#the main targs are bad enough

[bbygirl-aemond]

y'all remember daenaera velaryon, who eventually marries aegon the younger and has kids with him? remember how she's the granddaughter of this man here?

i just KNOW mans was laughing in daemon's face in the afterlife when that happened.

but in all seriousness, between aegon marrying vaemond's granddaughter and rhaena marrying a hightower i know daemon was screaming crying throwing up. it really do be your own kids.

[atopvisenyashill]

imo rhaenyra’s “madness” being that of a cult leader capable of convincing her followers to do ostensibly insane things cuz she’s just that charismatic & self-assured in the correctness of her beliefs is way cooler and less sexist than the typical ‘she went crazy’ targ nonsense, "ohhh ‘mad queen’ daenerys she’s so crazy it’s that classic targ madness just like her ‘mad’ ancestor ‘mad’ king aerys you never know with those ‘mad’ targaryens" that’s so boring lol, give me something believable

YES i honestly don’t understand and have been increasingly annoyed by these really disingenuous “oh so when rhaenyra slaughters innocents it’s totally fine bc she has the divine right 😒” criticism when it couldn’t be more clear that’s not what’s happening. i mentioned this with the white stag before, how people are taking the most bad faith reading of it imaginable and saying that’s objectively what the writers intended when….it’s very clear the writers are intending for a more nuanced exploration of the entire concept of the white stag, YOU (general you, not you anon) are purposefully taking it in a negative way because you like being pissed off. what an obnoxious way of engaging with the story!

and i feel the same here! the main criticism i see of rhaenyra is that a) she’s not allowed to get her hands bloody/she’s always in the right and b) they’re making it seem as if she has the divine right to commit violence due to the prophecy. there is absolutely no narrative basis for these readings though, it’s COMPLETELY people projecting.

the reason she doesn’t do anything earlier in the season is because she also isn’t doing anything in the BOOK during this section because of her grief. i think criticism of HOW they wrote that is valid - the fact that she doesn’t speak at all in the first episode was a heinous choice, i get what they were going for, but it fell so flat that as Professional Writers they should have realized they were missing the mark there - but this constant “rhaenyra doesn’t get her hands dirty” “rhaenyra is too perfect” is so fucjing obnoxious. they’re ✨building up to it✨ guys, it’s why they did the stuff with Aemond not meaning to kill Luke and then actively attempting to kill/harm Aegon, it’s why the Green Council goes from squabbling to actively suppressing Alicent’s voice, it’s why Rhaenyra's convos with Jacaerys have gotten increasingly more angry, on and on. Sorry you all wanted Rhaenyra to be a Born Evil Queen, but if they’re not doing that with Alicent, why would they do that with Rhaenyra? "Oh they only had Jacaerys call the dragonseeds mongrels because-" my comrade in christ they took Alicent making the decision to lock the smallfolk into the city and gave it to Aemond to make her look better and make Aemond look worse it's the exact same thing and they're doing it because they're trying to have a conversation about the cyclical rot of feudalism and the way these people are completely trapped by their own design in this cycle of violence!!!!

and YES very much, this gets into point b which is like....THIS is Mad Queen Rhaenyra, THIS is Rhaenyra the Cruel! It's Rhaenyra holding onto this prophecy that gives her the divine right to be violent, that represents her father choosing her over everyone else, that represents her own worthiness as a ruler, that every single fucked up thing she's suffered is worth it because the fabled hero will come from her line, because Jacaerys will follow her onto the throne and there will be unending peace, because Viserys chose HER he loved HER he only ever loved HER, and she HAS THE RIGHT but what does "have the right" even mean. "oh they always portray her as morally in the right" NO THEY DO NOT YOU ARE MAKING THAT UP. Rhaenyra thinks she's morally in the right and the show is constantly making her face the consequences of her own actions, and showing that (again, and I cannot overemphasize this enough, just like Alicent, just like Viserys, just like Aegon, and while they do it sloppily with them, just like Aemond and Daemon!) Rhaenyra will close her eyes to the glaring faults of the people around her and the violence she is helping to perpetuate because to her in the end, all of this suffering has to be worth it and she has this fancy little prophecy that is showing her it is worth it. That's so interesting! It's fascinating! "Well I think she-" Well that's just your opinion man! I'm having a fucking ball watching her step closer and closer to the edge and insisting that she's staying still, she's playing safe, it's everyone else that is taking the leap. That's fun, that's engaging, that's a good way of depicting that dichotomy of how greatness can so easily turn to madness.

[humanpurposes]

My Heart Belongs to Daddy part ii, modern!Aemond

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist // And if it feels good, then it can't be bad

modern!Aemond x step-daughter

Warnings: 18+, smut, daddy kink, spanking, degradation, questionable relationship dynamics, infidelity, mentions of grief/loss, no underage elements

Words: 5900

A/n: Thank you for the love on the first part! Let me know if you want to be tagged in upcoming parts or follow me @humanpurposes for updates. Also available to read on AO3.

The wedding of Daemon and Rhaenyra Targaryen is turning out to be exhausting and a little overwhelming. It’s been built up for months as the event of the year in King’s Landing, extravagant and scandalous, which describes the family rather well.

Every room in the Red Keep has been booked to accommodate the city’s elite. It’s a beautiful venue, an ancient redbrick castle overlooking the bay, once a home for royalty, now the flagship of a chain of luxury hotels, and the crowning jewel in the Targaryen empire. 

She glances around the ballroom where the guests are mingling while they wait for the arrival of the newlyweds. It doesn’t take her long to spot her mother, martini in hand, making smalltalk with Corlys Velaryon, who just happens to own the largest shipping company this side of the Narrow Sea. Alys Rivers is nothing if not efficient. 

They had been surprised to receive an invitation at all, but then Rhaenyra has always valued appearances above everything else. They had hardly heard from her since Harwin’s funeral, and even then it was funny half-smiles and overcompensating niceties to gloss over the obvious pain in her eyes. That’s the thing about Rhaenyra, you can never really tell what she’s thinking.

She looked other-wordly floating down the aisle in a white satin and lace gown. Her father, Viserys, CEO of Targ Corp and patriarch of the Targaryen dynasty, walked beside her. Maybe it was the lighting in the Sept or the red and black suit, but he looked pale, and his eyes were heavy and tired. Rhaenyra’s step-daughters, Baela and Rhaena, trailed behind them in matching maroon dresses, while the three Strong boys lined up beside Daemon at the altar. A picture perfect family.

She tried not to judge Rhaenyra too harshly for wearing white– damn purity culture and the misogyny that comes with it, but she couldn’t help but think how she preferred the vintage cocktail dress she wore when she married Harwin.

She’d been too young to remember that wedding, but she’d seen the photos enough times. There was one she especially loved, of the bride and groom on the front lawn of Dragonstone, smiling to each other like they had a secret (turns out they did when Jace was born eight months later), while she and Helaena stood in front of them. Their faces were round and chubby, scrunched into the confused frown toddlers make when they’re made to wear pale pink dresses and carry round baskets of rose petals.

Alys fell out with her parents in her mid teens. She always said it was her uncle Lyonel who was there for her, who saw her through to adulthood, who offered her a room when a shitty ex-boyfriend left her with no money and a positive pregnancy test when she was twenty-two. And having no siblings, she said Harwin was more like a brother to her than a cousin.

Losing one of them would have been hard enough, but losing both had been devastating. In a lot of ways it still is.

“Harwin was so dear to us all,” was all Rhaenyra had said to them on the day of the funeral. So dear it took her just over a year to marry her own uncle.

Not that she’s in much of a position to judge.

A large, gentle hand settles on her back and Aemond hands her a flute of champagne. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” 

He means the ballroom. Gold paints the vaulted ceiling and trails down the walls, the pillars and the archways, as sunset bleeds in through the windows. 

“Wouldn’t expect anything less,” she says, trying to hide a grin. 

They’ve managed to avoid each other all day until now. He sat with his siblings at the ceremony, while she and Alys were on a bench at the back of the Sept.

She allows herself a better look at Aemond’s suit; midnight blue, with a subtle floral pattern that would be easy to miss if her eyes were only skimming over it, and a baby blue tie that matches his eyes perfectly. He’s cropped his hair for the occasion too, it’s shorter at the sides but still long enough at the top to run her fingers through, to tug on. He looks beautiful. He always looks beautiful.

His hand stays in place against her back, unassuming but just firm enough to keep her on edge as he leads her further into the hall. “The decor was inspired by Versailles, but the hall itself dates back to the original Keep. You’re into this sort of stuff, aren’t you?”

She doesn’t know why he needs to ask. At this point he knows better than anyone what she’s ‘into’. 

“This used to be the throne room,” she says, nodding to the platform at the end of the hall. “Imagine, the Iron Throne used to sit there and now it’s a stage for fucking a jazz band.”

The corners of his mouth curl into a reserved smile that makes her heart hum. Aemond is rarely one for obnoxious laughter, but then every time she can make him smile it feels like a little victory. It hurts a little too.

They settle at the edge of the room and his hand slips away, but he makes up for it when he leans into her, close enough that she can smell the dark, almost boozy scent of his perfume on his neck. “How are you doing, by the way?”

It’s a question she’s avoided asking herself. She spots Jace, Luke and Joff across the room, sitting down at a table with Aegon, Daeron and another guy she doesn’t recognise. They look happier than she feels, and suddenly she feels ridiculous for wallowing in her own self pity.

She shrugs. “Alright I think.”

Aemond’s face is somewhere between a frown and amusement, the face that means I can see right through you.

She shifts on her feet, looking for something else to focus on.

Larys Strong, she notices, is standing by the bar. They had run into him at the Sept, and though they’d definitely made eye contact, he made no attempt at conversation. He keeps his head low, only looking up to glare at Alys.

“Gods that man’s pathetic,” Aemond mutters, following her line of sight. “Not still upset about Harrenhal, is he?”

“Considering mum took half his clients when she left, I’d say yes. He’s always been good at holding grudges, creepy uncle Larys.” Harwin’s brother, director of what used to be King’s Landing’s most successful PR firm, recently overtaken by Rivers PR.

“Shouldn’t that be ‘creepy second cousin Larys’?” Aemond says with a little smirk.

“My version has better ring to it, rolls off the tongue easier.”

A hand suddenly slaps her shoulder and she nearly drops her glass. Aemond quickly takes it from her as Viserys Targaryen pulls her into a stiff embrace and makes a grand exclamation about love and family that she forgets to pay attention to.

She’s a little bewildered but manages to smile. “Good to see you again, Mr Targaryen,” she says. As she pulls away she catches the eye of the woman standing over his shoulder. Alicent Hightower has donned her usual shade of dark green in a velvet dress that compliments her auburn hair and elaborate gold jewellery perfectly. She has a particularly sour look on her face this evening.

“How are you, love?” Viserys asks. “Doing well I hope?”

A thousand thoughts flood her head, but she can already see the interest dying in his eyes. So she just nods.

“How is school, you’re still at school, aren’t you?”

“She’s at the university, dear” Alicent corrects him, “final year, yes?” Her lips thin as her eyes finally spares a glance for her son. “Two years behind Aemond.” 

Mother and son exchange a vacant look.

“Yes,” she says, making her best attempt at Alys’ networking voice, “I study History–”

“Excellent! Well wonderful to catch up, and good to see you too, son.”

Aemond nods in acknowledgement as his parents move away to offer a similarly shallow greeting to the next group of guests. His breath tickles over her neck as he sighs. At least Rhaenyra tries to act friendly. 

“I’m sorry–” she blurts it out, not really sure why she assumes it’s her fault.

He smiles. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

There’s an uneasy feeling of guilt settling in her stomach. She knew Aemond wasn’t on the best of terms with his parents, but she hadn’t realised it had gotten to a point where they would hardly even look at him.

Her fingertips brush over his as he hands her back the glass.

She watches his eyes as they start to skim over her lavender summer dress, the thin straps running over her shoulders, the dainty gold necklace on her neck and the gathering of silky fabric at her bust. 

“You look lovely by the way,” he says.

