” you say. 

“What’s that?” He asks, leaning forward and trying to snatch it from you. You move it out of his way, yelping softly in contrition. 

“My phone!” You say. “I’m just looking you up, Aegon.”

“You’re what?” He says, looking horrified. “Give me that!”

“Dude, no! Let me just–” You stand up from your seat to be out of his reach, hurriedly typing the name he’d told you into the search bar. “Look, I know the name Targaryen, that’s the Conqueror's name!”

“Yes! Aegon the Conqueror!” He cries. “You’re finally making sense!”

“What? No, I mean Daenerys!”

“Who!?”

“Aegon, sit back down!” You snap, and he pauses in his pursuit of your phone, stunned into silence by your firm tone. Slowly, he returns to his seat, picking up a fry to eat it. 

“Only because I want to,” he says childishly. 

You frown at him, shaking your head before looking back at your phone as it pulls up the results for your search. 

‘Aegon II Targaryen, also known as Aegon the Elder, was the sixth Targaryen king to sit the Iron Throne, succeeding his father, Viserys I Targaryen, as Lord of the Seven Kingdoms.’

The search pulls up a picture as well, one of those terribly done paintings from the dark ages. It’s hard to say whether the Aegon in front of you looks much like the one in the painting, but he does have the same pale blonde hair and violet eyes. He’s a lot more pathetic than the portrait, too. He has the qualities of a wet cat, and you hate that it’s somewhat endearing. When you keep scrolling, you find a painting that can’t have been contemporary. This is a more detailed portrait, likely from half a century ago, where Aegon is covered in burns and lies dead in a carriage. 

You look up, meeting the wary eyes of the confused but un-burned man before you, and slowly sit back down. You know that he isn’t actually the king from nearly a millennium ago, but there’s an uncanny quality about him that makes you want to doubt the logical truth. His clothes, for one. You don’t know many homeless guys with such fine embroidery on their clothes. And there’s his features… you know them to be Valyrian, but rarely does anyone still pop up with the stark blond and violet irises. You remember well enough from your high school history classes that the Targaryen dynasty had those features.

“What does your little brick do?”

You blink, looking down at it and pulling up the contemporary portrait – part of you tells you not to show him the other. He scowls at it, but nods. “Seven hells, that’s not flattering. Where did you get this miniature? You have this and yet claim not to know me? What game do you play?”

You sigh. He truly doesn’t understand, does he? 

“Aegon, what year do you think it is?”

He rears back and regards you with more suspicion. “129 AC,” he says.

“And what were you doing before this?” 

“I will not tell you that,” he says. “You’re one of Rhaenyra’s spies, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know who Rhaenyra is,” you say softly. “I’m sorry, Aegon, I’m not a history buff.”

“History–” He stops, and goes deathly silent for a long moment, as though the whole situation is finally processing for him. You wonder if it’s the stench of wine that hangs off him explains his slow processing. “What year do you think it is?”

You tell him the year, even tack today’s date on for him. He stares are you, and you can see his brain buffering yet again. 

“Seven hells,” he murmurs. You find you share a similar sentiment. 

He picks up his burger and begins to eat it slowly. He’s silent for a long while, eyes seeming far away as he contemplates. You try not to stare at him, but it's no easy task. 

“This is going to sound crazy,” he says after a long while. “But I believe I may have travelled… through time.”

“I’d say so, yeah,” you respond. At this point, it's the only explanation. You’d usually say something about eliminating all the impossible options, but that just doesn't work here. Time travel is impossible, or it should be. And it's possible Aegon is just suffering from a deeply intense messiah complex. But that doesn't seem right. Your instincts haven't led you wrong before, you’re not about to ignore them now. 

“What am I going to do?” asks Aegon.

You want to tell him you’re going to try to find a way to get him back to his own time, but you’re struck once more with the image of him burned and twisted, dead in a carriage. How can you send him back to his fate knowing his grisly end?

You take in the man in front of you, this historical figure you’d never heard of until five minutes ago, and bite your lip. “We’ll figure it out,” you promise him. “You… can stay with me until we do.”

That’s probably dumb, and you’ll probably regret it. But not more than you would regret leaving him out on the streets.

“I suppose,” sighs Aegon like he’s spoiled for choice. You get up to ask for a bag for your food, glancing back as Aegon chews sadly on his burger. 

You get Aegon back to your place, and he wanders into the flat ahead of you. You watch him go with a soft huff, rolling your eyes. If everything else hadn’t convinced you, his attitude is proof positive that he’s from the past. He has all the entitlement of a prince and none of the consideration of those around him that modern men have (sometimes) gained. 

Your flat isn't much, two bedrooms and mostly paid for by your university. You had a flatmate for a time, but their sudden withdrawal left you without anyone and the school doesn’t seem to have noticed. Aegon can stay in the empty room until you figure him out. 

Aegon’s standing in your living room, staring in wonder at the decor you’ve collected over the course of your degree, at your television, maybe he’s just looking at all of it. He’s turning in a slow circle, eyes narrowed. 

“This is very nice for a commoner. Very strange, but it is not… disgusting.” He pauses in his assessing, looking between you and the ridiculous tapestry you purchased one night after far too many drinks. “Who is this man?”

“Oh, he’s this guy from a movie,” you say, not really processing that he won’t understand what a movie is. He stands there, dumbstruck, while you go to put your leftover food in the fridge. 

“A what?”

“Just… don’t worry about it. There’s going to be a lot for you to take in, but with any luck you won’t be here too long.” You come back over to him, taking him in. He looks out of place standing here in his king’s threads. “Let me get you something to wear.”

“There’s nothing wrong with this,” he says, shifting and taking in your clothes. “Where is your father? Your husband?”

“My father is in my hometown, and I don’t have a husband.”

“You live without a man?” He eyes you suspiciously. “A whore?”

“Okay,” you say, gently grabbing him by the shoulders and walking him over to the sofa. “Sit here, I have some men’s clothes lying around. Do not move.”

Aegon huffs, rolling his eyes and sitting back with folded arms. You wonder, as you go into your room to find something for him, if he’s heard the word ‘no’ very much in his life. It wouldn’t seem that way, but sometimes the way he reacts to you telling him off leaves you thinking otherwise. He’s a bigger mystery than you’ve ever faced, but something tells you he’s worth it.

You emerge after a while to see him flicking through the book you’d left on your coffee table, frowning. He looks up when you enter, setting the book down. “Your home is peculiar,” he informs you. 

“I know,” you say, handing him the soft clothes you’d found. “Student housing is kind of a lottery. You can get changed in the spare room, if you want. I’m going to go shower. If you get hungry, your leftovers are in that big white box there, okay?”

“Yes, yes, whatever.” 

You watch him enter the near-empty bedroom and shut the door, heaving a heavy sigh before you go off to your own room. You don't shower. Instead, you pull out your computer and set out to learn all that you possibly can about Aegon. 

What you learn twists your stomach into knots so tight you feel that they would trap the nausea that grips your throat from escaping. Aegon was no saint, no, but what you find is that his life is steeped in tragedy. If he believes himself to be king now but remains unburned by his cousin’s dragon, he must be near the end of his life; but the worst of his troubles have yet to begin. 

It is strange to think of the pathetic and bratty man in your flat as growing into the role of a king, if one could say he ever did. He seems nothing but a lost young man, unloved but for the power he afforded his Hightower family. 

The reports on him are so extensive and exhaustive that an hour has passed before you realise you haven’t been disturbed. You get up from your desk, wondering if Aegon has somehow wandered out of your flat and back onto the street.

When you open the door, you’re greeted by the sight of your kitchen cabinets strewn open, and your cheap bottle of vodka now empty on the counter. Aegon is sprawled on your sofa, cradling a novelty ceramic beer mug you won in a pub quiz in your first year. 

“Seven hells,” you mumble, going over to him and snatching the cup from him to be met with his whining protests. You sniff the cup, nose scrunching in disgust at the acetone-y smell. “Not even a mixer…”

Aegon looks up at you, trying to reach for the cup and whining your name. At least he changed into the sweats. The King’s Landing University jumper rather suits him, actually. 

“Please,” he says, looking even more closely akin to a wet cat. He seems on the verge of tears. “You’re pretty, do you know?”

“I’ve heard,” you say, setting the cup down on the coffee table and turning to him.

He grabs your wrist, tugging you closer with surprising strength considering how sloshed he is. “You’re so pretty,” he whispers. He almost sings your name. “Will you get me off?”

“Wh- Aegon!” You snap, tearing your wrist away. “No!”

“Please! Just your hand, you’ve got such soft hands!”

“Aegon,” you hiss. “No. You’re drunk. Even if I wanted to, that wouldn't be okay. You don't know what you're saying.”

Aegon pouts at you, falling back against the sofa and letting out a soft hiccup. “That doesn't make sense.”

“Maybe not in your time,” you say, grabbing him a blanket and laying it over him. “Gods- just- just try to get some sleep, okay? We’ll talk in the morning when you're fully sober.”

“I’ll die before that,” he says, snuggling up to the soft blanket with a ridiculous cartoon of a wolf on it. Another of your decor purchases you thought would be hilarious in the moment. You grab his cup and pour what’s left of the vodka into the sink before gathering up your remaining bottles and vowing to take them to the cabinet in your room with a lock. 

“Maybe. But if you vomit on my carpet, you’ll be paying the cleaning bill, your grace.”

part ii

[the-fiction-witch]

Secret Visits

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Jacaerys Velaryon Couple - Jacaerys X Reader Reader - Lady Y/n (Betrothal) Rating - Flirty AF (Mentions of Smut) Word Count - 1582

Prince Jacaerys stood in the main hall of Dragonstone, his Maester long abandoned him to go and deal with other matters. The fire below caused the glow of the painted table his hands leant against, the light of the sunny afternoon cascading through the tall windows. He did his best not to glance at his high Valriyan books trying to recount them by himself.

