#victor velaryon

[thevelaryons]

I love how GRRM always positions various Velaryon brothers as having a close bond with each other. Although not much is known about some of the sibling dynamics in the family, when GRRM chooses to write about them, it is with a sense of brotherhood and unity.

Even in such instances where the relationship is only implied in the text, it is as a positive one. Aurane is a bastard and yet he integrates himself amongst the highborn without any issue, suggesting a somewhat polished upbringing in a castle. He also served in the Velaryon fleet, led by his trueborn half-brother Lord of Driftmark, Monford. It's mentioned in the books that bastard children are usually kept away from the family because they are viewed as a source of shame. It is considered very unusual for a bastard to be raised in a castle with their trueborn family (re: Jon Snow). But that could certainly be the case with the Bastard of Driftmark. His moniker does suggest a close association with house Velaryon which means he was not a bastard that was hidden away. Especially when you consider that Aurane, despite being very treacherous and self-serving, never once does anything against his brother's family. When he sets his sight on a castle he wants to claim, it is not Driftmark, but another castle. He sails his powerful fleet past Driftmark thrice and makes no move to attack the seat governed by his late brother’s son even though house Velaryon is in service to the rebel Stannis and Aurane is trying to ingratiate himself with the Lannister regime. Despite the commonly held belief that bastards will seek to harm their trueborn siblings, Aurane is not once shown acting against Monford or his remaining family at Driftmark. All his treachery is reserved for the Lannisters, who are more or less responsible for Monford’s death at the Battle of the Blackwater.

Addam & Alyn's relationship is a prime example of Velaryon brotherhood. Although the narrative presents their identity arcs as Velaryons differently (in relation to their parents), it’s done so in a manner that still connects the brothers to each other. Alyn’s actions are often framed in the text as a "what would Addam do in this situation?" way. They participate in the Red Sowing together and they clearly remained close enough to each other for the duration that Addam was quickly able to save Alyn's life. They get physically separated afterwards only because Alyn is bedbound from his burns. Alyn openly laughs in the face of a King who calls him brother and says that a "brother by blood" is the only true form of brotherhood. Years after Addam's death, Alyn still honors his brother with a touching memorial.

There are several instances of brotherly love shown between Jace/Luke/Joff as well. From defending each other from a bully to all three echoing each other in upholding their mother's claim, they are always in sync. The loss of a brother is expressed openly and the desire for vengeance too.

The more minor instances of brotherhood in the family further showcase this.

Sometimes it's as simple as hanging out together to serve as royal escorts:

Though Daemon Velaryon, as the Crown’s lord admiral and master of ships, was in King’s Landing with the regents, that did not prevent Jaehaerys and Alysanne from flying their dragons to Driftmark and touring his shipyards, escorted by his sons, Corwyn, Jorgen, and Victor.

Other times it's plotting together. The Silent Five may be committing treason, but they do that as a united front:

When they took their case before the sick and failing Viserys, they made the grievous mistake of questioning the legitimacy of his daughter’s children. Viserys had their tongues removed for this insolence, though he let them keep their heads.

.

Three of the “silent five” had died during the Dance, fighting for Aegon II against Rhaenyra…but two survived.

[...]

“Lacking tongues with which to make their appeal, they preferred to argue with swords,” says Mushroom. However, the plot to murder their young lord went awry when the guards at Castle Driftmark proved loyal to the Sea Snake’s memory and his chosen heir. Ser Malentine was slain during the attempt; his brother captured.

The Velaryon brothers who act within the law are also depicted taking action together each time. Interesting how it's not specified which of the two wishes to claim Driftmark for himself, over the other. They are partners in all that they do and that's all that matters:

All came forward now, insisting that they had more right to Driftmark than “this bastard of Hull, whose mother was a mouse.” Ser Vaemond’s sons Daemion and Daeron took their claim to the council in King’s Landing. When the Hand and the regents ruled against them, they wisely chose to accept the decision and be reconciled with Lord Alyn.

I just think it’s neat that regardless of the circumstances of the characters’ upbringing, whether trueborn or bastard, there’s a supportive bond between Velaryon brothers each time.

[chloe-petrichors]

seething, blooming // jace x reader

your father has always been something of an opportunist, but trying to marry you off to the blacks while he courts the greens? this is taking playing the game to a whole new level.

the rose discovers she is an instrument of war. —victor hugo.

fandom; house of the dragon pairing; jacaerys velaryon x f!tyrell!reader (no use of y/n) warnings; canon au (set after aegon takes the crown but before luke's death bc luke will never die in my eyes), altered timeline (jace and reader are in their 20s), arranged marriage, mention parental death/death in childbed (reader's mother), love at first sight vibes, jace is a flirtatious little shit with his betrothed, tooth rotting fluff, love confessions. word count; 6k+ notes; one day i might write for another man. but that day is not today. jace velaryon u have my heart. i'm not majorly pleased w this fic but it's given me enough trouble and it's as good as it's gonna get! this was longer originally, and was meant to be a bit more political at first hence the blurb/quote choice, but i haaated some of the scenes so ended up scrapping 'em. she's not as long as predicted as a result but still an ok length i think. some of the scenes i scrapped were tragically the smut ones, so have this fairly pg one-shot with the promise of the smut-shot sitting in my drafts coming ur way soon. fair warning that the scrapping of scenes has fudged with the pacing a bit but honestly i can't take this fic sitting in my drafts any longer so here u go!! i have a taglist now, mostly cos eldrith keeps telling me i have to tag her in everything, so lmk if you'd like to be added to it! requests; are open !

the rising sun paints highgarden in shades of pink and gold.

you stand upon your balcony, finger curled loosely over the pale marble as you stare distantly out over the rolling green fields and blooming gardens. the faint bubbling of the river mander in the distance adds to the peaceful morning, the early wash of sunlight coaxing the sleeping world into life. a cool breeze carries the sweet smell of roses and you take a steadying breath, eyes fluttering shut as you tilt your face up to the sun.