For a moment she forgets how to breathe. Maybe she should be used to his compliments and praises by now, but it still makes her nervous. “For a lovely occasion,” she says, taking a tentative sip.

“Hmm.”

“Not a fan of weddings?”

“Not overly fond. This…” he briefly sweeps his gaze around the room, at the endless arrangements of orchids and roses, the crystal centrepieces on the tables and the perfect smiles that are just a little too forced. “It’s all very pretentious.”

“I would have thought you like that, all the pomp and ceremony.”

He huffs a laugh as he takes her glass and casually brings it to his lips. “Call it a combination of circumstances.” He keeps his eyes on her as he tips the glass back. 

She does the same, admiring the sharp features of his face, his jaw, his chin, his neck and the way it bobs when he swallows.

He “tsks” at the dryness of the champagne and hands her back the glass. “Things with my family have never been straightforward.”

But even less so over the last year, she imagines. For most of her life, the Targaryens existed at a distance. She and Alys used to see more of the Strongs– Harwin, Rhaenyra and the boys– for birthdays, the occasional family dinner and that summer they joined them at Dragonstone. But that was before things really started to get messy, before the lawsuits and the infighting.

None of it is helped by the fact that Viserys and Alicent despise Alys. They think she’s an opportunist, desperate for some profitable connections, stealing away their golden boy. She knows her mother better than that. Alys is less of an opportunist, more of a pragmatist, and to her credit she doesn’t pretend to be oblivious to the benefits of dating the son of the wealthiest man in Westeros. 

She likes to think Aemond’s more than that though. A little less entitled than Rhaenyra, and certainly more motivated than Aegon, but brilliant in his own ways. He has a first class degree in International Relations from the University of Oldtown, a quiet but mysterious public persona, with a Hightower work ethic and an understated confidence, usually wrapped up in a Prada suit or a vintage leather jacket. 

She finishes her drink before she asks, “have you spoken to Jace and Luke yet?”

His face darkens. Another point of conflict. Aemond had a falling out with the Strong boys when they were kids, something to do with inappropriate use of a kitchen knife on Luke’s part, resulting in the scar slicing down the left side of Aemond’s face. By some miracle it managed to spare his eye.

“Might be worth saying ‘hello’ at least?” She suggests.

He glances over at their table with his lips pressed together, rubbing his thumb over his index finger.

Before she knows it her hand is on his bicep, stroking her thumb over the fabric of his suit. It’s her usual reaction when she notices he’s anxious.

His eyes meet hers. His nostrils flare as he takes a deep inhale. “Maybe later,” he mutters.

A rush of cheers and applause announces the arrival of the bride and groom. Rhaenyra has changed from the elaborate gown she wore to the Sept to a black slip dress, with rows and rows of diamonds dripping from her neck. They make their way to the high table and the guests begin to settle at the round tables around the hall. She doesn’t look back to Aemond before she heads for Jace and the others.

Jace is in his first year at KLU studying politics. It’s a small campus and she often sees him hanging around the humanities block or in the library. Understandably he’s not been himself these last few months.

“Alright?” he says brightly, pulling her into the first genuine hug she’s received all day.

“Yeah,” she sighs. “You?”

“Yeah.”

“Sure?”

Jace seemed so much younger a year ago. All three of the Strongs seem to have grown up far too quickly. “It’s just been… things have changed so quickly.” He runs his fingers through his dark curls, grown down to his shoulders, she notices. “I just miss him, you know?”

 She offers him a bittersweet smile. “Yeah, of course.”

“But Daemon’s great. He makes mum happy. That’s what matters most.”

She sits between Aegon and the other guy at the table and realises she vaguely recognises him. He looks older than Jace, with dark hair, surprisingly sleek stubble and silver direwolf cufflinks on his sleeves.

The dinner is infuriatingly exquisite; seared tuna, steak that almost melts in her mouth, followed by a raspberry and rose pastry and a lemon posset topped with purple primrose petals. It’s all pretentious and so very Targaryen.

Her eyes keep wandering. There’s a haunting kind of beauty about watching Daemon and Rhaenyra. They keep their fingers intertwined and share smug, knowing glances. They fit perfectly together, despite the taboo of it all.

Alys and Aemond are at a table with the Velaryons and Aemond’s sister, Helaena and her girlfriend. Alys keeps a hand over Aemond’s as she talks to Rhaenys and Corlys about some (no doubt dull) business venture, but she’ll make it sound brilliant. Her skills of persuasion are second to none.

She had half expected Aemond to follow her, but that was a stupid expectation, wasn’t it? She’s enough to fuck behind closed doors, not enough to sit beside at a wedding dinner.

She needs to stop getting her hopes up. She needs to stop looking for more from him because she’s only setting herself up for failure. But that’s just the problem, she wants to cling to every look, every hand against her back, every whisper in her ear, and convince herself that, whatever this is, that it’s for something more than just carnal desire.

She often finds herself wondering if Alys really loves Aemond. It started off as a casual thing, from what she could gather without wanting to know the details. Alys would go on these overnight ‘work trips’, which she suspected were really dates.

Her suspicions were confirmed when she came downstairs one morning to find Aemond Targaryen in the kitchen, leaning over the island and sipping an espresso. That was after his last fight with Alicent and Viserys. He had been planning to retreat to Aegon’s, but ended up spending the night with Alys instead.

She watches Aemond, running a slender finger over his fork, his eyes moving sceptically around the room, until they settle on her.

He smirks, and then he turns to strike up a conversation with his sister. 

Alys certainly likes him enough to get him involved in Rivers PR, to let him live in their house and sleep in her bed.

What does he get out of it, she wonders?

“Got your eye on someone?” 

The unfamiliar voice snaps her out of her trance. The boy with black hair is leaning into her.

She glances down at his cufflinks. “Stark?” She guesses.

“Cregan. My dad’s an old mate of Viserys’.”

He’s a politics student too, a classmate of Jace’s and captain of the KLU rugby team with the muscles to prove it. She recognises him a little better as they talk; he was at Baela’s Halloween party last year, though they hadn’t spoken then.

Jace shoots her a quick wink from across the table and inclines his head ever so slightly towards Cregan. She swears under her breath and rolls her eyes at him. Gods, as if she needs help from her cousin to get laid. 

It’s Aegon who starts ordering rounds of shots. She tries to stick to champagne at first, until she looks across the room again. Aemond leans into Alys, as though he might kiss her, but she turns her head and his lips settle on her cheek.

After seeing that, she reaches for the tequila, met with cheering from Aegon and Daeron. 

Daemon and Rhaenyra take to the floor and sway to a dreamy number played by the jazz band. Rhaenyra soon takes Helaena by the hand and Daemon grabs his girls to join them on the dancefloor.

She smiles as she watches them all, Rhaenyra and Helaena spinning around each other, Baela and Rhaena giggling at Daemon’s smooth moves that come straight from a 50s movie.

“I feel like we should go up,” Jace says. 

Luke starts to groan but Joffrey is already up  and dragging his brothers with him.

Aegon turns to her in his seat. The oldest of the Targaryen Hightower siblings and undisputedly the messiest, but she had found him the most approachable that Summer at Dragonstone. “What do you say, kid?”

How could she say no to that sly, self-assured grin and those puppy dog eyes? They’re a little duller than Aemond’s, closer to grey than blue. She lets him lead her to the dance floor. 

As she and Aegon sway to the charming brass and bass, she wonders if Aemond is watching them. She doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction of checking. Not just yet.

Aegon leans into her ear. She ignores the sour, bitter smell of alcohol on his breath. “How is Aemond?”

It takes her off guard. She finds herself a little perplexed, eyebrows raised and lips parted as she tries to think of an answer that won’t seem suspicious.

But having to think about it at all must be incriminating.

Does Aegon know? If he did know, why would he want to bring it up?

“Good, as far as I’m aware.”

Her internal crisis seems to evade his attention. His eyes move between the space over her shoulder and the floor as he gnaws slightly on his lip. “Look, I know this isn’t your problem, but I just worry about him.”

Aegon Targaryen, worried about his brother?

“He said things were difficult lately.”

“Gods yeah, things have been tense with dad trying to sort out his will. Mum and Rhaenyra have been at each other’s throats, then there’s granddad trying to get something out of it all. It’s a fucking mess.” 

Realistically she doesn’t know him that well, but between their few interactions and what she’s heard from Jace and Luke, Aegon is easy to understand. It’s strange seeing him so concerned, about anything really.

He sighs heavily. “Then Aemond went and completely fucked up a contract with Storm’s End and mum was livid.”

“That’s it? They fell out over a work issue?”

“She needed it. She’s really pushing for Aemond to take over from dad, because Gods know once Rhaenyra’s in charge she’s not letting the Hightowers get a fucking look in.”

“What about you?”

“Me? I’m the designated disaster child, no one expects anything from me. Aemond’s always been perfect. And now he isn’t.”

It would explain the dramatics of it all.

“Are they happy? Him and Alys?”

She’s not sure how she should know, or what the criteria for ‘happy’ would even be.

“They must be. I don’t see why he would stick around otherwise.”

Aegon’s lips flash into a crooked smile that disappears as quickly as it comes. “I think he wanted to get out. I said he could come live with me, hells, he could afford his own place.”

“So why doesn’t he? Get his own place, I mean.”

“He likes the distraction, something to get him away from Targ Corp, and the rest of us, I suppose. I think he needed an escape.”

The pace of the music picks up in a flourish and Aegon spins her under his arm. Aemond is looking at them.

At some point in the night, the band is swapped for a playlist of songs everyone knows the words to, and closer to midnight the hall becomes a haze of thumping bass and sparse bursts of red and green lights. She loses count of the number of cocktails she’s had, all she knows is her mind is buzzing blissfully. She feels happy and careless, but one drink away from a nasty hangover in the morning.

Aemond is still at his table, sipping a glass of what she guesses is whisky. He loves an old fashioned, if they’re out for dinner or if he makes it himself at home. He talks to Rhaenys and Corlys, and has a brief exchange with Daemon and Rhaenyra when they come over to him, but other than that he just sits and watches her.

She’s not sure how she ended up dancing with Cregan. He wraps a large, muscular arm around her waist and holds her close against him. 

He brings his lips to the shell of her ear, shamelessly letting them brush against her skin. It feels nice. “Sure you’ve not got your eye on anyone?”

She smiles even though he can’t see her face. “Why is it important?”

“I’m trying to figure out what my chances are here,” he says as his mouth moves along her cheek.

She giggles as she pulls away from him. “You’re lovely,” she says.

“But?”

A hand lands firm on her shoulder. She recognises his perfume and a cool steel ring against her skin.

She turns into Aemond and puts her hands on his chest. “Are you going to dance with me?” 

Aemond holds her wrists and leans into her so that she can hear him over the music. “I think you look tired.”

“I don’t feel tired. Where’s Alys?”

He cocks an eyebrow like he’s irritated she would ask. “She went to bed an hour ago.” Then his mouth curls into a smug pout. “Do you want me to take you upstairs?”

He starts to stroke his thumbs over her hands and his eyes, though hard to make out through the darkness, are fixed on hers. She can’t quite catch her breath. “Yeah, I do.”

They don’t speak as they head up. Her room is on the third floor, and they could take the lift but a few other guests have had the same idea. Quicker and quieter to take the stairs.

Occasionally her hand brushes against the sleeve of his suit but he doesn’t react. She listens to his breath, heavy and pointed, and imagines he might want to say something but keeps deciding against it.

They reach the hall on the third floor, lined with mahogany panelling, vintage gold lamp shades mounted on the walls and patterns of dragons swirling in the red carpet. It’s empty, so she weaves her arm through his. 

Aemond holds her arm tight. “Had a nice time?”

It was nice to see her Strong cousins. It was nice to chat to Baela, and get to know Rhaena a little better. It was nice to dance with Cregan and to know Aegon cares about his brother.

“Yeah,” she sighs, letting her head drop against his shoulder. “You?”

