#tumbleton mention

[bbygirl-aemond]

"we should make for tumbleton" NO WE SHOULD NOT PLEASE DO NOT DO THAT

[daeronsdaringarchive]

criston's death and daeron's revenge.

Whatever the reason, Ser Criston and Prince Aemond decided to part ways. Cole would take command of their host and lead them south to join Ormund Hightower and Prince Daeron, but the Prince Regent would not accompany them.

Fire and Blood, The Dying of The Dragons - Rhaenyra Triumphant, p. 474.

“Who are they?” a squire asked when the foe appeared, for they showed no arms but the queen’s.

“Our death,” answered Ser Criston Cole, for these foes were fresh, better fed, better horsed, better armed, and they held the high ground, whilst his own men were stumbling, sick, and dispirited.

Calling for a peace banner, King Aegon’s Hand rode out to treat with them. Three came down from the ridge to meet him. Chief amongst them was Ser Garibald Grey in his dented plate and mail. Pate of Longleaf was with him, the Lionslayer who had cut down Jason Lannister, together with Roddy the Ruin, bearing the scars he had taken at the Fishfeed. “If I strike my banners, do you promise us our lives?” Ser Criston asked the three of them.

“I made my promise to the dead,” Ser Garibald replied. “I told them I would build a sept for them out of traitors’ bones. I don’t have near enough bones yet, so…”

Ser Criston answered, “If there is to be battle here, many of your own will die as well.” The northman Roderick Dustin laughed at these words, saying, “That’s why we come. Winter’s here. Time for us to go. No better way to die than sword in hand.”

Ser Criston drew his longsword from its scabbard. “As you will it. We can begin here, the four of us. One of me against the three of you. Will that be enough to make a fight of it?”

But Longleaf the Lionslayer said, “I’ll want three more,” and up on the ridge Red Robb Rivers and two of his archers raised their longbows. Three arrows flew across the field, striking Cole in belly, neck, and breast. “I’ll have no songs about how brave you died, Kingmaker,” declared Longleaf. “There’s tens o’ thousands dead on your account.” He was speaking to a corpse.

p. 486, 487.

"Fresh from their victory at the Butcher’s Ball came Ser Garibald Grey and Longleaf the Lionslayer, with the head of Ser Criston Cole upon a spear, Red Robb Rivers and his archers, the last of the Winter Wolves (...)"

p. 492.

Tumbleton went up in flame: shops, homes, septs, people, all. Men fell burning from gatehouse and battlements, or stumbled shrieking through the streets like so many living torches. Outside the walls, Prince Daeron swooped down upon Tessarion. Pate of Longleaf was unhorsed and trampled, Ser Garibald Grey pierced by a crossbow bolt, then engulfed by dragonflame.

p. 495.

[ireneispunk]

Pride, the Wolf, and the Dragon

Jacaerys Velaryon & Cregan Stark x female reader smut (King's Landing Handmaiden)

You were a sight to behold, merely a handmaiden yet you could command a room. And grasp the attention of a prince and a lord... on the same night?

request: (anon) 'Saw your requests are open, what about dark dom jace x sub brat reader or a threesome with the same as before but with cregan too which they're dark dom but still obsessive I don't know how these too can make sense but I hope you got my point'

w.c: 4537

c.w: canon divergent (blacks won and it is set after the dance, rhaenyra sits the iron throne, basically just did it to have everyone in one place), threesome!!! woop woop, p in v sex, oral (m & f receiving), light choking, spanking, overstimulation, dirty talk, NO use of y/n, as usual no specific features mentioned - let me know if i've missed any!

a.n: i've never wrote for cregan before but im supper happy with this! other requests made are about half done for those waiting ♡

dividers: @v6que ♡

You let out another fake giggle as yet another wealthy man bided for your attention. This type of thing always happened on big occasions, and today certainly was one. Lucerys and Rhaena’s wedding was no small occasion, every lord and lady who had supported Rhaenyra’s claim was here. I mean hells, that’s why you even had the opportunity you did. You weren’t low born, but handmaiden to the queen was a role very much reserved for high born girls. You father had risked his own life, and your families, to help Ser Erryk back into King’s Landing with a secret route he knew through Tumbleton. This job had provided you with a home in quarters you could’ve only dreamed of, and the opportunity to be around the prince. Your fingers grazed across your skin to fiddle with your necklace, you smiled up at the man in front of you, laying on your charm. Despite entertaining his dull conversation and even duller jokes for the past half an hour, you certainly did not care for him. You took advantage of the man’s position in society and every once in a while, you stared beyond his shoulder to see the prince of Dragonstone burning holes into his back. Tonight, however, was different. Not only had you caught they eye of one prince Jacaerys, but his friend from The North, Lord Stark. You could not deny the beauty the two of them shared, handsome, strong features, large frames and eyes that looked as if they wanted to consume you. The few times you looked their way, as to avoid suspicion, they occasionally whispered to one another. A small look caught your eye from your queen, Rhaenyra. You excused yourself from the conversation and walked to the other side of the great hall to where Rhaenyra and Daemon sat. From the opposite side of the table, you felt a gaze upon you, but you did not do the favour of glancing upon them.

You reached Rhaenyra’s side bowing your head before she whispered to you, “Has Lucerys’ chambers been prepared?” She seemed uncomfortable at the request.

You nodded as you said, “Yes, your grace. I can return? And make sure it is still perfect?”. She shook her head, as Daemon placed a hand upon her’s.

“No that won’t be necessary, you have done so much for us today. Feel free to keep enjoying the celebrations,” She paused to look over to her eldest son and the Lord Stark. “Though I believe there are still some who await your acquaintance.” Your mouth formed into a small ‘o’ shape before nodding. You took your leave and turned to face towards the prince and the lord. Both had already been starring at you, Jacaerys averted his gaze whilst the Stark stared you down. Once you stood opposite them at the table you gave the prince a small curtsy, before turning to Cregan and dipping into a deeper curtsey whilst maintaining eye contact with him. He raised his brow, not used to being looked in the eye by such a sweet looking girl. “Your grace. My Lord Stark, I am pleased to meet you.” You spoke confidently, introducing your name and admired the length of his arms that were visible from his rolled sleeves, “It appears the warm climate agrees with you, my lord.” This was one of your favourite hobbies, you couldn’t deny it. Compliment lords see how they respond, speak almost out of turn but not enough to turn any heads. Jacaerys’ grip on his cup tightened at your remark. For weeks since you had worked there you had tortured him. Wearing those barely there handmaiden’s dresses, the obsessive eye contact, compliments unbefitting of a lady he was not courting, drawing his baths, and offering your assistance. Everyday it was a struggle to not rip your dress from you and fuck you in front of everyone like you seemed to desire. He loathed any sort of gathering because he knew your beauty and charm would attract the attention you deserve.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by a large smack across the back from his Stark friend. “Where have you been hiding this one Jace?” He exclaimed with a laugh.

You smiled slightly, “Perhaps my lord has not been searching hard enough, enjoy the rest of the celebrations.” You smirked, turning on your heel and stepping down the stone stairs. A bewildered look flashed across Cregan’s face, as Jacaerys shot him a ‘now you know’ look. You were stopped by a rather handsome man on your way past the dancing pairs, you declined his offer to dance and made your way to the other maidens who erupted into quiet chatter, asking you about what the Stark had said.

Your final task of the night had been escorting Rhaena to Lucerys’ chambers. You held her hands in yours and promised her she would be okay, you boasted of Lucerys’ sweet nature and gave her hand a quick squeeze before stepping back behind the corner. You watched as she knocked on the door, before it opened, and she disappeared inside. You smiled to yourself as you turned to head down the corridor before coming face to face with the tall northern man once more. You gasped, raising your hand to your heart. A small chuckle left his lips as he eyed you. He did not know you all that well, but this felt like a rare feat, to catch you off of yours. “My lord, you startled me. Is there something I can help you with?” You looked at him and watched as his eyes shamelessly travelled down your body, lingering on every curve.

“Ah, yes, my lady. I appear to have gotten turned around from my chambers, and I’d hate for those fancy baths these lot make go cold.” You raised a brow at him. Sure, the Red Keep was busy, with windy corridors, but it was a fairly straightforward route from the great hall to the guest’s chambers.

You gestured with your hand to follow him the way he came, “Of course, my lord. Though you do not need to use such honorifics with me, I am not a lady of anything.” He sensed a strange proudness in your lack of title. Cregan was used to people fighting to get the next best thing, yet you were content with your lack of status.

He thought for a moment, before responding. “Then how may I refer to you?”

“However his lord desires.” You spoke with purpose, but never harshly. Every second he had of you intrigued him more.

Once you had reached the familiar door in which Cregan was given a few days prior, you placed your hands behind your back and watched him. He stepped by you and pushed the door open, he leaned against the door frame and eyed you. “So.” You watched him, waiting for him to continue. “Do you have anymore handmaiden duties for the night? Or are you available for me?” A smile tugged at your lips as you thought for a moment.

“Mmm, that depends, why do you wish to know?” Your arms folded over your chest.

He chuckled, “I’ve never had to try this hard to get a pretty girl to have a drink with me.”

You raised your brow, “Most men just ask.” He brought a hand to his chin and rubbed it against the scruff. Just as he was about to respond, someone speaking caught your attention.

“It is getting late your grace is there something you need?” You recognised one of the servants voicing out from around the corner. Out of curiosity, you stepped back to see who it was and there stood the prince himself. He looked away from you when he met your gaze.

“I will come in for a cup of wine. Just one.” Cregan’s face lit up, stepping to the side to allow you to step inside. Your eyes narrowed at the lit fire, the flames still tall. You heard the clanking of a belt and the shuffling of clothes before turning back around to Cregan. You jaw dropped slightly at the sight of him completely nude and making his way over to the bathtub in the room. Your eyes absorbed every inch of him, admiring each defined muscle, every scar, the dark hair that tufted around his chest.

You pulled your gaze away and turned to face the wall. “My lord this is not appropriate.” You voice quivered ever so sightly as heat rose to your cheeks.

“Neither is staring.” You could hear the smile in his voice. “But why waste a perfectly good bath.” You heard water slosh around as he sank into the tub. “Turn around.” Your core lit up at the sternness in his voice.

You turned to face him now that he was submerged, only his upper torso out of the water. He leaned back into the tub, sighing out as he brought his arms to rest on the sides. “Wine?” He questioned. You looked at him with a puzzled look but nodded your head. He gestured over to small table and chairs that had a jug and a few cups upon it. You made your way over, feeling his gaze locked onto you.

“When you invited me in, I thought it might be you fetching the wine.” You grasped two of the cups and the jug before turning to face him.

“Ah, well. It seemed easier to get my own clothes off first.” You raised a brow and walked over to him. You kept your eyes on his face, avoiding what was beneath the water. You used your foot to slide over a cushioned stool towards the side of the bath and sat upon it. You met his gaze once more, now eye level with him. You held out a cup to him and watched his fingers lace around it. Picking up the jug in your hands you steadily poured into the cup, before moving onto your own. You were about to take a sip from yours before he stopped you to clink cups. He did so as if you were another harsh northern man causing the liquid in your cup to slosh backwards and land over your arm and into your lap. You gasped and looked up at him with a shocked look on your face. He laughed heartily at your expression and took a sip of his wine. He heard as your cup clinked against the floor, “You may clean up with me if you wish.” He smirked, placing his cup on the ground, and gesturing to the bath. You stomach tightened at the thought of it but rose to your feet with a hum. He moved slighted and raised his hand up to you. “Stay, please. No more win spilling.” His damned handsome face spread a warmth across your body. You exhaled before taking his hand.

All of a sudden you felt him pull you down, landing bum first into the bath with a big splash that threw water over the sides. You let out a small scream feeling yourself become soaked in water. You yelled at him, splashing his face with the water in annoyance before the door suddenly opening caused his laughter and your screaming to cease. You turned around to see a very angry, then confused, then embarrassed Jacaerys. Your heart dropped as you scrambled to your feet out of the bath, you slipped slightly on the wet floor before stepping towards him. “Y-your grace!” You exclaimed, you felt exposed, the thin material of your dress completely soaked through and clinging to every inch of your body. His eyes darted between you and Cregan.

“I heard a scream, and thought I recognised it. My apologies.” He was about to turn to walk away before Cregan got up out of the tub. Jacaerys eyes widened before hastily shutting the door. Jacaerys kept his eyes firmly on the wall behind you, worrying that if his pants got any tighter it’d be noticeable. For once, you were speechless, unable to form a thought, let alone communicate it. “C’mon Jace, this is exactly how you wanted her. Naked- well almost, needy. I know she’s needy just at the sight of you.” His voice rung out from behind you. “I know you didn’t imagine sharing,” He inhaled sharply through his teeth, as his fingers grazed over your shoulder to pull your hair behind you. “But she’s definitely one who needs two cocks to put her in her place.” You face flushed, as you felt a new wetness in between your legs as Cregan’s hands sat upon your shoulders, rubbing small circles with his thumb. Jacaerys finally brought his gaze to you, he eyed your face before devouring ever inch of your body. His throat bobbed as he walked to face you.

“Tell me what you want.” He spoke as he locked onto your eyes. You looked up at him through your eyelashes, feeling as if you were in a dream.

“I want you,” You spoke softly. “Both of you.” You clarified, looking back over your shoulder to meet Cregan’s eyes.

His large hand rested on your jaw, tilting it up towards him. A shaky breath escaped your lips as his hand trailed down and rested upon your neck, his thumb tracing your throat. Cregan turned your head to face Jacaerys, his jaw was tensed, fists clenched at his sides and eyes filled with hunger. Your body burned hot, Cregan’s body pressed against you, his hard cock pressed above your ass. His grip on your jaw tightened slightly. His lips grazed against your neck up to your ear. “Undress his grace,” Your heart buzzed as Jacaerys’ eyes finally tore away from yours to fleet to Cregan’s for a second before returning to you. You swallowed, feeling smaller and smaller as the seconds passed. “Go on, like a good serving girl.” Cregan’s voice dripped with lust. Your hands made their way onto Jacaerys’ chest, he stiffened under your touch. Your fingers traced along the three headed dragon pin that held his jacket together before unpinning it and letting the jacket fall open at his chest. Cregan’s hands never once left you, tracing up and down your sides of your soaked dress, lips occasionally finding your neck or shoulder. Your eyes travelled down to the belt that decorated his waist and kept you from seeing him. You unhooked it, and pulled it from him, allowing it to clatter to the ground. Your hands pushed his coat from his shoulders and down his arms, revealing a thin cotton shirt. His throat bobbed as your hands traced to his waistband, pulling his shirt up slowly over his head. You hand instinctively touched against his chest, admiring each definition and feeling his skin burn beneath your fingertips. “I told you she’s fucking needy for you.” Cregan’s words flushed your face. Jacaerys eyed you, raising a brow to question him. You nodded lightly feeling overwhelmed with the tightening in your stomach, Cregan’s hands exploring your sides, and Jacaerys watching you like you were his prey. Jacaerys picked up your hand in his and placed a small kiss against it before placing your palm against the bulge in his trousers. Jacaerys’ hand reached your jaw, his thumb traced along your lip as his brows furrowed from your touch.

His fingers were soft, and his touch more delicate than Cregan’s, as he tilted your face to the side as if he were finally able to appreciate every inch of your beauty. His eyes flashed behind yours towards Cregan before you were being led over towards the bed. Jacaerys sat first on the end of the bed, pulling you by your hips to stand between his legs. His palm ran from your stomach, through the valley between your breasts and he rested his fingertips upon your lips while he thought for a moment. “Take off her dress, wouldn’t want the poor thing getting cold.” Your thighs instinctively pressed together. You’d never heard Jacaerys speak in a tone like this, but it was certainly a welcomed surprise. You felt the large hands of the Stark trail up your exposed back to the tie of your haltered dress. One movement later the dress was pulled over your chest and over your hips and dropped to the ground. You felt a cool chill over your exposed skin as Cregan took your hand in is. He pulled you around in a circle, admiring each curve of your form as he did so. A small ‘gods’ mumbled from his lips as he watched you. You gasped as his hands travelled round to your front, taking your breasts into his hands. Jacaerys leaned back slightly to admire you, his fingers absentmindedly rubbing your inner thighs. Your eyes screwed shut as Cregan’s fingers played with your nipples and his lips attached to your neck. “I want her coming on my tongue first.” Your eyes shot open to watch Jacaerys, a small smile playing at his lips. You opened your mouth to say something before Cregan shushed you.

“You heard the prince.” Cregan instructed. You gulped lightly, watching Jacaerys lay back upon the bed, his head of curls hitting the pillows. Cregan held your hand pulling you onto the bed. He watched as you crawled over to Jace, his hand landing on your ass with a harsh slap, causing a yelp to leave your lips.

His hand pushed you closer over Jacaerys until you were straddling his chest. Jacaerys’ hands looped over your thighs to bring your core to his face. His smirk disappeared under your mound as his lips placed small kisses on your thighs. Cregan sat beside you and guided your hand to his cock. He hissed as your hand wrapped around it and began slowly pumping it up and down. You felt as Jacaerys licked a long stripe from your core to your sensitive clit, tasting and collecting your wetness on his tongue. You almost flinched at the sensation, your hand flying up to grip the headboard. A loud moan left your lips as his tongue teased your entrance, before delving in and out of it. Cregan turned your face to him, a groan leaving his lips seeing yours screwed up in pleasure. Your hand continued to pump his cock, enjoying feeling it twitch beneath your hand when your thumb grazed the tip. You jaw dropped at the feeling of Jacaery’s tongue massaging your clit. A flurry of moans left your mouth as his lips latched onto it causing your hips to rut into his face and that familiar tightness to return to your stomach. Cregan’s thumb pulled on your bottom lip before pushing into your mouth and gliding across your tongue. You moans were supressed by Cregan’s thumb as you sucked upon it, a satisfied smirk plastering his face as your eyes fell back behind your lids. His thumb left your mouth with a pop as his hand returned to your throat. Your hand moved quicker on his cock as Jacaerys tongue worked on your clit. “You should thank his grace for his hard work, pleasing you with his tongue like this.” Cregan spoke close to a whisper, well, as close to a whisper as the Northern man could get to.