it's a morning that starts like many others. you’ve always risen from bed early, the slow blooming of morning stirring you from slumber more often than not. birds chirp and bees buzz and the river flows and you rise with it, like part of you calls to the breaking dawn.

if not for the thick sheaf of parchment discarded on your father’s desk, it could be a morning like any other. but the parchment is there, and this day will be like no other before it.

today, a dragon is expected at highgarden.

a targaryen has not stepped foot in the reach since before you were born. you don’t think even the princess rhaenyra – queen, now, according to some – had come this far on her marriage tour years ago. but your father has taken it upon himself to invite a prince to your home.

you love your father deeply, but in this you think he must be a fool. as lord paramount of the reach he is, in theory, the power of this kingdom. but anyone with a lick of sense knows that it’s the hightowers that the people look to; oldtown is home to the starry sept, the citadel and, perhaps more importantly, the dowager queen’s family line.

the tyrells have only been in power for a few generations, and people’s memories are long. too many know the truth of how house tyrell had been only a steward when the gardener kings had ruled before the conquest. and so too many see tyrell as a house grasping for power that should be beyond their fingers, and your father is apparently determined to prove them all right.

he’s been careful about his neutrality as war threatens to break out between the targaryen kin, brother and sister both claiming their right to the throne and the realm splitting down the middle. your father has not officially allied with either side, walking a careful tightrope to appease both. up until now you had assumed he sided more with the greens, but he’d sent your assumptions crumbling with only a few sheets of parchment.

your father has always been too ambitious for his own good.

gods, how you miss your mother. when she’d been alive, she’d tempered the worst of your father’s foolishness. she’d been a stark before she’d married, steadfast and sensible in the face of your father’s folly. she’d been a woman unlike any other you’ve known; ferocious and a little wild, but with a good heart and a warm smile for any she’d met.

she’d taught you how to be a lady, but so much more than that – she’d taught you to know your own mind. to know when to mind your tongue and when to speak, how to grow your roots so deep you will always stand tall, flourishing and growing like the most determined of flowers. she’d taught you a little of that northern ice, too, reminding you oft that for as much as you were a rose of highgarden you were equally a wolf of the north, and the wolf’s blood has always run thick in your veins. 

she’d called you her little winter rose; delicate and steely and a rare bloom, indeed. she had loved you so fiercely you’d flourished with her tender care, just as the patch of winter roses she’d brought from the glass gardens of winterfell had bloomed ‘neath her careful ministrations. a piece of the north she’d brought south with her, a tiny bit of her home that she’d cradled and cared for until the day you’d lost her to the birthing bed.

your little brother is nearing six, now, and many moons have passed since the sudden grief of your mother had overwhelmed you. but, in recent days you have ached with her loss more often, wondering what she would think of your father’s plans, what she would say to soothe your storm of anxiety. with your looming marriage you find yourself missing your mother acutely, the grief a reopened wound in your chest.

because you are a betrothed woman, now, to be married to a stranger, a prince who is sure to be fighting a war against his kin in the moons to come.

the velaryon prince arrives on dragon back as the sun reaches its peak in the sky.

he dismounts his winged steed in an empty stretch of land a distance from the keep itself, and your father greets him there with a host of staff to accompany him back to the entrance courtyard.

your brother leo bounces in place beside you where you stand with the rest of the household in the courtyard, fairly vibrating with energy at the prospect of seeing a real-life dragon. since the news of the prince’s arrival was announced a sennight ago, leo has done little else but babble about dragons and magic and targaryens. you wish you could share his excitement, his sheer uncomplicated joy, but this visit comes with too many conflicting emotions for you to enjoy it at all.

you’ve always known you would not marry for love. you are the eldest child and only daughter of the lord of the reach – love has never been a factor you could afford to consider. you would do your duty and marry for your house, to seal whatever alliance your father deemed important enough. you’d resigned yourself to this fate as a young girl when your mother had told you in slow, halting words the fear she had felt coming south to marry your father.

but you’d not expected to marry a total stranger. you’d thought your father would at least do you the courtesy of allowing you to meet a suitor before betrothing you to them, but in his feverish ambition to sit his blood on the iron throne he’d promised you to a man you’ve never laid eyes upon.

you don’t want to be queen.

frankly, you think yourself a touch unsuited for it. your father has many times bemoaned your wildness, the wolfs blood that drives you to stubborn recklessness. though you’ve mellowed a little with age and experience, you think you’re still a bit too prone to chaos to be queen of the seven kingdoms one day. never mind the complexities added by the fact that queen rhaenyra’s claim is so fiercely contested, and her half-brother is the one currently physically sitting the iron throne.

thinking about the mess you’re marrying into too much makes your head ache, and the blazing noon sun does little to ease it. leo beside you continues to whisper rapidly about everything he knows about dragons, which is actually quite a lot considering his young age. you think absently you might need to have a word with the maester’s again; leo has wrapped most of the household around his finger, and the elderly maester is prone to indulging your brother when he fixates on a new topic of interest instead of sticking to his lessons.

the sound of hooves on cobble stones startles you from your meandering thoughts, and you straighten your spine as your eyes take in the unfamiliar man riding into the courtyard beside your father while your brother finally falls silent.

he’s handsome, at least; a tumble of dark curls brushing his shoulders, a sharp jaw and a strong nose. though you like to think yourself more than superficial, it eases at least some of your worries to know the prince is attractive to you. your mother had done you the courtesy of explaining what was expected of you on your wedding night after your first moons blood, and in secret since you’d perused the library for books detailing more lustful acts in an effort to satiate your unending curiosity.

you’re worried enough about completing your wifely duties without having to worry about finding the man lying with you repulsive, and so you allow yourself a few moments of relief at his pretty face.

your father dismounts first, gesturing for you to step forward as the prince gets down from his own horse. leo moves forward with you, eyes wide and shining with something akin to hero worship as he gazes at jacaerys. you have a wry thought that perhaps he should marry him since he is so clearly already enamoured, but you brush that aside as your father and the prince approach.