Aemond starts to tell her about a conversation he had with Corlys about some new customs regulations that could screw over his company. She likes to watch him when he’s explaining something, how he moves his hand around, how he tilts his chin up and presses his lips together when he’s thinking.

When they come to her door she drags herself away from him and swipes her keycard over the lock. The door is heavy and Aemond reaches over her to prop it open as he follows her inside. 

He switches on the low lights and hovers by the door to the ensuite, muttering about tariffs while she slips off her heels and places her jewellery on the vanity.

He looks deliciously casual and self-assured, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets, the warm lights dancing over his cheekbones and the shape of his nose. “...they just can’t compete with the Triarchy, not to mention the extra costs…”

His eyes drift to where she stands. They stare at each other for a moment. The silence is screaming at her.

“Who was the guy you were dancing with?” He asks.

“Friend of Jace’s. He studies politics.”

Aemond hums and smiles to himself. “Looked like the two of you were getting on very well.”

She could point out his poorly placed frustration and that their entire involvement revolves around someone else.

“Is that why you came over?”

He’s still smiling but there’s an intensity to his stare. He puffs his chest a little as he takes a slow breath. He taps his fingers three times against the wall. “Did you like him?”

Restraint is one of Aemond’s most defining traits, she thinks, everything about him is meticulously planned, and every decision is a considered one. Restraint is also his downfall in some cases. He rarely raises his voice or gives into his impulses, but he tries too hard to hold back and craft his perfect image. It excites her whenever she sees the cracks and inconsistencies in him. They feel sacred, another secret she gets to keep.

She takes a few slow steps towards him, until she can smell his perfume again. “I might have done.”

“Might,” he echoes. “If it weren’t for what?”

She tilts her head. His eyes are soft and his lips are parted. She holds the scarred side of his face in her hand and kisses him. She intends it to be slow and reassuring but it’s too easy to get lost in him. She presses herself into him and caresses the back of his neck and she deepens the kiss.

Until his other hand cups her head, lightly pushing her away. “I should go back to the party,” he whispers. 

“Why?”

He takes a breath through his nose.

“Stay with me for a little while,” she says, nudging her forehead against his. “I need you.”

His face starts to light up, a familiar playfulness in the curl of his mouth. “Need me?”

She trails her fingertips down his shirt, tracing over his chest and the ridges of his abs, dangerously close to his belt. “Aemond, please.”

He walks forward and she stumbles with him until her back is against the opposite wall. He grips her chin between his fingers, forcing her to look up at him. “Try again, sweetheart.” His voice is low and it makes her feel weightless.

“Please, daddy,” she whispers. 

He half growls a “hmm” before he pulls her into him to claim her mouth. His kiss is firm, slow and hungry. She was right about the whisky. She can taste it on his tongue and feel it tingling on her lips.

His knee slides under her dress, between her thighs, and pushes up. She gasps at the pressure and starts to rut her hips against him.

“You’re so eager,” he hisses, “what a desperate little slut I’ve made out of you.”

His hands slip under her thighs to carry her to the edge of the bed. He’s careful as he draws her dress over her head and lays it out over the armchair by the window.

He leans over her, laying her down, working lips, tongue and hands over every inch of her bare body. He starts by kissing her neck, sucking at the soft spot that always makes her melt. His hands run over her collar to her breasts, kneading and pinching her nipples between his fingers. Then he goes lower, planting a trail of kisses down the valley that leads to her waist and her stomach. Usually he likes to drag this out, treat her to divine torture until she had to beg, but tonight he is urgent, no less desperate than she is.

His hands run down her thighs, skimming one moment and squeezing the next. And then she feels his lips against her panties.

“Oh you do need me, don’t you?” He teases. “You’re already so wet for me, baby.”

She writhes against his mouth, desperate for just a little more friction. “Oh fuck, please, daddy, just–”

“Not yet.” He stands over her, slips off his suit jacket and starts to roll the sleeves of his shirt, exposing the pale skin of his forearms. “I’m going to take care of this pretty pussy, but first you’re going to tell me why the fuck you thought you could flirt with Stark, right in front of me.”

She gazes up at him. His expression is stern and intense, and she finds it thrilling.

He pulls her to her feet and takes her place sitting at the edge of the bed, running his hands over the silky fabric covering his thighs. 

“Come here,” he orders, taking her hand and guiding her to drape herself over his lap. She can feel the bulge in his pants pressing into her stomach.

He’s gentle at first, stroking his palm over her ass, toying with different pressures and patterns.

The first slap is gentle. 

“How many– ah!”

The second slap is harsher and she groans at the sting it leaves behind.

“You’re gonna take what I give you,” he says, stroking softly again while his other hand rests on her neck. “We’re done when I say we’re done.” Slap. “Understood?”

“Fuck!” She gasps, “yes, daddy.”

“Hmm, that’s my good little girl,” he says, running his other hand through her hair. It’s comforting, lulling her into compliance. “Now, have you got an answer for me?”

“I wasn’t trying to flirt,” she utters.

Her answer is met with a few succinct blows. She doesn’t care to count them. She breathes through it, focusing on the burn and controlling her reactions to it. She tries to keep her hips still, but she can feel her pussy throbbing and her arousal dripping between her legs.

“Don’t play dumb with me,” Aemond warns. “You’re smarter than that, baby, I know you are.”

He switches between tenderness and pain so easily. Every time she feels his hand against her flushed skin her belly tightens and she starts to shiver, never quite sure what to expect.

“Do you know what I think?” He asks, slipping finger underneath her panties, circling through the wetness and the sensitive flesh of her pussy. “I think you’re just a needy little whore, desperate for my attention. But it’s okay baby, I know you can’t help it, right?”

She can’t help the broken whimper that escapes her throat as he inches closer to where she needs him most, or the cry that comes when he withdraws his touch delivers another stinging slap.

“Shh, baby,” Aemond coos, “I know it hurts but I need you to know you’re mine,” a point he emphasises with another few strikes that have her squealing and squirming over his lap. 

“I’m yours,” she mewls.

Slap. “Say it again.”

“I’m yours, daddy!” She cries, “only yours.”

He strokes his palm over her again and she grips the duvet, expecting another slap. Instead, he curls his fingers over the hem of her panties and slowly drags them down over her thighs. “I’m going to take care of you, baby,” he says, planting a kiss at the base of her neck, “just like I always do.”

Unable to form a response, she nods absentmindedly. The anticipation is driving her crazy but she trusts him completely.

He positions her with her back on the bed again, and kneels before her. He kisses along her thighs, groaning with satisfaction at her little whimpers and moans.

He leans in and kisses her pussy as sweetly and delicately as he would her cheek, letting his lips linger against her. “I’ve been thinking about you all fucking day,” he says, teasing her with gentle pecks and licks while his hands knead at her thighs. “You looked so pretty in your little dress, I couldn’t wait to take it off and have you laid out for me, just like this.”

She runs her hands through his hair as he deepens his movements, that delicious feeling rising and rising as he draws his tongue from her entrance, up to tease her clit, and back down again.

He slides a single finger in, letting out a soft groan at her slick and the sound it makes as he inches further in.

Her hips buck when he starts to flick his tongue over her clit, met by the weight of his hand against her stomach to hold her in place.

“Just relax, sweetheart, be a good girl for me, that’s it.”

Her eyes start to glaze over as her orgasm builds slowly. Agonisingly slowly. She stills her hips, fighting the urge to grind against his mouth. She’s left panting and groaning, desperate for more but she has to be good for him. 

“Daddy,” she chokes, feeling a single tear stream down her temple. “Please… please…” she whimpers as she feels herself hurtling closer and closer to the edge. Just a little more and she’ll fall apart.

“There you go,” he hums, pushing deeper and working his tongue faster. “I want you to cum, baby, want you to finish all over my mouth.”

Finally she comes with a stuttering moan, back arched and pleasure rippling through her body, leaving her pleasantly numb in the afterglow.

Aemond presses a sweet kiss against her quivering cunt, trailing back up her body, coming to nuzzle into her neck.

“You alright?” He whispers. “I’m not being too harsh, am I?”

She turns her head to look at him. His eyes are so bright and his breath washes over her skin. He’s still wearing his shirt. She wants to tear it off him, feel every inch of him with no barriers or modesty.

It just slips out, mindless and simple, like a breath or a heartbeat. “I love you.”

He looks at her, wide-eyed and vague. She leans up to kiss him and he pulls away.

Then he comes to his feet, looming over the bed. He wipes his hand over his mouth and drags it over his chin. 

She’s sure her heart has stopped beating. Why is he staring at her? Why hasn’t he said anything?

“I should…” His eyes dart around the room, to his suit jacket discarded on the floor. Then back to her, trembling, breathless and bare. 

She props herself up onto her elbows, drawing her legs together. She’s never felt ashamed of herself in front of him before. 

“Aemond?”

Suddenly he snaps out of whatever trance he’s been under.

“Night,” he mumbles, disappearing around the corner of the ensuite. The door opens. The door clicks shut.

Her hands shoot up to her hair, tugging and gripping, if only to have something to do with her hands. When it gets too painful she smooths her hands over her neck. Her pulse drums under her skin and beads of sweat trail down her back.

What the fuck was that?

Tags : @marthawrites @randomdragonfires @urmomsgirlfriend1 @aaaaaamond @boundlessfantasy

[gojuo]

Maybe I don't have text interpretation skills, but I never understand when people say that F&B is a book biased in favor of the greens. For the love of God, on the contrary, every time I read it, it's as if the author was inducing the reader to root for the blacks

Daemon is described more as a hero than anything. Not a hero who saves people like Superman, but the badass Greek hero who kills the monster

Gyldayn says that Jacaerys is a worthy heir to the throne, even though he insinuates all the time that he is a bastard

GRRM put the fandom's favorite houses on Rhaenyra's side

Baela e Rhaenys badass

Mushroom has a sympathy and affection for Rhaenyra that Eustace doesn't have for any of the Greens, he even calls Aemond a kinslayer

And this becomes more obvious when you think it's a medieval war of succession based on a fucking medieval succession and Rhaenyra had more allies, when that's completely unrealistic! No king would choose his daughter above his son! The Anarchy was between Matilda and Stephen, they were not brothers, Mathilda's brother died and that's why she became heiress! After all, a king would still prefer a daughter to a nephew!

The only thing we have is Aegon& Sunfyre bond being so strong and their will to survive and win

but that's going to be ruined in this shitty show that only makes what was bad worse

At this point, if anyone calls anything in F&B Green propaganda I'm just going to assume that 1. they have never read a single page of Fire & Blood, or 2. they're a Targ Stan so the worth of their opinions or critical analyses of the text amounts to a total of absolutely nothing before all else. GRRM did not sit there and write a 700-page lore book with no truth to it in any corner. If you have even a basic understanding of his themes and quirks, it's easy enough to figure out what he was going for in F&B. And yes, he leaves enough room in the text to leave the details hanging in the air for readers to make up their own canon, but he's not writing an outline of the story and its beats that's false. Because what is the point of wasting time and effort to write F&B then in the first place?

Even when you look at F&B in-universe ... Rhaenyra's son becomes king and her other son Hand for the next 40 or so years. Why would a historian risk their career by writing about how the king's late mother (whose death was a huge source of trauma to him) sucked major ass? It's more likely that accounts sympathetic to the Blacks survived rather than those that weren't. We even hear about Baelor burning Mushroom's Testimony (was probably Viserys who ordered it though) for revealing a lot of the things Rhaenyra did, like Brothel Queens. Gyldayn in the text often dismisses Mushroom's writings because they weren't repeated in or by other sources, but who is to say that those other sources weren't burned? There could have been dozens of other accounts confirming Mushroom's writings about the Blacks and Rhaenyra but just weren't lucky enough to survive Baelor's purge. Or you can rationalize it away by understanding that those accounts were either never written by authors or kept/maintained by lords because they were too afraid of the king's wrath. For every pro-Green Septon Eustace account there might as well have been multiple other pro-Green authors who weren't protected by the organization of the Faith and couldn't get off scot-free for talking shit about the king's mother.