“Se se rōvēgrie lords teptan bē pōja vōljesi, declaring naejot aegon hae dārys” ‘And the great lords gave up their crows, declaring to Aegon as king’

Lady Y/n chuckled as she entered from the side, she walked closer in a gown of blood Targaryen red embroidered with black metallic dragon scales, her hair in a long braid,

"Pōja gelti" ‘Their Crowns’ she corrected him,

Jacaerys raises his head and meets the gaze of Lady Y/n. Her voice brings a smile to his lips, He stands and straightens his back, his eyes admiring his betrothal. "Ahh, Lady Y/n," he says with a slight bow. "Yes, you're right. Sorry, I'm still trying to improve my Valyrian. Gelti, of course. You- you look radiant today."

"Thank you Prince Jacaerys," she cooed, "it is no need to apologise, you are learning. It is your timetable trial and fail," she smiled as she walked past him, stroking her hand across his shoulders before she ran it over the ridges of the table,

He smiled warmly at her, his gaze following hers, "You're too kind," he said. "Yes, it's all trial and error. But it's worth it. This language is part of our heritage as Valyrians. We must preserve it."

"Indeed we must, there is much of old valyria that is gone now. The shreds that remain must be protected." She said her fingers stroking across dragon stone on her painted table map "Language is often first to falter in these things, as it is so ever-changing. There were one hundred of languages in Westeros now there are barely three in use,"

Jacaerys nodded in agreement, his eyes watching her fingers tracing the map and lingering on Dragonstone he knew what she meant Dragonstone was the seat formed by their ancestors and all in it down to the smallest brick needed to be preserved. He couldn't deny the truth in her words. "Language has a way of evolving and fading, especially in times of upheaval," he replied. "It's true that the number of languages in Westeros has diminished over time. It's a shame to lose such rich and varied traditions, as they often hold the stories and wisdom of our ancestors."

"mmm... Many of our ancestors have concealed secrets of our history." She said so matter of factly as if she knew, "We must never rob our future, of the knowledge of our past." She turned looking over her shoulder at him, "Even secrets we wish to conceal," she looked at him her eyes sharply making eye contact,

"Indeed," Jacaerys replied, a little shaky. His heart beat a little faster, sensing the weight of her words. "Secrets and knowledge have power, and we have a responsibility to wield them wisely," he said. "But some secrets are better kept than shared. There's a fine line between preserving history and revealing truths that could have consequences."

Y/n chuckled, "and you wouldn't know if any such secrets? Would you Prince Jacaerys?"

Jacaerys didn't break eye contact, in fact making a point not to as he thought it would make him look like he was lying so he didn’t blink for a good few seconds. "P-Perhaps I do, perhaps I don't," he replied, "But even if I did, the value of a secret lies in its concealment. Wouldn't you agree, my lady?"

she chuckled, “se skoros lo nyke massitas naejot gīmigon mēre hen aōha byka secrets ñuha dārilaros” "and what if I happened to know one of your little secrets my prince?"

Jacaerys' heart skipped a beat as she spoke to him. Her words sent a familiar chill down his spine. He responded as best he could, “Se skoros secret would bona sagon, ñuha riña?” "And what secret would that be, my lady?" he asked,

she took her time to walk slowly to him letting his eyes linger on her, an evil smile across her lips, when she was close enough he could smell her rose perfume, she moved closer whispering so close he could feel her breath on his ear "I know you've been sneaking though the castle late at night, I know you've been entering my room whilst I sleep... And I know what you've been doing while you're there." She pressed a kiss to his cheek before she stepped back meeting his eyes

Jacaerys' heart nearly stopped, her breath tickled his ear. He froze, his eyes widening in shock. How could she know? He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry.

"Wha- I don't know what you're talking about, my lady," he attempted to deny, but the flush in his cheeks betrayed his panic. "I would never-"

"I know Jacaerys."

Jacaerys felt caught, his secret exposed and his denial ineffective. He could see the knowledge in her eyes, and he was at a loss for words. He clenched his jaw, the silence between them filled with tension. After a long moment, he spoke again, his voice quiet and strained. "How... How long have you known?"

"a week" she answered

A week. The revelation hit Jacaerys like a punch to the gut. All this time, she had known, and he had been none the wiser. He let out a breath he didn't realise he was holding. "And you... You didn't say anything?" he asked, his voice tinged with both relief and disbelief. "Why?"

she chuckled "You seemed to be enjoying yourself"

Jacaerys felt the heat rise to his cheeks. He had believed he was stealthy, yet she had known all along. The thought of her silently watching him, letting him continue... It was both mortifying and strangely thrilling. "So... you knew and you didn't say anything," he repeated, still trying to digest this information. "And you let me continue..."

"you seemed to be enjoying it so much, I didn't want to disturb you, after all... You were so gentle and sweet,"

Jacaerys' heart thundered in his chest at her words. "Sweet" and "gentle." It was more than he had expected. He looked at her, his eyes betraying a mixture of shame and fascination. "Did... Did you not mind, then?" he asked, the question hanging heavy between them.

"I mind you not asking." She chuckled "But I think it's cute the prince of Dragonstone, is so very smitten with his betrothal he can't even wait till the wedding and has to sneak into her bed chambers at night to watch her sleep and touch himself over her," she cooed tickling his chin,

Jacaerys' face flushed scarlet as her words hit him. She had seen everything, heard everything. His secret desires and shameful indulgences. The realization and the humiliation hit him like a tidal wave. He swallowed hard, trying to regain some composure. "I... I don't know what to say," he muttered, his voice almost a whisper. "It's not that I don't want to wait. I just... I just can't help myself..." He looked up at her, a mixture of shame and defiance in his gaze. He was tired of pretending, tired of denying himself what he truly wanted. "It's just... you're so beautiful and so close, and I... I can't help it. I know it's wrong. I know I'm weak. But you don't understand the effect you have on me..."

"aww aren't you sweet, it's alright Jace" she took his hand in hers and kissed his forehead “Our little secret"

Jacaerys felt the tension in him ease a little as she took his hand and kissed his forehead, her words like a soothing balm. He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the gentle press of her lips against his skin, before looking up at her. "Our secret," he said softly, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"your not weak to be impatient, we have been betrothed now for three years it's understandable you'd grow impatient in time. It's alright you can visit as much as you like"

Jacaerys' heart leapt at her words. He hadn't expected her to be so understanding, so willing to turn a blind eye to his transgressions. Yet here she was, making it possible for him to continue his nighttime visits. "Are you... are you sure?" he asked, his voice laced with disbelief and hope.

"if they make you happy," she nodded "Perhaps tell me when you plan to visit so I can ensure I have nice sheets" she chuckled "and perhaps my sweet betrothal could... Leave me some flowers when he's done?" She cooed

Jacaerys' heart skipped a beat as he absorbed her words. She seemed almost pleased at the prospect of his visits, and the idea of leaving her flowers... It was a sweet, intimate gesture that made his heart race even faster. He smiled, a genuine, grateful smile. "Of course," he promised. "I'll let you know when I plan to come, and I'll leave you the most beautiful flowers each time."'

"then I shall look forward to your next visit my prince" she cooed kissing his cheek before she went to leave

Jacaerys nodded, a strange mixture of relief and excitement coursing through him. He watched as she left, his mind processing the conversation and her unexpected acceptance of his nightly visits. As she exited the chamber, he found himself looking forward to his next secret visit, already mentally selecting which flowers to leave for her.

[the-13th-omniscient]

The Targs are the best house for the Smallfolk

I mean, let's count off the immediate impact of Jaehaerys and the first Aegon's reigns, plus one of the few good things Maegor did:

The constant wars the Kings of Westeros waged were stopped.

Harren Hoare's mass enslavement of the Riverlands was defeated, and the Ironborn kicked out of the Riverlands.

Ironborn attacks and raids dropped to practically zero.

Queen Rhaenys banned the husband's right to beat his wife to death, and allowed the brothers of a murdered woman to exact vengeance for the murder.

The Faith's military power was broken, which I'd argue is a positive. Religious fanatics losing military forces is a good thing.

The lordly right to rape smallfolk's wives was banned by Jaehaerys on Alysanne's wishes.

The Night's Watch was boosted, enhancing their ability to feed themselves and repel wildlings. Without the New Gift I'm not sure the Watch would last to the present.

ROADS. Jae built huge road systems to bind the Seven Kingdoms, boosting trade and greatly improving the capacity of the smallfolk to make money by increasing travel. This is a very important step towards advancing the Seven Kingdoms.

Dragonpower means that Westeros can repel Free City raids, Dornish attacks, put down Vulture Kings, and otherwise minimize the threat of foreign invasion. Without dragons, the Dornish assault by Prince Morion Martell would have been a bloody, hellacious affair in all probability.

Plus, they preserved the Realm for fighting the Long Night.

And for it, the smallfolk of King’s Landing slaughtered innocent young dragons, and a pair of older mother dragons who had hurt nobody…

Just my thoughts.

[darklinaforever]

antis fundamentally misunderstand this entire series and both got and hotd are validating them. grrm is not saying that the targaryen dynasty is rotten or that practicing ptolemaic incest makes them evil. incest is simply a facet of worldbuilding, aegon i literally improved westeros, and dragons are the key to defeating the others. but since got had dany go mad, hotd is continuing the anti targ narrative. and antis lap it up.

Completely correct. At this point I just want HBO to stay away from the GRRM universe.

[agentrouka-blog]

Is Sansa any good with languages 🙈🥹? I came across a fanfic saying she had been learning many since she was young, and I wanted to ask if that was true.