“i am most pleased to introduce my daughter, your grace, as well as my son and heir, leo,” your father says as they reach you, his satisfaction in his successful planning clear as he smiles smugly.

you dip into a perfect curtsey as leo bows a touch clumsily at your side. as heir it would traditionally be leo’s job to greet the prince, but when you send him a sidelong glance you see he is too busy making moon eyes at the darkhaired man to say anything, and so you take it upon yourself to speak.

“welcome to highgarden, my prince. we are honoured to host you,” you greet, finally meeting jacaerys’s eyes. they’re a warm amber shade, the noon sun turning them to liquid honey as he looks at you, and you feel your cheeks flush with the appreciation you can see in his gaze as he drinks you in. it seems he does not find you repulsive either, at least.

he sketches a quick bow, eyes never leaving yours, and you feel your heart start to race in your chest at his attention. “it is an honour to be here, my lady, and to finally make your acquaintance.” he smiles at you then, small and a little crooked but there, and your flush deepens. “i look forward to getting to know you better in the coming days.”

you swallow, hoping your budding attraction is not as obvious as you fear it is. your father is looking increasingly smug as he watches the interaction, though it seems to war with some paternal annoyance as jacaerys lightly flirts with you.

“and i you,” you return softly, a smile quirking on your lips.

“—can i meet your dragon?” leo bursts out, seemingly unable to contain himself any longer, and jacaerys blinks down at him in surprise as you resist the urge to press your palm to your face.

“leo,” you scold immediately as your father chortles at his heir’s enthusiasm for dragons. “the prince has had a long journey. you should give him a chance to settle in before demanding anything of him.”

“right you are, my dear.” your father waves to the household steward before turning to the prince. “alyn will show you to your rooms, your grace, so that you might freshen up, and then we have a feast prepared for this evening to welcome you to highgarden.”

jacaerys nods easily as the greeting crowd begins to disperse, the maester corralling leo to take him for his lessons with fond exasperation even as the boy loudly protests. you mean to go walk the gardens, and so you stay standing in place as the prince trails after your father and steward alyn.

he pauses beside you, though, a slight smile on his face as you look up at him questioningly. your eyes catch on the smattering of freckles on his face, and it takes a moment for you to process his words. “i look forward to speaking to you further at the feast, my lady.”

you smile back at him, cheeks flushing once again as his eyes linger on your mouth for a breathless moment. “i shall save you a dance, my prince,” you return a touch coyly, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“only one dance?” he teases, eyebrow arching.

you hum, head tilting to the side in mock consideration as something like satisfaction gleams in jacaerys’s eyes. “i shall have to use the first dance to judge your dancing skills, your grace, before i risk promising you another.”

he laughs then, a little surprised but no doubt pleased as his eyes crinkle with his wide smile. “then i shall do my best to meet your standards, my lady.” he dips into a quick bow of farewell, then, as you finally take note of your father lingering on the steps to the keep with raised eyebrows.

“we shall see,” you return as you curtsey.

you allow yourself a moment to watch his retreating back, eyes dragging over the strong line of his shoulders before you internally shake yourself and head to the gardens, thoughts swimming with honey brown eyes and tanned, freckled skin and a slow dawning certainty that while this betrothal may be unexpected, you doubt it will leave you unsatisfied.

the feast is in full swing by the time the prince arrives at the hall.

the minstrels are playing a jaunty tune as couples twirl on the dance floor. you sit at the head table with leo and your father, watching with a careful eye as your brother cuts up his food. he’s only just mastered the art of eating his food without spilling half if it down his doublet, but as distracted as he is by the festivities and the prospect of seeing a dragon close up, you worry he’s at risk of making a mess of himself regardless.

so absorbed in your task you are, it takes a long moment for you to realise jacaerys has arrived. it’s only when your skin prickles with awareness that you look up from leo and catch sight of the prince winding his way across the floor to the head table, eyes fixed on you. your head tilts to the side slightly as you watch him move, graceful and controlled, through the crowd.

he’s in black and red again, just as he had been when he’d arrived. it seems your father had been right when he’d stated that jacaerys favours his mother’s house colours. you smooth your hand over the skirts of your dress, the deep wine-red of the material feeling less out of place now, before standing with your father to greet the prince.

you all exchange pleasantries quickly as the noise in the hall dims, people realising the prince has arrived. your father ushers jacaerys into the empty seat between you and your father as he raises his goblet to the hall before speaking in his booming voice.

you don’t pay attention to your father’s speech, too aware of the warmth radiating from jacaerys who stands only inches from you to focus. you risk a glance at him from the corner of your eyes only to find his dark honey eyes fixed on you, and you cannot help but smile to yourself even as you flush, turning your eyes back to the crowd.

rousing applause and cheers draw you back to the moment, and you catch yourself in time to raise your wine in toast with your father. you go to sit back down as the crowd returns to its revelries, but the soft brush of a hand on your arm halts your movement. you turn expectingly to the prince, a soft smile on your lips.

“yes, your grace?”

“would you do me the honour of a dance, my lady?”

your lips quirk into a sly smile even as you bob your head in a nod. “i suppose i did promise you one, did i not?”

“that you did, my lady, and i have thought of nothing else since.” dark honey eyes sparkle with mirth as he offers you his hand, and with a quiet giggle you take it and allow him to lead you to the dance floor.

you feel the heat of his hand on your waist like a brand even through the layers of your dress, and it makes your breath catch in your throat. you inhale deeply in an effort to steady yourself as you rest your palm on his strong shoulder, and are immediately overwhelmed by the woodsy scent of him as he claps your hand in his and begins to dance.

you start the dance in comfortable silence, both of you taking a few moments to get a feel for the other and settle into the steps, and when you feel comfortable enough you speak.

“how are you finding highgarden, prince jacaerys?”