Even as I say all that, it's important to remember that the main source for the Dance was written by a guy literally held in a dungeon cell by the Blacks awaiting trial. It's only logical to me that he thought being most favorable towards Rhaenyra and her cause would mean leniency. So if anyone thinks that Orwyle was biased against Team Black and was writing down some mad shit about Rhaenyra, then like I said, they've never read a single page of F&B in their life.

People often repeat the idiotic "Maesters wrote F&B so of course it's pro-Hightower Greens!" lie but this take is so braindead that it could only be the crazed utterings of a worthless Targ stan whose opinions one should never take seriously anyways. If the Citadel wanted to slander Rhaenyra so bad according to these Targ stans, then Gyldayn would have had a ton of material to work with. Instead, he has to rely on one High Septon, one captive held in the dungeons by the Blacks, and a sex-crazed literal court jester who was Rhaenyra's #1 fanboy. Where are these so-called sources written by Archmaester Greenyle, Archmaester Fuckblacks and Archmaester ThreesomeswithMushroomwascanonys then? The Hightowers during the Dance were pro-Green, but eventually they all died and Lyonel became lord, who is explicitly said to be under the influence of his pro-Black wife Samantha Tarly. Lyonel made peace with the Blacks and was approving of Aegon 3 ascending the throne. So if any maesters wanted to talk mad shit about Rhaenyra (the sitting king's MOTHER), pro-Black Samantha Tarly would have just told Lyonel to stop sending money to the Citadel, which would have scared them off because they'd know this would happen.

Gyldayn himself wrote F&B during Robert "Kill All Targaryens" Baratheon's reign. It makes the most sense to me that he isn't pro-Green or pro-Black in any way, rather he's just anti Targaryen.

[ride-thedragon]

Nettles and Race.

George is great at both analysing and subverting genre tropes. We see this with his portrayal of the Targaryens as bad white blonde powerful elf like people. Or his understanding consistently in his works that beauty doesn't equal morality. This is surface level, and he does have his shortcomings (how he portrays the Dothraki in a lot of aspects, etc) but I find it really interesting the amount of tropes and conventions he addresses and subverts with Nettles specifically in such a short span of the book. George uses specific racial imagery with Nettles that we don't see often from him, in short. Here's a list:

Implementation and Subversion

1. The most unlikely is, the most unlikely:

Oftentimes, in fantasy stories, the least likely is a white disenfranchised person. The majority of the time, it's because they are poor or treated poorly. Nettles is a black girl who is poor, orphaned, and marked for thieving, and none of that hinders her own feat of claiming a dragon or the accepting initially that she does. She's unlikely, extremely unlikely, the most unlikely choice.

2. Black girls are allowed to feel:

Nettles cries and grieves. Of all the dragonseeds, she's the only one positioned to feel remorse and loss after the Battle of Driftmark. She is foul-mouthed (though not written into the narrative) and fearless. Often times their is a need for black women to be strong (not have access to their emotions) or angry (the only emotion they're allowed because they're "loud"). Nettles is crass and sensitive. She's multifaceted.

3. White people don't center black narratives:

Typically, black characters in fantasy are centred around white protagonists. Nettles distinctly isn't when you focus on her. This is different from being impacted. To be impacted means you're a part of the plot. To have someone be centred in your narrative would be for your existence in the narrative to entirely depend on your relationship with them. You don't exist outside of them. Nettles does. She has an entire life up until she claims Sheepstealer without any intervention from the Targs, and after she leaves the main narrative of Fire and Blood, she has a life. This is even in a Targaryen history book.

4. Black girls deserve to be protected and loved:

Nettles is protected by the men around her in the narrative. Oftentimes, this is something not afforded to black characters, far less for black women in fantasy narratives, but she is protected. Not just by Daemon, who is someone who has extreme emotional stakes with her but by the men of Maidenpool and Lord Corlys. All of whom are white in the books. Nettles is protected by men unquestioningly. They may decide how to do it or have a bigger motive, but protecting her is never a question.

5. Promiscuity questioned:

Nettles is never shown to be a promiscuous character through an unbiased lens. Every time a person brings up Nettles' sex, it's through the lens of necessity or heavily implied to be a dramatic assumption. The two biggest cases, "her raising her skirts for sheep" by Septon Eustace is counteracted by the fact that she's marked as a thief and claims a dragon called Sheepstealer who she's likened to in the narrative and by Rhaenyra who is disproven from her "she seduced the prince with spells" theory by both the men of Maidenpool who don't believe her and Daemon who let's Nettles go. Anytime her promiscuity is presented, it's immediately questioned by who we are told she is.

6. White women tears:

Historically and in fiction, the tears of a white woman are enough to derail any existence of a black character permanently or are at least meant to. Black people, fictional or real, are consistently tormented with the notion of white woman tears or emotional outbursts. Their actions cause a major consequence with white women. With Rhaenyra, this would be Nettle slowing her head for her suspicions. Nettles does not and gets away from. The narrative. This is unheard of. In fantasy doesn't occur because most times, the black woman would be punished, but in fandom, this idea is also reflected in the call for Nettles to be replaced.

7. Relationship with the lead man:

Daemon, for better or worse, is the lead man of the dance. Nettles finds herself attached to him in a relationship that seems, for lack of a better word loving. They seem comfortable, happy, and he's doting towards her. They spend all their time together, and it's paralleled with his other 'living' relationships as well. She's portrayed as his last great love and in the universe, the singers say as much. Issues aside, this is rare. (Martha Jones, I'm sorry I wasn't your writer)

8. Power and Worship:

Nettles is worshipped and seems to become a Goddess in her own right at the end of her narrative departure. Nettles is viewed as a deity because of the power she claimed by herself. Revolutionary. Also it isn't some blink and you can avoid it thing. It ties into the main story of Game of Thrones and her clan, the Burned men helping Tyrion Lannister.

9. Mammy, Sapphire Jezabel ext:

Mammy: Maternal black woman. Lives to serve white people and nothing else.

Sapphire: Rude, loud, stubborn, malicious, 'dumb' black women, nothing else.

Jezabel: raw, sexual, can barely restrain their sexuality and live to tempt (white) men. Nothing else.

Not once does Nettles tie into any of these tropes without it being questioned in the narrative or simply ignored in her story. So many representations of black women, especially in fantasy, fall into the first two or friend not lover trope, help mate trope, etc. anything that justifies their existence by tying them to white characters with no other outlook. Nettles subverts this.

10. Season of the Witch:

Black witches and their history save me. Black witches and their history save. This aligns itself with African spiritually and the otherness assigned to enslaved women who practised both 'witchcraft' and medicinal herbology for lack of a better word.

Witchcraft is also often tied to the imagery of the irresistible black woman as it's almost inhuman to be that attracted to black women when white women are available.

So when it's said that Nettles is a witch, imagery similar to the justifications of white women during slavery are being invoked but not followed through because no one believes her.

11. Disposable Black Love interest

This is also a big issue across genres with black chapters. It happens with Laena in the show as well. When the plot calls for it (or in a lot of cases fans) you dispose of the black love interest in place of a white one. Nettles removal from the narrative immediately calls for both Daemon's and Aemond's removal from the narrative. She isn't disposable. She's a linchpin. Also, Daemon does not go back to Rhaenyra after Nettles leaves. He just dies.

12. Nothing Special:

Magical black negros that helps the protagonist, welcome to your tape.

The magical black negros trope is this convention within fantasy where a black character will appear only to be an aid to a white character by their use of magic. They don't exist or have a life outside this purpose. Nettles could've fallen into this trap.

The idea that she isn't Valyrian could have easily been tied with the spells angle outside Rhaenyra’s bias. Instead of that, however, we get the idea that Nettles is just smart and interesting. She's allowed to be smart and interesting. The narrative defends her being smart and interesting.

She might not be Valyrian. She might not be a witch or seductress. She might be just a really clever girl who defies the odds and conventions.

Conclusion

I think Nettles was both an active effort on George's part to defy conventions and subevert stereotypes and tropes as well as a way to question his reader's bias. Nettles is often reduced to trivial, replaceable, and minor when she's not. You just have to want to pay attention to her.

[la-pheacienne]

Somebody should tell team green moral crusaders that the reason we do not like the scene of Daemon licking his mummy's pussy is not because it's so unFoRGiVAbLe compared to "normal" targcest (lol). It is because it is gratuitous sexposition and pretty cringe. And I am actually able to recognize this as gratuitous sexposition and pretty cringe because I, unlike y'all, watch a TV show with the intention of following a good, entertaining story and relating to the characters on screen. I, unlike y'all, do not watch a TV show with the sole intention of engaging in mental masturbation over the bAd bAd targs. That's not my end goal. That is precisely why I am able to genuinely enjoy many scenes with Otto, Aegon and Criston, (three disgusting, hateful bigots that belong to a "team" I hate), and I enjoy their scenes and their characters because I actually like how the show humanized them and made them relatable even. I understand Otto's disillusionment and anger looking at the chaos caused by his grandson and Criston, I even find it entertaining, I relate to that even if I hate the character. The character makes sense, his scenes are filled with meaning. That is good TV. Aegon's arc is also satisfying, he's an antagonist I can relate to, even if he's a rapist. He feels real to me, I feel something for the character, organically, when I watch his scenes. Good TV. Even Criston is almost funny in his stereotypical bootlicking bigotry and in some scenes I genuinely enjoy watching him because I feel that I understand him. I do not excuse him, I hate him, but I understand him. I know guys like him. The character makes sense, he has a truth in him. Good TV.

Daemon licking his mama's pussy in a dream is not good TV. The scene is there to force a certain subversive interpretation/deconstruction on the viewer via shock but since it is absolutely devoid of substance, it comes off, again, as yet another example of objectification of female sexuality, yet another example of classic GoT sexposition. The reason that this scene has no substance is that we already know that Targs fuck each other. We already know they are an incestuous family. We already know this is a problematic dynamic. The main plot points are enough to showcase this. With that in mind, having one of the core characters of your show, (possibly the book fandom's fave before the show shitfest, and one of the writer's fave characters), lick his mother's pussy as a means of character development does not add anything at all to 1) the narrative if anybody still gives a fuck about it, 2) Daemon's characterization, 3) the themes of the story. Quite the contrary, and even in the hypothesis that Daemon is a pure unambigous villain (and not a "grey" character as grrm calls him lol), even with this assumption, the antagonist becomes cartoonish and the audience feels completely disconnected to him. Which is great if your objective is 1) to get off on incest porn via a hot blonde chick on screen and/or 2) to validate your hate boner for a fictional House whose members are the protagonists of a book and TV series you keep reading and watching while hating the protagonists. It is not great, however, if your objective is to watch a good story with antagonists that have something to say and that feel real and truthful and meaningful.

This antagonist in particular feels ridiculous as if he came straight out of a bad fanfic. And you like that shit. I'm glad to know that the bar is so ridiculously low that you are willing to praise even the cheapest, most typical example of gratuitous titillation aimed at the average GoT fan reddit dudebro, just to prove a point. You actually stoop so low, it is mesmerizing.

[madame-fear]

Request, Enemies to Lover, Stark!Reader X Lucerys Velaryon.

(Also a lil bit smut, hehe...)

*ೃ༄ 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄 .ೃ࿐

— ☆ amira speaks : ok so, few notes: the starks and targs made alliances first and a short while after luke was sent to storm's end bc this is my own canon, yes? also, conceptually this is a mix of enemies to lovers + slowburn (kinda??) but with the relationship being fastforwarded, iykwim. And, dialogues in italics are from past events. Lucerys is briefly aged up. — summary : [ — ✧ request ] after your brother Cregan became allies with House Targaryen, you are occasionally forced to stand the smartass Prince Lucerys Velaryon, whom always knows how to get on your nerves. Eventually, you soften for each other after he has certain gentlemanly acts with you. But, your relationship drastically changes for the better good when Lucerys is gravely injured on Storm's End, and you are asked to "take care of him." — word count : 4.7k

— pairing : lucerys velaryon x stark!reader — genre : smut, enemies to lover, some fluff.