We don't get any specific information on that at all.

The concept of the Common Tongue removes the necessity for knowing many languages, because they have one shared language across the continent of Westeros.

We know Jon doesn't speak the Old Tongue, which is one of the two sensible options for foreign languages to learn as a noble in the North, so that basically leaves one other option: High Valyrian, as the language of Old Valyria and the basis on many Essosi tongues as well as a bridge language in Essos (sort of like Latin or Greek as the languages of education or the 'lingua franca' for trade in the middle ages).

Arya is a source of clues, in that regard.

We know that Arya is picking up the Braavosi language and comparing it to High Valyrian early on:

Arya only knew a few words of Braavosi, the ones that were the same in High Valyrian.  (AFFC, Arya II)

We know she did not know what "valar morghulis" meant, but she still seems to have had independent training in High Valyrian in the past.

Supper was for language lessons. The blind girl understood Braavosi and could speak it passably, she had even lost most of her barbaric accent, but the kindly man was not content. He was insisting that she improve her High Valyrian and learn the tongues of Lys and Pentos too. (AFFC, The Blind Girl)

The priests used the language of Braavos, though once for several minutes three spoke heatedly in High Valyrian. The girl understood the words, mostly, but they spoke in soft voices, and she could not always hear.  (AFFC, The Ugly Little Girl)

We know Catelyn can at least differentiate between High Valyrian and it's derrivative languages:

She studied the old knight as the galley drew near to a pier. Moreo was shouting in the vulgar Valyrian of the Free Cities. " (AGOT, Catelyn IV)

We know some songs are sung in High Valyrian for noble audiences in Westeros:

Then the heralds summoned another singer; Collio Quaynis of Tyrosh, who had a vermilion beard and an accent as ludicrous as Symon had promised. [...] A haunting ballad of two dying lovers amidst the Doom of Valyria might have pleased the hall more if Collio had not sung it in High Valyrian, which most of the guests could not speak. (ASOS, Tyrion VIII)

Most but not all. Tyrion learned it from his maester, implying it's an option for highborn education:

He had learned to read High Valyrian at his maester's knee, though what they spoke in the Nine Free Cities … well, it was not so much a dialect as nine dialects on the way to becoming separate tongues. (ADWD, Tyrion I)

Sansa would have been educated alongside her brothers by maester Luwin at least some of the time, being able to compare herself with their skill level.

But we know that Cersei's septa knew the High Valyrian language too:

"Tyrion is the valonqar," she said. "Do you use that word in Myr? It's High Valyrian, it means little brother." She had asked Septa Saranella about the word, after Melara drowned. (AFFC, Cersei IX)

So Septa Mordane might have as well.

Even half-maesters seem well-equipped to teach languages, though the priority would of course be different with Aegon:

The lesson began with languages. Young Griff spoke the Common Tongue as if he had been born to it, and was fluent in High Valyrian, the low dialects of Pentos, Tyrosh, Myr, and Lys, and the trade talk of sailors. (ADWD, Tyrion IV)

So while we do not know for sure, the implication that Arya had learned at least small amounts of High Valyrian at Winterfell leads to the conclusion that Sansa would have done the same, and given their respective studying habits, Sansa would have been fairly dilligent at it, as well.

[anamazingangie]

Ménage | Rhaenyra x Aegon x Aemond

🕯️ Rated E 🕯️4.2k words 🕯️ Complete 🕯️ by AmazingAngie🕯️

Tags: Historical AU, Sibling Incest, Manipulation, Underage Kissing, First Kiss, First Times, Anal Sex, Double Penetration, Come Eating, Cunnilingus, Dom!Rhaenyra, Coming of Age, Consent Issues, Rhaenyra-Centric, Threesome - F/M/M

Warning: sex between minors [fifteen and seventeen when it begins]. Summary:

Rhaenyra despised her siblings, a pair of twin boys two year her junior - at least until she realized they would do things for her. Anything for her. The realm of such things changed as they matured, and in time Rhaenyra's hormones left her feeling rather fond of the pair she had previously merely tolerated. His pale chest was flushed along with his cheeks as she watched him stroke his soft length to something a different shape and size entirely. It was like magic. He spilled over his hand, making a mess of himself with his own seed. She wanted to touch. She wanted to taste. She did neither, she simply demanded for him to, “Do it again.” or: rhaenyra is either a very good, or very bad sister, depending on who you ask.

One

At first, Rhaenyra had hated her brothers. 

She lacked any and all maternal instincts towards infants, and so she lacked any and all patience for their screams and stench and all other annoyances that came with their mere existence. It was only made worse by the fact there were two of them. Two boys. 

Truly, if looks could kill, they would have been found dead in their cradles just hours after she met them. Nevermind that she herself was only two at the time, she was old enough to hold enough to know her dislikes, old enough to hold a grudge and certainly old enough to hate them on first impression alone.

And first impressions mattered a great deal.

And so, her feelings towards them did not change, not for years. 

.

By the age of seven, Rhaenyra had earned the title of Realm’s Delight. She was known on the small island of Dragonstone and among their people for her beauty, boisterous spirit, and impeccable—slightly frightening—skills on horseback. 

And it wasn’t just the people who were awed by the princess—but rather her brother’s, too. The pair had been five then, old enough to care what other people thought of them.

Old enough to know their sister did not care for them. 

Old enough that they wanted her too.

And Rhaenyra…she was old enough to see this.

Smart enough to use this for her benefit. 

And really really, it was a kindness when she gave them such opportunities to improve her opinion of them.

And so, she would have them fetch her lemonade or tea or servants. 

She would have them steal cakes and pastries from the kitchens on her behalf. 

Sometimes she would tell the groom she wanted to brush down Syrax and that they were excused.

It wasn’t a lie, and she would brush down Syrax. But the other tasks that were expected to go along with this—such as beating dust from the saddle blanket, conditioning the leather of her reins, and polishing bits—were ones she’d give to her brothers.

And they would fight for the tasks. Competitive over the mere opportunity to impress her. 

She liked that. 

She took advantage of it.

But who could blame her, when they liked it too?

.

Fondness for them grew very slowly. She still treated them more like her servants than her siblings, truly, but by the time she was ten she could acknowledge she would be sad if something happened to them. 

When they were ten, they were mourning the fact they would have to leave Dragonstone to attend the Crownlands College that all Targaryen men claimed as their alumni, at least since its founding in the 300s. After all, their family—then ‘the crown’ for all of Westeros—had founded the institution. 

She was jealous that they were getting a proper schooling, simply because they were boys. Why shouldn’t she have such an opportunity? She was much smarter. Er, at least smarter than Aegon. Aemond was rather annoying bookish, she knew that from their shared lessons. He could beat her at sums despite her being years older.

It was true her lessons from a septa and maester’s who taught her just as much as the private college would, if not more, it didn’t seem fair. 

And on top of that, though she didn’t admit to them—or to herself, really—that she might miss them too.

.

They had only been gone for three moons when word came—Aemond had been injured rather horribly in a fight. He and his brother were being returned to Dragonstone by the fastest ship their father’s coin could buy, to be attended by the maester’s their own keep had in residence.

Even then, it wasn’t enough to save the eye.

They worried infection would spread and he might lose all his sight. If not his life from fever that could poison his blood. 

Rhaenyra didn’t cry. She didn’t. But her voice might have wavered when she spoke to Aemond after hearing this—unwilling to let the horrors of what had happened to him change her treatment of him.

On the matter of his potential blindness, all she had to say was, “Just think—you have been blessed to see a face as pretty as mine for a decade—that is more beauty than most men get to see in their lifetime.”  

His face was bandaged, and the sliver of eye she could see was cloudy from the high dose of the milk of poppy he was being given for the pain. But he still managed a tiny smile. Tiny for him, even, which was impressive given how he tended to hide them. So different from Aegon, whose face was often dressed in  a wide grin.

“Isn’t it all the more tragic, if i’ve seen such beauty and now have to go without?” He said, his voice sounding small and dry and not like him at all. She wanted to cover his lips with her palm, tell him not to talk until he sounded as he should again. Until he sounded strong. 

“I suppose, then, you must fight—insist to your body and self that you require sight. Perhaps it will permit you to keep it.” She told him. 

“I’m not as stubborn as you, sister, I’m not sure I can.” He admitted.

She huffed, “Consider it a command then—and I know you wish not to disappoint me.” 

He swallowed, and his eyelid fluttered shut. She wondered if she even heard her, but then he nodded slightly and said, “Okay.” 

.

His recovery was surprisingly swift, and infection never came. 

Aegon said it was because Rhaenyra visited so often she scared it away. That earned him a glare. 

“I’m the scary one? Your delusions do you no justice, brother, clearly you forget your twin is a bloodied cyclops!” She screeched. 

“See!” He had claimed, nearly victorious, “Now you shriek like a banshee!” 

“Banshees herald the dead, brother, if I sound like one, perhaps you should be concerned for yourself.” She said, primly. 

He paled and scurried from the room. 

Rhaenyra thought if Aegon was the one who had been injured, she would not have been so attentive. 

He was certainly the most objectionable of her siblings, at least, in all but looks. He had a sweet boyish face that promised to turn into something handsome. Aemond’s features, however, were longer and his expression rather solemn. They were very different—and no matter what she told herself, she would be unable to choose between them if forced to. 

.

When her courses came, they came to her. 

They had questions. They had badgered a poor serving girl into admitting Rhaenyra was bed bound for her monthlies. 

Of course, they had come running to ask Rhaenyra what monthlies were. The end result was their expressions—a mixture of horror and intrigue. 

“You’re bleeding?” Aemond said, rather stunned. “Does it hurt?” He wondered.

She shifted her hips and nodded, “Mhm, but not…not like a wound, rather a great deal of pressure in my abdomen. 