“jace, please,” he entreats, and elaborates only when you blink at him in confusion. “my friends and family call me jace, not jacaerys. we are to be married, my lady. it would please me a great deal for my future wife to refer to me as such.”

you nod in acceptance, butterflies erupting in your stomach at his eager expression. “jace it is, then,” you say, and try not to feel the way your heart flutters at his radiant smile in response. “although you have not answered my question. how are you finding highgarden?”

he hums, twirling you as the dance requires and then pulling you closer before responding. “your father has been very hospitable, and it is certainly beautiful here. the grounds especially, though i’m afraid i’ve not had the opportunity to see much of them as yet.”

“a shame we shall have to rectify, i think.” you offer him a small smile as you press just an inch closer, finding yourself wanting to be nearer him. “perhaps i could show you the gardens on the morrow?”

“yes,” he agrees a touch too quickly, and you giggle as his cheeks turn pink. “that is to say— i should like that very much, my lady. very much indeed.”

you lapse into silence once more as the dance reaches its crescendo, and you find yourself reluctant to leave the comfort of his hands as the music pauses while the minstrels ready their next song.

jace seems to share the sentiment, it seems, as his eyes linger on your entwined hands for a long moment before returning to your face. “have i met your standards enough for another dance, then?”

you take a moment to pretend to consider it, eyes narrowing slightly as you hum. he shuffles on his feet as he waits for your response, and you find the nervous motion far too endearing.

“i suppose so,” you concede after a moment, grinning at his smugly pleased smile as he tugs you closer.

“and what about the dance after that?” he asks lightly, something cheeky in his eyes as the music starts up again and he sweeps you along the floor.

“you should not press your luck, jace,” you say imperiously, although the effect is rather ruined by the silly smile on your face as he laughs with you.

jacaerys smirks. “my lady, since meeting you, i have felt nothing but a lucky man.”

you smother a snort, shaking your head at his unrepentant expression. “you are incorrigible.” it comes out a touch exasperated and yet far too fond.

“yes,” the prince agrees readily, a sly twinkle in his eyes. “but i think you rather enjoy it.”

your startled laugh is loud, though thankfully not so loud as to be heard over the minstrels. “perhaps.”

after that, the night is lost to flirtatious banter and dance after dance in your betrothed’s arms as a seed of affection is planted deep in your heart. and when you wake in the morning after dreaming of nothing but jace’s lips and eyes and words, you can think only one thought;

gods, i am in so much trouble.

time passes in a slow trickle of syrupy summer heat.

as the days go by, you find yourself spending more and more time in jace’s company. you’re always chaperoned, of course, a household guard following at a respectful distance wherever the two of you choose to roam. you find the whole thing a touch ridiculous; jace is to be your husband. it’s hardly like spending time together alone would be a significant scandal in light of your impending marriage, but your father insists there will be no doubts about your honour before the marriage actually takes place and so ser dickon is assigned as your reluctant shadow.

the date of the wedding itself remains unset as you and jace start to know one another. your father wishes for the marriage to wait until the war is done – a last-ditch chance to keep his options open, perhaps. Or, if you are feeling generous, a way to try and keep you safe from the greens when war inevitably rages. jace’s mother wishes the marriage to happen as soon as can be arranged – a way to try and ensure further heirs with the uncertainty of war looming, you assume.

you find yourself hoping the queen’s will wins the day as time creeps on. jace becomes ever dearer to you the more you learn about him, and soon you think of your impending marriage with nothing but hope and warm desire.

because oh, how you want him. from the first moment you’d laid eyes upon him you’d been attracted to him, but the more you get to know him, the more your heart opens to him – the more you ache for him. for his mouth on yours, his fingertips on your skin, his voice in your ear. if you were a less reckless woman, a little less shameless, you’d be embarrassed of how easily you think of him in your moments apart.

but late at night when the candles burn low and you are alone in your bed, there is no shame to be found, only the wildness of your wolfs blood and liquid heat as your hand drifts between your legs and you find completion with your betrothed’s name on your lips.

beyond the desire, though, is a slow blooming affection. it feels like every time you learn something new about him or share a new experience together, another petal of tenderness unfurls in your chest. when your father had first told you about your betrothal, you’d not dared to hope for more than civility with your husband-to-be, but now you find yourself harbouring deep fondness on top of steadily burning desire, and you look to your future as his wife with little else but excitement.

you’re not sure if jace feels the same. you don’t doubt he desires you; his flirtation and the weight of his gaze on your form is too frequent a thing for you to think otherwise. but desire is not the same as affection, and though you hope desperately that the way he always seeks your presence whenever he steps into a room means what you want it to mean, you can’t be sure.

after a week passes, you both start to chafe at the relentless presence of ser dickon. it feels like every time you so much as think about inching closer to jacaerys, ser dickon is there with his stern glare of disapproval. and so, when one morning jace suggests taking you to meet his dragon, alone, you are quick to agree.

you leave your guard long behind at jace’s instruction; he doesn’t want vermax crowded with strangers, he explains, but you personally think he seems a little too gleeful at the idea of being alone with you for that to be sole reason behind his insistence ser dickon stays far away. you don’t say anything since you’re equally pleased to finally be spending some time with your betrothed without feeling others curious eyes on you.

your excitement starts to waver, however, as you and jace get closer to his dragon. you’ve only seen vermax from a distance before this, and though it perhaps shouldn’t the size of him startles you. he’s just so large and fierce looking, the sharp spines on his back catching your eye. the beast yawns as you slow to a stop, jace sending you a quick smile before he continues on to greet his dragon with fondness, and the glimpse into vermax’s open maw – gods, there as so many teeth – has your palms starting to sweat.

jace stands beside his dragon, murmuring soothing words in high valyrian that you don’t understand as his hand smooths along his snout. your heart races in your chest, nerves making your hands shake when faced with this great beast. you curse your reckless curiosity, your northern stubbornness that makes it impossible for you to refuse a challenge. you have no idea how jace can look so at ease, the line of his shoulders relaxed and the slightest smile on his face as he talks to his winged steed, but there he stands.