TW | mentions of near death, unprotected sex, P in V, slight profanity, creampie.

After your elder brother Cregan made strong alliances between House Stark and House Targaryen to support Princess Rhaenyra's birthright to the Throne, you are occasionally forced to tolerate her cocky, smartass secondborn son: Prince Lucerys Velaryon.

No one knew why your relationship was as complex as that, even if your Houses got along together pretty well. Lucerys just knew how to have an ease to pick up on you with small, silly things, and you just always dismissed Luke, retorting back to any remark he would make. If you had to stay in the same room, you would simply whine and hesitate the entire time you're together, not tolerating each other's presence near one another.

“Why don't you like each other?” is a question you'd both hear frequently, simultaneously. The answers are always: “Because he's a spoiled, cocky, and annoying prince”, and also “Because she's boring. I'd rather die than be on the same room as her”. Yet, none of the responses helps your relatives to make you properly bond together.

With the brief passing of time, you learnt to stand whatever thing you thought about each other, and ignoring yourselves. The main situation that helped you slightly tolerate him, was one time you were in the library and you couldn't reach a certain book you fancied to read. There, his hand appeared from your side, and took the book, reaching it down for you with a rather cocky smile on his rosy lips.

“Thank you.” you spat out, taking the book from his hands, staring at him intensely into his eyes. “No need to thank me, Lady Stark. I am simply being a gentleman.” luke would reply back, ruffling your hair in a stupidly teasing manner, with his prideful smile remaining. Afterwards, and strangely enough, you both leisurely softened for each other even if you simply tried ignoring one another; not finding your presences so bad, after all.

Another situation that helped you bond slightly with each other, was the very first time that, during dinner between House Stark and House Targaryen, Lucerys stood from his seat only to offer you his hand, and take you dancing. He mainly did it because his mother suggested him to do so, and he did as he was told even if he protested against it. Obviously, you took his hand a bit hesitantly, and danced together in the centre of the dinning room.

“I figured, I'd much rather take you dancing, than hear continous political chaos, no?” as the princeling gently swirled you around with constant grace, he whispered to you, breaking the silence. You scoffed, humming briefly in response. “Finally, something we can agree with.” you retorted back, making him widely smirk. “Funny girl.” lucerys replied in a murmur, as you both continued dancing around the centre of the dinning hall.

“I would've thought of you as a terrible dancer, but it seems I was mistaken.” the young prince continued talking in a whisper. In response, you chuckled. “And I would've never guessed you would admit being wrong for once, yet, here we are.” the young Velaryon rolled his eyes at you, as you kept talking. “But, thank you. You aren't a bad dancer yourself as well.” you finished, widely grinning at him.

Despite none of you would ever admit it, you realised you actually had more fun dancing together than you originally would've thought. Some chuckles and giggles were heard coming from both of you that night, and it was a relief for your families to see you both in that state.

Luke occasionally loves to bother and annoy you, but what used to be a tedious rivalry where you couldn't even be in the same room, slowly became mere fun teasing to each other, even if you both preferred to keep the 'we can't stand each other' facade with the rest of your relatives. None of you either wanted to admit to yourselves that you didn't find each other as annoying as you used to.

Curiously enough, the feelings that grew for each other was unwanted as well. You found yourselves focusing and thinking on one another more than you should. Occasional mutual staring because you think of one another as... Strangely attractice, feeling the need of defending each other when someone disrespects you, and using random excuses to be near your presences. Oh, and with all of this, you still manage to roll off a 'gods how can they be so annoying?' from your lips. An overwhelming sensation of bittersweet, mixed feelings with each other.

By the time you were already less bothered with Lucerys, eveytime you had to return to Winterfell from Dragonstone, the thought of not being around Luke and tolerating the way he playfully picked up on you constantly made you feel unused to not being around him. To a certain extent, long for his presence, but you try to wash away those feelings.

Upon arriving back to your home in Winterfell a few days after one of your many visits to Dragonstone, you found yourself sitting down on the floor in a calm manner. The direwolf you tamed rested his head on your lap, immersed in a profound slumber, while your fingers leisurely caressed it's soft, fluffy grey fur. The only sound heard resonating through your room was that of the fire crackling coming from the small chimney in your quarters to keep it warm in the usually cold atmosphere of Winterfell.

Your eyes stood fixed on said crackling fire, being drowned on your own sea of thoughts. The mere idea of feeling the slightest of longing for the — now less — annoying Prince Lucerys made you feel confused regarding your own feelings. Despite you insisted to your own mind that you could never feel attracted to that cocky future Lordling that always found a way to get on your nerves, your heart always reminded you of how gentlemanly, and more delicately he's been treating you on your latest visits to House Targaryen.

A sudden knock on your door interrupted your waves of thought, making you turn your head to stare at the door, as well as awaken your sleeping direwolf. Before you could reply, your brother Cregan swiftly opened the door. His facial expression seemed to be tinted with concern, and inner conflict. “(y/n),” he sweetly greeted you, as always. A brief grin formed on your lips. “Cregan.” you greeted back. “Is something the matter?” you inquired, intrigued at his notorious worry.

“Indeed,” he rapidly retorted, standing at your door. “We must return back to Dragonstone as a matter of urgency.” your brother stated, making you furrow your eyebrows, even more confused. Before you could ask why, he continued. “Prince Lucerys has returned from Storm's End gravely wounded, and we must travel to Dragonstone to support House Targaryen.” a huffed sigh escaped your lips as your brother finished speaking, your eyes widening in surprise at his statement.

“How unfortunate.” you replied to Cregan, continuing to leisurely pet your dire's grey fur. Even if you didn't want such feelings to overwhelm you, you couldn't help but feel a scintilla of deep concern and... fear, for his safety. 'How severe are his wounds?' You wondered to yourself. The feeling of growing worried for Lucerys seemed like a foreign concept for you, but here you were; your heart pounding fast against your chest with nerves, hoping for the best.

A sigh came from Cregan's lips as well. “I know that, even if your relationship is... strangely complex, to put it in a way,” a scoff escaped your lips in response. But your brother wasn't wrong; your relationship with Lucerys had been oddly mixed lately, especially after the certain situations you had together where you found his actions to be proper of a gentleman, but you still picked up on each other and constantly mentioned how much you hated one another.

“But please, meet Lucerys on his chambers, and use the situation as an opportunity to bond together. I am certain the Prince will appreciate your actions after having nearly faced death.” your lips were formed as a thin, straight line as Cregan finished talking. Without responding much, you nodded in agreement.

“Very well, then, I will do my best, and I will go see him.” the tone of your voice seemed weary, but only because you tried to cover the true concern that tightened your chest at the thought of a badly injured Lucerys. And, even if you hated it, a hint of enthusiasm grew on you at knowing you'd see him.

Traveling from Winterfell back to Dragonstone was, fortunately, a rather fast trip. As soon as you arrived to your destination, you were warmly welcomed and thanked by House Targaryen as always, now more than ever, as you provided full support to their House, and for the health of Rhaenyra's secondborn son. A polite, courting smile remained on your lips as Rhaenyra guided your brother and you inside the rocky castle.

Both your brother and you hastily made your way inside Dragonstone, with quick steps following Rhaenyra from behind. Your heart oddly thumped loudly against your chest, and you tried remaining calm with your clasped hands resting in front of your body, attentively listening to Rhaenyra as she briefly spoke about what the inconvenient in Storm's End had been, with overwhelming concern.

“Princess Rhaenyra,” you suddenly spoke, as a moment of silence was made. A soft, low tone came from your lips, yet vehement. “Would it be too much trouble, if I go visit Lucerys and wish him well on his health recovery?” despite your voice being slightly quivering, you somehow managed to inquire Rhaenyra about visiting a recovering Lucerys on his quarters as Cregan suggested without stuttering for a bit.

A warm, polite smile danced on her rosy lips, giving you a single bow with her head. She knew how your relationship with her son was a mix between tense, yet had been latelt formal enough to slightly tolerate one another in the same room. And, even so, she could see the way you occasionally stared at each other, or often found yourselves being on the same room under some dumb, plain excuse. “You may, my sweet girl.” she replied, seemingly happy about your question. “I am certain Luke will be fond of your presence.” Rhaenyra added, and you briefly curtsied as a way of saying thanking her.

Afterwards, a Royal Guard fleetingly guided you through the grey, large halls of Dragonstone, towards the chambers of the Princeling. Fortunately it was a rather short walk, and you quickly found yourself standing in front of a large, dragon-carved wooden door, meaning you had already arrived to his quarters. A respectful, single bow with the head was given to you by the guard, and he left back to where Rhaenyra and your brother where conversating.

Taking several deep breaths, you prepared yourself to be less awkward with the usually teasing future Lord, disliking the feeling of being too nervous at the sight of him badly injured. Your fist was raised slightly, and you knocked the door twice. Not allowing anyone to answer, your hand swiftly opened the door, allowing you to enter.

As soon as you were inside the quarters of Lucerys, your breath sharpened, flinching briefly. A maester stood by his side, Luke laid on bed with a pale face. The princeling wore a silky, white gown, and his face was full of fresh, slightly bloody scars and scratches. Tossed aside on a chair rested his dragonriding clothing, noticing they were dirty, and stained with dried blood. His hair seemed to be wet, and messy. Luke's facial expression was weary, and yet, his green eyes slightly widened at the sight of you entering to his quarters; clearly, he had not expected you to show up.

“Lady Stark.” the maester greeted curtsying you, as Lucerys shyly descended his gaze to his lap upon noticing you, with a tint of pink on his scarred cheeks. Giving the maester a single bow with your head as a form of greeting back, you then fixed your stare on Lucerys. “Hello, maester.” you spoke, with a little grin, and a gentle tone. “May I have some alone time with Prince Lucerys, please?” you kindly asked, and the maester, without hesitation, rapidly left both of you alone on Luke's chambers, bowing down at the two of you before closing the door shut behind of him.

Hesitatingly, Lucerys lifted his stare, shyly taking a look at you. It was annoying to realise how fast, and tight his heart had recently began to feel against his chest at the mere sight of you, but at the same time, he had to admit he enjoyed having you around. “So, you came, Lady Stark.” lucerys mumbled, fixing his eyes on yours, as you gracefully walked to his side of the bed.

“Indeed.” you replied, your lips drawing a genuine smile. “The second my brother and I received the news of your inconveniences on Storm's End, we fleeted to see you, and your family.” as you kept talking, you daintly sat on the edge of his bed, but close enough to his face, resting your hands on your lap, gazing at him. “I must admit, I was deeply concerned for your wellbeing. But... Hearing, and seeing that you're safe and sound relieves me.” the young Velaryon could tell by your gaze, and voice tone, that you were honest. Not even a scintilla of doubt grew on him at your words. A weak smirk formed on his delicate lips. “Thank you, (y/n).” he retorted.

Briefly making an awkward moment of silence, his eyes fell to stare at his own lap. There, the previous pink tint formed on his cheeks, being notorious amongst the freshly bleeding injuries and scars on his face. “I know our relationship is... Strange, to say the least,” lucerys began, as he fidgeted with his trembling fingers. “But even if we're supposed to despise one another, I...” the brunette-haired boy paused. The words seemed to get stuck on his throat, struggling to roll off from his rosy lips. “I... Was frightened of never being able to have your presence near me.” with a sudden keen feeling of courage, Luke lifted his gaze from his lap, staring at you.

“I don't truly care what you think about me, or the things I say to annoy you... But, I genuinely care for you; your presence never fails to lighten my day, as much as I dislike admitting it outloud.” at his words, your lips were briefly apart with surprise. Your face slowly became near to his, being able to admire the precious glint his hazel eyes carried. With shame, he nearly lowered his face back to his lap with slightly weak movements, but you managed to gently take his chin with your fingers, and make him stare back at you.

“You silly, silly boy.” you began speaking, with a stupid wide grin forming on your lips. His eyebrows were furrowed for a brief moment, but you didn't reply, as you boldly pulled yourself closer to him, and planted your lips to the corner of his mouth, dangerously close to his lips. The Prince swallowed nervously as you did so, goofily grinning at you as you leisurely pulled back, staring back at Lucerys.