“Does it bleed from there?” Aegon wondered, with a vague gesture to her stomach and a far off expression on his face. 

Rhaenyra rolled her eyes, “My navel is not a facet you imbecile, no, it’s—” she flushed, looking down at her lap but carrying on, “It’s between my legs.” She admitted.

Their eyes widened. “Can we see?” Aegon asked.

Rhaenyra sputtered, finding herself at a loss for words.

She settled on a classic response to Aegon’s questions: throwing a book at him. 

.

She had always been rather tactile with her brother’s, in a way she wasn’t—and wasn’t permitted to be—with others. She hadn’t thought much of it, they were siblings, and in a way they were her…well, it would be bad form to call them her serfs for she did not own them, but as their older sister she felt rather entitled to them in every way, and they had little protest to this. 

So they touched. 

She did not ask before grabbing their arm, or sitting next to them, close enough that they knew the feeling of the other’s thigh against their own. She’d crawled into bed with them on stormy nights, tackled them to the ground during games of tag, and shoved them off the cliffs on warm summer days when they were too fearful to dive from them without help. 

It had never meant anything at all. It was just the way of things, the way she treated them.

It didn’t change as they grew older.

Maybe it should have.

.

Aegon was, in her opinion, being an insufferable little jit. He refused to mount his mare, Sunfyre, even though they had agreed over breakfast to ride at this hour.

“I can’t.” He moaned, shifting awkwardly with his hands awkwardly at his crotch. 

Her eyes narrowed.

“Why can’t you?” She asked.

He flushed, before admitting he was hard and when that was hard it was like his whole body was stiff. 

“I don’t believe you.” She said, and then, “You’ll have to show me it.” 

His cheeks were flaming but he obeyed, unlacing his breeches and freeing the tunic that was cut long enough to cover his loins. Sure enough, the dangly bit she’d seen between her brother’s legs in childhood—when they were young enough it was not inappropriate, mind you—had managed to grow and harden into something rather…well…she was blushing now.

“Ugh. Put it away.” She said, turning to Syrax and hiding her rosy cheeks. “I shall take her to the meadow while that…you…whatever.” She said, mounting her saddle and leaving before he could respond. 

.

She thought about it. More than she probably should. She was a curious girl, she wanted to know how it worked. 

It was night time, a few days after that incident, and she slipped into her brothers’ rooms, pulled the covers from Aegon’s nearly nude form, and demanded to see it.

His pale chest was flushed along with his cheeks as she watched him stroke his soft length to something a different shape and size entirely. It was like magic. 

He spilled over his hand, making a mess of himself with his own seed. 

She wanted to touch. 

She wanted to taste. 

She did neither, she simply demanded for him to, “Do it again.” 

.

Aemond’s was different from his brother’s—longer, leaner, not unlike the rest of their forms.  Disappointedly, he was too shy to touch himself in front of her, saying he was too embarrassed to stay hard. 

Well. Then she would have to make him get hard. 

He flinched when she stroked the soft skin, wrinkled and deflated as it lay against his thigh instead of in the stiff erection it had formed a moment ago. 

She wanted her brothers to reach their full potential, always. And wasn’t their full length part of that?

He told her no. 

She reminded him that he never told her that. She was his older sister. 

He had to obey her. He liked obeying her. 

“Please?” She finally said, and he nodded.

He grew harder in her hand, and she kept stroking, fascinated by the difference in feel and weight in her palm, it seemed to throb where it had once been so very soft. It was as if the appendage pounded with its need for release, the sound nonexistent but almost like a tune in her head, the beat of which drowned out Aemond’s pleas, his sounds of pleasure, and even the sound of his release.

She did taste it this time, a curious lick on the white goo that had spilled across his penis and her palm. 

She’d always had a sweet tooth, but no matter how this resembled the drizzle on iced buns, it had no such flavor. 

It was salty. 

Gross.

.

A week later, Aegon kissed a maid. Their father’s hand, Ser Otto Hightower, who was also Aegon’s grandfather, caught them in the halls. This led them to all getting lectures on the matters of intimacy outside of marriage. On the matter of it being a dire sin. 

Rhaenyra hardly heard the septas' words on this matter. She was vibrating with…rage? Jealousy? She wasn’t sure. She just knew the reason for this lecture on the horrors that were intimate interludes out of wedlock were prompted by Aegon’s actions. His intimate interlude. One that did not involve her.

She was Aegon’s older sister and yet she did not know what it was to kiss. But still, surely it should be her duty to teach him such a thing.

Surely she should be his first kiss. 

Surely he should suffer for depriving her of this.

.

She ignored him for the rest of the day. He hated being ignored. 

Then, after changing for bed, she slipped into their shared chambers. Both boys were awake, and on this occasion she slunk past Aegon in pursuit of Aemond.

She would have his first kiss.

He would never know it was her first kiss, too. 

And Aegon would simply have to watch.

.

Eventually he begged and whined to the point where his eyes were red and his nose was snotty. So spoiled. Even though he deserved this for his crime—of seeking a girl other than his sister—she thought he’d been punished enough.

When she kissed him that night, his lips were just as soft as Aemond’s, but they were different, too. He was more forward, more confident—that didn’t come from practice, she didn’t think, but rather his enthusiasm and recklessness that his brother lacked. 

And, of course, his lips tasted of his tears. Salty, though in a way far more pleasant than the taste of seed.

Or perhaps the taste was not so different.

Perhaps she just enjoyed the flavor more when it came from sorrow.

And Aegon was so pretty when he cried. 

.

Both of them grew to expect her kisses—not only when they were in close proximity, but as a reward for bringing her something or completing a favor. 

She thought they were like hounds, expecting a bit of jerky as a treat for being good. 

She played with them as if they were hounds, finding great amusement in promising her lips to whichever sat with the best posture or heeled with the greatest obedience. 

Sometimes she insisted on their nudity in this, for how else could she examine the straightness of their spine and set of their shoulders? 

It had nothing to do with her curiosity of the male form. Of course not.

Though, she would admit to being curious over how their forms changed, their height and structure seeming to grow as they slept if not right before her eyes. 

It seemed just as she had come to terms with having siblings—having brothers—she would have to come to terms with her brothers becoming men. 

.

Aegon found the book. Of course he did. 

While Aemond was studious in his lessons, Aegon searched the library for hidden treasure, an indiscretion he’d practiced for years. Despite this, there were still shelves that had not suffered his scrutiny, for the room and its contents were rather vast. 

Of course, some of the cases he had looked over with careful eyes long ago needed to be examined once more, now that he was older. For as a boy he was rather blind—or rather, had a different definition—to what treasure truly was.

It was a small book, but not shamefully so. It was bound in bright red leather, stamped in gold, and though it lacked an author's name on the title page, the title itself was too distracting for any of them to care;

A Collection of Erotic Postures

They were all varying shades of pink as each page was turned, the black and white engravings lacking color but bringing to light so many things. It was fascinating how the forms fit together.

Man and woman. 

Nymph and satyr. 

Woman and woman.

Man and man.

At first they spoke over their examination of the engravings—sharing their shock with each page that passed. But soon their shock was implied by mere gasps, and no words were shared until the end was reached and the book was closed. 

It was inevitable that they would eventually grow curious enough to try one.

With the light now so very bright, how could they not wish to bring some of the acts to life?

.

Rhaenyra pointed to the sketch on page eight, captioned with;

 Cunnilingue.

[stimulation to the cunnus via leikhein]

Aegon obliged. 

She was slightly surprised, but not displeased by any means, to find that she felt little embarrassment or feelings of self consciousness in front of her brother’s—even with her skirts bundled in her lap, her legs spread, and Aegon’s face buried in the seam that led to her core.

She felt other things though. Good things. Things that had her fingers digging into Aegon’s curled locks and desperately trying to stifle gasps because gods be good this was—

When it was over, Aegon trailed his fingers through the mess, “You’re leaking, still, sister.” 

She said nothing. If she was capable of speech at all, it didn’t matter, for she did not have the ability to find words to respond with, not in that moment.

She should have tried, though, for Aegon was rather smug and took charge while her wits were absent—“You should clean her up, Aemond.” He suggested.

She wasn’t worried, he was much too shy to follow his brother's suggestion. 

Or so she thought. 

He wasn’t as enthusiastic as Aegon, not as messy, either. He nuzzled her with his nose first—seeming to inhale her scent before he set about cleaning all that had spilled from her. It was rather ineffective, though, with how she peaked again in the process. 

After that, speech was not the only thing that left her. She also found it rather difficult to walk.

…that did not stop her from demanding this act again the next day.

.

One day, the boys fought over who could have the pleasure of tasting her. 

She rolled her eyes, they were closer to men now yet still acting like children and she was tired of it. She had just come to tolerate them as brother’s but she had no desire to mother them.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m now longer in the mood.” She said, dropping her skirts and crossing her arms. 

Aegon sputtered, whereas Aemond just looked sad. 

“I mean it, too. If you want to taste lips of any sort today your only option is each other’s.”

She hadn’t really expected them to take this as a command—or perhaps they didn’t, they were just waiting for any mention of such a thing so they could have this opportunity. 

Regardless, the outcome was the same, and they wasted little time in joining their lips. 

They didn’t part their lips until after they had rut together and spilled in their breeches. 

Rhaenyra was…not jealous, exactly, but rather awed by the site of them together. For as annoying as her brothers could be, she had always known they were good looking. But this was somehow intensified several times over when they were together like this.

No, if anything, her frustration stemmed from the fact they had so much clothing on, rather than jealousy. 

Perhaps, though, she was a little aroused.

.

That night, she told Aegon to feast on her folds until she came—then to share her flavor with his brother, using the vessel of his tongue. 