You whimpered in response, unable to form words being on the precipice of your orgasm. Cregan’s hand squeezed lightly against your throat, his rough fingers grazing your soft flesh. “Use your words when spoken to.” His tone was harsh in a way that flushed your cheeks.

“T-thank you, my prince, for kissing me.” The words fought to escape your lips as all you felt you could do was moan. Your praise causes a groan to fall from his mouth that vibrated upon your clit and fuelled him to massage it at an unbearable pace with his tongue. Your nails dug into the headboard, as your other hand left Cregan’s cock to grip his forearm that held your neck. A flurry of moans left your lips as your orgasm erupted from within you. Your thighs quivered as Jacaerys’ tongue broadly licked you through your high. A large whimper left you lips from the overstimulation causing Jacaerys to place a final kiss upon your clit. You panted as you shuffled down back to straddle his waist. Jacaerys leaned up on his elbows to see you, his hair was dishevelled, his lips plump and coated in your arousal. You leaned forward and tentatively placed a kiss on the side of his mouth, before brushing your lips against his. Your tongue swiped over his lips, tasting your wetness. You gasped as your hips were gripped and you were pulled further down on the bed onto all fours. Jacaerys smirked as you were level with his cock, his pants becoming impossibly tight.

Cregan’s fingers teased the entrance of your pussy as he leaned forward to you, “Gods Jace, she’s soaked.” Your cheeks flushed as you looked away slightly. Jacaerys’ hand found your cheek and turned you to face him.

“I want to watch as he fucks you.” He smiled slightly; his words contradicting the sweet look upon his face. A whimper left your lips as you felt Cregan’s cock rub between your folds and occasionally hitting your sensitive clit. You watched in anticipation as Jacaerys undid the tie of his trousers and pulled them down enough for his cock to spring free. It was huge and dripped with an inviting bead of precum.

Just as your lips were about to touch Jacaerys’ cock, Cregan thrusted into you, bottoming out almost immediately. You clenched at the full feeling, your eyes screwed shut as you let out a half yelp half moan. Once his pace became regular you opened your eyes to see Jace stroking his cock at the sight of you. You opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out, begging for his cock. He obliged and groaned at the sight and sensation of the tip hitting your tongue. With both of your hands propping you up on all fours you took him into your mouth bobbing up and down on the tip and massaging the underside with your tongue. You couldn’t help but moan onto his cock with the feeling of Cregan pounding into you, his length hitting a soft spot inside of you you’d never felt before. Cregan’s hands went from peppering small slaps across your ass to kneading it with his large hands. Jacaerys’ hand made its way to your hair and took a fistful of it. He was gentle as his guided your mouth further down his cock. He moaned loudly as it glided across your tongue and hit the back of your throat. The familiar pressure began to build up in your stomach, and as if he read your mind, Cregan’s pace quickened. Both of his hands gripped into your hips, snapping into you, and pushing against your sweet spot. One of his hands left you hips to reach under your and rub harsh circles into your clit. Your eyes widened as your moans got choked upon Jacaerys’ cock. You tapped the side of his thigh, and he immediately pulled you from his cock, allowing heavy pants to leave your mouth. You cried out a loud ‘fuck’ as you felt your second orgasm wash over you, your pussy clenching tightly over Cregan’s cock. Just as quickly as your orgasm passed your mouth reattached to Jacaerys’ cock, wanting him to enjoy himself too.

A few moments after your peak, Cregan thrusted a few more times before burying his cock deep inside of you and filling you up with his cum. He groaned loudly as his fingertips dug into your skin. He slowly pulled out of you and collapsed onto the bed behind you. Despite the shaking in your legs and your sensitive pussy, you looked up to Jacaerys with an idea. You readjusted to straddle his waist once more and aligned his cock with the entrance of your pussy. Jacaerys looked shocked for a moment before his hungry gaze returned. Your brows furrowed as you slowly slid down onto his cock, trying to readjust for his size. You watched as his head threw back in pleasure as your second cock of the night bottomed out inside of you. You started to move, slowly thrusting yourself upon him. Jacaerys eyes opened to watch you, occasionally looking down to his cock disappearing inside of your pussy that was now overflowing with cum. A loud groan left his lips as he internally cursed himself for not being able to last longer and savour your pussy smothering his cock. He pulled you down by your hair to meet his lips as he kissed you deeply. It was passionate, his tongue leaving little time before it delved into your mouth. You moaned against his lips at the new angle, he was managing to fill you even more. Your thighs shook with overstimulation and Jacaerys noticed before he held your hips at a certain point and began to thrust into you. Your eyes locked with his as you moaned his name. He grunted as his rhythm became erratic before holding your hips down on his cock and as you felt his seed spread within you. You rested your forehead against his as you both regained your breath. His hands ran softly down your back as he pulled his cock from you. You whimpered at the emptiness, before sitting back onto your thighs to relieve the quiver in them as Jacaerys re tied his trousers.

You heard footsteps walk over to the side of the bed, before looking up to see a fully clothed Cregan. You blushed, realising how consumed you had been in the prince to not notice. “Aren’t you both just adorable.” He spoke with a chuckle, as his hand lightly spanked your ass. You shot him a glare, moving to lay beside Jacaerys. “Easy,” Cregan spoke raising his palm. “I though you were the fire breathing dragon.” He smirked gesturing to Jacaerys. Jacaerys, turned his head down to face you, before returning a shrug to Cregan with a smile. Cregan laughed, waving you off before making his way to the door. “Sleep tight, lovers.” He smiled to himself as his hand gripped the doorhandle.

“Wait! But this is your room?” You questioned, leaning up from the bed.

He shot you a grin, “I heard the prince’s chambers have become available.” He shot you both a wink before disappearing into the corridor. You hummed in confusion as Jacaerys just smiled.

“You both confuse me.” You hummed, scanning Jacaerys’ face. He raised his arm up and motioned you to lay beside him. You huffed as you cuddled into him, your head upon his chest. He reached for the blanket that had been tossed aside and threw it over you both. His hand landed upon your side, and softly rubbed your waist.

He planted a small kiss upon your head. “I think we both did a good job at showing you what we think of you.” You could hear the smile in his voice as your cheeks flushed. You definitely knew for sure now.

[nobodysuspectsthebutterfly]

HotD seems a bit kinder to Ser Otto and Queen Alicent and now even Ser Gwayne. Granted the Hightowers we meet in the main story are only just briefly mentioned by other characters, but what do hear of them like Leyton or Lynesse aren't that great. The Lannister get a lot of (not undeserved) flack from within the fandom, but are under-the-radar terrible as Houses like the Lannisters or even the Freys or Boltons?

I wouldn't say HOTD is kinder to the Hightowers, as much as it allows them to be real people and not just historical caricatures or empty shells. (The biggest failure of F&B's history book conceit, more than any of the other problems with that book.)

For example, Gwayne in the book gets assigned to the Gold Cloaks to keep an eye on them in case some are still loyal to Daemon, and then during the Fall of King's Landing gets murked by his own men because indeed they are still loyal to Daemon. That's it, that's all there is to him, there's no there there. (Although the "You turncloaks!" "Daemon gave us these cloaks and they're gold no matter how you turn them." is a great line, and I hope it's kept even if Gwayne may not be involved.)

Gwayne in the show, however, is a prissy classist racist aristocrat, who is still brave in battle and protective of his sister and caring for his nephew; he's a knight who helps depict GRRM's knighthood themes with Criston; he's an actual person, both good and bad as a GRRM character should be. I have hopes that Gwayne takes the Ser Hobert Hightower role for the Caltrops and Second Tumbleton, that would be a great ending (especially considering his relationship with Daeron) for an excellent actor.

Re the main story Hightowers -- well, generally GRRM goes by Tolstoy's principle of "All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way." Or as he put it, "happy families are boring." Not everyone always gets along in real families, and even the most beloved king and queen can be real assholes to their daughters. I imagine that when we actually meet Leyton in TWOW and find out exactly how complicated his family is -- four wives and ten children, you know there's friction there -- we'll see something imperfect, but different from the Lannisters, Freys, or Boltons. Maybe more dysfunctional the way Cregan Stark's family was dysfunctional or the Tyrells are dysfunctional. (If you think they're a perfectly happy family, then you entirely missed Olenna's relationship with Mace, Mace's relationship with Willas and Loras, Mace's relationship with Margaery, Olenna's relationship with Alerie, and so on and so forth.)

I can see Leyton as a patriarch who became increasingly distant as he got more into esoteric research (he hasn't come down from the top of the Hightower in more than a decade), leaving the eldest son Baelor to manage everything practical in the absence of his father. Was Leyton already half-distant the year before he stopped leaving the Hightower, and that's why he let his youngest daughter (only 16 or 17 years old) marry a newly knighted 35-year-old poor-ass lord from the back of beyond just because he did well in a tourney? How did the rest of the family react to that? The people of Oldtown don't think much of Lynesse now, but how did they feel when their young golden lady was taken away by a bear? These kinds of complicated relationships are the sort of detail GRRM loves to sink his teeth into, and is one of the reasons I'm so looking forward to Sam's Oldtown chapters almost more than anything in TWOW.

[witchofhimring]

Loyalty Chapter 14

Synopsis: Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x Tyrell Reader

Aemond Targaryen x Ellyn Baratheon

Alys Rivers x Aemond Targaryen

Jaecerion Targaryen x Reader

Jason Lannister x Reader (minor)

(more to come!)

Y/n Tyrells Profiles

Warnings: Angst, heartbreak, childbirth, emotional turmoil, death, unrequited love?, humiliation by Ellyn Baratheon, marital abuse, marital consummation, misogamy (internalized as well as external), brief depictions of smut, moontea/abortions, suicide, mentions of rape (not to the reader), Plot twist at the end!

"Queen Helaena is dead." Black hung before you face, the veil a mask of calm. Sitting in a straight backed chair some would think you were a ghostly apparition. Cloth hung about you life a shroud.

"How did she die?" Lady Mari looked to her hands, pale and shaking. "She threw herself off Maegor's Holdfast. There was a riot in Kings Landing. Dragons were killed and Rhaenyra has fled." "So she is alive." Despite the numbness there was a flair of anger. Sweet Helaena was dead while Rhaenyra was alive. "Yes. But not her son Joffrey. He tried riding Syrax and....." Lady Mari was unable to finish. Once upon a timw you too would have felt pity. He was not Lucery's. Now you felt nothing but deepening horror. "Did Helaena suffer?" "No. I think it was quick." Letters of the dead had flowed in. Prince Maelor had also passed, torn apart by a mob.

You no longer dreamed of the forest or darkness. For the first time in months you had true dreams. Dreams of the lost flitted through your head. Alana, Elinor, Flora, Clarissa, Aemond, your parents. Even Lucerys and Ellyn's cases loomed from the darkness. Owen was now sleeping in your arms at night. Every time night came you feared he would disappear. This war had taken everything from you. Would all those you loved all die or leave? Every day you waited for new that more would die. Looking at Ladies Mari and Dara you feared they too would perish. Quietly you waited in the room. Waiting for the other shoe to drop.

As Westeros smolders in the wake of dragon fire survivors are left devastated. Rhaenyra Targaryen flees with her son Aegon. Her Strong children and Velaryon son dead. The youngest son dead or missing. Bereft and with little comfort Rhaenyra flees to Duskendale. The Battle of Tumbleton ends in the death of Prince Daeron the Daring along with three dragonseeds. Aegon is left in pain on Dragonstone, Alicent Hightower, his mother, is left on her knees in anguish.

"Prince Jaecerion is just outside of Kings Landing with his army. But My Lady, his dragon has died.” Lady Mari looked up at you with trepidation in her eyes. Sitting in your chair you said nothing. Information seemed to be slowly trickling in. Prince Daeron was dead and Jaecerion was right outside of Kings Landing, right in the belly of the beast.

You barely reacted to the new, at least outwardly. Lady Mari looked are you warily, unsure of what to do. It did not matter to you. Nothing really mattered, except your son. Owen lay in his crib beside your chair. He would not leave your side again. The chair was the only thing keeping you up. Otherwise you likely would have just slumped on the bed. The hard back on the chair forced you to sit up straight. Painful cramps you did not acknowledge formed in the muscle. Your body was as numb as your emotions. Perhaps the dark green dress you wore might have itched terribly otherwise. The corset ached, your ribs crying out. Ribbons tied tightly into your hair nearly looked painful, and it was.

"My Lady." Lady Mari seemed to have made up her mind about something. Dismissing herself, she disappeared. Closing your eyes you just sat there. You wanted to do something, but nothing occurred. Books and sewing held no appeal anymore. You could always ask for food. Lady Jenna had never denied you that.

Lady Dara and Cerilla entered. Cerilla stayed put as Lady Dara walked towards you. Without asking she took your hand. With no energy to rebuke her you did nothing. "Why not write a letter to Prince Jaecerion?" Annoyance peaked through the numbness. "I would hardly think he has the time to respond.” Ignoring the coldness of your tone Lady Dara pulled out parchment and quill. "He may not. But it might help you." Maybe it would. With Lady Dara's help you stood up and hobbled over to the table. "I can write it for you." All she got was a nod. But when she dipped the quill in ink no words came. Sitting there as a mute you only looked outside. "Why don't we start with his name?" "Alright. Dear Jaeceryon."

Dear Jaecerion,

I hope this letter finds you well. I dearly miss you and hope you return to my side. It has not been long since we last met and I miss you every day. Please return to my side soon.

With much love,

Y/n

The letter was hardly anything to write home about. But Lady Mari could tell you were tired. The sun was setting and it was nearly night. "Why don't we get ready for bed?" In no mood to object you allowed her to lead you to the bed. Laying down you reached out for Owen. He was quickly settled into your arms.

You dream of a prince with silver hair. This was not one of your nightmares born out of others power. In the darkness a light had appeared. He sat astride on a great stallion. His silver armor bedecked with amethysts gleamed in pure sunlight. He was ridding towards you across a green field. You raced towards him.

Jaecerion had yet to write back. Normally you would think he was ignoring you (although Jaecerion never had before) if it were not for the war. Every day you waited as there was little else in your world. Who did you give the letter to?" Lady Mari asked you. "I gave it to Lady Dara." Lady Mari looked skeptical. "Do you know who she gave it to?" "Yes. Some page boy." "And did she say the letter made it directly to his hands, in her presence." Placing down the brush you turned to Lady Mari. "What is with the sudden interrogation?" "Not interrogation My Lady. I am simply worried the letters never made it." You thought about it. The only person you could think of who might do this was Cerilla. But you had made sure there was no way she could get her hands onto your letters. "Very well. I shall call up the page boy next time."

You started to write another letter.

Dear Jaecerion,

I do not know if my past letters have made it to you. If they have then I understand the labour of your task is of the upmost importance. However I would at least like to know if you are getting my letters. I hope you are feeling well, and may the Gods keep you safe.

Sincerely,

Y/n Tyrell

You were starting to desire a life outside of Highgarden. This place was starting to feel like a prison. The walls were starting to close in around you. A headache had started to set in leaving you nearly bedridden. And none if this could be good for your son. Lady Mari had offered to take the boy out but you refused. Although you trusted her Owen would not leave your sight. You started to truly dream of life once the war was done. That was not if you were not killed, should Rhaenyra win. Who knew what would happen, the realm had gone to hell.

A week later the page boy came to your door. When he opened the door you ran right to him. Taking the letter, forgetting your manners, you opened the letter in great haste. Lady Mari looked up from her book, which you swore she had read over a dozen times. Lady Mari, who was sitting by the window, turned her head. Quickly the boy was dismissed. "What does it say?" Lady Mari walked up to you. Eagerly you tore apart the trappings.

Lady Y/n,

I have received your letters and am very glad to have them. The lateness for this letter is not due to my negligence. This war has made it difficult for any letters to get through. I hope when the false queen is dead that you will return to me, and think of my proposition.

Sincerely,

Prince Jaecerion of House Targaryen.

"Well that's good." Lady Mari placed a hand on your shoulder. Taking the letter from you she looked it over, eyes narrowed. Smiling, you walked over to the small writing table. "Will you be replying?" "Of course. Get me my ink will you." With ink and parchment you replied, feeling lighter than you had in a while.

Dear Jaecerion,

I am happy to hear from you again. And I apologize if my letters came at an inconvenient time. As to your proposition for marriage, I wish to see you in person regarding this. Of course I must speak to Lady Jenna Tyrell about this. There is so much I have to tell you, and I so wish to see your dear face soon.

With much love,

Y/n

"I will be leaving." Lady Jenna had visited you for tea the next day. It was just the two of you. Lady Mari, Lady Dara and Cerilla had all been dismissed. On edge you sat straight backed, careful not to spill any tea. Lady Jenna's deep green sleeves draped to the floor. Silk imported from Lys hung off her figure catching the light. Even Dowager Queen Alicent had never worn such sumptuous garbs. "Where to, My Lady?" You did not want to sound too nosy. However it seemed rude not to inquire when she was the one to bring it up first. Lady Jenna set the tea aside and looked to you. "I must visit my vassals, this war will end sooner than later. We need to be ready when it does." She stared at you.