“I should keep hating you, but I figured... I think, I just love you too much to keep despising you.” you mumbled, as his hazel eyes unconsciously fell down to your beauteous lips, admiring every inch of them. Your own eyes did the same on his enticing, rosy lips. It seemed the tense atmosphere was fervidly felt between the two of you, but it was a passionate, fiery type of tension.

Without saying any other word, you abruptly clashed your own lips against his, while the future Lord of the Tides followed the movements your lips did to kiss his very own. It was alluring to kiss each other, just like two missing pieces of a puzzle that had just found each other. The more intense it became, the more your panting increased; resonating through his quarters.

Despite both of you briefly pulled apart from one another to catch some air, you rapidly returned to keep clashing your lips and kissing, nibbling on each other's lips occasionally, and feeling your accelerated, hot breathing against one another. One of his hands was tightly gripped on your shoulder, and the other one desperately clawed on your back. The way his hand clawed on your back, tugging on your dress, indicated that he so needily wanted to pull you closer to him; and you understood his signals perfectly.

Not breaking the passionate, moist kissing, one of your legs slowly creeped to his side, helping you get on top of him. A breathless moan escaped from him at the feeling of your weight pushing down on his erected bulge that you could feel poking on your in between leg. “Sȳz riña.” luke whispered breathlessly in between the kiss, allowing his eloquent High Valyrian come to light in such heated moment.

'Good girl'. That, you understood. Being a Stark that was deeply immersed in historical readings and had an appreciating thrill for the language of Old Valyria, you had taught yourself how to read and understand High Valyrian. The reaction you were getting from Lucerys made you smirk in mischief, raking your nails on his wet, messed hair, pulling it back, and your other free hand rested on the large, wooden bedheader to keep your balance on top of him.

His shaking hands went to firmly grip on your waist, only to leisurely travel lower to your legs, and slightly hike the skirt of your dress up; giving Lucerys more access to slide his hands under your dress. Even if his hands teasingly moved under your dress to make their way towards your underwear, he managed to, somehow, control your body and keep pushing you on top of his fully erected member. Some strangled noises unwantedly escaped your lips as you rubbed your still clothed, dripping wet core against his bulge.

“You have no idea, how badly I've been lately fantasising about wildly fucking you, every single night.” he husked, beginning to place kisses on your neck, causing you to hitch your breath as you slided your trembling hands through his chest. “Fuck,” you whimpered, feelings his hands precipitously remove your underwear, willingly helping Luke to toss them aside. The windy feeling of the atmosphere hitting your exposed, pulsating genitalia, plus his hands holding a tight, firm grip on your hips, sent shivers down your spine.

Needily, your hands rapidly travelled all across his clothed chest, to all the way below his silk-textured nightgown, rushedly hiking it up to his waist. Your fingers gently — and hurriedly — began working on sliding down his underwear, as your face leaned down to continue placing sloppy, wet kisses on his lips. As you removed his underwear, your exposed, wet core immediatly sat on top of his erection, rubbing yourself against him; his tip already releasing pre-cum from the arousal. The hand that raked it's nails through his hair remained there, holding a tight grip on the back of his head as he released a quivering pant at the pleasure being received.

“You can't tease me, princess.” lucerys kept mumbling in between kissed, intensely fixing his hazel eyes on you as his nails dug deeper on the skin of your hips. “I know you want to desperately fuck me, as much as I wish to.” in response, you teasingly scoffed, and bit his lower lip as to provoke him. Without giving you a warning, you suddenly felt his cock harshly being shoved inside of your wet, throbbing core, causing you to release a sudden gasp against his lips, feeling a brief stinging pain. A strangled noise escaped him, feeling how your walls tightened around his rigid size.

“Fuck, Lucerys...” you groaned, closing your eyes shut, tightening your hand firmly on the bedheader, as you adjusted to his hardened size. Both your breathing was accelerated, hitting against one another's skin. Lucerys descended his lips to trail some small, provoking kisses on hour jaw, and lower his way towards your sensitive neck. As his nails were digging on your skin, he softly began thrusting inside of you a bit deeper, making sure of being as delicate as he could without causing you any type of pain.

You threw your head back, with lips being partly open. Quivering pants and some quiet moans escaped from your lips, as you felt him entering his size deeply inside of you. “You like the way I feel inside of you, no? You're already dripping wet for me, sweet love.” he whispered in a breathless manner, trying to so badly contain his own moaning, widely grinning against your neck, continuing to kiss and nibble gently on your neck to stimulate you even more.

“S-Shut up, and fuck me faster.” you whimpered, nearly begging to feel more, as Lucerys moved dreadfully slow inside of you. “Hae ao jaelagon.” luke growled, briefly pulling apart from biting on your neck's sweet spots, and harshly pounding his entire size against your pussy, leisurely beginning to make an in-and-out motion, having full control of your body. The feeling of your moist genitalia tightening it's walls around his shaft made him throw his head back, parting his lips as some grunting escaped from him.

“Tepagon ziry ry naejot issa, jorrāelagon...” he whimpered, moving your body inside of his erected member. Some slight drops of sweat began appearing on your bodies, as you clenched your jaw, with desperate hope of containing the moans and panting that escaped from you. The wet noises of his own member fervidly pushing inside against your wet core began echoing through the room, slowly being accompanied by your whining moans.

One of trembling his hands kept it's tight grip on your waist as to help his ridge enter deeper on your shaft, as the other one went to take hold of the back of your hair, slightly pulling your hair. “Fuck, you feel so good, p-please, don't stop–” you whined, stuttering and being occasionally interrupted by your own moans, which got louder with every thrust. His twitching cock knew exactly where to continue hitting continously, as to make you reach your orgasm faster.

“Seven Hells, you feel so good” he yelped, fluttering his eyes shut, as he groaned in pleasure. “You are so tight and wet around my cock, y-you feel better than I-I imagined...” as he kept whispering breathlessly, stammering, your own body began shoving itself all the way down to the end of his rigid member, pulling your hips down hard, penetrating as profoundly as he could. “Lucerys...” you whined, barely being able to form a proper sentence.

The rougher he kept pounding against your dripping pussy, getting moister every passing second, the more dumbfounded you felt. You could barely think to form a proper thought, or sentence. Both of you were misted by a cloud of pure ecstasy, beginning to feel an aching inner heat tightening inside of your chests, as an uncomfortable knot inside your stomachs formed. “L-Lucerys, I-I think...” pausing for a second, a crying, loud moan escaped from your lips. Luke's own moaning continued, being joined by growls.

“I-I'm going to cum...” you cried, tightening your hand, whose fingers were deeply interwined around his messy, already sweaty hair. His lips once again went to your neck, but only being placed against your skin, harshly breathing on you. “Māzigon syt issa, dōna jorrāelagon–” lucerys commanded, a cry of pleasure abruptly escaping him.

Hearing his High Valyrian coming from him while he fucked you roughly, made you shudder in pleasure. Your legs were violently trembling at feeling how he continously hit said sensitive spot, making your knees buckle; feel weak and vulnerable under his touch. The uncomfortable knot formed on your stomach was suddenly released, making you scream with pleasure, as a shockwave was felt travelling all across your body. For a second, Lucerys stopped his penetrating motion as his warm cum was rapidly discharged from his twitching cock, to inside of your fluttering walls, accompanying you in your screaming of pleasure, throwing his head back as a trail of fire invaded his insides.

Your hands were firmly, and tightly placed on his shoulder as you had a simultaneous release, having your mutual orgasm. His semen dripped out from your pussy, along with your own wet liquids; it was a rather pleasuring sight for Lucerys. Both your bodies were heavily sweating, as you panted together, deciding to take a small break from all the intensity. Your eyes were shut, your chest arose and fell trying to catch some air. Feeling your weak legs trembling, you lost some balance, and suddenly let your head fall to the crook of his neck.

“I didn't know you could fuck so well.” a breathless chuckle escaped from your lips, relaxing your body on top of his own as his member remained inside of you. One of his hands went to be wrapped around your delicate body, and the other one sweetly played with some sweaty strands of your hair, vastly grinning at your comment. “Now you know, and I have so much more to give, byka jorraelagon.” lucerys murmured, planting several soft, little kisses on top of your head.

“I can only hope my brother didn't hear us. Otherwise, he'd send our direwolves to bite off your cock and balls.” you joked, fluttering your eyes shut. Another chuckle — this time, louder — escaped from his lips, stupidly grinning. Lucerys couldn't care whether or not his brother liked the fact that he was now head over heels for you. All he needed, was to have you by your side, and fill you with all the love he tried to contain for you.

A brief moment of silence was made, as you tried coming down from your high on top of his body, with your eyes shut and your head on the crook of his neck. Lucerys peacefully caressed your silky hair, looking down at you with admiration. “You know, (y/n),” the Lordling began, breaking the silence. “I know we're constantly talking about how much we despise each other, but I suppose it's time for me to admit, that I actually love you. Your personality, your beauty, your grace, your courage, everything.” a deep, crimson flush took over his face, as you once again opened your eyes, and lifted your sight to gaze into his hazel eyes.

A shy smile formed on your own lips, mimicking his very own tint on his cheeks. One of your quivering hands travelled to be placed on his cheek, caressing with your thumb a fresh scar all across his angelical face that still contained some blood, now dried. His face flinched briefly, but rapidly, he gave into your warm touch. “As I now love every inch of your being, Lucerys Velaryon. And when my brother told me about your near death in Storm's End, I realised, I would be so lost without you.” your voice was soft and delicate, making sure to fix your gaze on him, so he could see the glint of certainty on your (e/c)-coloured eyes.

Without allowing him to say another word, you delicately leaned closer to him, tightening your grip on his face — as your hand remained on his cheek —, and tenderly placed your lips against his own trembling ones, savouring his sweet taste. Lucerys wasn't used to such display of affection coming from a Lady, and it was quite a surprise all that it had just happened, but he realised... That with you, he could begin to get used to it.

The mutual hate vanished away rapidly, being turned into something much beauteous and graceful, provoking the feeling of butterflied fluttering on his heart whenever you kissed, stared, or caressed him. Even if he had nearly faced death at the hands of his uncle back on Storm's End, it didn't matter anymore.

The situation made him realise how he would fervidly miss your presence, and how you helped him forget about all his troubles, and he would forever cherish you for such thing by constantly providing you with love, and undying protection.

♡ taglist : ♡

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[thebeesareback]

Ding dong, the king is dead: the murder of Joffrey Baratheon.

Nobody felt sad when Joffrey died. Not even his mum, really, she was mostly angry and upset about the prophecy. Here's a hot take, though: I don't think he should have been murdered.

Gasp.

Look, he was a total evil shit and he sucked. I'm not disputing that. I'm not even going to argue that he was, what, 13 or 14 and therefore too young to be given power or really held responsible for his actions.

I just think that killing him was, strategically, a bad idea. Joffrey had an heir, and with him dead, Tommen just hopped up on the throne and asked for a kitten. He'd certainly make a better king than Joffrey, mostly due to the lack of bloodlust, and the Tyrells find him pretty easy to control. He'll listen to their advice, be kind to Margery, and he's so young that the Tyrells can install their allies on the small council before he can do anything.

So, Tommen, fine. But Tommen is going to die. Nobody knows aside from Cersei, admittedly, but it's certainly possible that he could pass in a variety of ways. The incest genes might get him, he could be assassinated, or perhaps he'd be executed. Westeros is a war! Kings die! I mean, in the main series so far, we've lost Robert Baratheon, Renley Baratheon, Viseries Targareon, Rob Stark, Baelon Greyjoy, Oberyn Martell and Quentin Martell. Royal blood doesn't keep you safe. And who is Tommen's heir?