They became hard during—of course they did, everything made them hard.

Boys. 

Men. 

Brothers. 

She told them to take care of the unsightly stiffened lengths, and despite the flush that spread across Aemond’s cheeks she knew from the show that morning that he was not opposed. 

But first, she demanded they remove their sleep clothes. She wanted to see it. See the pulse of their cocks when they came. The ropes of white seed across their pale skin, shining in the moonlight.

She wanted to see them lick it up with their greedy tongues, pink muscle lapping at light skin until the essence was gone and only saliva remained. 

They did. 

After—well, her arousal had bloomed to the point where she demanded Aemond’s mouth, too.

.

They fucked each other long before her. Fears of pregnancy making her weary of having their lengths in her cunt. 

But it was not as if that was the only entry she had…in fact, this was detailed in the red book that they studied with more faithfulness than they ever had to the Seven. 

The engravings showed the act, which involved what they called the,

‘Quim of every human—man and woman, tucked between the cheeks of one's arse.

This hole does not weep the way of a woman’s sheath, it must be greased or oiled — when adequately done,

the receptacle will still squeak, but they will not suffer.’

It spoke the truth. Aegon did squeak as his brother tentatively worked his long fingers into his parted cheeks. 

He had to stifle screams when fingers were replaced by Aemond’s cock. 

And so, this became a new game they played. 

.

She watched them for weeks before deciding to partake. Aegon was enthusiastic in getting her ready, where Aemond was tentative about pressing into her. But in the end they were all breathless—well, except for Aegon, who wasted no time in taking his brother’s place inside her, his path lubricated by his siblings' seed.

It was good, the feeling of being stretched. Of being filled.

She wanted such a sensation somewhere else.

.

She had them—one after the other—in her cunt on her seventeenth name day. It was dangerous, she knew, but she had found notes in a midwifery book that spoke to safe times of the month, calculated by the days following a woman’s courses. And so she had tracked them dutifully for months until there was enough consistency she felt confident.

Even still, she told them they had to pull out. Her cunt would not taste their seed until she was married. 

They obeyed, just as they always did.

Aegon went first, licking her until she came before pressing inside of her—the intrusion one that made them both groan with pleasure. His thrusts were uneven and it was over fast but she could see how one could find pleasure in this act, given enough practice.

He spilled across her stomach, before Aemond took his place.

He was longer. 

The differences in their cocks was obvious when you looked at them, or felt them with your palm. She’d forced their lengths together as they stood, stroking and admiring the width of Aegon’s next to the length of Aemond’s. As if they had the same mass but were formed into different shapes, the same while not being even remotely similar. Quite like the men the appendages belonged to. 

What she knew of their lengths before this was that Aegon’s was more of a challenge to get in, given the width of it. But once deep enough to slide with ease, she thought any intrusion in her rear felt rather the same.

But this.

She understood now, why women were meant to be penetrated here. Every drag of his cock lit up pathways of nerves inside her that made her clench and shiver. She felt the precise shape of him inside of her, the length, the curve, and it all culminated in her peaking—a moment before he pulled from her and spilled across her folds.

Both of them were prompt in how they licked up their seed, lilac eyes looking at her heaving bosom as she attempted to catch her breath, all while they continued to dine upon the masculine syrup coating her creamy flesh.

.

For their sixteenth birthday, she had them both.

Gods.

She did not believe in any faith, really, but this almost made her think some higher power existed. Why else would they bestow men and women with such parts that fit together like this? That felt so good?

She had never felt more powerful in that moment, when she was pressed between them, speared on both of them….and yet she had never felt more vulnerable, either, for she realized how small she now was compared to their forms. They had grown to a point where they could defy her commands, but they didn’t, and she trusted them, even with her body and something like this. 

And for that reason, at that moment, she had never felt closer to them—and not just because she was full of their cocks, with lips pressing kisses to either side of her neck. Though she rather liked that part of this, too.

It was difficult enough to orchestrate that they were only able to have each other this way a handful of times in the following few months. But they hardly went unsatisfied, not with the engravings to guide them and their mouths and fingers eager to thrust when time or locale did not allow for a cock.

It was shaping up to be a rather blissful year, she thought. 

And then, their father died. 

story notes:

the "book" was inspired by later takes on the I Modi, a very erm, inspired, renaissance work with detailed engravings of numerous positions.

this was supposed to have a chapter two in which daemon returned to dragonstone and claimed the title for himself...along with his. brother's children. but due to lack of interest i've scrapped it for now.

[rynnthefangirl]

The ending of Game of Thrones really does… nothing, for the smallfolk.

The one character whose arc is centered around the plight of the lower classes is turned into a psycho tyrant who mass murders peasants for no reason. And there is nobody else to take up this mantle. The two surviving characters who come next closest to having arcs that center around empathizing with the lower classes are not given positions of power at the end— they are sent away, Arya on a far away voyage and Jon back to the Nights Watch. The two people who rule at the end— Bran and Sansa— have arcs that have absolutely nothing to do with caring for the plight of the lower classes.

The new system of government put into place doesn’t give any sort of power to the Smallfolk— it is the lords of westeros who get to vote on the new king. Now instead of the game being “who can grab power by marrying into the throne” the game will be “who can grab power by getting lords to vote for them”. And who is going to have the advantage here? Rich and cutthroat lords who can bribe and threaten their way to power. The Tywin Lannisters of the world.

Rights for the Smallfolk comes at the expense of the power of the lords, so do we think this new system will put in power anyone who gives a shit about the smallfolk? Westerosi history TELLS us that is not the case. When Aegon V was chosen as king, his only competition was a literal baby with a deranged psychopath as a father. And still there were lords who voiced objection to his appointment, believing he was “half a peasant” and therefore unfit for the throne. Had there been another option besides baby Maegor, do you think Egg would have ever been chosen? No, the answer is no.

Now I’m not saying that the series had to end with feudal monarchy being destroyed, and all this wouldn’t be such a problem, if they hadn’t drawn so much focus to Daenerys’ concern for the lower classes. This was the motivation of the most prominent character of the final seasons— breaking the wheel, liberating people, ending oppression. She wasn’t just another character seeking power, her character was defined by her social justice ideology. Even if you think that this was all justifications for her tyranny, you cannot deny that these were still core themes of her story.

So GOT explores how the smallfolk suffer when lords play the game of thrones. And the conclusion of all this is that the one character who wanted to help the lower classes is actually the villain, the characters that should rule are the ones who never showed any care about class inequality, and the new and improved system of government is the one that keeps all of the power in the hands of the oppressive ruling class.

[violetastridhotd]

A Defense of Lucerys Velaryon

*crackles knuckles*

For some reason, Lucerys being a Velaryon and inheriting Driftmark really triggers people in this fandom, so we're gonna break it down.

Lucerys is a bastard. Well, yes, but no. And, this is the part where ya'll like to tussle, so everybody take a breath:

No one is arguing that Lucerys (or Jacaerys and Joffery) isn't Harwin's son(s).

We all know that they are literal bastards. You know. We know. GRRM knows. The Showrunners (surprisingly) know. Breaking the 4th wall, we all know.

However, the Westerosi people do not know. This is a world where your word is considered truth depending on your station and reputation unless proven otherwise (more on that in a bit).

Because (in F&B) Rhaenys had the Baratheon black hair (remember in GoT when Ned figures out Joffery is a bastard because the black Baratheon hair overrides literally all hair color - including the Targaryen white?) and so, the boys' hair color is not solid proof of Laenor not being their father. GRRM did this on purpose. We, as readers, are never meant to know with 100% certainty whether or not they were bastards.

(Although, knowing GRRM's style of storytelling, the three of them probably weren't bastards at all and that makes the Dance even more tragic, but we'll never know one way or the other on that)

In the show, they aren't trying to leave it up to interpretation - the Velaryon's have dark skin. The showrunners purposefully ignore real world genetics to get the point across (and logistically to help the audience keep track of who is a Targaryen and who is a Velaryon) - because if we acknowledge real world genetics, Jace, Luke, Joff, Baela, and Rhaena would have similar skin tones. So, we are gonna ignore "but they are white!" as evidence for them being bastards.)

So, as stated, in Westeros, the truth of a statement is determined based on your station and your reputation. The average Westerosi citizen (especially those who had never been to court - noble or otherwise) had no reason to question the word of the King, the Princess and her husband, or the Lord of Driftmark. These were people of high reputation who all declared that Lucerys Velaryon was the rightful heir to Driftmark.

So, if all of these people say that Lucerys is legitimate, who is going to challenge them?

The Silent Five and Alyn Velaryon. In F&B, Vaemond is not Corlys' brother, but rather his nephew. When Corlys becomes ill and it looks like he might die, Vaemond and his five cousins come to King's Landing to put forth their own claims to Driftmark on the grounds that Lucerys is not a Velaryon. Vaemond is killed and the other five have their tongue's removed.

This scene gives us the idea - much as Vaemond in the show - that the other members of House Velaryon knew Luke was a bastard and didn't want a non-Velaryon to inherit Driftmark. However, the last two members of the Silent Five (the others died in the war fighting for Aegon II) also challenged Alyn after he inherited Driftmark despite the fact that he was a legitimized bastard (and son/grandson of Corlys) AND was named heir by Corlys. There was no doubt that Alyn was Corlys' blood, thus making him undeniably a better candidate to inherit than Lucerys, yet the same people still challenged him.

The point here being that - like the Greens - Vaemond and his cousins were jumping on the most convenient excuse to take power. They didn't care about legal or blood legitimacy. They wanted to improve their own station.

Corlys didn't care if Lucerys was Laenor's son. We don't get any official grievance in F&B from Corlys about Rhaenyra's kids. In both the book and the show, Corlys claims Lucerys as his grandson. Now, Laenor also didn't care and claimed him as his son, but Corlys was the important character because of his role in the Dance.