"Is your son not already making the rounds?" Not wanting to sound accusatory, you simply posed it as an observation. Your cousin, Lady Jenna's only child, was already visiting the troupes. His wife, Cerilla's elder sister, resided in this castle yet you had not seen her. Whether she knew you were here could not be said.

"We must also discuss in detail regarding what will happen when you leave. Casterly Rock will obviously be your place of residence. I have also received letter of betrothal. King Aegon will want a male heir, which you have shown able to provide. Tyland Lannister, your former brother in law is a contender. The sept will grant permission if the marriage goes forth. There are others, but I was wondering if you had anyone in mind." Lady Jenna's eyes made you squirm. "I am not sure as of yet." You had not known Tyland well, he was hardly at Casterly Rock. The idea of being married to Aegon of all people nearly made you feel ill. You had seen much and heard worse. Somehow you doubted that war, burns and the death of poor Helaena would temper him. More likely he was worse these days.

After that Lady Jenna left, the tea cooling in her cup.

"Lady Jenna wants you to marry who?" Lady Mari was doing up your hair. The morning was cold but she had insisted a walk would do you good. The night before you had little chance to tell her anything. Lady Mari had disappeared shortly after Lady Jenna entered and had only returned at nightfall. By then you were too tired for gossip. Already you had told Lady Dara but sworn her to secrecy. Cerilla you told nothing. Speaking of the girl, Cerilla had made herself scarce as of late. You liked to imagine that Lady Jenna was displeased with her, although you knew there was no evidence for this.

“King Aegon. But I loath the very idea. Not for his scars but because he is loathsome. Also please repeat this to no one. Yet I have known the king since childhood and think I know his character quite well.” “What about Lord Tyland Lannister? He was your brother in law.” You picked up a piece of ribbon. “True. Although I hardly know him. You probably have a better measure of his character than I.” Lady Mari wove the ribbon into your hair. “I do not pretend to know Lord Tyland very well. We have only interacted in passing.” You were not too surprised. Your former husband had once complained his brother was frightfully dull. Although you could not say with certainty if this was true or an elder brother’s callous remark.

“Either way I will bring it up with Lady Jenna.” Lady Mari frowned upon hearing this? Seeing the look on your face she said “It is only in your hands who you marry, not Lady Jenna. As a widow you have the right to choose your own husband.” You conceded that she was right. “ If is just that I do not know how. Well, Lady Jenna will tell me.” Rising from the chair you turned to face her.

“May I speak freely?” Lady Mari had the most grace look upon her face. Concerned, you gave her permission. “I understand Lady Jenna has been something of a mother to you.” You nearly pulled a face. Whatever she was not you was not a mother. That title belonged to Elinor. “But I beseech you to think carefully about the future, and not to rely on others. She has a son, granddaughter and others whose cause she will put forth first. I would subject that the final decision be yours alone.”

The door, which had been left slightly open, slammed shut. Both of you, alarmed, leaped back in fright. Dashing to the door Lady Mari flung it open. No one was there. Lady Jenna had recently felt there was no need for guards posted just outside. After all, you are not a prisoner. She looked around and then came back in. “No one. The wind?” Neither of you found the explanation satisfactory. Lady Mari quickly bolted the door. “Just in case.” She explained.

The castle became alive with the bustle of servants. You knew because of the racket clearly heard. Although you did not know why. Hopefully at first you thought it might be tidings that the war was over. But upon asking a servant she said it was not so. You could not think of any celebration that was taking place. They seemed to be bustling to and to fro, cooking and cleaning. The clatter irritated you greatly. So long had it been since you could go out into large crowds that things which were once quite normal were suddenly very alarming.

Deciding it was of no consequence, you played with Owen. He was getting stronger by the day and more beautiful. “Well aren’t you just lovely.” Owen gave you the list beautiful smile. Kissing him on the head his little hands seized your hair. “Ouch!” You cried out. He quickly let go and stretched out. With a sigh you placed him back on the bed. As of late Owen had stated to grab things. Lady Mari told you this was a good sign.

Taking care of Owen was not the only thing you did. Writing to Jaecerion had become a part of your daily schedule. It seemed that once he knew you wanted to communicate he was more than happy to comply. Today you sat at the desk with his latest letter.

Dear Y/n,

I understand we have seen little of each other during the war. It is lamentable that taking you to Highgarden was our only interaction. Please tell me where we shall meet after the war. And Y/n, I have no desire to continue my life without you. When this war is finished I wish to be with you. Should you chose me, I would be the happiest man in the world.

Yours,

Jaecerion Targaryen

“What does it say?” Nosily Lady Dara looked over. The large grin on your face made the letters contents evident. Hope. If Lady Jenna consented then you would be queen. Unless Aegon had a son but that seemed unlikely given the nature of his injuries. Rumour that it that the burns sustained by Rhaenys Targaryen had made him impotent. They said he ordered knight to fuck whores in front of him. And then when he remembered his own inadequacies Aegon would weep. Of course you were not sure if this was true. Strangely pity stirred for his plight. Even if Aegon repelled you with his lustful urges. He had no sons, who had both been cruelly cut down by Rhaenyra. It would be unlikely that he could father a son. Suggestion had of a new wife had been brought up. Other than you, there was Cassandra Baratheon and Tyshara Lannister. One was the elder sister of Ellyn, the other a former step-daughter who loathed you. Neither spelled good news for you. Tyshara loathed you and although Cassandra’s personality was a mystery she was Ellyn’s sister. You doubted she would take to you. Then again he might marry another. Snidely Cerilla had mentioned her name being put forth. At that young age laughed and said “I doubt they will look to you. There are greater woman of good character and lineage, of which you are not amongst their number.” At that she had turned red and stormed off. Either way, if you married Jaecerion they would not be able to touch you. Pondering queenship, you thought about how satisfying it would be to rule over them. At that moment you regretted Ellyn’s death. If only she could see you as queen. They would all regret and beg for mercy. Oh how sweet the scent of revenge would taste.

In that moment you made your decision.

Dear Jaecerion,

I am glad to hear you are well. As to the matter of marriage, I accept. Gladly I would be your wife. Lady Jenna will be breached on the subject.

With much love,

Y/n

Later that night you sat with Lady Mari on the bed, holding Owen. You told her of your plans and hopes. To your dismay Lady Mari did not look pleased, not in the slightest. Instead she looked worried, very much so. Did she think you were reaching too high? "Who took the letter?" Lady Maris's questions were making you feel on edge. The slight amount of safety you felt dissipated with her anxious eyes boring into you. "To Lady Dara. I already told you this." You had not meant to sound so rude but the disappointment in Lady Mari's less than enthusiastic reaction stung. Seeing the look on your face Lady Mari said "I am happy for you, truly. But I would suggest you make this official before telling Lady Jenna." "Why?" Lady Mari looked towards the door. "I am not accusing anyone of anything. But as Lady of Casterly Rock is it not your duty, not Lady Jenna's?" You considered what she said. Technically what Lady Mari was saying rang true. At one and twenty, a widow and mother, you had the right to dictate your own path. At least to a certain extent. "Alright. I will work out everything with Jaecerion. Make sure no one but you gets the letter." Lady Mari nodded.

Winter had come. You should have known but most information was filtered through Lady Jenna. The air had become colder and the sun looked diminished. Owen was bundled up in furs to keep him warm. Wood was supplied to heat the circular room. Despite this you woke up cold that morning. Walks outside had stopped. Most days were spent reading or playing chess, Lady Dara had found a set in the library. Day by day you waited for Jaecerion's letter. Every morning Lady Mari would check to see if any more letters were received. Other than official letters taken care of by Lady Jenna there was nothing. "He is likely just busy." You convinced yourself.

One day the worst storm in years broke over Highgarden. A howling wind rattled the windows. Snow fell, covering the once beautiful gardens. A winter had not come in years. Depending on how long this winter was your son may very well grow up in the cold and dark. "My mum told we winter is called down by the gods to punish mankind." Lady Dara was gazing out the window. "Who knows." With a sigh you leaned back into the chair. "Eww!" Looking up you noticed Lady Dara on her feet. "What is it?" Lady Dara pointed to the dead butterflies on the windowsill. Taking a handkerchief you swept the butterfly remains up and dumped them out the window. The snow and grey sky swallowed them up. Their remains would likely be frozen and crumpled by the sheer weight of snow. Wistfully you looked out, a hole in your heart yawning like some great dark chasm.

That morning you had woken up cold. Not a physical cold, the type that reached ones soul. In your stomach there seemed to be a fist clenching with all its might. There was the sensation of wanting to throw up without the nausea. The skin on your face was oily and you guessed there would be a break out. Lips moved and felt painfully dry. Watching those butterflies drift into the cold yet gave you cause to sit by the window. For a while you looked out. It felt like you were missing something. You had tried thinking about what it could be. But whatever it was stubbornly alluded you.

Eventually realizing that this nagging anxiety would not be cured through lingering on it you took to reading. Old Legends from across the Narrow Sea was a book that you swore you remembered from your childhood. The pictures seemed familiar, blue especially taking up your memory. Some of the stories were familiar, coming back after having been forgotten for so long. The Emerald Empress was embossed with the image of a woman. An emerald tiara glittered on her head. Long ago in an empire thousands of years ago, before even Old Valyria, the Dawn Age was upon the world. It was ruled by emperor who ruled for thousands of years, and wielded untold power. The greatest empire on earth was laid low when a younger brother killed his elder sister, the Amethyst Empress. Then the empire collapsed and everything was destroyed. Still feeling unsettled, you set the book out of sight.

Calling for tea you settled by the fire. Lady Dara was fast asleep, a cup of wine set aside. Waiting for your tea there was suddenly the sound of someone running up. Jumping to her feet Lady Mari rushed to the door. Before she reached it the door burst open, stirring Lady Dara out of sleep. Your tea was nowhere in sight. Instead all you got was a gasping red faced page boy. Lady Dara reached for the cup as you picked up Owen. Lady Mari drawing to your side she demanded the boy to state his purpose. "The pretender.....Rhaenyra Targaryen.....she is dead!" Everyone stood there as if the words did not make sense. Then Lady Dara loud out something between a laugh and gasp. Lady Mari fell to her knees, hands clasped. You stood there rooted to the spot as the situation washed over. Rhaenyra was dead. The woman who so wanted you gone, who had Alana killed, who started this whole was, was dead. Numbly you walked over to the chair and sat down. "You may leave." Everyone looked startled by your lackluster reaction. You should be dancing for joy. So why were you unhappy?

The war was over. Peace still alluded Westeros as fractions battled for Kings Landing. The grief of two years of war had ended with Rhaenyra's death. You had won. But as a winter wind howled outside, it did not feel so.

You had always imagined that when the war ended there would be celebrations. Instead all of Highgarden fell silent. Instead of a bright sun hailing a new age winter storms tore apart the land. Instead of feeling light as air you spent your days in bed or sitting by the fireplace. In the meantime you had heard the finer details of Rhaenyra's death. She had fled with her son Aegon to Dragonstone, only to find her brother the king waiting. Making her young son watch, Rhaenyra was fed to Sunfyre. There ended the life of Rhaenyra Targaryen.

And as it turned out the war had not truly ended. Although Rhaenyra was dead her supporters still proclaimed her line as the path of succession. The North still rallied behind the red and black banner. With Aegon having no sons and only one remaining brother many wondered if the presidents of succession would naturally make Rhaenyra's son king. Jaecerion was already urged to marry. Every day you prayed for a letter from Jaecerion. A Lannister girl had been proposed, as he had been betrothed to one until her untimely death. Only you knew where his heart truly lay.

"Are you sure there is no letter?" Lady Mari confirmed that indeed there had been no letter. With a sigh of frustration you paced throughout the room. It was a wonder that the wood beneath you feet did not become marked by your pacing. The hems of your green gown had become frayed from all the picking. Any day now Jaecerion would come. That was what you told yourself when despair reared its ugly head. Seeing your distress Lady Mari volunteered to go down. She looked slightly pale and her thin lips were set in a hard line. Giving her leave you were still restless.

"May inquire as to your distress?" The unwelcome presence of Cerissa made itself known. "Leave. I have no need of you." Unperturbed, Cerissa stepped in as if she owned the place. "What is Lady Mari doing in such a hurry?" Shooting her a cold look, you told Cerissa that it was hardly her business. She only smirked. "I would hate if it were for some....unbecoming reason." You gave a cold harsh laugh. What she was implying was clear. "No. Women of good breeding do not sneak off. She is simply fulfilling an errand. Now speaking of sneaking off I do have to wonder what you have been up to. Gone for so long with no knowledge of you whereabouts." You returned an equally nasty look. Then there was a knock and the tea you ordered came in. The maid quickly left shooting a backward glance. Cerilla also made a move to leave, but you called out and ordered her to stay. "I have to given you leave."

Lady Mari returned nearly an hour later. Immediately you knew something was wrong. There was that feeling one gets before something unspeakably horrible happens. She looked exhausted sagging against a maid. Looking unnaturally pale she collapsed into a chair. Quickly you rushed to pour her. "What happened?" Lady Mari could only shake her head, blue eyes wide and frantic. Her lips were moving but no sound came out. Every breath seemed forced out. The maid poured a cup of tea and had Lady Mari drink it. Spluttering, Lady Mari fell over. "Get someone!" Dropping to your knees you could only hoover over Lady Mari's fast fading form. She seemed to be trying to say something. Her lips started to turn blue and you would have thought she was choking. "Mari!" You could only hold Lay Mari and slowly she lost any remaining colour, all except the blue that spread over her lips.

Lady Maris's last moments seemed to be the longest of your life. So quickly had it happened you half suspected this was a dream. A horrible dream that felt all too real. "This isn't real. I've had these sorts of dreams before. I will wake up and she will be alright." But this was the waking world. Horrid reality which you were trapped in. Lady Mari grew still, one last wheeze escaping. And you were holding her body, standing over your fathers body. Eyes unseeing looked up at you. A maester arrived. But when he walked up you simply said "She's dead."

Weeks later they told you Lady Jenna had returned. The weeks without Cerilla was a blessing. Without lady Mari your world had become even more lonely and Cerilla only made everything hurt. Lady Dara was a good woman. But poor Lady Mari had not deserved to die. She had only been so four and twenty. Still with her whole life ahead. All the children and love she might have had was robbed. Wars end had brought little joy. Only the threat of Rhaenyra's wrath was removed. Your live had become marred by death. Survive you might have, but at what cost? Three ladies you had lost, two untimely taken, you ending herself. You were self tempted to send Lady Dara away. Only a selfish part of you, the part that did not want to be lonely

Sorting through Lady Mari's things was hard to say the least. She had not brought much from Casterly Rock, but every hard of cloth, every small tin, was a small stab to the soul. Being well organized she had kept a will so the affairs were in order. Your hand trembled as you wrote meaningless words to her family. Once more you had been completely useless when it came to saving others. When had you ever been able to save anyone? What use was there in being one of the most powerful women in the land if you could not protect those you cared for? When Alana and Clarissa had died it had fallen upon those bellow to write letters of condolences. These days you had so few attendants that the duty could be carried out by no one else. You also felt that this was owed to Lady Mari, who so tirelessly provided unwavering support.

Afterwards your hand ached, yet it dulled in comparison to that within the heart. Afterwards you took to bed before dinner. There was no appetite for food. Owen was already sleep and you placed him in your arms. As of now you were alone and with a great desire to weep. Being alone was for the best. In your pride none would subject you to public humiliation. A dull pain in the cast lulled you to sleep.

"I apologize. I have no stomach for embroidery today." Understanding, Lady Dara went back to knitting. Rarely you left the room. It was like a prison, yet a prison partially assisted by you. Cerilla had been making herself scarce these days. You were not upset about this. Sometimes Lady Jenna would drop by. These conversations usually surrounded the comings and goings of court. Now that the war was over nobles were starting to reside in Kings Landing once more. "Of course you must come. Your widowhood is well past being over." You had no desire to return to those blood coloured walls. Every happy memory had been soured. It reminded you of happier times, and the past few months there had been spent in utter humiliation. You would be happy to stay away. Most likely you would be taken to Casterly Rock. There were few if any cheerful memories of that place. But it was better than the place you grew up.

Lady Joan had taken care of most preparations. Normally that duty would fall to you. Exhaustion had weighted heavily on you. Not the type as the result of little sleep, but the type that wearies ones soul. All you wanted to do was sleep. If not for Owen or Jaecerion...

As the twenty second day of the tenth moon dawned upon Westeros you awoke in great pain. Pulling back the sheets you noticed a pool of blood staining them red. Your blood had come early this month with a vengeance. Throbbing made you want to curl up. For a few moments you lay there in agony. It was not until Lady Dara realized your condition that this was rectified. After being bathed and dressed it was time to care for Owen. Once fed he was placed on your knee. Lady Dara took it upon herself to read. Today she was reading an old story. One were a prince and princess fell in love, married and everything worked out. Oh to live in such a world.

The hours dragged on painfully. Pain was still radiating in your womb despite the use of mandrake. Not since the birth of Owen had you issued forth so much blood or felt such physical pain. Lady Dara mentioned that a lack of exercise could make ones blood more unpleasant. Unpleasant was certainly one way to describe it, although you would have used stronger terms. Eventually Lady Dara convinced you to take some fresh air. "Sitting by your window is not suitable, My lady." Surprisingly she had put away drink and abstained from all pleasures. Granted, you could not be totally sure of this. Romance books may very well be a liked past time.