Well. I can think of three answers, and none of them work too well. There's Stannis. Currently in open rebellion, lost up in the North, wildly unpopular because he sucks, he's affiliated with human sacrifice and because his forces killed a bunch of people attacking King's Landing. Not ideal. Next, there's Robert's cousins. I can't think of any, and that lack of name recognition is going to cause some problems. I think there was a female cousin who was a widow and Robert fucked? Oh, Robert. Also, if you're looking for the dead king's cousins, second cousins, and possibly cousins removed, you're stretching too far. Let's give up on that plan. Finally, there's Dany. Last legitimate Targ! Her family was killed and despised. None of the nobility want her. Plus, she's a little girl who is currently incredibly far from Westeros. Nobody wants a woman on the throne, because then other women might start thinking that they are humans who deserve rights and respect. Bleugh.

I guess there's Myrcella. Perhaps the Tyrells could marry her to Willas and compromise by giving their children the Baratheon surname. Cersei would lay an egg. That's probably the most likely, actually! Of course, she may have been swapped on the journey to Dorne, she's far away, she's in obvious danger and she's doomed. We know Tommen and Myrcella are going to die, but we don't know the order yet.

My point is, having a young king with no heirs is simply a bad idea. Ask Rob Stark!

Here's what I think the Tyrells should have done:

Marry Joffrey to Margery. Trust Tywin to keep him in line, make sure there are plenty of Tyrells around. Get Margery to (ew) fuck his brains out. She'll have at least one kid before Joffrey is old enough to rule by himself. Then, a few weeks before he turns 18, murder him. You could even do it at his birthday party, if you want the wow factor. Install Mace as the regent, then maybe Tommen, until little Joffrey junior is old enough to be on the throne. You could even marry Tommen to one of Margery's cousins to keep him in line. That way, there's always an heir and the Tyrell blood is always going to be mixed in and on the throne. It keeps things stable! Joffrey sucks, but he only really has power if Tywin and the small council give it to him.

[murmel-malt]

HOW GOES THE OCS??? What have you been working on?

NAT! ❤️❤️❤️ Oh, it is going alright!

Season 2 of HotD has given me new motivation to plot and work on the dance-part of Rowan’s story. The pre-dance timeline and plot was easy enough but once the war starts it gets pretty canon-divergent for obvious reasons. I am trying to redirect some of the writing-energy from Hedaera to Rowan to help with that and perhaps manage to produce some drabbles like I did for Daera.

Speaking of Daera I’ve had a brainfart of a what-if scenario where Alyssa and Baelon’s Aegon (Daera’s twin) survives. The result is a highly entertaining clusterfuck because ofc those two will get betrothed in true targ-cest “one soul two bodies they are meant for each other” fashion. And it is one of the AUs of the Hedaera-verse where bbg is happy so I visit it whenever I feel bad about making Daera’s life difficult in the main verse.

Other than that I have mostly been working on some heraldry, for Rowan and the riverlands house I have been cooking up for several months.

[randomestfandoms-ocs]

Whooo is Daenyra? I'm aware that's a broad question, but I'm unfamiliar with this character lol . . . and there's just something so delicious with modern day aus of GoT/HotD ocs ^_^

yes yes yes okay thank you thank you thnk you!!! broad question very appreciated because I can say whatever I want lol

canon daenyra in The Prophecy (cw: incest, she's a targaryen)

the fuck canon fix-it incest au Alicent & Viserys' daughter, probably a year younger than Aemond, in an attempt to foster an alliance with the Starks, Otto arranges for her to be fostered at Winterfell but after a near-miss assassination attempt (organized by Daemon), she knows that she will not be safe. Cragen helps her escape beyond the wall, where she spends the next several years just herself and her dragon (does her dragon become an ice dragon maybe so), when Jace goes to the wall with Cragen he’s shocked to find his long lost aunt Daenyra is a dreamer like her sister and her namesake, comes from a connection to the three-eyed raven which helps her survive when she’s beyond the wall she has a vision of the war and how it all ends and spends years trying to find a solution to avoid so much bloodshed Jace finds her beyond the wall, she tells him to get his mother and bring her to King’s Landing once everyone is gathered she tells them she has a solution to their war aka, what if the two future kings simply shared a wife and mended the broken family lines their children will be heirs in order of birth not based on which man fathered them and Alicent immediately refuses, thinking she means for Jace to be with Helaena Dany is just like nope nope annul that marriage, let Helaena marry Aemond only if it will make her happy says i’m going to marry them and no one else will die Dany says no more dead Targaryens and also fuck you Otto Hightower specifically, Rhaenyra might not get to be queen but her son still gets to be king Everyone is happy except Daemon and Otto and she and i both feel like that’s an acceptable solution

modern daenyra (cw: still targ-cest, implied nsfw) – it had a fic title but then i got indecisive so tbd

in modern day Westeros, the Targaryen family owns a very, very old company. I keep debating what it is but my main thoughts are real estate or finance (specifically finance houses or hedge funds) – or the company has grown enough to have branches in a lot of fields. Viserys is the President of the company with Rhaenyra set to inherit it when he dies or retires, Otto Hightower is his VP, Daemon is tentatively chief of operations, and Alicent wants her eldest son Aegon to inherit the company instead of Rhaenyra, but Aegon does not give a shit at all. (also this leans into book lore with Alicent being older than Rhaenyra because she is not marrying Viserys at 14/15)

The Targaryen children all have far too much money and freedom for their own good, but their access to that money (and ability to live at the family house and/or in various family-owned properties) is dependent on them working for the family business I'm still world building some of the details but it is essentially our world but instead of our countries & cities & etc, it's in Westeros) The concept of Daenyra's AU specifically is that 22 year old Daenyra Targaryen, socialite nepo baby princess (except to her parents, who do not care for her) has just graduated university and returned home. Because her father doesn't really care about her, and is still sexist despite having a female heir/only liking his eldest daughter, Daenyra gets a job as Aegon's personal assistant. It's not too bad, really. Sure, it's a lot of work since Aegon doesn't care about his job and she has to basically babysit him, but he's always been her favourite relative anyway, her job is pretty simple, and she has lots of money to do things she actually likes. Unfortunately for Aegon, what she actually likes is annoying and teasing him until he finally fucks her. She knows he's been checking her out for several years now (and Targaryens are still devoted to keeping it in the family, so to speak), and she's been waiting for this moment for far too long

(also, have an excerpt conversation between Aegon and Daenyra on her first day at work

“What’s the matter?  What's the matter? You’re fucking indecent, Dany!” “I could be wearing snowpants and a parka and I would still be indecent, Aegon.  It’s a peril of being one of the most gorgeous creatures on the planet.” “One of?  I would have thought you’d consider yourself the most gorgeous.” “I am exceptionally arrogant, but that doesn’t make me blind.  I am the most tempting creature on Earth, absolutely, but I know full well that our entire family was handcrafted by God.”

[esther-dot]

if there’s one thing grrm has been consistently critical of is targs in positions of power, i think jon will never be king of anything 😭

(about this ask)

Good point, anon! I think there’s just so many “king” hints around Jon we’re all searching for how exactly Martin intends that to play out. Some of us have said it might be strictly R+L=J foreshadowing, but a) is Jon even a true-born? As in, if he isn’t, that king stuff isn’t really about R+L=J anymore, is it? (I argue the case that he kinda is here). If he isn't a true-born Targ/heir, then you have to wonder, is it about the fact that Jon could be a king? That he’ll have that opportunity in the North and reject it? Is that enough to justify it all? Or we could step back, perhaps it is not about literal kingship and more, the nature of the character, what he embodies, the fact that he would be a good king?

I personally think Jon having the opportunity to be a king but rejecting it because he feels the burden of that Targ heritage and doesn't want to continue their rule over Westeros kinda beautiful. It speaks to his character. And I prefer Sansa being QitN in her own right, so I wouldn't be mad if Jon doesn't become KitN either. The main problem with the idea that he can't end up in leadership because of being a Targ (which I think is a very real possibility) is, just how much can one guy be punished for the sins of his father? And how do you convey that his choices all along are still meaningful? Dany isn't damned by her family alone, she is making bad choices. So, we would want an ending that takes into account everything about Jon, not just his blood.

[atopvisenyashill]

Are there are asoiaf takes you find so rancid or annoying that you’ll block on the spot?

okay so first of all - i use the block button so loosely on here bc there’s no mute function and blacklisting a url would just bog my blacklist down. once again. pls staff a mute button for when it’s not that serious. but i will block someone, then feel bad because i notice my moots reblog them a lot and i'm like "oh they're not that annoying i was just in a bad mood" and unblock. there's only one (1) take i leave someone on permablock for. every other take i find particularly rancid or annoying is all stuff i just check before i follow rather than blocking over (which is why if u don't have searching on your blog, you'll see me liking your stuff over the span of months before following. i have issues!!! aldjf).

i specifically check for that one gifset that’s like “the direwolves predicting their starkling’s fate” that has sansa getting her head chopped off. if they have it on their blog, it's like 99% likely i'm about to permablock. it’s not only a silly prediction, it’s one made by people who are deeply projecting onto sansa. as she’s my favorite, i think that’s dumb obviously lol. BUT i check for it bc like. U All Know That Group of Arya Stans. i know you know because they’ve commented on at least two of your posts with the most bizarre take you’ve ever seen. i reply when they comment on my stuff (usually just once tho & the people who delete right away are valid) but i’m not out here LOOKING for them lol, i’m actively avoiding it, and That Specific Gifset is a good litmus test for whether a Crazy Stan Groupie just hate followed me or something. also, One Of That Group, as in not just a groupie, has me blocked on this blog AND my main one which i know bc i can’t reblog from half those source blogs they run aksjdj so if i notice someone’s real involved with that group, i just pre-emptivly block bc if i can’t even reblog half of what someone is posting what’s the point there 🤧🤧

but what do i check before following/what opinions have annoyed me enough that it's lead to me "muting" aka blacklisting a url? well-

curtain of light and it’s offshoots which include “targ incest baby will save the world.” lol, lmao. they’re not right but if they’re right i’m deleting my blog and never talking about the series again and i’m so serious. i have my dignity!!

people who go on frequently about rhaenyra being entitled, evil, not worthy, "oh well the LEGALITY," or hyper focus on her violence (esp if they’re also an aemond stan🤧). i absolutely Do block people who say shit like “rhaenyra is unfeminist because she doesn’t want to marry laenor but wants to marry daemon.” tho. why? clearly zero critical thinking skills lol i think u can joke about her having bad taste in men without All Of That.

i avoid people who are hardcore into the belief that dany is the unambiguous hero for obvious reasons. if they think she’ll be queen of westeros, if they actively shoot down criticism of her actions in the bay & towards mmd and irri? nah, and i've muted and blocked people for this one if they're particularly nastie. i DO follow idk three or four dany stans but they're generally not out here actively beefing with people and also they tend to hate emilia’s acting too lol, like they’re not Targ Nation.

(which, related, but people who stan dany but are tg? THEE most obnoxious people in this fandom, i NEVER follow those people).

rhaelya. even my fellow “well i like it BECAUSE it’s toxic” shippers don’t get into this one. it’s like people who swallow dany rewriting drogo/dany in her head to me. no critical thinking skills.

i really am just obsessively reading people’s stark tags before following BUT anything on ned being an enabler, being too honorable to shit, “oh would he even save lyanna from robert if robert started physically abusing her." why? it just annoys me aksjdj , we spend an entire NOVEL rolling around in that man’s psyche and we shouldn’t be missing the point like this.

“dornish people aren’t non white” takes. that’s directly contradicted by the text, i don’t give a shit about any casting, there’s so clearly an ethnic and racial difference at play here with how the rest of Westeros treats Dorne. you either understand that or you’re a moron.

[sunnysideaeggs]

I really liked your analysis on laena's shifting ages as the plot demands.

I was wondering what was even the need for making Laena so young in the first place? Her story was good enough on its own in the books why change it so drastically to make her the youngest out of all of them and then shuffle her back to look the oldest?

The reason i came to realise was the writers really wanted to whitewash Viserys. Basically give him an out where the stupid audience can conclude, hey look how noble this dude is to deny a 12 year old for this 15 year old. 15years are totes the marrying age! 🤢

In fact, u also notice how much they want the audience to like him, when they give all of his ideas on targ incest to Alicent, who would have been the least likely one to arrange for it.