I've talked before about how House Targaryen needed to keep Lord Corlys happy, but I'll reiterate here: Corlys held over half of the naval power for the Iron Throne and Rhaenys getting passed over for queen really pissed him off. The following decades were spent scrambling to keep Corlys from turning on the Iron Throne. When Rhaenyra and Laenor were married, this was achieved. When Lucerys and Rhaena were betrothed, it was reinforced.

Furthermore, in HotD, Corlys states "History doesn't remember blood, it remembers names."

As far as history was concerned, Lucerys was Laenor's son and Corlys's grandson. The same goes for Alyn. Regardless of whether or not they are illegitimate bastards or legitimized bastards.

So, yes, Lucerys was the rightful heir to Driftmark because Corlys (and Viserys) said so.

[sansa286]

Thoughts On the Baela x Corlys Conversation in S2E5

This scene has been a polarizing one for the fandom and has spawned many takes, so I'm going to address them and mention what I like about the scene/what makes sense to me and what I thought could be improved.

Takes I Disagree With

"Baela rejecting Driftmark is the writers trying to absolve Corlys of any misogyny that was present in F&B."

No it doesn't. Corlys is still the same man who pimped out Laena and scoffed at either of his granddaughters being named the heir to Driftmark up until Rhaenys died. This is even the reason that Bethany Antonia gave as to why Baela rejects Driftmark - Corlys ignored her and Rhaena for most of their lives and did not consider them viable heirs, she does not want to become the heir to Driftmark out of pity. The scene is also meant to parallel Viserys naming Rhaenyra the heir to the iron throne only after he lost Aemma and their son. These men were willfully misogynistic and ignored the women in their families, and only come crawling to them once they're desperate. Corlys misogyny is well intact rather Baela accepted this offer or not.

"Baela rejecting Driftmark makes no sense, she's nothing more than a Rhaenyra cheerleader."

It does when you remember that she thinks she will be the queen of Westeros one day, something that only became a reality when Rhaenyra offered she and Jace be married. Of course she wants Rhaenyra to take the throne. And another reason that I will elaborate on later. Baela is not merely Rhaenyra's lacky, she clearly disregards her orders back in S1E3 when she chases down Criston Cole.

"Baela Tells Corlys to 'Get Over' His Wife's Death"

No she doesn't. She tells him to stop acting as if Rhaenys was a possession that Rhaenyra snatched away from him. As someone who's been through a lot of grief as of late, I know all too well how people jump to playing the blame game and pointing fingers when someone dies tragically. It is very human, but it's not healthy or the correct way to process someone's death. Especially in this case, Rhaenys volunteered to go to Rook's Rest, knowing that it would be dangerous. No one on Team Black knew that Sunfyre or Vhagar were going to be there, as far as they knew, Vhagar was still patrolling King's Landing. And the Greens themselves didn't even know Aegon was going to ride on Sunfyre. As far as anyone on Team Black knew, Rhaenyra included, Rhaenys would fly to Rook's Rest, burn up Cole and his army, and then be back for supper.

We, the audience, know that Rhaenys turned back twice and knowingly fought to her death, but Corlys doesn't. So I'm not saying that Corlys' reaction here doesn't make sense, because it does, however Baela telling him to not be so quick to blame Rhaenyra isn't some harsh or cruel advice, and I'm sick of Greenies acting as if it is or that Rhaenyra is solely responsible for Rhaenys' death and that Corlys should be secretly plotting to assassinate her or get some sort of retribution. Newsflash: he's not Daemon.

You could even infer that everyone knows that Rhaenys chose to go out this way; Meleys is canonically the fastest dragon, so she could've escaped if she wanted to, as we see in the previous episode.

"Baela and Corlys do not speak to each other like a granddaughter and grandfather would."

Baela and Corlys hardly know each other. Baela spent the first ten years of her life in Pentos, and the last several on Driftmark while Corlys was away at sea. They are relative strangers to each other and these last few weeks have been the most time they've ever spent with each other, and most of that time has been addressing the war. Corlys has routinely only shown interest in whoever the heir to Driftmark is, which was Luke up until now. So no, Baela and Corlys interacting like that makes sense.

Now onto the main issue I have with scene...

Baela's Reasoning In the Show

The one we get, in the show, is lame. "I am blood and fire, Driftmark must pass to salt and sea." I get that the writers are trying to make her seem quippy, but this also unintentionally confirms that Rhaena's biggest concern is 100% right - she is disregarded by her family. If Corlys were to give Driftmark to a granddaughter, why not Rhaena? She was set to marry Luke and inherit it anyway until his death, even Rhaenys recommended it! I can buy that Corlys would offer it up to Baela, as he clearly sees her as more valuable due to her dragon, but the fact that Baela doesn't mention her sister? When they're supposed to be interpreted as having, at least, a somewhat close relationship, and she knows that Rhaena feels as if she is not respected by their family? Either the writers are trying to hint that Baela secretly feels the same as everyone else in regards to Rhaena or they gave her that weird pseudo-poetic line to feed the TikTok editors. Hell, that could've been the reason she gave Corlys - "I will be queen one day, so let my sister inherit what she was already due for" or something like that.

Overall the scene was fine. I'm still quite irritated at the lack of Rhaena being considered, but maybe that's the point and they intend on elaborating on that later. Who knows? We still have three more episodes left, but until then, this is my take on the scene.

[queen-of-andor]

JON SNOW DAY 4: UNSUNG CONNECTIONS 🔍🧩 JON SNOW- AEGON V

 Maester Aemon compares Jon Snow to his younger brother Aegon V Targaryen. Little he knew that Jon is actually great great grandson of his dear brother and just like him  he will rise as an unlikely leader. 

 Both Aegon and Jon are royals in disguise. In Aegon's case, it's intentional, as he hides his Targaryen identity and his royal status. While in Jon's case he's not even aware he's related to their family. However, he still is what Robert Baratheon calls "the King hiding in the snow" (I'm not implying that Robert made that jape about Jon as he's unaware of the boy's true identity but  it's hard not to link this imagery to Jon SNOW). 

 Aegon and Jon are young  ambitious lads who wanted to achieve glory of their own by becoming knights (black or white, both Night's Watch and Kingsguard are orders someone enters for life). Being so young, both of them were blissfully unaware of love so neither of them had a problem to declare that they would give up any romance in order to achieve greatness. Later on, both would find out about romantic love (Aegon with Betha Blackwood and Jon with Ygritte).

 In terms of character, both of them are bold and have a sharp togue. That often gets them in trouble and their mentors reprimand them for that. They are also very defensive of the family members they love. Both of them are quick to defend their fathers' reputation when someone speaks ill of them. " Prince Maekar is Prince Rhaegal's brother. He loves him well. He'd never do harm to him or his" sounds very similar to Jon's "My father is no traitor".

Most leaders and even mere nobles spend their whole lives in luxury never concerning themselves with the common people. That's not the case with Aegon V, who spend time among smallfolk and got to witness some of their hardships . Neither is the case of Jon Snow, whose status as a bastard made him less privileged than the regular noble and later on when he joined the Night's Watch, he befriended commoners and became a steward himself. Jon also got to spend time among the free folk and be introduced to their own culture and hardships. It's those experiences of theirs who make them have a a broader perspective and be kinder than most leaders.

 Both of them try to make reforms in order to improve the lives of those who are the least privileged. Aegon is trying to make things better for the smallfolk, while Jon is trying to help the freefolk survive and find a refuge at Westeros. Those actions earn them the love of the oppressed people they help but also the hatred of those who don't want the status quo to change: 

Through beloved by smallfolk, King Aegon V made enemies among the lords of the realm, whose power he wished to curtail. 

TWOIAF - Aegon V 

 Similarly, the free folk come to respect Jon for giving them a shelter and by the end of ADWD many of them are about to follow Jon on his campaign against Ramsay Bolton. However, the black brothers who expressed their concerns about letting the freefolk to settle within Westeros (like Bower Marsh for example) are among those who assassinate Jon Snow.

 Finally,  I want to talk about Aegon's epithet "The Unlikely" and why I believe it might apply to Jon as well. Aegon was the fourth son of the fourth son of the Targaryen King. Nobody thought that he would rule and he never tried to usurp the throne from his relatives that were before him in line of succession. However, once he was the one who was offered the crown, he became King and as I mentioned before he made the lives of his less privileged subjects a better one.

Jon Snow also never thought he could inherit anything and that's why he thought that his only option was to join the Night's Watch. However, he's currently named Robb's heir and he's the most capable out of all the Stark kids (due to age and experience) to rule. Will he also take the crown in order to help improve his subjects lives and better prepare them for the long night? Also, what about his Targaryen inheritance? Could he also be an unlikely but potential King candidate due to being Rhaegar's son? Only time and future books can say for sure.

 I'll close this meta with Maester Aemon advise to Jon:

"You are half the age that Egg was, and your own burden is a crueler one, I fear. You will have little joy of your command, but I think you have the strength in you to do the things that must be done. Kill the boy, Jon Snow. Winter is almost upon us. Kill the boy and let the man be born."

ADWD, JON II

[jaeheratargaryen]

Welcome, Princess Jaehaera Targaryen of House Targaryen of Dragonstone! We’re delighted to see they have arrived safely on their journey to King’s Landing. Around the court, the age of thirty has been praised as brilliant, sweet and idealistic, but some have whispered they are also dreamy, naive and clingy. Upon their arrival, it is clear that they are excited about the upcoming coronation of Westeros’ first ruling queen, and while the eyes of our court may be fixed on our new Queen, House Targaryen, and the future of Westeros, their true allegiance will always be to their family.