Once back you decided to pen another letter to Jaecerion.

Dear Jaecerion,

I hope that when this letter arrives you are well. When this war is won I hope we can be together. Greatly do I miss the days of our childhood. Often I find myself missing those days. While we can never get them back I do hope we can find some semblance of it.

With much love,

Y/n Tyrell

Looking over it you knew Jaecerion might find it unsatisfying. He desired to marry you. But such decisions felt too exhausting. You did not even feel ready to marry. Memories of the dead pilled upon you so completely it was suffocating. You could see no end to your present suffering. Even a hundred, two hundred years from now, you might still carry around this pain like a wound. Sometimes your heart bet so strongly it hurt. If only you could have torn it out.

"Lady Y/n?" Lady Dara looked up from her embroidery. "I am fine. Send this letter out, will you?" Lady Dara took it. "Will you go out walking today?" "I don't know. Owen doesn't look up to it." "Then I will take him." Hesitantly you looked at her. "He should get used to meeting other people." Still, you were not convinced. Lady Dara sighed. "How about I stay here with Owen while you walk in the garden?" Looking towards the door you knew a walk was needed.

Still, you refused. Orders had been given for you to hide, they must be obeyed.

The sheets of your bed suddenly felt cold. You had been nearly falling to sleep when a shock of could banished exhaustion. jerking up you were face to face with someone. Or could it truly be called someone when that being was translucent? Your mothers ghost stood there. You should have felt more, but she had always been such a shadowy figure and Elinor had been so mother-like the urge to miss her might never have been very strong.

"Hello." You wanted to kick yourself. But how else should you address her. She beckoned you to sit up. Hesitating you looked over at Owen, fast asleep. She shook her head. "Leave him." Looking back you shot her a cold look. "That is my son." "Leave him. Where you are going will not be safe for him." "Then were are you taking me?" "Down the only path that can save your son."

A few minutes later you were alone walking down the hall. You had no difficult leaving. There were no guards at the door or in the hallway. Everything was eerily quiet. Each step sounded loud to the ear. A black sky made it feel later than the night truly was. You could see windows still lit up. Donning the same black dress frequently worn these past two years, you ventured to who knows where. A serenity you had not felt in a while descended. Normally you would be afraid to disobey Lady Jenna. You guessed it had to be your mothers presence (or could it truly be a presence if it was her ghosts, if that is what it truly was). Her hair swayed back and forth, every step naturally taken. This had once been her place. Likely, if this was your mother, she knew the place better than you

Down a flanking tower you went. Still no one in the way. At the bottom of the tower was a door. Your mother stood aside. Opening it you stepped out into the garden. Or rather one of Highgarden's many gardens. Placing a piece of wood between the door so it did not lock you suddenly noticed a symbol on the door. The carving of a rose caught your attention. Beneath you was a cobbled path. "Where to now?" Your mother pointed to a rose bush. As you approached it a door appeared beneath your feet. "What is this?!" Spinning around you face her. "Is this witchcraft!" She gave you a look. "No. Now do you want to save your son?" She had got you in her grip. There was no turning back now.

Bending down you attempted to yank it free. "How does this unlock?" You fiddled with the lock some more. "Blood." You looked up. "Sorry?" "Blood. Smear it on the door." Reaching over you seized a rose stem. Thornes cut your delicate skin. Blood stained the skin horribly. Wincing you brushed it against the door. Swinging open you saw a flight of dark staircases. Taking caution you stepped down the cold flight. Torches burst into life lighting the way. The door above closed. With no railing the journey was somewhat treacherous. Although the trip was not long it certainly felt that way. Once at the bottom you breathed a sigh of relief. Looking back you saw your mother float down. Ahead was a door which had certainly seen better days. It looked to be hanging on just barely. When you touched it would the door merely fall over?

The door remained and did not fall over. For whatever reason there were no torches. Thankfully there was enough light emanating from the hallway to provide sufficient sight. Recoiling, you nearly fleed from the room.

Adorning the circular wall was the drawing of a great tree, sketched in red. A metallic scent stung the air nearly making you hurl. On what was supposed to be the trunk a face, twisted. archaic, looked out. Branches stuck out like hands, in the flickering of lights they looked alive. You half expected for those ghostly hands to reached out and slam the door shut. Looking closely you thought there were small faces in the pain. All of this was too eerily similar to your dreams. Now they had truly invaded the waking world.

"What is this place?" Your mother walked right past you. before the painting she stood. "Your ancestors left these markings here. long had we endured on the blood of First Children. The beyond strings us along. A great power allows us to walk for, defying." You were by the door. Without even realizing it you had stepped back. You breathing echoed in the black, bounding off stone. "Is this a curse?" She shook her head. "No. This is your lifeline. Do you want to save your son?"

They would call this heresy. But this be to the damnation of your soul? What Seven Hell would you reside in for this act? Fear for your son alone caused you to act. A burning was felt in the wrists. You shouted out as cuts appeared. Looking down the blood gushed forward. "Just as you spilt blood on the Weirwood tree in King Landing, so you spill blood here. Wipe it on the face." Stepping forward you reached out. Closer you got and the face moved. Not seemed to, it truly moved. Once your blood stained its white lips it sucked your blood in. With that it was gone, the pact was made.

Cold sweat ran down your back. "If this is to the damnation of my soul will it save my son?" Those eyes looked at you. "Oh you know nothing."

Your wounds were there the next morning. Looking down you saw thin white lines. When they dressed you effort was taken to make sure no one would see them. Ache emanated from the recently healed skin. It made it difficult to rotate the skin. Owen stayed beside you all day. After what you had done he was all that mattered. Even your death was a worthy price for his survival.

The days stretched out into long agonizing drawls. Every breath you took ached to the core. Cold sweat rolled down your back. You became painfully aware of every sensation. Weight of your soul made actions such as even breathing difficult. Every moment took a great effort. Sometime unbidden tears would roll down your face. If it were not for Lady Dara constantly bringing food and tea you might have wasted away, more than you were already. Your state had become such that Lady Dara would sometimes take it upon herself to feed Owen. Thankfully he was old enough to be weaned off breastmilk. Doom was hanging over your head like an axe. Any moment you expected it to fall.

"It truly is a pity." Cerilla's presence had become more frequent. Seemingly in Lady Mari's absence Cerilla seemed eager to fill it. Another young might have cared. A young naive girl with only happy days ahead and a child’s notion of the world. Even as she was before you Cerilla’s face was not in focus. She might as well be a shadow on the wall. With a detached observation you wondered at your lack of emotion. The world was a haze in front of you, a lucid dream. You wondered if this was the price payed for your pact. But it if saved Owen all would be well. So long as he lived you were alive.

Cerilla persisted in her presence. At some point she pulled out a letter. It bore the royal seal and was already open. “This was naturally addressed to Lady Joan, but it concerns you as well.” With a sickening smile she opened the letter with a flourish. Clearing her throat Cerilla spoke.

We regret to inform the kingdom of King Aegon Targaryens passing. He departed to the Gods as the sun set. It is also with equal regret that we announce the death of Prince Jaecerion Targaryen-"

Not even Cerilla expected your reaction. If she expected crying or wailing she was sorely disappointed. To her it looked as if all the air had been let out of you. A great breath, your chest heaved and eye grew impossibly wide. Struggling to breath you were unablr to move. Your mind and body had become two separate things, unable to control the other. Anyone walking in would have thought you were seizing right up. But the wound you had been dealt was not physical. No maester could help you in this state.

Recollection in this state was impossible. When Cerissa left and Lady Dara entered you could not say. Cast into an abyss of darkness and grief all you did was merely exist in frozen horror. Jaecerion was dead. Young handsome Jaecerion. His life flashed before you eyes. From boyhood to a man he had always been there. And it occurred to you at that moment, Jaecerion had been the only one to love you. Now you were all left alone, save for Owen. No other had loved or protected you so. He joined the great mass of the dead who had left your life. They swarmed into one force that haunted you to sleep.

That night you dreamed of a handsome prince with purple eyes. His silver armor flashing in the light, he had saved you from darkness. And in that dream you lived in a fantasy. In all the stories you read good triumphed and she lived happily ever after. And a handsome prince accompanied her to whatever end.

Waking up brought back all the pain. How bitterly you had wept. Terrors came to your mind. Nothing to preoccupy you from this grief. All their faces came. Aemond, Alana, all their faces came before you deathly pale. Unlike your sweet dream that brought you so much joy these faces spoke of despair. No amethyst eyes, just empty sockets.

You did not protest when they moved you. Bathing, feeding ,dressing, all of it, was done with the upmost obedience. Sometimes you were aware of Cerilla's presence. Sometimes she spoke, not that you understood anything. You had become mute and deaf to the world. Only the inner turmoil of your mind existed.

"Will she get better?" "I dunno." "Do you know what has distressed her so?" Their voices blended together into a symphony of confusion. "Do they think I have gone mad?" You thought to yourself. Although your mind could now make out words they meant little. In the past week the only thing you had been able to do was care for Owen. Every day Lady Dara would male sure the two of you had time together. Every morning you pressed kisses to his soft curls and Lady Dara brought toys. Slowly you started to gain some soft of existence. Between the waking world and lucid dreams of the dead became a way of life.

They peeled the nightgown off of you. A silver tub had been moved. Citrus filled the air and you were lowered into the warm water. Someone's hands were running through your hair. A pitcher of water washed the suds away. Leaning back you allowed the scents to overtake. Citrus, wax candles, the fireplace. This grounded you more than anything else. Floating in the water you became aware of your physical pain. Days at a time of immobility had stiffened you and made every move painful. For a while you simply stayed there. For the first time in a while you were calm. Or rather, you were simply too tired to care anymore.

Hands rested themselves on your shoulders. Thinking it was Lady Dara or one of the maids you remained unworried. Fingertips pressed themselves into your skin, traced the back of your neck. "It truly is a pity." Jerking forward sending water flashing to the floor you turned to see Cerilla standing there. You realized it was just the two of you. Completely vulnerable in both body and mind all you could do was pray she would leave. Cerilla made no move to leave, leering at you. "They are all dead now. And Alicent Hightower is locked away." A sickening smile curled on her face. It reminded you of a snake, poised to strike with a deadly curl of the lips. "That's Queen Dowager to you." A small spark showed itself. Only for Cerilla to smoother it. "You haven't heard? Well I am not surprised." She waited, watching for a reaction. When your face showed fear she continued. "Alicent has been locked up. She will not be killed, of course. Her granddaughter will marry Aegon." Aegon? Hadn't he died? And wasn't he her father on top of that?! Seeing the confusion Cerillas laughed. "Not him. Rhaenyra's son. King Aegon, third of his name. I will be going to his coronation." It took a moment for reality to set in. The truth was so hard to grasp that you just sat there. For the first time Cerilla looked displeased. A frown appeared on her face.

"Would you like to hear about Jaecerion's death? I mean you did love him so. Wasn't there a marriage in the works. How disappointed you must be." Finally, you spoke. "Why....why would I want to hear the details." Cracked, you voice was small ,weak. Finally Cerilla looked happy. And she showed no mercy. "He had been ill for a while. An arrow to the chest is a nasty think. They thought he was getting better, but sadly the poor prince passed. They say he had some sort of spasm, choked, and the life left his eyes. I heard his lips turned completely blue." A maid entered and Cerilla stood up. "Get her dressed." Cerilla ordered, and left.

The sun was setting. Watching its progress you wondered if it would ever rise again. A fanciful thought born of grief. While the sun might rise for others, for you it would not. For the rest of this life you would endure a long night that would follow you to the grave. Long ago you had watched Laena Velaryon's coffin being dropped into the sea with a horrid finality. You had imagined it sinking to the bottom. Separated from her family and friends. Now Aemond lay in his own watery grave. Jaecerion died chocking on his own blood. His mouth had turned blue, they said. You remembered your own father growing ridged, bloodshot eyes staring into nothing.

The two of you had been having cake. It had been a favourite of his, you only just remembered. Sitting in his office your father had made time for his only child. On that day he had been telling an interesting tale, so your cake remained untouched. He took a mouthful of cake and continued talking. Suddenly he had chocked and gasping for breath, knocked your plate over. You had screamed and cried, Guards rushed in. A maester soon arrive, but it was too late. they had said he chocked on the cake. The memory had been so horrid that up till now you tried forgetting it. Now it roared back with a vengeance.

He had blue lips. Lady Mari had blue lips. Jaecerion had blue lips. Touching your own you suddenly felt cold. A type of cold that ties in knots as you made the realization.

"Owen!" Your ran.

Notes: This chapter was definitely depressing, sorry. I have been waiting so long to get to this point. The story is going to get darker so hang on. There will be two more chapters and then a short epilogue. Afterwards I will be taking a break before writing part 2. I know this part of the story will get y'all down but please continue. The "plot twist" is going to come up! I also want to make it very clear that Jaecerion is dead, for now.

I know the paragraph dividers look different this chapter and I will fix that.

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[yunamedkostobot]

Jacegan Week 2024: Day 2, Canon

drabble, 1.4k words

King Jace, AU, minor jacela(political marriage), mentioned jofhaera and Addam/Rhaena

The sun sets over King's Landing as Cregan stands near the Princevault — so this building with the slate roof and high carved doors is called now, with prince Daeron Targaryen, formerly the Daring, kept here. 

It was the surprise when not so long after the war ended, King Jacaerys Targaryen, former Velaryon, declared that his uncle, who barely survived the battle of Tumbleton, would not be executed, but instead held in lifelong captivity.

« I understand your concerns, my lords». — he said to the Small Council. — «But my uncle is not dangerous now. His dragon is dead. He lost his left arm and half of his foot in the last battle, he has numerous burns… He will not be able to fight for the throne. Nobody will follow the king who is crippled to such an extent. And he is still my uncle, and I don’t want to spill the blood of my relatives.»

«Why won’t you send him to the Nightwatch, your Highness?» asked Corlys Velaryon, Master over the Ships then and Cregan, who stood by here with Hand’s brooch on his doublet, was more than agree with him. 

If there hadn’t been a Bitterbridge massacre, Cregan could have even felt pity towards the fallen prince. But not after him demanding to kill all of his inhabitants even after the true killers of prince Maelor were executed. No, he does not understand why Jacaerys spared him. 

« He may be kidnapped by remaining Green supporters during the trip. Here, he would be under supervision. His niece may still visit him, though.» — Here he chuckled.

The only niece the imprisoned prince had was princess Jaehaera, who just goes out from the Princevault, in her blue dress, with her hands hold by both King Jacaerys and Queen Baela. The girl looks not really happy, but content — a wildly different from the tear-eyed, trembling girl Jace described here to him they found when the capital was captured. 

At first, when they didn’t know what to do with her. She was the daughter of the fallen king, of the man, who usurped his mother and abandoned his wife when she lost her son and went mad. But she was still a young, eternally frightened girl too. The better choice was to marry her to someone loyal to the king, who will not rebel to get a crown and has the possessions of his own. There were four men who may possibly wed her - king’s brothers Joffrey and Aegon, or his bastard brothers Alyn and Addam. Some people expected young Aegon to wed Jaehaera, but the King stopped those talks and decided to marry the girl to the middle brother, and also to marry lady Rhaena to Addam, who became the heir to Driftmark. 

«I do not think that Joffrey will be against his bride visiting her uncle when they visit the Red Keep. I am not gonna wed them now cause it’s gonna be nothing, but a farce in this case. I’ll wait until the princess turns at least thirteen and their wedding will happen here.»

«And your brother?»

«Will get a Dornish mark. It’s a hardly controlled region and we need  strongholds both against Dorn and usurper’s sympathizers in the Reach.»

Here, the king doesn’t tell all the truths. Jacaerys never told about it to the Small Council, but said once to him that the reason his uncles usurped his mother may lay in the fact they would not get anything except reduced to mere toadies if she will get a throne. His uncle and stepfather was a son of the king, but didn’t get anything except a place in the Small council and nothing to give his children except the dragon eggs. Cregan thinks there is nothing to pity the usurpers for, but he more than agrees that Jace’s brothers deserve to get their own lands. Granted, prince Joffrey has Dragonstone now, but when Queen Baela will give birth to the son, it will come to him. So, there are the Dornish mark for Joffrey, Cape Kraken for Aegon and Rain House, whose Lord’s family lost  it due to its association with usurper, for young Viserys. And two of them will get new keeps for their families, when the said keeps will be built. 

Cregan sighs as the King gets down on one knee, hugs his niece and then rises and kisses his cousin and wife, who looks gorgeous in her red dress despite being heavily pregnant, on her forehead. He is not of those who can think a lot about his past, but he hardly can believe that only two years have passed since the green dragon and his rider landed nearby Winterfell. Once they hunted together, played snowballs in secret,watched the night sky and  shared kisses in its darkness. Once merely a young grandlord and prince with a young dragon — now Hand and his King, who is gonna be father soon.

But are they the same persons who have fallen for each other during the visit to the North? 

Once they reunited after Jacaerys’s coronation and his mother’s funeral, he voiced his concerns about it. Jacaerys, who there did his best to make Cregan call him «Jace» again, didn’t smiled in vain attempt to make the situation look easier, but lowered his gaze and genuinely said that he didn't know this. He was thrown out of balance by the betrayal of the dragonseeds he recruited, his brother's death and his mother being killed by one of Larys Strong’s spies. Than, they couldn’t find the words to sooth each other and barely sat alone in the cabinet,  pressing their foreheads against each other, and somehow, this was enough. 

And so they decided — no matter what, to be here and watch for each other.