“you can come closer now.” he turns to you, brown eyes shining with excitement and, yes, a hint of challenge.

he expects you to back out, you think, and that realisation has you straightening your spine and pressing your lips together. you twist your fingers in your skirts to hide the way they tremble as you step cautiously forward, eyes darting from jace to vermax and back. when you’re within touching distance of the velaryon prince, he reaches for your hand. the shock of his bare skin against yours arrests you for a moment, the slide of calloused fingers around your wrist startling in how easily it sparks desire in you.

you’re so distracted by the feel of him that you don’t realise until it’s too late that jace has tugged you closer, guiding your hand until it’s pressed to vermax’s scales, and then you’re too busy being surprised by how soft they feel to be annoyed that he’s so easily coaxed you into this position.

you still as the dragon rumbles, swallowing thickly as your fingers twitch against green scales. he blinks lazily at you, an alien intellect gleaming there as he seems to consider you for a long moment, and as you blink back at him some of the fear in your chest shakes loose.

because this is not just some beast, you realise. this is fire and blood and magic made flesh. there is life and intelligence in vermax’s eyes, not one you recognise but one you immediately respect. being this close to the dragon is a heady rush of awe and adrenaline; the knowledge that vermax could so easily harm you at any moment but is choosing not to because he trusts his rider. it’s staggering and wonderful and beside you jace is beaming, eyes shining with happiness at seeing you greet his draconic companion, and you are helplessly, hopelessly, wholly overwhelmed by your affection, your desire, by jace.

you kiss him.

it’s barely a kiss, more a breathless press of your mouth against his, and he startles at the sensation even as his arm loops around your waist. you break apart for the barest moment, nose sliding against his as you tilt your head, and jacaerys sighs out your name with heavy relief before he captures your mouth once more.

you’ve been kissed before, so you know the mechanics of it, but it’s never been like this. his lips move smoothly against yours as his hand flexes on your waist, drawing you closer until your chest is pressed against his. your hand tangles in his hair, fingers twisting in the soft curls and he moans with it, hand dragging up your back to cradle the back of your head tenderly as his tongue sweeps over your lips.

the gentle pressure of it has you gasping and he takes the opportunity immediately, tongue sliding against yours as heat pools in your core. your thoughts tumble wildly, incoherent as you can think of nothing but of how desperately you want more. the taste – the smell – the feel of him is drowning everything out that isn’t jace and you cannot resist it, do not even want to.

you want to kiss him forever, want his hand in your hair and his tongue in your mouth for always. you think he might even let you with how relentless he is, barely giving you a moments pause to catch your breath before consuming you in another desperate kiss.

you finally part only when vermax grumbles, cheeks blazing with heat as you step out of jace’s arms. jace murmurs lowly to his dragon in valyrian, and he nudges his great snout against jace’s shoulder in response before stepping away and curling down into the long grass to sleep. you take the moment to properly catch your breath again, hand pressing to your heaving chest in an effort to soothe your racing heart.

when you peek up at jace from beneath your lashes, you flush deeply at the sight of him. his curls are a mess, his lips swollen and cheeks pink beneath his tan. he looks almost debauched, and it sends a rush of desire through you. you suddenly can think of nothing other than him looking like this only flusher and skin glistening with sweat and in your bed.

the thought startles you into dropping your gaze to your feet, and you shuffle uncertainly. you feel – unsettled. you don’t think there’s anything wrong with sharing a kiss with your betrothed, and yet something like guilt curdles in your stomach as you worry at your bottom lip. you had kissed him. for all that he’d kissed you back, you worry that now he will think differently of you. think worse of you.

a knuckle tucks under your chin, then, lifting your face so that you meet jace’s eyes. you feel small and strangely vulnerable in the aftermath of your kiss, like you have somehow shown him something you never intended to, and the urge to shy away remains. but you are not a winter rose for nothing and so you tuck the doubt away as jace runs his thumb soothingly along the line of your jaw.

“i have been thinking of doing that since the moment you first smiled at me,” he confesses, a hint of shyness in the quirk of his lips even as he stares steadily into your eyes.

“oh.” you blink at him once in surprise, the uneasiness in you finally settling at the fondness in his gaze. “oh. that’s— good.” you curse yourself for your lack of wit in this moment as jace snickers.  “i-i mean, i’m glad that it was not… unwelcome.”

your betrothed looks at you with deep affection, then, cupping your cheek and ducking down to press a fleeting, butterfly-soft kiss to your mouth before reluctantly parting from you. “it was most welcome, my lady. most welcome, indeed.” his eyes sparkle with mirth. “i find myself looking forward to the next time you greet vermax, if this is the kind of response such a thing garners.”

“jace!” you narrow your eyes at him in pretend annoyance, even as you smother a giggle with your fingers. “you should not expect me to indulge in such desires again, then, if you persist in being so smug about it.”

his laugh warms you as the two of you fall into easy banter, leaving vermax to his rest and returning to the ever-watchful ser dickon, and all the while all you can think of is how much you cannot wait to kiss him again.

as the air cools with the dying light of day, you lead jace to the gardens.

in the week since your first kiss, jace has oft tugged you into shadowy corners for more kisses any chance he’s had. his desire for you is matched only by your own for him, and as your confidence in your mutual attraction has grown, you have been equally as likely to pull him into a dark alcove to trade sweet words and sweet kisses in secret.

it’s thrilling and exciting and wonderful, but as the week passes you find a growing doubt whispering in the back of your mind.

while you cannot doubt jace desires you, not when he is so relentless in chasing after your smiling mouth, neither of you breathe a word of any feeling between you beyond attraction. perhaps it is reckless of you, foolhardy to fall for him so quickly – but then you are your parent’s daughter, all wolfs blood and deep roots, and you know no other way of being than this.

so you take him to the gardens as the moon rises in the sky, sneak past the night guards and out into the fresh air. you guide him through the blooming flowers and swaying trees, stopping along the while when the fancy takes one of you to stop and examine an interesting bloom or inhale a sweet scent. at least three times he stops you to slot his mouth against yours, to swallow your breathless giggling with feverish kisses, and each time he does it takes longer and longer for you to disentangle yourselves from each other.

eventually, with swollen lips and mussed hair, the two of you reach the winter roses. your effervescent mood becomes sombre as the moon shines on the blue flowers, turning the petals almost silver, and jace seems to recognise the change in atmosphere, a seriousness overtaking him as he watches you approach the flowers.