Another point was I hated when they added yet another actor to portray older laena, when Savannah should have portrayed her. It would have atleast made some sense to show how this is also a young child bride.

Has there even been any backlash to the whole thing for the show? It seems no one notices when women of color are portrayed so poorly.

No offense to any of the actors.

In my opinion, the story changed from its foundations when the show runners decided the main premise of the Dance was the relationship between Rhaenyra and Alicent. By closing their 10 year gap, Aging Alicent down and Rhaenyra up, they messed up everyone’s ages and roles (so they make stuff up or conveniently forget it).

Laena was already younger than Alicent in canon, and it showcases (more than the show anyways) the main and only reason Viserys chose Alicent was lust and the ‘need for heirs’. They could’ve showcased that more had they portrayed Viserys as the piece of shit he was and not the doting father (bc if he’s a pos, maybe he didn’t do right causing a succession crisis).

Consequently, Daemon and his awful grooming of Rhaenyra ‘doesn’t look so bad’ because she’s 14 and not 8. But because they had to whitewash Viserys, she’s younger than Rhaenyra and needs to be portrayed as an adult when she’s still a teen. Then, when she needs to be freezed, they chose another actress (conveniently older than both Emma and Olivia) to sweep their bullshit beneath the rug.

Imo, the revisionist portrayal of the Dance is the thing that messes everything up. The showrunners knew the general public wouldn’t sit right with a story about women being catty about each other (which is probably propaganda anyways) and wrote themselves a tragedy about lost friendship and so so. Consequently, everyone (including Alicent and Rhaenyra) suffers.

[rhaenin-writing-time]

I saw that it is okay for us to send you comments? I find your outline fascinating because of how you keep things moving and intertwining, these little spoilers also give me life and I can't wait for the full chapter and see how it translates there.

There are many things I want to say but I prefer to wait until I have the complete chapter. For now I will comment on 4 because they seem to be more of a meta-textual part?

-I genuinely laughed because Corlys is so happy that Luke apparently likes girls.Corlys, bro, why are you like this? 😂I wonder if Laenor saw that little exchange and that's why he doesn't want to be alone with his father 😔

Laenor in general is so lonely without Laena that I just want to wrap him up and hug him, especially since I'm sure he's heard those homophobic comments. Also, the dichotomy between Aemond "warning" Jace and Luke because Laenor might abuse them (🤢) while we know Cole abuses them verbally and even physically by "training" them, it sure is something.

-With the last fragment when the fire appeared I almost shouted: will-o'-the-wisp!! And then not Aemond! Alicent what do you teach your children?!I'm crazy excited to know what you'll do with it as someone who was super obsessed with any legend or myth as a child and whose mother used to tell them to me when we went on walks and camping.

-There is something very painful about Aegon being old enough to recognize and envy what a good mother is, but a deeply adult Aemond only recognizes it instinctively but not intellectually.Then of course I remember how intolerant Aemond is and it goes away 🤗🙃

-The language part particularly fascinates me, especially in this part of Targ history.Can I ask you for more details? How do you explain Jace not speaking it/being bad at it?There is a small audioarticulatory processing problem (I don't remember the name, sorry) that makes intonation difficult when speaking.In fact, I suffer from it and it has been very difficult for me when I learn another language, there is no way for me to articulate well. I like to think that's actually Jace's problem 🙈

I am quite interested in Rhaenys who does not use it as a main language either, there must be a difference between those who learned it in everyday use and those who limit themselves to commands. I especially like the point of associating language with motherhood. Here we have a study on our indigenous people that indicates that the Wuarao language was maintained when they mixed with the Caribs because normally the women were Wuarao and taught their language. But Rhaenyra probably knows it from Daemon... Who do you think taught him? Do you think that at some point the Targ were instilled with shame or rudeness for speaking another language in front of non-speakers?

Really very excited to read more of your fragments and writing❤️

haha yeah send away

I'll warn that a lot of the finished scenes might actually be shorter than the description, and might often just show instead of tell.

Laenor and Corlys... oh boy.

Aemond's about to stumble into something... not sure if I'll post the summary before the chapter though because i might just finish it up.

Jace and Valyrian. I think the writers were just trying to portray him as "dedicated" but just fumbled the ball, because Jace would realistically be fully fluent by then. But... I'm going to go with the interpretation that he's like a lot of those 2nd gen kids who only speak their language with their immediate family and so especially if they're the ELDEST child, they end up speaking a childlike version of the language that's almost a dialect specific to their family home, so they'll often speak their language naturally, but they'll struggle in a formal language course. Anyways, headcanon is that since Rhaenyra and Daemon have really young children, the Valyrian they speak in the family would be somewhat childlike, and Jace would... go out of his way to ignore them when they're speaking more ADULT Valyrian. also, Jace is really dedicated to a formal Andal education because of his position, and wouldn't have as much spare time as the others for the more advanced Valyrian studied.

Oh... we'll get into why Daemon's Valyrian is so good. I'll leave it there for now. I'll also say that while Baelon and Aemon were close, I'm going to interpret them as having... different approaches to a variety of matters. But as for Rhaenyra's Valyrian, I'll say that Daemon was of course an influence, but also Viserys knows it for his studies, Aemma learned it out of duty, and she also had Laenor and Laena who in turn had Corlys.

[horizon-verizon]

what are your thoughts on these potential leaks ?

https://pbs.twimg.com/media/FsaN5DzWwBcKfyS?format=jpg&name=large

https://pbs.twimg.com/media/FsaN5DWWwAIyzaP?format=jpg&name=medium

Disclaimer: I'm just figuring out who these people bts and in production are since I historically prefer to just focus on the story. So I really am not the person to ask for insight about production and bts stuff, and so my opinions will be very unnuanced.

In all, I wish that this was enough to just have the entire show canceled, but apparently, it's not? I also hoped retroactively that Matt resigned, or Emma or any of them really. Because again, my dream is for this show to get cancelled or get so bad reviews form audiences that it gets eventually cancelled after the 2nd season.

I think it's beyond gross how Olivia had to get two of the main leads to back her back so she'd be taken more seriously. What she (if these are true) asked for was not crazy nor outside of her basic rights as a person, but of course HBO wants to abuse their female characters to turn on more male/internalized misogynist viewers. Unsurprising.

I disagree that Ryan "respects" GRRM's vision. He hasn't since the very beginning. It's too late, logically, to restructure the show according to the actual vision of what misogyny did the what would have been the first female ruler, because the ruler and her antagonists are not themselves! Some may think he can "turn it around", but how could he, when the problem has been toothless female characters who always had teeth BEFORE any of their kids died?! Why is a woman only driven when her kids die or when her father gives her clear instructions and then loses much of her desire for power for herself? Or when her former best friend doesn't follow the oppressive patriarchal rules?

And he obviously hates Targs, which makes no sense because without the Targs Westeros doesn't exist as it does: a semi-united (by modern standards and definition) realm that is that much more prepared to survive the Long Night.

IDK what to really think about HBO not being happy with Condal, because I can't care when it's a great example of a capitalist entity stabbing itself.

[lightningandfireinmybones]

Olay but I'm having two main thoughts.

Both delectable.

Firstly, let's travel a few centuries back we're in 945 iirc. Allow me to introduce you to the BIGGEST GIRLBOSS that ever Girlbossed. Her name is Olga of Kiev and her hubby was Igor.

One beautiful sunny day (idk what season it was I'm just stage setting) Igor visited neighbours to collect their taxes. Those bad bois though didnt really vibe with that and thus killed Igor. (They Viserys II'd his skull and used it as a mug iirc?)

They then sent a group of men to Olga to deliver the news and ask her hand in marriage. She welcomed them and the next day threw them all in a pit and burried them alive.

Then another group was sent to Olga after she invited them. Bbgirl locked them in a hall and set the whole thing on fire.

Then yet ANOTHER group of noblemen came to attend the funeral of the previous lads. They got the Frey- Lannister treatment at the feast.

THEN babygirl🛐 sieged their city. When asked what she'd want to retreat gorge only asked for three pigeons from each house. She tied hot burning coals to their legs and set them loose. The pigeons returned home and set the wooden buildings on fire.💅

INSANE TARG ENERGY, BUBBLING VISENYA VIBES, INCREDIBLY AEGON THE CONQUEROR AT HARENHALL CORE. 👑

Now I can totally see Val getting word that Aemond has allegedly been killed (while baby is either imprisoned and rotting in a cell or even better he's been hurt and gone missing and the terrified enemies lie to Val to make her think they have the upped hand with Aemond ans Vhagar gone). Val would ABSOLUTELY decimate them.

Not only have they murdered her other half, her beloved husband, her lover, her best friend, her blood, her uncle, her AEMOND! but they have the audacity to ask for her hand????????

Dead.

Second thought is once again brought to you by Ольга 💓💚❤️💜

After all this.... Unpleasantness, she decides that a rocking political move would be to befriend the Empire ( the Byzantine empire that is) and get baptized as a Christian.

Babygirl was smart tho! The emperor Constantine VII was struck by her beauty ( and her reigning of the Rus ) and decided that he'd try his luck with her.

In order to marry her tho she'd ofc have to be a christian which was why she went to Constantinople in the first place. So baptized she was and educated in the ways of Christianity. When the emperor though tried to make a move on her she slayingly and cuntily reminded him that since he had been her Godfather and had blessed her baptism, marrying him was forbidden since it could be perceived as a way of spiritual incest. And thus she rejected him without spilling any sweat or losing any sleep over his porphyrogenytos ass.

Now this!!! I'm thinking this is the base of our story. For political reasons it is begrudgingly decided by Daemyra that their one daughter needs to be used to forge an alliance with another kingdom. Someone unlikable and faithful to the 7. Im voting for Lannisters.

Now despite the insane L that is being Valyrian and debasing herself enough to get "baptized" in the Light of the Seven, she and daemyra decide that it would be the best way to lock the other Lord into their alliance without her having to marry him.

So she does visit, does (for the eyes of the public alone) follow the Faith and when forced to marry rhe lord reminds him that to do so would be forbidden, a spiritual death of both herself and him, a dishonour to both of their houses and rhe faith.

News of this reach Aemond who as has been established in the precious ask/response has to marry and ia Only looking for a Valyrian bride.

So sexy of her to say a loud YES to actual incest and fuck the daylights out of her uncle ans in return have him impale her on his r-...(im missing the point) ATOP THEIR THRONE WHILE WEARING THE CROWNS OF JAEHAERYS AND AEGON. (blackfyre AND the aegon dagger are up for blood/knife play js)

Maybe that's what set the lord off and make him declare was against the Targs who are now embracing fully their Valyrian ancestry. A public ceremony in the traditions of their House???

Maybe that's what starts the war. What makes Aemond fight and go missing and brings us to the beginning of this ask....

Lots of thoughts babies of mine... lots and lots....

Bestie this is ART, bless you for this history lesson of legend icon Olga!!!!

Let’s apply valaena and aemond to the most excellent framework you have given us!!!! I don’t really have much to add, you’re killing it!!!

Valaena and daemon scheming, determining she is to be the sacrifice for an alliance, to lure the lannisters into a false sense of security,,, and if there is anyone that is faithless, it’s valaena, she doesn’t particularly feel sacrilegous through this ruse

She can suffer through this whole baptism ruse if it’ll bring her family security,,, so she follows through on this, humiliating jason lannister and ensuring security

When aemond hears of this, word of his laughter reaches EVERYONE, and next thing you know, he’s on his way to court the uncourtable princess, only the best for emperor aemond

AND SHE SHOCKS EVERYONE WHEN SHE SAYS YES!!!! They marry embarrassingly quick, sparking rumors of pregnancy and public sex and defiling the throne

While aemond loves this ferocious sly wife, tension rises with valaena’s humiliation of the lannisters and the way she’s said to have the emperor’s eat,,, WAR

Bestie pls share all the thoughts this was so good!!!!