The princess and the Queen leave King Jacaerys, as he goes to him. In the sky, the dragon’s cry is heard, and Cregan wonders, what sea monster is brought to keep by Moondancer now. Last time, Queen Baela’s dragon dragged the whole shark to the Red Keep. 

«We need to discuss some things privately.» says Jace, when he comes to him and Cregan nods. 

Since the war, huge numbers of armies of North, Riverlands and Vale and Blacks supporters from other Kingdoms have occupied the Westlands, Stormlands, Kingslands and Reach — as the lands whose lords betrayed their true queen. In retaliation, they will be put under direct control of the king’s through loyal people for a temporary time. Kermit Tully got the Westlands, Lord Rovan got the Reach, Corlys Velaryon got the Stormlands, and Jeyne Arryn’s heir Joffrey Arryn got Kingslands. And Cregan thinks that the reason Jace called him to his rooms is somehow connected to this. 

They reach the king’s cabinet in a minute and the guards salute to them. They enter it a second after and Jace closes the door. 

Cregan can see the said cabinet. Poets and bards often talk about how wonderful the Red Keep looks like, and sometimes Cregan is ready to agree with them. There is the broken model of old Valyria made by Jace’s maternal grandfather, king Viserys, a huge table, a chair nearby and a fire burning in the fireplace. There are a bunch of letters on the table and a  ream of sheets next to them. 

Then, Jace shows him a bunch of letters. Cregan reads them patiently. These letters come from different cities - or better to say, from unions the prominent ones of these cities, like merchants or most skilled craftsmen. The number of cities are impressive: Weeping town, Vinetown, Pebbletown, Hull, King’s Landing itself, Duskendale, Lannisport, Tumbletown, Bitterbridge… The prominent ones of these cities are afraid - it’s visible in the tone of their letters. The war left them with no protection from the marching armies of lords, especially the traitor lords and so they are asking the king for protection. They will pay money directly to his representatives, will form city militias or empower the existing ones and put the directly to the king’s service if he’ll support them in their initiative.

And there Cregan understands. Now, there are Tully, Stark and Arryn armies keeping the order in former rebel territories, but it ain’t gonna last forever. Sooner or later, but they need to leave home… And then…

« Are you going to use city councils against the former rebel lords?»

And the smirk blossoms on Jace’s lips.

«Exactly». 

[thevelaryons]

Wait, what do you mean Laenor and Addam are "possibly implied to have the same sexuality"?

So this idea is based off GRRM's tendency to repeat/recycle certain themes for characters from the same family. Seriously, just look at any Westerosi family we get extensive details about and you'll see that GRRM employs this writing method quite often.

As I was saying in this post, Corlys' children are juxtaposed against each other: Addam to Laenor and Alyn to Laena. Fire & Blood makes it evident enough that Laenor is a gay man and with how he shares other parallels with Addam, the nature of their sexuality might be something they also have in common. Now obviously take this with a grain of salt because Fire & Blood tends to be ambiguous in how it presents information. I know there are people in fandom who consider Laenor to be bisexual though I personally (as a bisexual person) don't see it. I've always interpreted him as a gay man. We're given plenty of relevant information concerning Laenor's relationships to other men to reach this conclusion (he's described as preferring the company of exclusively men over women and the overall depiction of his relationships with Joffrey & Qarl all emphasize his homosexuality).

As for Addam, the text does present his "interactions" (using that term loosely) with other male characters in a certain light that leaves room for interpretation.

This moment with Benji having Addam's body taken to Raventree Hall (instead of returning him to Driftmark 😒):

At moonrise the riverlords abandoned the field to the carrion crows, fading back into the hills. One of them, the boy Ben Blackwood, carried with him the broken body of Ser Addam Velaryon, found dead beside his dragon. His bones would rest at Raventree Hall for eight years.

mirrors a similar moment with Loras & Renly, a gay couple:

“I buried him with mine own hands, in a place he showed me once when I was a squire at Storm’s End. No one shall ever find him there to disturb his rest.”

And it's not until 8 years after Addam's death that Benji actually returns his body back to Alyn who seems to have discovered the whereabouts of his brother's body at last. Now I doubt Benji just forgot he was keeping Addam's body back home. At the end of the war, he spent some time around Corlys, years later he and Alyn were together in the Vale, and even after that, they went on their road trip to King's Landing together. But it's not until some more years have passed that Benji finally returns Addam's body to his family. I just find his behaviour suspicious tbh. How do you forget you're keeping someone's dead body at home when you're spending considerable time around that person's family members?? All those chances Benji had to mention that Addam's body is with house Blackwood and he doesn't say anything until 8 years later when Alyn seems to have found out this information and gotten his brother's bones back. Putting aside my personal fave headcanon of Addam actually surviving Tumbleton and residing at the Isle of Faces for those 8 years, Benji's behaviour presents a parallel to that of Loras who buried his lover, Renly, and refused to divulge that information to anyone.

Then there is also the "mating dance" of Addam's dragon Seasmoke with Tessarion, ridden by another male, Daeron Targaryen:

One such said afterward that the flight of Tessarion and Seasmoke seemed more mating dance than battle. Perhaps it was.

Also this passage:

Who can know the heart of a dragon? Was it simple bloodlust that drove the Blue Queen to attack? Did the she-dragon come to help one of the combatants? If so, which? Some will claim that the bond between a dragon and dragonrider runs so deep that the beast shares his master’s loves and hates. But who was the ally here, and who the enemy? Does a riderless dragon know friend from foe?

The books do emphasize the close ties dragonriders have to their dragons (eg. when a dragonrider is hurt their dragon expresses the pain). Even such things as dragons mating with other dragons is only presented in 2 other instances:

Silverwing and Vermithor oft coiled about one another in the fields south of Tumbleton.

Rhaenyra’s dragon Syrax laid several clutches of eggs, doubtless the result of matings with Caraxes.

In all of these instances, the dragons are bonded to riders who are linked together (whether platonic or romantic): Jaehaerys & Alysanne were a married couple, Hugh & Ulf are also presented as a united front every step of the way in the books, Daemon & Rhaenyra are another married couple. So going off that pattern, Addam & Daeron's dragons having a mating dance would suggest a link between them too, either as allies or lovers. Since Addam torched Daeron's entire camp, I very much doubt they were allies. Though the lovers angle doesn't really work in this scenario either. The more likelier interpretation would be that of ex-lovers who knew each other before the war, hence the quote about the dragon sharing the rider's loves and hates.

Going back to my above linked post which you were inquiring about, Addam & Laenor having the same sexuality and yet being different in how they approach their positions as Corlys' heirs does present an interesting dichotomy. Because Laenor, due to his sexuality, does not fulfill the expected duty required of someone in his position (which btw I don't hold against him; I think Laenor exerting autonomy over his own life despite the closeted society he lived in is a great character detail). Meanwhile, Addam is described as "duty bound", so in this interpretation of him being attracted to men, despite his sexuality, he would be someone who always puts family expectations over his own wishes. That would primarily be due to his background as an illegitimate child but it does serve to contrast him once again with Laenor who grew up as his father's trueborn son.

[maybeiwasjustjade]

*****CONTAINS SPOILERS FROM GRRM’S NEW BLOG POST*****

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Ngl, anyone who hasn’t deluded themselves about this show knew it was always going to end this way. I’m just glad GRRM agrees with many of us regarding the changes Condal has made regarding s2 and beyond.

Removing Maelor completely was such an idiotic decision that anyone who had basic media literacy and understands the Butterfly Effect, could’ve pointed it out ages ago. No Maelor means no Bitterbridge, which changes Tumbleton and the Two Betrayers completely. Daeron as a character is completely ruined if Tumbleton still happens but the catalyst is gone.

GRRM has already confirmed that he saw Condal’s outlines for s3 and potentially 4, and Helaena does still k!ll herself…but for no reason. What reason is there even left? Book!Helaena did so out of the guilt and loss she felt at losing both her sons, but Show!Helaena stopped caring after episode 2 that Jaehaerys was murdered. Not to mention, the show completely butchered a large part of Helaena’s personality by removing the part that she was well-loved by the people.

Her death causes the riots that inevitably ends the dragons. All because she was loved, and Rhaenyra was not. (And GRRM confirmed that too)

Lastly, him alluding to even bigger and more toxic changes ahead for s3 and s4….I can’t even imagine how Condal and Hess could further butcher the story, but it seems even GRRM is wary of it.

[starksinthenorth]

S2 Finale: Battle of the Gullet vs. Fall of King’s Landing Am I the only one who thinks they’re going to move the Battle of the Gullet to next season and doing the Fall of King’s Landing first Theyve been building up dragon-on-dragon fights since they first announced the show.

There’s only six book canon dragon-on-dragon fights:

Shipbreaker Bay (Arrax v. Vhagar)

Rook’s Rest (Meleys v. Vhagar and Sunfyre)

First Tumbleton (Tessarion v. Vermithor and Silverwing)

God’s Eye (Vhagar v. Caraxes)

Second Tumbleton (Seasmoke v. Tessarion v. Vermithor)

Fall of Dragonstone (Moondancer v. Sunfyre)

Other dragon-heavy events that aren’t dragon-on-dragon battles include the Red Sowing, the Battle of the Gullet, the Fall of King’s Landing, the Razing of the Riverlands, and Daemon and Nettles’ search for Vhagar.

Often criticized and wished for by fans are for Rhaenyra and Helaena to have more impact and also fly into battle.

The trailer conversation between Aemond and Helaena strongly implies that Helaena will take to wing. What better way then Aemond going to the Riverlands to face Daemon and her protecting the city, but it ultimately falling because Dreamfyre isn’t ready?

Meanwhile, there’s been no mention of the Triarchy all season.

the narrative has hyped up several things as being important and foreshadowed those events:

The discussion of the dragon seeds and needing dragon riders

Rhaena not yet having a dragon and trying to claim one

Otto being MIA

Yet they have not once (that I can recall) mentioned the Triarchy and their hatred for Daemon.

Maybe I’m crazy, but adding dragons in this context could make sense. Claim the city, end on a high note for the Blacks and low note for the Greens, setting up Rhaenyra’s downfall through next season and the Green comeback.

[valyrianfreehold]

Silverwing

Silverwing is mentioned frequently in the beginning of F&B simply because her mount, Queen Alysanne loved to fly and utilized Silverwing fully until the very end of her life. Silverwing was the symbol of Alysanne's independence and freedom. Much like Dreamfyre was to Rhaena. Both sisters flew across Westeros on their dragons from childhood up to the very ends of their lives. These similarities are where it begins and ends, as the directions both dragon's lives took upon the deaths of their first riders part ways. Dreamfyre was eventually claimed by Helaena Targaryen when she was a child. A Targaryan princess and eventually queen just like Rhaena. Silverwing, however, went riderless for some time until the most unlikely of people bonded with her. Instead of a Targaryen princess, a lowborn dragonseed man took to the skies on her back.

The story of Ulf and Silverwing is a short one. During the Dance of Dragons they first flew on the side of the Blacks before Ulf and his partner Hugh defected to the Greens. Ulf did not die in battle, but was assassinated, a rare example of a dragonrider dying far from dragon battle. Silverwing simply circled the Tumbleton battlefield, and flew away after a crossbow was shot at her. This is also unique, as reports of dragons in or near battle do not flee but seek it out and often on the side of their deceased rider. Silverwing was noted to be the most docile of all the dragons on Dragonstone while she was riderless, there are no recorded examples of her ever killing anyone that tried to ride her. Upon the end of the Second Battle of Tumbleton, it is reported she returned to the field by the bodies of Vermithor, Seasmoke, and Tessarion. Singers claim that she attempted to stir her old mate Vermithor. Lingering to explore aimlessly and feast on the flesh of dead soldiers, she eventually flew off and was last seen roosting in the Reach at Red Lake. Her death is never recorded, but it was between 136AC and 153AC. You can read me theorize more about the death of Silverwing and how it ties into Morning's timeline here.

Dragons tend to draw riders with similar character traits. There are some examples of this not always being the case, such as Aemon and Daemon who both rode Caraxes. But the personality differences between Ulf the White and Alysanne Targaryen are massive. Thinking of why Silverwing would bond with two such different people can lead to some fun thought exercises. I personally could think of a few different reasons this might have turned out the way it did, but I don't have any strong feelings towards one correct answer because every possibility is fun to chew on and play with.

The relationship between Vermithor and Silverwing is noted, as they are an example of dragons pairing off with their rider's partner's dragon along with Syrax and Caraxes. What makes Vermithor and Silverwing's relationship interesting is that there are semi reliable examples of how Silverwing and Vermithor's bond lasted past the deaths of their riders. The implications behind dragon sentience and relationships if Silverwing really did linger by her mate's side and tried to get him to fly with her once more is pretty interesting!

Silverwing could have been as old as 117 upon her death, making her one of the older dragons recorded on Dragonstone. We are given no real detailed descriptions of her appearance. The name says enough. I put Silverwing in civilian clothes, trying to match the austere look Alysanne might have had if she was alive during the heyday of Old Valyria.

I apologize for how poor quality file itself is, I lost a long and very annoying battle with Procreate and I had to take the L.

[horizon-verizon]

I haven’t watched the show either, but if they are doing the Rhaenyra cult leader thing, that just confirms to me that they are completely getting rid of Nettles. Rhaenyra gets Nettles’ fire-witch cult aspect, Rhaena gets her dragon, Hugh and Ulf get her smallfolk pov and will probably get her trauma from fighting in the Battle of the Gullet, Ulf and Addam get the not looking traditionally Valyrian aspect (Addam doesn’t have the silver-gold hair in the show) that makes her unique among the dragonseeds. If they do decide to include Nettles now, there’s nothing left of her that hasn’t been given to other characters, which is extremely disappointing. I really hate everything about this, especially Sheepstealer being given to Rhaena (justice for Morning) because the dragons are very connected to their riders: Hugh and Ulf being everything the original riders of their dragons hated (Ulf being a serial r***ist when Alysanne was a fierce proto-feminist and Hugh being the main ringleader in First Tumbleton, representing Jaehaerys’ worst fears regarding dragon access coming true), Addam claiming his Velaryon heritage, and Nettles and Sheepstealer being outsiders to court/a wild dragon, never given any lands or titles like the other dragonseeds, also they look alike. I’m just very angry, misogynoir at its finest.

But besides that, the Rhaenyra as a cult leader thing combined with the knowledge from the books of the canon event of Rhaenyra’s death, just screams that they are turning show!Rhaenyra into show!Dany, which is really not a good look for them. Thanks, I hate it.

It is VERY interesting how Nettles' character has essentially been carved up & sectioned out to give those traits you mention to other characters. Nettles being sacrificed as so often what happens with such things.

Fav points otherwise:

Hugh and Ulf being everything the original riders of their dragons hated (Ulf being a serial r***ist when Alysanne was a fierce proto-feminist and Hugh being the main ringleader in First Tumbleton, representing Jaehaerys’ worst fears regarding dragon access coming true)

..........

Rhaenyra gets Nettles’ fire-witch cult aspect

..........

Ulf and Addam get the not looking traditionally Valyrian aspect (Addam doesn’t have the silver-gold hair in the show) that makes her unique among the dragonseeds

As for a Rhaenyra-Dany ending...you betcha! As long as they don't change their minds like they seemed to w/Daemon and Vermithor.

[myfandomprompts]

𝐀𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 | 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐌𝐞 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑𝟏

Summary: Aemond is better, thanks to your new ally. But should you have trusted your instincts?

Warnings: angst, mention of blood Masterlist (Part 30 - Part 32)

Over the next few days, word of what had happened spread like wildfire. Vhagar had returned to her rider, and Caraxes was unheard of. Some said dragons would go mourn in a familiar place of their own before returning to avenge their riders, but the presence of Vhagar soothed every worry you had about that.

Harrenhal became sort of a neutral zone, the decided place where the terms of peace between the Blacks and the Greens would be passed. Only Baela and Rhaena had been left behind in King’s Landing, the Velaryons not trusting the grief and ire they felt after the death of their father to remain diplomatic enough. Prince Daeron had also remained in Tumbleton, a force left in the Crownlands in case things went sour. 

The only dragons present as a result were Vhagar and Meleys, the Queen Who Never was overseeing the restitution of Jacaerys for her granddaughter with her husband, Lord Corlys Velaryon.

Everything seemed to go the way your father had intended. Terms were still to be determined for both sides to be content, but one issue constantly loomed over your head.

The fate of Aemond Targaryen, to whom every Black demanded either his death or lifelong imprisonment. They did not trust Vhagar in the least, and even less in the irascibility of a man like the Kinslayer. But since word of his wounded state had spread among the Blacks, their hatred seemed to have diminished, as they claimed that Aemond Targaryen would not ride any time soon, nor have a say in the upcoming parlays. Maybe they thought Daemon had injured him so badly that he would never recover, or that the murder of another one of his kin had cursed him further and would not be able to live a normal life, doomed to suffer the torment of the gods. So they gradually left him alone for the time being, out of their sight on the God’s Eye edge.

But little did they know that what the Lords of the Seven Kingdoms thought about your husband were the last of your worries.

Aemond had quickly recovered thanks to Alys Rivers’ tending and to some of maesters dispatched to his care. The said maesters were quite displeased by the presence of the wet-nurse, but Aemond had ordered that she was to be kept close, and no one had dared to question him. It was true that her techniques seemed to work wonderfully, but it came with a price: you had barely seen Aemond in the last few days.

Yes, you were quite busy with helping your father to set up camp for the Greens’ delegation to arrive as well tending to Naerys on your own, since no one, not even Alys, would even offer their help. And yes, in the first few days of Aemond’s convalescence, he had been in much need of rest, both Alys and the maesters claiming preferable that he remains unbothered. But it should not have prevented you from seeing him, you thought.