ARCH I

Jaehaera was born with the gift of prophetic dreams. As she grew older, these dreams became increasingly haunting and vivid, leaving her deeply unsettled. On days when these visions would occur, Jaehaera would become unusually quiet and withdrawn.

Jaehaera shares a deep bond with her dragon, Morghul, who hatched from the egg placed in her cradle at birth. The large, sapphire-blue dragon is her closest companion, and Jaehaera often sneaks away from her studies to fly with Morghul.

Jaehaera developed a quiet fascination with the history and culture of Old Valyria. She spent countless hours in the libraries, poring over ancient texts about her ancestors and their homeland. She is captivated by the history of the Targaryens and their dragons, driven by a desire to understand why only her family has the ability to ride these majestic creatures.

Despite her delicate appearance, Jaehaera has a natural talent for sword fighting. Though it’s not considered ladylike, she relishes the sense of power and control it gives her. Her skills come easily, and she finds a certain peace in the precision and discipline that swordplay requires.

Taught by her mother, Jaehaera is highly skilled in needlework, but to her, it’s more than just a pastime. She creates intricate tapestries and embroidery, often depicting dragons, storms, and other imagery inspired by her prophetic dreams.

ARCH II

Jaehaera has been improving her swordsmanship, dedicating herself seriously to her lessons. Her adventure with the egg remains unresolved, despite having sought help from Prince Viserys, who was unable to find a solution.

The princess has also begun to question her faith, especially after her nightmares evolved into episodes of sleepwalking. This phenomenon sparked rumors that she has been practicing blood magic during the night.

ARCH III

As the months passed, the sleepwalking disappeared, but her dreams became more intense and specific. Instead of symbolic visions that require interpretation, she now clearly sees people from her daily life. This makes her question what is real and what is merely a dream, leaving her confused.

Other questions have surfaced in Jaehaera's mind, now related to her heart. Intense feelings arise when she thinks of Prince Aegon III and Lady Daenaera. The young princess wonders if it’s possible to care deeply for more than one person at the same time and whether these feelings can truly be called love.

Rumors

Some claim that Jaehaera is a seer whose prophetic visions are driving her toward madness. These rumors are fueled by the cryptic and eerie images hidden within her embroidery, which many believe contain messages from her dreams. (PARTIALLY TRUE – Jaehaera is indeed a dragon dreamer, and her visions do deeply affect her.)

A persistent rumor suggests that Jaehaera is not actually Aegon’s daughter, but Aemond’s, given her striking resemblance to her uncle. This scandalous claim has been dismissed by many, but it still lingers in the shadows of the court. (FALSE)

There is a rumor that Jaehaera possesses a dragon egg that was never meant to hatch. It is said that she found this egg and keeps it close, hoping to bring it to life. Some believe the egg is cursed, and that Jaehaera has been performing secret rituals to hatch it, seeking comfort or power. (PARTIALLY TRUE – Jaehaera did find a dragon egg and is taking care of it, though the rumors of curses and rituals are exaggerated.)

[spicy30]

Hello again! I don’t wanna possibly spoil anything for people since the last chapter hasn’t been out that long so I’ll just put a little warning here —

!!! SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 11 !!!

AHHH so much Criston in this last chapter! My problematic fav, I’m so happy. Really enjoyed all of his parts and am interested to see what happens with him next. He’s just such a fun character to read, write and talk about. It’s kinda funny to think about him turning around and finding that MC has disappeared in the street though 💀 (ik I’m terrible) And just like…doing a walk of shame back up to the Hightower hours later to tell Alicent he lost the crazy lady but she’s already back there

Fr though, I’m itching to see how the relationships between Criston, Alicent and MC develop further. He’s got such a longing for purpose and salvation and Alicent looks to her faith for something to hold onto and seems so conflicted and unnerved by MC. It’d be easy to get annoyed at Alicent rn with how she’s acted towards MC (victim blaming isn’t cool, Alicent! Neither is ordering hits on people!) but it’s at least understandable — I mean, this girl just appeared out of nowhere and has “infected” her family and now she’s seeping into her faith too, something sacred for her, and how is Alicent supposed to know what this all means or what to do with MC? So, MC becoming this religious figure of sorts in a world like Westeros will be verrrrry interesting. MC could find herself in an even more powerful and dangerous position than she’s already in. The bit with the high septon honestly makes me scared for her! It’s certainly an advantage to have people kneeling at your feet and willing to do and believe whatever you tell them because they think you’re a messenger of the gods. For someone of her standing especially, being able to influence people like that is very powerful. But in this kind of era, with religion being such serious business…she’s gotta be careful here 😬

These maesters suck. Bunch of assholes really. Is Vaegon still alive in this story? He’s one of those minor characters I’m so interested in, I’m always curious to see what people do with his character when he pops up in stories. Totally understand if he doesn’t make an appearance though

Daeron’s introduction was great too, I liked his characterisation. He feels different to the rest of his family - brothers specifically - and you can tell he’s been shaped by a different environment than they have but he still has those hints of Targaryen-isms. Exactly as Daeron should be 💚

Love MCs little friendship with Aegon and her interactions with the twins

I feel so much for the MC though. The way you’re writing her and how she’s struggling is so easy to empathise with. Just being dropped into another world would be enough to break someone but then she’s got all this extra bullshit to face! It’d be so scary and isolating :( The way she deflates or tenses whenever Aemond is even mentioned is such a painful but real thing.

The poor horse 😭

And if you don’t mind me saying, I’ve noticed that your writing is always improving! I’m not saying your writing was ever bad because it wasn’t but I can tell that you’re doing a good job honing your skills and getting better with every chapter. I noticed it when I was first reading the series and binging it to catch up and the recent chapter was no exception

I hope that was coherent, I’m kinda sleep deprived rn lol. But I enjoyed the new chapter and am looking forward to the next one!

— 🌾💚🌾

Yeah, I think the best part to write was him like over-analyzing a game of tag. He was doing too much but he is just so convinced that MC is up to something (He's not totally wrong though.) Yeah, I can only imagine Criston turning around and being like '😧' Then finally that night he comes back like '🧑‍🦯😥' "I lost her." and Alicent just freaking out bc of the whole weird thing going on with her.

Criston will definitely have his moment of character growth and then we’ll see where that’ll lead to. As for Alicent, she’ll have her growth, but I suppose it can also be argued as a recession. Alicent is always so desperate to be in the right that she is just so wrong. She's always so close and then misses by a mile. But like you said, always understandable that she’s freaked out by MC and obviously Alicent still has her plans to get Aegon on the throne, so it becomes a whole thing where MC is watching and Alicent feels disgusted. As for MC becoming a religious figure, that was always the plan, and of course there was rejection in the beginning bc it what almost got her killed by Daemon bc she wasn’t a messiah, so it coming full circle and her getting into the faith, it’s kinda like….‘hmm.’ I don’t want to give too much away but my stance on it is "Coincidence is just the mind's way of making connections where none exist.” And yes of course with perks comes dangers if they push her the full mile and it’ll be interesting if MC embraces the role that’ll eventually be pushed onto her. (But that won't be for another couple of years)

Yes, Maesters suck butt! It’s really just so…annoying to see, but I mean, what other outcome was there? I wanted to be as realistic as possible. It’s already crazy enough that her plans got pushed through, not to mention she still has to find that person to take the seat in the council (She can’t just yet) So she needs to find someone who isn’t totally against her which is like finding a needle in a haystack. As for Vaegon it is definitely very interesting to think about. They said he passed in 101ac (Only bc he wasn’t mentioned anymore) but he was only 38 at that time, and in 129 he would be 66. I find it strange that he would’ve died so early. The faith and the citadel don’t like Targs nor do they like the aspect of magic. Vaegon was dragonless and obviously wanted to distance himself far far away from his family with him taking his studies into mathematics, and economics. I don’t think Vaegon wanted the downfall of his family, but I think he is just a little resentful of them (He was called upon by his father and I’m pretty sure he either suggested or supported his father calling for the great council when Viserys was chosen over Rhaenys) There is also the whole issue after the dance where possibly non-targs could claim dragons (Most notably silverwing) and some speculate that Vaegon was the one who said to do something about her so that it wouldn’t cause trouble. But this would definitely be a very interesting dynamic. Vaegon is into mathematics and right now MC needs mathematicians for this water system project. So who knows.

Yeah for Daeron I tried to pry into the mind of a more mature teenage boy who just happens to have a dragon, which was very hard, bc I am none of those things. (I want a dragon so bad 🥹) All siblings tend to have this blind loyalty to each other and in Daeron’s mind Aegon, Helaena, and Aemond are the exactly the same as they were before, and he liked Aemond back then so this loyalty for his older brother makes sense. But when Daeron hears that this lover (supposedly soon to be wife if Viserys has his way- or at least according to what Alicent said) is MC, it’s kinda like when your brother brings home like a girl who you can just sense isn’t a good person. Daeron is very off put by the fact that his brother who was much more a stickler to the rules than any of them, now has a lover. (I like to also think that Daeron is a lot more conservative bc of the heavy influence of the faith in Old Town.)

The twins are just so lovely and I thought a cute little game of tag would be nice. (Besides she feeds them so much junk food they've gotten a bit fat. So a little running never hurts.) As for her relationship with Aegon, he has toned down the obvious vibes that he wanted to sleep with her (Mans would still take the opportunity if it was there and I envision that it would happen while they’re both high. (Maybe in both ways. High in the mind and high in the sky.)) Right now his main thing is music.

Thank you! I like writing tragic characters. Perfect characters are…boring. The only perfect I accept is when it's like they’re so perfect that when bad things happen to them, the person that did it becomes insanely hated bc how dare they. (If you’re going to be perfect, Imma need them to put it to use and manipulate others like no one else's business whether intentionally or not. Very fun to read.) I want MC to make mistakes, and to have things turn out badly and then she has to claw her way out and continue on towards the goal. Aemond is just being Aemond😔 A shiny new toy that is his. The past shouldn’t matter when he has everything laid out. Or that's his mentality at least. 