“my mother planted the first of these roses,” you tell jace as you kneel at the edge of the flowerbed, uncaring of the risk of dirt on your dress as you brush fingers over the pale blue petals tenderly. “winter roses, they are, from the north. from winterfell. she was born a stark, you see, and when she was betrothed to my father the only thing she asked was to be able to bring a few blooms from the glass gardens. she used to call me her little winter rose when i was a child, and she would bring me here and show me how to tend to them.”

jace kneels beside you, glancing at the side of your face before turning to look curiously at the blue flowers. “they’re beautiful,” he tells you sincerely.

“i’ve always thought so, too,” you agree almost absently, stroking the petals in an effort to calm your racing heart. “everyone told my mother she’d never be able to get them to grow so far south. they’re very rare, you see, and need very particular conditions.” your lips quirk up into a fond smile. “but my mother, for all that she became a tyrell, was always a stark at heart. stubborn, you know. and now look at them, thriving.”

you gesture out at the carefully tended rows of roses. “nobody else comes here, now, other than the gardeners and me. i think… i think my father finds it too hard, being here. it makes him miss her too much. so i come here when i need to be alone. or when i wish to be reminded of her. it's the one place in the world where i feel i can be wholly myself, without any pretence or worry.”

jace’s gaze is fixed on you, now, eyes almost black in the faint moonlight as understanding dawns on him. “thank you for bringing me here.”

you nod once, climbing back to your feet, and jace follows you. he watches you so intently, like he’s afraid that you might disappear if he dares to look away. you feel a little like you might, feel tenuous and vulnerable and a breath away from cracking your chest open.

“i’ve never brought anyone else here,” you confess quietly, flexing your fingers with nerves as jace’s lips part in surprise. “i wished… i wished to share this with you. to share who i am, myself, with you, i suppose.” you laugh a little self-deprecatingly. “however pretentious that sounds.”

“it doesn’t,” jace denies immediately. you sense he wants to say more, but he seems to understand that you’re building to saying something yourself, and so he stays quiet, expression earnest and open and fond as he gazes down at you.

“i know it’s perhaps too soon – we have only known each other a few weeks. but i… when i first found out we were betrothed, i was so scared. i worried you would be some arrogant princeling, and i dared not hope for anything more than civility between us. i’ve always known i would not marry for love, but i did not ever consider i would marry a man i had never met.”

you pause for long enough to suck in a breath, feeling a little like the floodgates have opened and you simply can’t stop speaking, can’t stop the feeling pouring freely from you. “and then i met you, and you were so unlike anything i’d expected. i know we still have so much more to learn about each other, and i know that things are— complicated, with the war, and that our marriage may be a ways off yet, but still— i find myself feeling for you, and i cannot hide it anymore. i don’t wish to hide it from you anymore.”

you let the open affection in his face buoy you as you steel yourself, pressing your shoulders back in a mimicry of confidence. “i wanted to show you this part of me, this place, because i….” you hesitate for a breathless moment, biting your lip, before gathering every scrap of courage you possess and diving in headfirst. “i am falling in love with you, jacaerys.”

you inhale the sweet scent of the pale blue petals deeply, let the familiar scent soothe you as jace stares at you with wide eyes. the winter roses are something that, until now, have been so uniquely yours. as you’d told jace, none other than you and the gardeners comes to this corner of the gardens now. the staff that tend so carefully to the flowers know to leave you well enough alone if they stumble across you, skirts splayed on the ground and fingers diligently caring for the roses. you’ve never even brought your sweet little brother, though you can admit that’s for practicality as much as anything else – his childish energy is a bit too boisterous for these delicate blooms.

bringing jace here, bringing him here to confess the deepening affection you harbour for him, feels raw. feels like you’re tearing your heart out of your chest and offering it up to him for perusal, hands bloody and soul bare. feels like saying ‘this is all that i am and all that i have been and all i will ever be and i hope, i hope, i hope it’s enough.’

jace finally, finally speaks, sighs your name, soft and sweet and tender, and hope blooms in your chest.

“oh, my sweet lady,” he murmurs, crowding into your space as he cups your cheek, and the smell of woodsmoke and dragon and jace floods your senses. “i am falling so unbelievably in love with you. only, it does not feel so much like falling as it is like choosing it, like walking into love with you with my eyes wide open and seeing nothing but you.”

it's almost unbearable, the blazing heat of his gaze as he presses his forehead against yours, and it makes you tremble as your hands clutch as his elbows in an effort to ground yourself to this moment, to him. “our betrothal was decided for us without care or consideration for our own desires,” he says, lips brushing against your own with every whispered word. “i know that as well as you, but i need you to know that if i had the choice i would choose this. i would choose you, your stubborn heart, your fierce spirit, your gracious soul.”

his hand slides from your cheek to your hair, holds you so tenderly like you are something precious, and it steals your breath from your lungs as you revel in his unbridled affection. “i care not when we marry, if we marry, in truth, because in my heart you are already mine just as i am already yours.”

he kisses you, then, a desperate and greedy thing, as if he can no longer restrain himself from devouring you whole. and you are just as needy, hands fisting in his doublet as you press yourself against him and somehow finding yourself wishing to be closer still. the world narrows down to him and him only; his mouth, his hands, his hair. you can think of nothing else, and do not wish to, because in this moment you are wholly yourself and he is wholly himself and it’s enough, it’s wonderful and delicate and it’s enough.

and, there beneath the moonlight and amongst the winter roses, deep and enduring affection, the kind of love the bards sing songs about, takes root.

taglist; @eldrith

[venusbyline]

Fates ࿐ྂ Kinktober. 22, oct.