After that, his mother, great-cousin and Ser Cole came to visit him the moment they arrived at Harrenhal, and since that time, you had not been able to be alone with him. With him was either Alicent, Alys or other people in his presence each time you went to him, and all that you could do was hold his hand while he was asleep with milk of the poppy, or tend to him as best as you could when he needed it, doomed to be only something resembling his shadow. 

Within a few days everyone could see the improvement of his health, and you felt relieved and grateful, but it was brief.

In the rare times you could speak to him, you had only talked about general subjects like which Lords and Ladies had arrived at Harrenhal for the treaty or Caraxes’ whereabouts. But it never went beyond that, and you could not help but notice that he had not asked about Naerys once, nor had he asked to see her.

You didn’t dwell on it too long, blaming his state and his mind which was still affected by the milk of the poppy and the many medicines he was on, but the more time passed, the more you were becoming unsettled by his behaviour, and Alys’.

Since the duel you had not talked in length with the wet-nurse, leaving the topic of the ritual floating in the air between the both of you but never assessed. Meanwhile she took great care of Aemond, granting him a fast recovery, faster than it should have been according to the conversation you once overheard from the maesters. They had talked about the almost ‘unnatural’ recovery of the prince as well as the many brews of her own making she was administering him. It made you frown but you didn’t linger over it until rumours about her started to spread around the camp. From what you understood, her reputation as a witch was not much of a secret, but even though people did not utter it out loud, you were not spared from the pitied and judgmental glares the highborns you crossed paths with gave you. It worsened as soon as it became evident to everybody that Alys Rivers was spending a great amount of time with the Prince, a fact that did unnerve your father greatly for your sake and the honour of your House. Still, you forced yourself to pay them no mind, instead going to visit Aemond as soon as you were able.

But each time you ended up more baffled than the last. Whenever you managed to have you and Aemond alone, Alys always seemed to come unannounced and proceed to busy herself with nursing him. And each time that happened, the latter asked to be left alone, dismissing you.

The fourth time this occurred, you had refused.

“I would like to stay this time, if it’s alright with you.”

Both Aemond and Alys looked at you, as if you had said something incredibly stupid. “My Lady, I assure you this is fine. I only need to change his bandages.”

“Thus why I want to stay. I should do this myself, in truth,” you realised, trying to remain as polite as possible.

Aemond clicked his tongue. “The Lady Rivers knows what she is doing, do not worry about it Y/N.”

“I know as well. Must I remind you of the time I tended to you in the middle of the desert?”

“It is different. Lady Rivers has made miracles. I do not know what I would have done without her, it is evident."

Alys was now measuring some of her mysterious concoctions with a humbled smile on her face while Aemond looked at her with understanding. Something was wrong. Very very wrong.

“That is it. Out.”

You looked at the older woman you owed the life of your husband to, her beautiful blue eyes staring back at you, startled, but even though the harshness of your tone clearly expressed how much your trust in her had faltered, she still did not move.

“I said, out,” you repeated.

She turned to Aemond, looking for his approval, and it made you inhale sharply in irritation. He let out an exasperated sigh as he nodded at her to do as you had commanded, and she left the tent, taking her perusing gaze along with her.

You were really annoyed.

“What is going on with you Aemond? Why are you pushing me away like this? I am your wife, the woman you married,” you reminded him, as if it was necessary. “I need to be by your side, not dismissed like a mere servant.”

He leaned back into his bed, unfazed. “Yes, you are my wife, although you are not behaving like a proper one these days.”

You were taken aback, your jaw dropping in shock. “Oh, because you are behaving like a perfect husband. You haven’t even asked how Naerys was. Our own daughter that had been abducted!”

His eye hardened slightly but he still seemed untouched by your words. “I killed the bastard that took her. She is safe, this is all I need to know.”

Your wrath abated for a moment, and you sank at his side, taking hold of his hand with urgency.

“It almost killed you, Aemond. You were bleeding out, I was scared for you...” you said with a distraught tone. His eyes widened slightly.

“It had to be done, did it not? I told you as such a long time ago, but you refused to hear it. Besides, I am fine now, no Rogue Prince or Valyrian Steel could take me down. Nothing, in fact. Lady Alys had assured me as such.”

You frowned at his words, almost ignoring the jealousy that crept in your heart.

“What are you talking about?” you asked, confused.

He looked more alive all of a sudden, excited.

“She saw me on the Iron Throne, as the true ruler of the Seven Kingdom," he announced, expression bright. "It had been my path from the day I was born, and now it is nearer than ever. She knows it, she understands me.”

You tried to bury the feeling of hurt that hit you at his last words, rather deciding to go with common sense to answer the shocking declaration he had just made.

“You… Aemond, we are on the verge of a treaty of peace, sacrifices were made for it,” you stammered, unsure of how to react to this suddenly. “You are hurt, and we are outnumbered. It is too late to-”

“Fuck the treaty,” he spat, his purple eye shooting at you, something sour within it. “To hell with all those Lords who believe me so weak as to not claim my birthright. Daemon is dead, I will not stop there, my path is clearer than ever.”

“What about the twins?” you pointed out, tone slightly trembling. “You love them! You never told me anything about setting them aside, never! You always meant them to rule one day, even when you thought them dead!”

You were met with silence on his part. He had turned his gaze in front of him and clenched his jaw, annoyed. He took a moment to muster his response.

“She warned me. That you would not understand. That you would not see my greatness, my worth. You never did.”

“I have always supported you!” you exclaimed, now feeling both utterly angry at Alys and hurt that he would doubt you. “At Storm’s End, at Sandstone… Even in Dragonstone. My love for you goes beyond simple affection, you are everything to me, and I would defend you to my death. But what you speak of? It will only harm you even more! Those Lords would not accept you as their King so easily, I do not want you hurt trying to fight them."

“I have Vhagar,” he loudly said, but his tone remained cold. “I will make them bend the knee or they will burn, a simple choice. I will take my rightful place, and make her visions true.”

You felt the dread that filled your nights come back in a flash. Everything but this. 

“And then what, Aemond? Will you rule over the ashes? Is this the vision Alys had promised you?” you taunted, already sick of saying her name. “What if she is lying to you? What if you cannot see it? Because you feel indebted to her?”

He sternly looked at you, as if he had realised an unalterable fact. He shook his head. Something was so very wrong.

“She was right… Your heart is still on the side of your Black and disloyal family, and it is a matter of time until you turn against me as well,” he deadpanned, and you almost thought you heard wrong, his logic so absurd.

“Aemond, you are not making any sense,” you pleaded, your tone clearly distraught now. “I love you, and I see you Aemond, as you are, I know you. I will always be yours, and always fight as fiercely as you did for our daughter, for us . Please my love, do not let that woman tell you otherwise.”

You were not ready for the stoic look he gave you, almost unemotional. Never had he looked at you like that, and you felt his hand let go of yours.

“If you cannot support me, then go. I do not need you.”

Your body went rigid, and even the act of breathing pained you. You continued to watch him with disbelief, your fingers itching for his touch. He was just in front of you, however he felt so far away. Something was very, very wrong indeed.

You repressed a sob as you looked away to hide your birthing tears, glancing at the many vials that glowed on the tables around. Alys’ medicine. 

You had made up your mind.

“I will never give up on you. I'm not going anywhere,” you flatly stated, and with all of the courage you could muster, you got up and left the tent, casting a last dark look at the vials.

The cold air attacked your skin as you stepped outside but it didn’t matter, your blood was boiling with anger now.

Something was very, very wrong.

It did not take much thinking on your part to know what to do.

You had to find Alys Rivers, and confront her. Something was amiss, and you would fight to know the truth behind your husband’s odd behaviour.

From some dark place inside of your mind, you heard a voice whisper to you that Aemond maybe meant everything he had said, that you have been blind to his desires to the Throne, that you had underestimated them and that they even surpassed his love for you.

But you shut that part of your mind quickly, realising that there was something more to it, that you knew your husband and you would not let him pull away from you.

You were his as much as he was yours.

You found her near a brazier not far from there, as if she was waiting for you and Aemond to be over with your conversation. It unnerved you even more.

“You...” you seethed, coming closer to her. No one else was around, she turned around.

“My Lady,” she greeted calmly, ignoring your furious gaze with condescension. 

You went straight to the point.

“What have you done to him? What was the spell you cast? Tell me, witch,” you demanded.

She only widened her eyes in innocence. “I only did what you asked of me, my Lady. I made him survive, he killed the Rogue Prince. I did what I thought was right.”

You knew you should not have let your anger take the better of you before someone who was versed in magic, perhaps ill magic even, but you did.

“Very well then, you will continue to do so, what is right, and not come close to him ever again,” you stated, tone harsh. “I will not let my husband be the subject of whatever you are inflicting him, or let you say calumnies about me.”

Your breath was heavy, and she did not answer right away.

Instead her widened eyes disappeared, replaced by a stern expression, calm, and all innocence left her all at once. She was now looking at you with something akin to despise, and you almost recoiled.

“I am not inflicting him anything, I am only helping him achieve his purpose, what he was always meant to do, to rule. You cannot separate us, he needs me, and you are only dragging him down. I am the one who made him stronger. He could never have that with you.”

Her tone had turned cold, matter-of-factly, and it was your turn to widen your eyes, her change of demeanour shocking you.

But your anger did not falter.

“You are a fool if you think you can put yourself between us. Do you believe me so blind not to see through your machinations?" you asked, willing to not let your jealousy cloud your goal. "You have done something to him, I am sure of it. What was that spell? What are you giving him? I will not have you using him for whatever goal you hope to achieve, so tell me now.”

She scoffed.

“But you are blind. You cannot see his potential as I can, he had been trapped by the straps of decency when he could have done so much more. You are nothing, only a common woman he had some attraction to, while he is the blood of Old Valyria, a dragon rider with a mind meant for the Throne,” she explained, her eyes burning in excitement. “My spells freed him, and my potions healed him. He had finally come to realise how futile you and his family have been all this time.”

You dropped your jaw in shock, wishing you had never accepted her help. Anything but this.

“You tricked me. You did bewitch him. You-!”

“You did that yourself. You are the one that accepted to hand me his fate, to perform a powerful ritual that freed him and rid him of what had been holding him back. You should be glad, for you had made his path to glory easier by stepping away from his life. As you should have long ago."

“I did no such thing and I won’t. I won’t abandon him. I will denounce your treachery, and you will be judged. My husband won’t stand for it, he will see through your deceit, he will not be misled so easily.”

She now bore a light smile, as if she was amused. You, on the other hand, were beyond angry.

“You are powerless, my Lady, it is too late. He will never part from me again, nor send me away, even if all of his relatives ask him to. We are linked, you made sure of it when you handed me that eye-patch.”

You paused, feeling very ill all of a sudden.

“I do not believe it. He loves me, he-” you tried, panic taking hold of you at each of her revelations spilled out of her mouth.

She took a menacing step closer.

“You are mistaken, my Lady. He will grow out of his love for you, for you have failed. You have given him a daughter when he needed a son, an heir for when he is King, and that makes you weak,” she explained in a cold tone. “But I can. I will give him a son that will strengthen his claim.”

Blood pumped into your ears and you felt dizzy. You felt completely at loss.

“How dare you…” you tried, feeling tears in your eyes again. “You are a madwoman if you believe that I will let you achieve your plan, I will give him all the children he wants, he does not care for...”

“Oh but I doubt it,” she stated, her face closer to you as she whispered, voice low like a prayer. “Over time, when all of your children die inside your womb before they even see light, he will come to realise your uselessness, and discard you, and only I will remain.”

You clutched your belly, fear taking hold of your whole body, her threat making you shiver. “No…”

“Do not try to cross me, my Lady, or the Prince,” she stated, taking a step back to take a look at your watery eyes and pitiful state. “You cannot do anything to stop it. He will achieve his destiny, and I will see to it, for I have seen it. My visions are everything he hopes for, and more.”

And with that she gave you a soft and glaring gaze, and turned away, leaving you utterly lost, a sour taste in your mouth.

You had hesitated to go straight to Aemond, to try and talk some sense into him, to reverse the spell somehow. But it was no use in your state, nauseous and completely appalled, knees weak and subject to strong and uncontrollable emotions. You stepped away from the brazier, where the smoke made you feel ill, and you let your feet lead you away into the dark, without really knowing where you were going.

Silent tears fell off your cheeks as you tried to think, but your mind was empty.

What could you do against magic? Would confronting Aemond truly not be enough?

Looking up, you saw a massive shadow in the distance, and your feet naturally walked toward it, as if drawn to it. At your approach, the form raised its head and observed you with yellow eyes, curious.

You were close now as Vhagar woke up from her slumber to greet you, and you realised that you were not scared in the least. There was something comforting in being close to another soul that shared so much with your husband.

“Greetings Vhagar,” you said, holding your hand out for her to smell it, to sense your emotions. Melancholy took you. 

“Do you miss him as much as I do?” you asked. It was the first thing that came to mind and you were sure her eyes gave you an empathetic look. You continued.

“I did not have the chance to thank you, for saving me, and your rider’s daughter at Bitterbridge,” you said, remembering that night as you flattened your hand under her eye. “You would do anything for him, would you not? Even for his unborn child.”

Her thin pupil was fixed on your face, listening to your every word attentively and she squealed.

It almost made you smile through your tears.

“The bond you share is unbreakable, unique,” you talked softly. “You can sense each other, I know… This is magic, something I cannot understand.”

You grieved for your lack of knowledge about the matter, feeling helpless against someone as powerful as a witch. “I wish I could, so I would know how to counter it…”

“You should not be here! It is dangerous!” someone yelled from afar.

You turned your head at the male’s voice, startling both you and Vhagar who snapped her head up and growled at the form near the edge of the camp. You narrowed your eyes as you made your way toward the man.

“Addam?” you called, now clearly seeing his recognisable feature and armour with the green dragons and white tower coat of arms on it. 

He sighed in relief.

“It is you, my Lady! I was scared for the poor soul who dared approach the beast for a moment,” he explained, shooting worried glances toward the she-dragon that still stared at him intensely as you levelled with him. “Are you not scared?”

You looked back at Vhagar, stance protective, wings slightly deployed.

“No, I am not. I think she feels as alone as I am,” you simply replied, trying to hide your surely puffy eyes. “I am glad to see you, my Lord. Did you arrive along with Lord Lannister?”

“I did. I was entrusted with Jacaerys Velaryon's escort to Harrenhal. I saw an opportunity to demand my brother’s safe return from the Wayfarers, as terms are now discussed. But let me accompany you back to your tent. The night is cold,” he said, but his eyes were still darting to Vhagar as he gently took your arms to pull you away.

“I am deeply sorry that none of your attempts to retrieve Hugo had succeeded my Lord. I will pray for him.”

“I thank you, my Lady. But I have hope, all of this thanks to your father’s magnificent work at securing peace terms. This war has lasted too long.”

You nodded in agreement, eyes on the ground as you walked, thinking of everything that could go wrong about this last claim, about everything that was wrong about Aemond. Addam noticed your troubled state.

“Are you alright, my Lady?” he inquired, observing you intensely.

“I only… I only find myself in a difficult situation, my Lord. And I have no idea how to deal with it,” you confessed. Addam had always been a good listener.

“You went through too many tribulations to let something bother you this much. Whatever it is, I am at your service, as I have always been. I could be of help, if you let me.”

You considered it for a moment, but you remembered Alys’s words, of how Aemond would never send her away, being too far gone under her spell. You would only make things worse for you and Addam.

However, the question escaped your lips.

“Do you know anything about sorcery?” you asked, earning a dumbfounded look from your friend as you arrived at your destination.

“Sorcery?” he stopped, thinking. “I am not sure, there are many forms of magic, but why would you-”

He was interrupted when someone opened the drapes of the tent and appeared one of Alicent Hightower’s servants, and behind her, the Queen herself.

“Y/N, where have you been? It is quite late,” she stated, coming closer with Naerys over her shoulder as you and Addam entered the warmth of the tent. She observed your obvious troubled state briefly, her brows knitting in concern before darting her eyes to your companion.

“You are Addam Vance of Atranta, are you not?” she correctly guessed, and Addam bowed at her.

“Indeed, your Grace,” he said with a polite smile. “I apologise for the interruption, I was only escorting Lady Y/N back to her lodgings.”

He glanced at you, silently inquiring about your previous interrupted conversation, asking if you needed him still. But you gave him a smile that you intended to be reassuring, even though you were sure it failed.  

Addam nodded and continued:

“I shall leave you alone and bid you goodnight then,” he bowed again. “Your Grace, Lady Y/N.”

His eyes glanced at you one last time, but he stopped in his tracks instantly, his eyes widening. “Lady Y/N? Are you alright? You’re… bleeding.”

You frowned as you brought your hand to your nose, feeling something wet flowing down on your skin. When you looked at your hand again, your fingers were bloody.

Then a sharp pain shot through your skull and you fell onto your knees, crushed by the ache and your vision blurring as you screamed in agony. The blood from your nose was dripping on the floor and you felt the pain travel from your head to your neck, and take hold of your lungs. Breathing hurt, and you could barely register the hands that tried to prevent you from falling.

You had no idea how long it lasted, the pain in your head being the most dolorous, but when it all stopped and you opened your eyes, you were lying down on your bed and several heads were looking down at you.

“My Lady, are you feeling better? Is it your head? Can you talk?” you heard the maester next to you say, and you tried to stand in a sitting position, bringing your hand to your temple to massage them. It was still dark outside.