RIP Horse, but it was necessary. 🐉

I enjoy your comments on my writing. I’ve gone back and reread some stuff and obviously there is a very big difference, BUT there is actually a reason for that. The way I’m writing now is my natural writing style (If you were to go look at my old works up to my latest (Not including this one) it has always followed a ratio of 1:5 (Or around there.), one being the actual dialogue and five being inner thoughts.) Basically, this was…a crack fic (AT FIRST) then I really started thinking about the story and thought it was best if I actually. I think a good example of this would be ‘A Solemn Beginning' (is this me being a shameless plug for myself?…possibly) I started writing that story last year around March, though it wasn't published till months later. (So way before I ever even thought of this concept) and that story has a much more similar vibe in these more recent chapters. Basically, my early writing in this story was lazy writing. (I just sat down one day and wrote the first chapter just bc I came up with the idea of being electrocuted via a kite in an attempt to charge a phone or try to harness power and reader being launched into a wall just as Jace walks in and is like '😨' while MC is writhing on the ground steaming.) I wasn’t thinking too much about anything, just writing to writing. BUT! I appreciate it nonetheless. 

THANK YOU🙏See you next time❤️

[mejcinta]

Lately, I noticed lots of people getting delicate around Aemond and Alys' relationship, claiming that either he raped her or she groomed him.

The book depicts the beginning of their relationship «Prince Aemond had taken her into his bed as a prize of war soon after taking Harrenhal». During the dance, terms such as "take to bed" and "spoils of war" are also used in reference to the Daemon and Nettles, and to the Jon Roxton and Sharis Footly:

1) «Daemon Targaryen had come to love the small brown bastard girl, and had taken her into his bed» but does this necessarily mean that the Demon raped Nettles, as the show has already established his pedophilic tendencies (the young girls whom were offered to him in the brothel, both Laena and Rhaenyra were groomed by him, since one was around 15-16, other never was able to form her charachter without his influence).

2)«Bold Jon Roxton became enamored of Lady Sharis after the First Battle of Tumbleton, and claimed her as a “prize of war.” When her lord husband protested, Ser Jon cut him nigh in two with Orphan-Maker. Sharis wept as he tore her gown», her reaction made it clear that she was assaulted.

Now let's look at the relationship between Alys and Aemond, the background of their characters and how their relationship was later described.

Alys Rivers was a bastard of House Strong, Grand Maester Munkun and Septon Eustace refer her as a bastard of Lord Lyonel Strong. The general attitude towards bastards stems from religious beliefs, where those born out of wedlock are seen as a weakness and dishonour of their parents, and are therefore treated with disdain. The treatment of female bastards is even worse, when in such a feudal and patriarchal society as Westeros, they have far more limited opportunities to improve their position than male ones. "A Feast for Crows" introduces a bastard girl named Falia Flowers, whose family mistreated her and forced her into servitude, and after Euron Greyjoy takes control over her castle, she willingly goes with him because she was enough of the miserable life in her parental household.

While her parentage remains dubious, her surname clearly indicates that she was the daughter of a nobleman. But unlike bastards like Jon Snow or Rhaenyra’s sons, she was a servant to her relatives and after her own children were born dead she served as a wet nurse, an occupation historically regarded as exploitative of women.  Not only she was a servant, but also accused in witchcraft (whether it is true or not), it always is followed by social stigma, discrimination and marginalisation of women.

Obviously power imbalance on Aemond’s side, making her unable to groom her, and how could she do it to an ADULT. But how later their relationship was described:

-“it was Aemond alone who had become besotted with the Rivers woman, to such an extent he could not bear the thought of leaving her”;

-  after the defeat at the battle by the lakeshore he almost strangled the messenger to death if not for Alys be the only one who could stop him, so he valued her enough;

- when alys was captured by sabitha frey, instead of asking for help if she was his hostage, she proclaims that she is carrying his child, and aemond later came to rescue her and she run with him;

- he brought her to battle above the god’s eye with him and kissed her as last thing he did in life;

-  after his death she proclaimed herself as his widow even she would gain nothing from it, and when some man dared to insult her son with Aemond, he was immediately killed, either she ordered someone to do that or even blowed up this man’s head herself.

While show revealed Aemond had unpleasant first sexual experience and called out Aegon’s tastes as depraved, can be assumed that they will not make him force himself on Alys. So the term "prize of war" could be thrust upon them by others and should be seen as such if Alys and Aemond consider it as that.

You know, people can project all they want on Alys, Aemond and their relationship, but one thing the show has made clear is that they're 'softening' Aemond. He's not nearly a scrary brute as his book counterpart (which I still find interesting). There's more nuance to his character, and the same will go for Alys (like Alicent and Rhaenyra's characters).

Hoping that Aemond is made abusive and Alys some sadistic witch is so...boring, unoriginal, petty and bitter. There's nothing remotely new or interesting story-wise about that. But let's just wait and see.

[notenoughmuses]

If they had a kid / Allyria and Jaehaerys (whichever one :3), Aegon and Rhaenyra, alara and jory

Allyria and Jaehaerys: in alphabetical order:

Arthur, Barric, Cedric, Daenerys, Elia, Gwayne, Helaena, Jacaerys, Kara (Valyrian for great/excellent),Nymeria, Oberyn, Shiera

the triplets: born in 300 AC (in verse where Jae comes fourth with allies and support and takes over King Tommen's rule)

Barric David Oakes (born 301 AC) Gwayne Orlando Bloom (born 303 AC) Helaena Elinor Crawley & Jacaerys Eoin Macken (born 306 AC) Kara Freya Allen (born 307 AC) & Nymeria Hannah New (born 309 AC), Oberyn (born 311 AC), Shiera (born 314 AC) Helena Mattsson

Name: Arthur

Gender: Male

General Appearance: More Dayne/Dornish features. Dark hair, purple eyes, Dornish skin tone, roughly 5 feet 9 inches tall

Personality: Sweet, headstrong, prone to strong feelings and outburts as a child.

Special Talents: hand to hand combat

Who they like better: Allyria

Who they take after more: Allyria

Personal Head canon: He basically starts his own hand to hand combat sport similar to boxing or MMA

Face Claim: Leo Sutuer

Name: Daenerys

Gender: female

General Appearance: Targaryen features with a curvy build and growing up had weight fluxuations like crazy.

Personality: very outwardly directed, always focused on meeting people, going out, doing things with others, hates to be alone with themselves

Special Talents: great at crafting

Who they like better: Jae

Who they take after more: Allyria

Personal Head canon: Can't sit in a chair properly.

Face Claim: Katheryn Winnick ( I know overused but i love her)

Name: Elia

Gender: female

General Appearance: More Dornish/ Dayne features, tall slender and well endowed

Personality: Is always down for arson (she's allowed to burn candles and that's with supervision). Great at reading others, knowing how people are feeling and why, etc. It's borderline impossible to hide a secret from them or mislead them since they seem to almost supernaturally just know the actual truth about how someone is feeling or what they're thinking, etc.

Special Talents: good at memorizing facts and retaining information

Who they like better: Allyria

Who they take after more: Jae

Personal Head canon: Always smells like campfire/burnt wood

Face Claim: Laura Berlin

Aegon and Rhaenyra

Name: Vaegon

Gender: male

General Appearance: typical Targaryen features, ends up being as tall as show Daemon/Aemond

Personality: Course, rough, he cares too deeply and loves too hard. He rushes head first into situations. Not dramatic themselves but they love observing the drama of others

Special Talents:

Who they like better: Rhaenyra

Who they take after more: Aegon

Personal Head canon: He tried to improve the lives of every small folk of Westeros when he became King. He's remembered as Vaegon 'the benevolent' Targaryen

Face Claim: Lucas Till

Alara and Jory:

Name: Rodrick

Gender: Male

General Appearance: Dark hair, brown eyes, 5 feet 7 inches tall, lean build

Personality: A total sweetheart, easily impressed, patient, very romantic, always has little crushes on everyone, constantly dreaming of having cute dates, writes poetry about every little thing that makes their heart flutter

Special Talents: Bread baking

Who they like better: Jory

Who they take after more: Both

Personal Head canon: Marries a woman from a noble house outside of the North. They met at a Tourney.

Face Claim: Santiago Cabrera

[darklinaforever]

When I tell you that anti-Targaryens will take any shit this show writes as long as it goes their way as haters.

Literally, once again, the Targaryens never practiced incest between parent and child ! It does not exist !

Also, just for the record, everyone in Westeros practices incest !

It's simply that the one between brother and sister is reserved / only allowed among the Targaryens.

So why are the Targaryens so singled out by the fandom for incest ?

They practice it for the same reasons as any other family in Westeros, namely for the notion of inheritance and politics.

However, know that the Targaryens have actually married much more outside their family than within their family.

So stop making them out to be some kind of crazy incestuous person obsessed with blood purity because that's canonically bullshit.

And then how are the Targaryens such a rotten dynasty as the haters claim ?

They are objectively no worse than the other houses.

Not to mention that their reign brought peace to Westeros.

Because yes, before the arrival of Aegon the conqueror (because yes, the Targaryens are conquerors and not colonizers, we're sick of this bullshit), well all the houses were almost always at war.

Literally the Targaryens actually brought peace and stability, as well as improving some things in Westeros in general along the way.

Yes, such a rotten dynasty, you are right... 🙄

I'm tired of this stupid fandom acting like the Targaryens are the ultimate rotten dynasty to take down to supposedly free Westeros from their evil.