(late post)

— pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x wife!reader

— type: smut, dark, Kinktober (House of the Dragon Edition)

— kink: spit kink

— summary: Jacaerys Velaryon had become the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and you had become his Queen Consort. Grief, sacrifice and pain carried the weight of crowns. The daily tragedies would happen forever until one of you died. This was the true destiny of the Greens and Blacks. There were never victors after the war. The eternal unhappiness was the only conquest.

— word count: 2.3k

— tags/warnings: kinktober 22nd day, Targcest (aunt/nephew), female!reader, queen consort!reader, king!Jacaerys, dark!Jacaerys, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, spit kink, rape/non-con, degradation, rough sex, gore, referenced mutilated penis, nipple play, nipple torture, blood and violence, blood kink, vaginal sex, anal sex, hate sex, implied PTSD, biting, hair-pulling, vaginal fingering, anal fingering, VERY DARK CONTENT, hurt no comfort, mild angst, light unconscious sex, ambiguous/open ending (but it would probably be a sad or bittersweet ending), curse words, death threats, sexism, crying, dacryphilia, mild dumbification, referenced permanent injury, mild aftercare (BUT NO REALLY), past genital torture, Jacaerys also lost an eye, fake character death, emotional manipulation, sadism, breast worship, forced orgasm, marriage of convenience, forced marriage, sexual and psychological torture, survivors guilt, male infertility, Jacaerys Velaryon lives, Jaehaera Targaryen lives, Baela Targaryen dies, forced child marriage mentioned, minor Jaehaera Targaryen/Aegon III Targaryen, past Jacaerys Velaryon/Baela Targaryen, past Aemond Targaryen/reader, mild Stockholm syndrome, age gap (older woman/younger man), Jace's 17 during 131 AC and 21 during 135 AC, reader's 21 during 131 AC and 25 during 135 AC, dom!Jacaerys, sub!reader, canon divergence (The Blacks win the Dance of the Dragons), porn with plot. no use of y/n. english is not my first language.

— tagging list: @baybaybear1 @blessedbymoon @p45510n4f4shi0n @lina-lovebug @moonnicole @badger-reads @turdettethefirst

— crossposting: AO3

"The King ordered your presence into his private chambers, Your Grace. Immediately."

The maid's voice brought you out of your almost peaceful sleep. Before the war, you loved having the calm to sleep and get plenty of rest whenever you could, away from the trivial duties of Royalty. Before, you loved going to sleep and waking up with your nephews laughing and playing on your bed, trying to wake you up by the most messy and childish possible ways. Jaehaerys, Jaehaera and Maelor were like your children too, you helped your older sister to take care of them, often more present in their lives than Aegon himself, who was always just focused on fucking whores or harassing the castle's servants.

During the Dance of the Dragons, you almost went crazy, also like Helaena. As if the cruel murder of your nephew Jaehaerys was not enough, you were also forced to marry your twin brother, Aemond, who ended up dying during The Battle Above the Gods Eye along with your uncle Daemon, turning you into widow at just twenty years old in that time. Your half-sister Rhaenyra's death was inevitable, as were the deaths of nearly every member of the Targaryen family. However, Rhaenyra's bloodline continued on the throne after the mysterious poisoning of your older brother Aegon II during 131 AC. When the Blacks took back the Iron Throne, your greatest concern would be not only the fact that your other nephew, Aegon III, son of your half-sister and your uncle Daemon, could ascend as the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms at such a young age, but also the fact of what would happen to you and your little niece Jaehaera, who had the tragic fate of marrying the boy even though they were both children, as a stupid attempt at a peace treaty between the Blacks and Greens.

To your surprise, it was not Aegon III who ascended the Iron Throne, much less little Jaehaera or even you. But Jacaerys Velaryon, Rhaenyra Targaryen's firstborn and her legitimized heir, the one that everyone believed for almost two years that he was dead. On that horrifying afternoon, you were sure that the new king would order your death and the death of your niece. Which never happened. You did not know how Jacaerys had survived after the Battle of the Gullet, but despite the possible cruel fate that awaited you, you were grateful that His Grace was a man of his word and swore to keep Jaehaera alive and safe in King's Landing, not breaking up the marriage between her and his little brother, Aegon III, but also giving his word that the two children only would be able to consummate their marriage years later and did not need to act as a couple while they were still so young. After all, Jacaerys might want revenge on your family at all costs, but that did not mean he was in favor of murder or allowing the rape of a little girl, in a certain way.

Even during 135 AC, four years after the coronation of the current ruler, Jaehaera remained alive and safe, protected by her brother-in-law and cousin. Your nephew and husband. The new King. And for that, your fate was forever sealed as the second wife of King Jacaerys Velaryon, the first of his name.

"Lady Wife!" Jacaerys shouted with exaggerated excitement as he lay on the bed, completely naked but covered by the silk sheets. "I see the maids did not disappoint me again this time."

You took a deep breath, remembering the week before when he yelled at the servants for taking so long to bring you to your shared chambers. It had been unnecessary and agonizing to watch how people cowered in the face of his threats. The once kind and sweet Prince Jacaerys had become such a rude and merciless King since the death of his family. You could not blame him, even if you preferred to be able to.

"They were quick to bathe me and get me ready to see you." Your tone was monotonous, without emotion or affection. It was always like this. A slow death sentence you signed for the sake of your niece Jaehaera. You were used to this exhausting routine. Lying with Jacaerys when he was drunk, angry with the duties of his reign and the weight of the crown, as well as the grief that tormented his mind every night, indulging in wine or pleasure houses to try to avoid insanity which was approaching him little by little.

Both of you never knew each other very well before the marriage of convenience. You had interacted with Jace just a few times before the Dance of the Dragons, the last time being at that disastrous Viserys's supper, when Jace tried to be polite and ask Helena and then you for a dance, but his kindness only ended up making Aegon and Aemond jealous about Hel and you, causing more chaos between your families.

You might not know much about Jacaerys. However, it was obvious that the war had changed his personality. Now, he was colder, far from the soft boy who once made you chuckle dancing with him in an almost clumsy way. Now, Jace just saw you as a prize won due to the war, even if you were his second wife. He had lost everyone, even Baela.