“Y/N, can you hear me?” your father asked, and you guessed that he had been called as soon as you collapsed, but you didn’t recall him entering.

“Yes I…” you panted. “I just need a moment.”

The blood coming from your nose had stopped but you could see trails of it soaking your gown.

“What is with her maester?” you heard Alicent address the scholar. “Had she fallen ill?”

“I cannot be sure at the moment. From what you told me, your Grace, the symptoms were quite abrupt, we have to see how it develops. I will give her milk of the poppy for the time being.”

“No,” you cut, taking a sharp breath. “I do not want it.”

You knew how milk of the poppy clouded the mind, how it withdrew you from reality and made you fall into slumber, creating illusions and dreams even. You needed your full capacities at the moment, no matter how bad you felt.

You noticed that Addam was still present, and he was the only one who had not spoken, observing your face with a worried expression, eyes fixed on you.

“I will go pray to the Seven for her recovery,” announced Alicent. “I will take care of Naerys also, so you may rest, my dear. This family had suffered enough.”

You nodded, glad to see how much your granddaughter was cared for, at least by one member of her father’s bloodline, you thought bitterly. You let yourself lay down again, your head still throbbing.

All except your father and the maester were dismissed, and accepting an herbal concoction from the latter before falling asleep, all of your forces drained from your body.

You had hesitated to go straight to Aemond, to try and talk some sense into him, to reverse the spell somehow. But it was no use in your state, nauseous and completely appalled, knees weak and subject to strong and uncontrollable emotions. You stepped away from the brazier, where the smoke made you feel ill, and you let your feet lead you away into the dark, without really knowing where you were going.

Silent tears fell off your cheeks as you tried to think, but your mind was empty.

What could you do against magic? Would confronting Aemond truly not be enough?

Looking up, you saw a massive shadow in the distance, and your feet naturally walked toward it, as if drawn to it. At your approach, the form raised its head and observed you with yellow eyes, curious.

You were close now as Vhagar woke up from her slumber to greet you, and you realised that you were not scared in the least. There was something comforting in being close to another soul that shared so much with your husband.

“Greetings Vhagar.” you said, holding your hand out for her to smell it, to sense your emotions. Melancholy took you. 

“Do you miss him as much as I do?” you asked. It was the first thing that came to mind and you were sure her eyes gave you an empathetic look. You continued.

“I did not have the chance to thank you, for saving me, and your rider’s daughter at Bitterbridge.” you said, remembering that night as you flattened your hand under her eye. “You would do anything for him, would you not? Even for his unborn child.”

Her thin pupil was fixed on your face, listening to your every word attentively and she squealed.

It almost made you smile through your tears.

“The bond you share is unbreakable, unique.” you talked softly. “You can sense each other, I know… This is magic, something I cannot understand.”

You grieved for your lack of knowledge about the matter, feeling helpless against someone as powerful as a witch. “I wish I could, so I would know how to counter it…”

“You should not be here! It is dangerous!” someone yelled from afar.

You turned your head at the male’s voice, startling both you and Vhagar who snapped her head up and growled at the form near the edge of the camp. You narrowed your eyes as you made your way toward the man.

“Addam?” you called, now clearly seeing his recognizable feature and armour with the green dragons and white towers coat of arms on it. 

He sighed in relief.

“It is you my Lady! I was scared for the poor soul who dared approach the beast for a moment.” he explained, shooting worried glances toward the she-dragon that still stared at him intensely as you levelled with him. “Are you not scared?”

You looked back at Vhagar, stance protective, wings slightly deployed.

“No, I am not. I think she feels as alone as I am.” you simply replied, trying to hide your surely puffy eyes. “I am glad to see you, my Lord. Did you arrive along with Lord Lannister?”

“I did. I was entrusted with Jacaerys Velaryon's escort to Harrenhal. I saw an opportunity to demand my brother’s safe return from the Wayfarers, as terms are now discussed. But let me accompany you back to your tent. The night is cold.” he said, but his eyes were still darting to Vhagar as he gently took your arms to pull you away.

“I am deeply sorry that none of your attempts to retrieve Hugo had succeeded my Lord. I will pray for him.”

“I thank you, my Lady. But I have hope, all of this thanks to your father’s magnificent work at securing peace terms. This war has lasted too long.”

You nodded in agreement, eyes on the ground as you walked, thinking of everything that could go wrong about this last claim, about everything that was wrong about Aemond. Addam noticed your troubled state.

“Are you alright my Lady?” he inquired, observing you intensely.

“I only… I only find myself in a difficult situation, my Lord. And I have no idea how to deal with it.” you confessed. Addam had always been a good listener.

“You went through too many tribulations to let something bother you this much. Whatever it is, I am at your service, as I have always been. I could be of help, if you let me.”

You considered it for a moment, but you remembered Alys’s words, of how Aemond would never send her away, being too far gone under her spell. You would only make things worse for you and Addam.

However, the question escaped your lips.

“Do you know anything about sorcery?” you asked, earning a dumbfounded look from your friend as you arrived at your destination.

“Sorcery?” he stopped, thinking. “I am not sure, there are many forms of magic, but why would you-”

He was interrupted when someone opened the drapes of the tent and appeared one of Alicent Hightower’s servants, and behind her, the Queen herself.

“Y/N, where have you been? It is quite late.” she stated, coming closer with Naerys over her shoulder as you and Addam entered the warmth of the tent. She observed your obvious troubled state briefly, her brows knitting in concern before darting her eyes to your companion.

“You are Addam Vance of Atranta, are you not?” she correctly guessed, and Addam bowed at her.

“Indeed, your Grace.” he said with a polite smile. “I apologise for the interruption, I was only escorting Lady Y/N back to her lodgings.”

He glanced at you, silently inquiring about your previous interrupted conversation, asking if you needed him still. But you gave him a smile that you intended to be reassuring, even though you were sure it failed.  

Addam nodded and continued:

“I shall leave you alone and bid you goodnight then.” he bowed again. “Your Grace, Lady Y/N.”

His eyes glanced at you one last time, but he stopped in his tracks instantly, his eyes widening. “Lady Y/N? Are you alright? You’re… bleeding.”

You frowned as you brought your hand to your nose, feeling something wet flowing down on your skin. When you looked at your hand again, your fingers were bloody.

Then a sharp pain shot through your skull and you fell onto your knees, crushed by the ache and your vision blurring as you screamed in agony. The blood from your nose was dripping on the floor and you felt the pain travel from your head to your neck, and take hold of your lungs. Breathing hurt, and you could barely register the hands that tried to prevent you from falling.

You had no idea how long it lasted, the pain in your head being the most dolorous, but when it all stopped and you opened your eyes, you were lying down on your bed and several heads were looking down at you.

“My Lady, are you feeling better? Is it your head? Can you talk?” you heard the maester next to you say, and you tried to stand in a sitting position, bringing your hand to your temple to massage them. It was still dark outside.

“Y/N, can you hear me?” your father asked, and you guessed that he had been called as soon as you collapsed, but you didn’t recall him entering.

“Yes I…” you panted. “I just need a moment.”

The blood coming from your nose had stopped but you could see trails of it soaking your gown.

“What is with her maester?” you heard Alicent address the scholar. “Had she fallen ill?”

“I cannot be sure at the moment. From what you told me your Grace, the symptoms were quite abrupt, we have to see how it develops. I will give her milk of the poppy for the time being.”

“No.” you cut, taking a sharp breath. “I do not want it.”

You knew how milk of the poppy clouded the mind, how it withdrew you from reality and made you fall into slumber, creating illusions and dreams even. You needed your full capacities at the moment, no matter how bad you felt.

You noticed that Addam was still present, and he was the only one who had not spoken, observing your face with a worried expression, eyes fixed on you.

“I will go pray to the Seven for her recovery.” announced Alicent. “I will take care of Naerys also, so you may rest my dear. This family had suffered enough.”

You nodded, glad to see how much your granddaughter was cared for, at least by one member of her father’s bloodline, you thought bitterly. You let yourself laid down again, your head still throbbing.

All except your father and the maester were dismissed, and accepting an herbal concoction from the latter before falling asleep, all of your forces drained from your body.

When you woke up at dawn, the first thing on your mind was to see Aemond, as if your life depended on it. You still felt very sore from the pain you had experienced last night, but your mind was set on Alys and what she had planned, and although you dreaded what you had to do, your will was stronger than the ache.

The maester came early in order to examine you and provide you more healing serums, forcing you to delay your plan to visit your husband, and when you finally were allowed to walk outside, you were, of course, stopped by the one person you dreaded at the moment.

“Good morning, my Lady,” she greeted, but there was no warmth in her tone. You gritted your teeth.

“Let me pass,” you demanded.

“I heard of your recent woes, my Lady. I only came to be of service," she said with a honeyed voice. “Has your vision started to fail you yet?”

You took a step back, baffled.

“You… You did this?”

A flash of satisfaction passed briefly in her eyes, happy that you had caught on so quickly.

“Did you not know that magic came with a price? You should be happy to have granted your husband such a long life. I can only hope to make this easier for you.”

You wished nothing more than to have brought a dagger with you.

“You…” you snarled, feeling sick. “You will pay for this.”

“You should rest,” she cut. “I warned you, bad things could happen if you try to impede his path to glory. Stay away, and maybe you will be healthy enough to raise your daughter in peace.”

And with that she turned, leaving you once again alone and horrified, powerless. You close your eyes in pain, feeling your body respond to whatever she had inflicted on you and you felt your knees buckle.

“I have you, my Lady,” you heard a voice say next to you, strong arms suddenly preventing you from falling. 

Addam.

You have not seen him come out from behind a nearby banner, and you had no idea how he had rushed to your side. “Addam? I-… what…”

He grabbed your shoulder in order to ground you, allowing you to rest your weight on him. You could now glance at him and you saw a furious glare in his eyes that you had never witnessed within him, even in King’s Landing.

When he spoke, his tone was low, determined.

“I fear that prayers from the Queen won’t be enough,” he stated, and you felt him seethe with irritation. “If dark magic is involved, we will need far more drastic means.”

A/N: Alys lovers - please don't hate me.

-0- Part 32

Thank you @enchantingcupcakecollectionfan for the beta reading

@let-love-bleeds-red @crazylokonugget@jeyramarie@ephemeralninon@mrswhitethornbelikov@dudfahsn@missusnora@queenofterrasen418@honeytrapsblogp-graham@heathclifftragedyy @discowizard88@ivartheblessed@xceafh@bubbletae7@omgkatherine01@tzipora-art@signyvenetia @ml0103 @nsainmoonchild @lonadane @skythighs@bietchz@samnblack@mariaelizabeth21-blog1@projectcampbell @ripdragonbeans @caribbeangal@polireader@zillahvathek@moni-cah @literishdegree99 @a-beaverhausen @thekinslayer @maniccrystalhippie @princessofdarkwinter @isaxbella749@claudie-080102@ebaylee422@hydrationqueensworld@crumblychunksofheaven@officiallyunofficialperson@grungegrrrl@stargaryenx @dark-night-sky-99 @notanenthucutlet @saeselkie

[addamvelaryon]

I don’t talk about it enough but Addam/Ben is such a good dynamic. Because while Addam would have been under a lot of stress, considering his present predicament (as a wanted criminal technically), he can still have a brief moment of happiness with someone who doesn’t judge him unnecessarily. And Ben, who is depicted as a person very concerned with honor, still chose to trust Addam and follow him. He’s the one who commanded the centre in Addam’s army. It’s mentioned in Fire & Blood that Ben has experienced more of the horror of war in his short life than many other people his age or older. It made him kind of ruthless and violence prone but I think he would be able to relax and let his guard down a little around Addam who is repeatedly shown to be protective of others. Their characterizations work really nicely together.

Regardless of whether it’s just a platonic friendship or something more like romance, Ben must have cared a lot for Addam. After Tumbleton, when the Riverlords retreated from the battlefield, they left their dead behind. Except for Ben, who took Addam’s body with him rather than leaving it to the carrion crows. Even laying his remains to rest at Raventree Hall, despite Addam not being a Blackwood (unless they got married at the Isle of Faces, in which case…).

[gojuo]

https://www.tumblr.com/gojuo/717780379148386305?source=share

What about Aemond? Isn't he male and one of Rhaenyra's enemies why he is receiving a SPA treatment of his character, a treatment that not even the male characters of team black have lmao

Aemond may be on the Green side which means being an antagonist to Rhaenyra, but he is not her narrative foil. Aegon is Rhaenyra's foil and Aemond is Daemon's. And Daeron is the narrative foil to Aemond.

The Targtower siblings come in a package. It's Aegon and Helaena on one side being contrasted to each other: Aegon is a party animal vs. Helaena is a gentle and chaste lady; when B&C happens, Aegon turns his anger outwards towards the world and uses that anger to lash out vs. Helaena breaks into pieces, loses her mind and all of the trauma turns her into a hollow shell of her former joyful and outgoing self; Helaena commits suicide vs. Aegon lives on in spite of it all, etc.

For the other two, you aren't going to understand why Daeron is juxtaposed to Aemond if you don't know their book characters. Anyone who knows anything about F&B knows that Daeron was the single most likeable character in the entire Dance. And Aemond was a psychopath.

If I were to list book!Aemond's personality traits, I would say that he was a loud, brash, arrogant, cruel, impulsive, angry, contemptuous and scornful person. He's also ruthless, psychotic, blood-thirsty and more than a little unhinged. The Greens nearly break through Rhaenyra's forces and win the war but Aemond's recklessness and impatience fucks it all up. He murders every single member of House Strong because he had an issue with only one of them as well as doing it just because he felt like doing it. He takes Alys to bed as a spoil of war and he genocides the people of the Riverlands for funsies. He was a badass and unapologetically himself who was unafraid to speak his mind, no matter how harsh, but Aemond was no brooding, quiet and reserved type who held himself back like in the show. That's Daeron.

I call Daeron Aemond's narrative foil because he was the counterbalance to Aemond's intense personality. It is Daeron who is the quiet, reserved, pensive, and reputable man who is selflessly and completely devoted to the family. He commits/allows for heinous acts of war in Bitterbridge as retribution for what the people did to his nephew (which he regrets immensely), he fights to the bitter end to reunite with his mother and sister in King's Landing, he throws wine in Hugh's face when the man insinuates Aegon is dead, he is the favorite and most loved child of the four, etc.

In F&B, Aemond isn't particularly characterized as caring for his family much. He metaphorically rubs salt in Aegon’s wounds with his comment about how the Conqueror's Crown fits him better than it ever did Aegon, and his refusal to stick to Criston's orders and choose Alys over him and his family is what leads to the Fall of King's Landing and then snowballs into Butcher's Ball, Tumbleton, Bitterbridge, etc. If anything, book!Aemond seems to care about no one but himself — sans Alys when the time comes.

Daeron is courteous, honorable and the valiant and heroic knight of the story. He was The King Who Should Have Been (over Rhaenyra and Aegon). Near the end of the Dance, when Rhaenyra turns full psycho, it is Daeron who is still fighting the honorable fight and becomes the clear cut good guy protagonist of the narrative, trying to put an end to Queen Maegor With Teats who has turned full-on villain at this point in time.

And what happened in the show is that Daeron — the clear cut good guy of the story — has been merged together with the character of Aemond — the clear cut bad guy on the Greens' side.

The truth is that the hack known as Miguel Sapochnik was not going to include Daeron in the show. This is all but confirmed by his Season 2 outlines that were leaked a while back in which there was not a single mention of Daeron + Viserys saying "All of my family here," during the dinner scene in which there was no Daeron + Daemon saying "[The Greens'] three dragons," meaning no Daeron and Tessarion.

The fact that Sapochnik walked away (read: threw a hissy fit and basically got fired for his shitty S02 outlines) and then the second after that happened GRRM went on his blog to assure us fans that Daeron was in the show, they just didn't have the time to mention his existence at all in this entire season with not even 1 fucking line (bullshit) is the cherry on top. GRRM posted that blog entry on October 11th, and episode 9 — which is the very first episode which showed us Alicent's bloodline split and her four children and three grandchildren with a hastily thrown-in VFX at the obvious last minute — aired on October 16th. I suppose October was when Sapochnik got the boot lol.

So what happened was that Daeron's character was combined with Aemond's. What happens when two characters who are each other’s foils are being merged into one? Especially when one of them is a cartoon villain with little to no depth and the other is the classical hero archetype? You get the belief that the Aemond of the show has been whitewashed.

(Off topic, but personally, I don’t like calling what happened to show!Aemond “whitewashing”, because that insinuates there was a deliberate attempt to cover up Aemond’s more than unpleasant book personality by sugarcoating his canon actions — like how the show did with Rhaenyra — but that’s not what the show did. Showrunners and writers just gave Aemond Daeron’s book personality, and there is nothing sugarcoated or whitewashed about Daeron. He just is, objectively, the good guy.)

Now back to the topic: what happens when two narrative foils get merged into one? The character needs to become a foil to someone else. And this new Frankenstein-ish Aemond/Daeron mishmash became the foil to Aegon. Of course, Aemond will always be, no matter what changes about the show, the narrative foil to Daemon: they are second sons, they die to each other in an epic dragon battle, they are both the villains of their respective sides, their names are anagrams of each other, etc. However, in Season 1, it is not quite Daemon Aemond is being juxtaposed to. Not yet anyways, no. In Season 1, Aemond is being juxtaposed to Aegon.

That is why we got the cringe scene of “‘Tis I who studies the sword, ‘tis I who studies history, ‘tis I who studies philosophy,” or whatever the fuck he said. That is why we had Aemond join Criston in searching for Aegon when in F&B that didn’t happen (and stole Kingmaker Cole’s role in convincing Aegon of the crown but that’s a topic for another day). That’s why we got Aegon begging Aemond to just let him go and sail away, insinuating that Aemond was the better option to take the crown (when in F&B that was 1. literally not what happened during that scene at all and 2. one of Aegon’s biggest and most important character defining moments. And they ruined it all in favor of Aemond AAGGRGRHHHHHGG). Remember how I said Daeron was The King Who Should Have Been over both Rhaenyra and Aegon? They gave this trait to Aemond in order to contrast him to Aegon who never wanted to be king at all.

This Daeron-ification of Aemond now makes him “the better man” between him and his brother in the show, and that was done all to the detriment of Aegon's character. It’s also what led to the application of the Aegon IV/Naerys/Aemon-love triangle to the Aegon II/Helaena/Aemond-show dynamic. In the book, this never would've passed because Aemond is the worst of all four siblings, and Daeron was simply too young.

There is not a single character on House of the Dragon who has gone through the same amount of character assassination as Aegon has.

Now, all this doesn't mean that Aemond = Daeron in the show, it means that most of Daeron's characterization has been merged together with the character of Aemond. Because it was abundantly clear that Sapochnik was not going to include Daeron in the show. This is what might lead you to believe that Aemond has been whitewashed, when in fact the character is just a Frankenstein fusion of Daeron the Daring and Aemond One-Eye. Just like the Young Griff-Jon Snow/Daenerys/Cersei fiasco of GOT.

[stupidjewishwhiteboy]

HOTD has established that Ulf White, while affable enough, is not necessarily a man of high character, so I can definitely see his storyline from Fire & Blood going as planned out. However, Hugh Hammer is so different from the frankly brutish character from the book that I’m interested to see how they follow his storyline (although the fact that his wife’s family is specifically from Tumbleton will almost certainly play a part in it).

They also seem to be signposting that they’re going to combine the characters of Rhaena and Nettles, which makes sense (given how many characters there already are) as both characters have a relationship with Daemon, but also since both characters have wildly different roles in the Dance of Dragons (not to mention wildly different ends to their stories) it’ll be interesting to see what happens on the show.

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Flesh and Blood

Part 2: The Melee

Pairing: Prince Aemon the Dragonknight x Fem. Reader (Northerner /House Stark | Third Person POV)

Themes: Angst

Warnings: Mentions of emotional neglect | References to canon Targcestuous marriages (Daena and Baelor) | The supposed “relationship” between Aemon and Naerys | Weapons use | Mentions of blood and injuries 

Word count: 3.1K

Summary: On the day of the melee, Aemon finds counsel pertaining to the matter of his marraige.

Rules and tag form can be found here.

Reference to the melee: here |  Part 1 here | Painting: The Melee, Eglinton Tournament, Irvine, Ayrshire, by James Henry Nixon.

Aemon had not been able to sleep during the night. His body—bruised and throbbing all over—was as stiff as a board. The final joust had been between him and Ser Jasper of Tumbleton. The knight gave as good as he got, nearly unhorsing Aemon and claiming the final match. Aemon then nearly unhorsed him on the next turn, and the knight barely held on to his saddle. Their horses tore up the earth, red, black, and silver silks swirling around their saddles as riders raced toward each other. Lances splintered when they met in the middle, but the outcome was always the same. The men were evenly matched. It came down to a draw, and the queen decided to give both men the victory.

Ser Jasper wanted to let Aemon claim the win as he was a prince of the realm, but Aemon would not hear of it. He insisted they share the spoils. Ser Jasper was pleased. Aemon, on the other hand, felt empty and found no joy in the victory. He did not hear the loud cheers and applause that followed the queen's verdict. He did not see the flowers being thrown onto the field or the trinkets tossed down by well-wishers. All Aemon could see was an empty seat. All he could hear were his lady wife's accusations. She had accused him of neglecting her and keeping Naerys as a mistress. She believed he did not want her and that he found her unclean. 

Naerys was never his mistress; that much was true. She was only his sister and nothing more than that. Spending time with her was a habit, one that was born after their mother left, and they had to depend on each other for guidance and comfort. There was nothing untoward, nothing that could disgrace either of them. 

Perhaps, that was not what others saw, Aemon conceded. Maybe they saw something else—something that was never there. 

He stared at the ceiling and sighed. A wave of regret rose from his thoughts. He spent too much time with Naerys. The chief of his day was spent with her, sparring, praying... and spending very little time with his wife. Aemon was ashamed to admit that he could not even remember the last time he broke fast with his wife. Y/n was more or less left to fend for herself while he carried on as if nothing had changed. When he came to her at night, it was so he could do his duty and leave once he was done. That was what he was told by his father. He was to do his duty and produce an heir, nothing more than that. Aemon was to produce an heir, in the event Baelor died childless and a council was called to decide the successor. Few would want a queen, his father had said, and fewer would want his older brother on the throne. The High Septon assured him that duty was all that was mattered in a marraige, and that his wife would be content with it.

It was not enough for his wife. She was not content with just duty. She had asked for more. She wanted more warmth and desire, and he denied her. He told her that it would only lead to lust and sin. That was what he was taught and what he believed in. He insisted she must never ask such a thing of him again. He remembered the way he looked at her. It was cold and full of judgment. He remembered the look in her eyes when he said it. She was devastated.  

Haunted by remorse, he rose out of bed and called for his squire. Dawn was approaching, and Aemon needed to bathe and cleanse himself before going to the palace Sept. He needed to pray and ask the Crone for guidance to find a way to mend the shambles that were his marriage. 

Sunlight poured through stained glass windows when Aemon walked out of his chambers, garbed in simple robes. Since he had acquired a wife and household, his father deemed it necessary for him to have larger accommodations. He gave him the keys to the tower facing the Godswood on one side and the sea on the other. All that was heard here were the sounds of birds, waves hammering against the cliffs, and leaves rustling in the wind. The rooms were tastefully decorated. All in all, it suited Aemon perfectly. 

The winding stairway led him past one room after another until he came to y/n's bedchamber. Having never seen it in the light of day, Aemon opened the door and stepped inside. 

There was a beautiful tapestry on one wall. The scene depicted a young girl riding an ice dragon, one that was said to live in the White Waste and the Shivering Sea. Aemon shivered. Y/n's bedroom was cold and strangely empty now that she had fled to the Cerwyn manse. A carriage came late the night before with servants and a trunk. Y/n would be staying with her kin for a while. A letter she had sent through a maid said little else. He eyed her bed and the pretty coverlets she had brought when she traveled to Kings Landing and felt a sharp pang of guilt. Y/n must have come into the marriage with so much hope, only to have them crushed. The feeling kept gnawing at him while he made his way to the Sept.  

It was empty, but candles were alight. Baelor had been here already. Cleansing himself, no doubt, after spending the night with the queen. It was something Aemon himself did after his wedding. At night, he would do his duty. In the morning, he would come to the Sept to pray and cleanse himself. 

Is it wrong? He thought to himself. Would it wound y/n if she found out?

Aemon shook his head and took several deep breaths to calm his mind. He picked up a candle. Someone opened the door, and a warm gust of wind blew in. Flames flickered and danced, throwing strange shadows over the walls. 

"My pardons, my lord." A Maester, old but still full of life, stood by the doorway. "Do you wish to be left alone?" 

Aemon studied him. He had not met this Maester before. "I do not mind, Maester..."

"Barth, if it please you." Maester Barth stepped into the cool marble interior of the Sept and shut the door behind him. "I came to meet the Grand Maester and was asked to wait."

"Did you come to pray, Maester Barth?" Aemon walked over to the marble sculpture of a wizened woman. Her eyes had been carved in such a way that they gave the appearance of someone who had seen a great many things in her long life and had much counsel to give.

"I confess I did not." Barth went over to a likeness of the Warrior to admire it. "I just came to while away my time until the Grand Maester was ready to receive me."

Aemon nodded and went about his task. He lit the candle and set it by the likeness of the Crone. He closed his eyes and tried to pray. He failed miserably. His mind was a roil; it was too troubled by the memories that came unbidden. The memory of his wife walking away after having endured more than she could, her stricken eyes when he caught up with her, her tears. Aemon sighed. He opened his eyes and turned to the Maester, recognizing the black ribbon tied to one link on the Maester's chain. Barth was a widower who had joined the order much later in life. Aemon went to him, wondering if he would help him. 

"Maester Barth," he said, "can I ask you a question?"

"Of course." Barth fussed over his robes and lowered himself onto a bench. "How may I help you, Prince Aemon?"

Aemon began with, "I assume you know what happened yesterday?"

"Oh aye," Barth said, moving to the other end to make room for the prince. "I was there, watching like all the rest. And I heard the talk. Fret not, my lord. People will forget once a new scandal presents itself. It will happen soon enough in a city as big as this."

"The people will forget," Aemon agreed, and joined him. "But I fear my lady will not."

"Is she here?"

"No. My wife left to stay with her kin."

"I see." Barth stroked his gray beard and pondered. "If it would not offend, may I ask if there is any truth to the talk? Is there something untoward between you and Princess Naerys?"

Aemon had been expecting this question and was prepared. "There is none. Naerys and I..." he glanced at the floor. "For that, I have to start from the beginning." 

Barth nodded. "Go on, my lord."

"I was three when my mother left for Lys," Aemon said, his eyes growing wet with tears. He had lost count of the times he had asked his father about his mother. And he had lost count of the times his father refused to answer. "Aegon was four. Naerys was a babe still in the cradle. Father changed after that. Before my mother left, he was always ready for a laugh, always willing to indulge us. Then he changed. Father grew cold and distant. We were left to our Maesters and Septas. We received little affection from our father. It was as if all that was loving in him vanished when my mother left. In time, Aegon turned to wine and women for comfort. Naerys and I turned to the Faith and each other... which I now realize may not have been all that healthy, or even wise."

"True," Barth said, "but given the circumstances, it is understandable. Does your wife know this?"

"I confess she does not," Aemon said. "And I am not sure she will believe me if I told her. Not now. Not after what happened."

"Try. That is all you can do." Barth sat up straight, his chain clinking as he did so. "Perhaps send the lady a letter. Ask for her forgiveness. Ask what she wants of you, of this marriage."

Asking for forgiveness was easy. But the rest... "I know what my wife wants. Warmth and affection, and to feel desired. I do not know if I can do it."

Barth studied him. "May I ask why?" 

"Because warmth and desire lead to lust and sin. That was what I was taught." Aemon repeated the words, but he was starting to doubt them. "We are to tend to spiritual matters instead of turning our eyes to matters of the flesh."

"My lord," Barth said gently, "if the Gods wished us to only turn our eyes to matters of the spirit, they would not have made for us bodies of flesh and blood. Besides, the lady is your lawful wife. What harm can come from indulging her a little?" 

Aemon admitted—albeit reluctantly—that there was some truth to the Maester's words. Y/n was his lawful wife. They pledged oaths in the presence of the Seven and men. He placed her under his cloak of protection. Perhaps the Maester was right. There was no harm in showing more and doing more. Still, he had his doubts, his questions. "I was told marriage required only duty and fidelity, nothing more."

"Duty and fidelity are important," Barth allowed, his eyes growing misty as if he was reminiscing. "But if a marriage is to last, it will need more than duty and fidelity. I speak from experience. Besides, few women will take kindly to a cold bed and a loveless marriage." A nearby bell chimed the hour. The Maester stood up and straightened his robes. His stomach was rumbling. Even Aemon heard it. "Walk this old man to the kitchens, my lord. We can talk more about your matter over a meal."

Several hours later, Aemon rode from the Red Keep, heading straight to the tourney grounds. His talk with Maester Barth was illuminating and gave him much to think about. Some of it left him blushing a vivid crimson. Aemon knew little when it came to matters of the marriage bed; that was plain to him now. Atop his courser, he glanced at the shields outside silk tents while he rode past them. A golden rose upon a green field, a golden lion against a background of red, the archer, a cluster of grapes, a leaping silver trout, the sun and spear. There were more, so many more. Aemon could not name them all. He took a deep breath. The air was rich with the scents of ale and mead and meat roasting over braziers.

"Is the queen here?" he asked when a page came to take the reins of his horse. 

"Not yet, my lord," the lad said. "But we expect her soon."

Aemon dismounted. A gaurdsman offered him skewers of roasted mutton and potatoes. Out of courtesy, Aemon helped himself to one, talking to some of the others that had gathered before walking to the royal box. Most of the court was already here, awaiting the start of the melee. He smiled at several lords and ladies before taking a seat. Naerys was not here this morn. A full day in the hot sun made her ill. She had to stay back at the Red Keep. Y/n was here, seated at the far end of the box. She was talking to an older, intimidating-looking noblewoman and did her best to ignore Aemon. Remorse welled to the surface again. Y/n was clearly distressed by being here. It was plain to anyone who saw it. The lady next to her seemed to keep her distracted, often asking questions. Aemon looked around and found Lord Commander Hardyng standing nearby. He called him over. "Who is that lady?"

Commander Hardyng allowed himself a few whimpers and crouched down. He lowered his voice so no one would overhear. "That is Lady Cerwyn, my lord. The others next to your wife are her children. They only came here to support Ser Uther." He excused himself when his squire came in search of him. Aemon turned towards Lady Cerwyn again. She was as tall as many of the lords present and carried herself with pride. She was dressed the same as y/n, in a pink gown gathered to a choker that sat around her throat, leaving her arms and shoulders exposed. Crimson drops had been embroidered along the hem of her skirt. Her headdress mimicked the colors of her dress. A bronze medallion belt with a flayed man etched onto each disk looped around her waist.

She is a Bolton, he realized with a start. She must be a sister to y/n's mother.

Lady Cerwyn turned as if she heard his thoughts. Her gaze was as cold as ice; her eyes were pale gray and frightening. The lady may have been a Cerwyn by marriage, but she was a Bolton through and through. Aemon smiled at her, and she nodded curtly in return. The Master of Revels came forward to announce the arrival of the queen. They all rose as one. Daena was accompanied by Lord Commander Hardyng, with her sisters following her. Today she was dressed in silks of black and red. Gold glittered around her throat and her wrists. She seemed to be happy, the anger in her eyes had cooled a little. After she sat down, the rest followed, and the melee commenced. 

When the trumpets sounded, dozens of horses charged into the field. It was a frenzy of dust, silk, and armor, of splintering lances and the clash of tourney swords. Someone swung a blunted war hammer. The blunted weapons meant nothing. There were few rules; more than one knight would not survive to see the end of the day. More than once, the people shouted or cried when a knight fell and had to roll out of the way of a rearing horse. There was nothing but violence. Bones shattered and blood spilled onto the soil. Squires had to rush to the middle to drag a knight too wounded to stand. 

Aemon glanced over at his wife. Y/n was watching the fighting. There was worry in her eyes, but she kept her composure. The same could have been said for her kin. The only time he saw any reaction was towards the end, when Uther and a knight of the King's Guard were the last two standing. Both men had dismounted and fought on foot. 

They hammered and slashed at each other. Neither man was willing to yield to the other. Ser Addam Storm was the better swordsman. Uther had the upper hand with his war hammer. They fought tirelessly and ruthlessly, with Uther ducking to avoid Addam's sword and Addam diving to avoid Uther's war hammer. Y/n and her cousins rushed to the balcony when Uther delivered a decisive blow. They shouted encouragement in the old tongue, spurring Uther to hammer Addam to the ground.

"I yield! I yield!" Addam cried and threw away his sword. He lifted his arms in surrender. "I yield!"

Uther dropped his war hammer and lifted the visor of his helm, revealing a bruised face. The cheers were deafening, and he lapped it all up like an eager puppy.

"There will be no living with that boy after this." Lady Cerwyn said fondly and smiled. She applauded like all the rest, then rose and walked to the balcony. Uther had picked up a trinket thrown to him and tossed it up for his mother to catch. Exhausted, he bowed and took his leave of them all. Lady Cerwyn called her family to her. It was time they took their leave as well. 

Aemon followed them out, keeping a respectful distance whenever y/n stopped to introduce her aunt to a curious member of the court. He was behind them until they had reached their carriage. Uther was already inside, holding a clean cloth to his face. His sisters were fussing over him.

"My lady," Aemon cried to Lady Cerwyn while y/n hurried inside. He had a piece of parchment in his hand. "My lady, can you give this to my wife?"

Lady Cerwyn stopped and eyed him with distaste. "A letter?" she said, glancing at the rolled and sealed parchment in his outstretched hand. "Pray what does it contain?"

"An explanation," Aemon said, peeking inside. Y/n was seated by the window on the other side. She had been applying salve to her cousin's bruises. "That is all. Please give this to my wife. I ask for nothing else."

One of Lady Cerwyn's younger sons stuck his head out the window and glared at Aemon. "Not a word from you, Ned," she said sharply, doing a double take. "Or you, Lyanna," she told one of her daughters. 

"But Mama..." Ned whined. Lyanna grumbled and sat back down. 

"Not a word. I mean it." Lady Cerwyn gave her son a look that brooked no refusal. Ned muttered under his breath but did as his mother commanded. She turned back to Aemon. "An explanation, you say. Is that all?"

"There is more. This letter contains an apology," Aemon replied, still hopeful. The letter was not his finest, he had written it before he left the Red Keep. Aemon still hoped the words were heartfelt. "And a plea for forgiveness. I...I realize I have a great deal to atone for."

Lady Cerwyn studied him and considered his request. "I will give my niece your letter," she finally said, accepting the parchment. "But I will not make any promises."

"I understand," Aemon said gratefully as he helped her into the carriage. "Thank you."