Not that he really loved her, but there was affection and protection there. Political marriages that turned into true affectionate feelings. If only Baela had not died during the labor of their stillborn son... Perhaps he would have truly loved her as time passed. Perhaps he would have heirs now and would not need to sleep with you. Or almost that.

"You are so fucking stand-off right now, My Queen." The King muttered mockingly, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he took another sip from the wine cup, motioning for you to approach the bed. With a sigh, you walk in silence, taking off your white nightgown you wore and sitting on his lap carefully, looking at him. Jace had intense marks spread across his body and face, scars that you wanted to caress if only he did not despise you as hell.

This adult version of him reminded you of your brother and ex-husband Aemond. The unexpected parallel between the uncle and the nephew was interesting. Both men missing one of their eyes. Aemond One-Eye, Jacaerys One-Eye. But there was no sapphire inside your current husband's eye socket. After reclaiming what was rightfully his, Jace ordered a black obsidian to be molded to fit there. A sadder version of your brother and ex-husband.

You missed Aemond, even if he was not a good husband and refused to breed you until the end of the war. Jacaerys missed Baela, even if he did not have any romantic feelings for her.

"I wish I could breed you with my heirs." Jace murmured, brushing away the silver hair that was in front of your face, taking in your delicate features for a moment. "I wonder if they would have silky light hairs like yours, or if they would be cursed with my dark hair."

His words made you curl into his lap, biting the lip to ward off a pained whining when he grabbed a handful of your silver strands, as if he wanted to rip them out completely and make you swallow every single one of them later. "I wish I still had my cock, then I would fuck you until your cunt swelled and was sore. I would hear you screaming and crying every night, begging me to stop hurting you while your tight little cunt would be constantly bleeding and milking me. And guess what? I would never stop. I WOULD NEVER STOP! I would be turned on seeing my seed leaking from all your holes and you screaming for my mercy just like the disgusting brothel whores."

The sickly macabre sentences caught you off guard and he pushed you under the bed, climbing on top of you, now without the sheets covering the absence of his cock, just the bad stitches and the almost huge nauseating scar where the Greens had ripped off his big and delightful penis. The length that Jacaerys always boasted about as a teenager. He would probably be the next Realm's Delight, just like his mother had been. But now all he had to content himself with was fucking you with his large fingers or his tongue, kissing you aggressively, always biting your lips or your breasts until they bleed, covered with light scars, just like he did with the whores from the brothels. "You should always be my own brood mare. I should force myself on you and make you carry my children every year until you learned to enjoy it. To enjoy me. TO LOVE ME!"

In that same second, as if he could read your mind, Jacaerys spat in the middle of your breasts and pinched your nipples with both hands between index fingers and thumbs, making you scream as he twisted them hard. "I should rip off your own nipples and make yourself eat them for dinner. I should fuck your nasty cunt with the blade of my sword until your womb tears, being disemboweled from the inside. I should kill you like your damn family killed mine." He shouted angrily, hitting your face once before squeezing your chin, forcing you to part your lips so he could spit the wine-tasting saliva onto your tongue. "SWALLOW IT! THIS IS AN ORDER FROM YOUR TRUE KING!"

He yelled, forcing you to obey after the next three slaps he gave you, without even letting you breathe. You swallowed his spit, your tears flowing in panic and your heart racing from it all. Jace's newly acquired cruelty was no longer a surprise to you, but sometimes your attempt at apathy faded and you let your sad emotions take control. You continued crying as the King spat in your face two more times, not even trying to clean up his disgusting mess on your cheeks and just allowing his hands to hurt your aching cunt, his slender fingers fucking you without any care, probably drawing blood while you bit your lip and closed your eyes, trying hard not to pay attention to anything. Trying hard not feeling anything or thinking about anything. Trying hard not to admire the scars on his handsome face or the dark jewel inside his empty eye.

You needed to keep Jaehaera safe. After the death of your sister Helaena, Jaehaera was no longer just your niece, she was also your daughter now. She was the only good thing in whole your life and you needed to protect her, even if it meant sacrificing your body and mind. You wondered if this was how your Lady Mother Alicent felt everytime your stupid father Viserys fucked her since she was just a teenager girl. In those years ago, did Alicent feel violated? Raped? Disgusted with her husband, with the world and mainly with herself? Did she also feel guilty and think she deserved those so cruel acts? But... did Alicent also feel empathy even about the man who hurt her?

Alicent Hightower was a broodmare for Viserys Targaryen. However, Jacaerys Velaryon could not procreate and get you pregnant with his seed. So you did not know what that made you. Just an object to be used and abused by him? Beaten until one day he finally had enough and murdered you? Until the little Aegon III getting older and inherits the Iron Throne due to his older brother's lack of heirs?

Would this be Jaehaera's fate too? Being just a Queen Consort and a whore inside the private chambers against her own will? Was this the fate of all women?

The hours passed in a blur, despite you being conscious the entire time, you decided to keep your thoughts empty and away from the cruel reality, preferring not to staring Jace. You did not realize how messy and filthy your face was with the King's saliva until you felt Jacaerys's hands caressing your cheeks with panic, trying to clean up the violence he made, his own fingers being full of your cum and the blood that had come out so much from your cunt and from your ass, both tight holes bleeding and hurting like the Seven Hells.

"Gods, I am so sorry." Jace sobbed, keeping to wipe your face. You saw how his eye became even more prettier filled with crystal clear tears, his cheeks red from crying. "I am so sorry, My Queen. I did not mean... I did not mean to be like this. I did not want to be a monster. I just want my family back. I just want to be able to be a good husband, I just want to be a father. I did not want to be that kind of King." Jacaerys hugged your tired and vulnerable form, his naked body shaking from the intense bout of crying as he searched your mouth to kiss you softly, as a way to compensate. The kiss tasted like tears, cum and blood. But you did not care. "Oh, Gods. Please, forgive me. Forgive me, aunt." You let him kiss you with some tenderness while he was apologizing in the midst of despair. You knew everything all too well. All of this would happen again in just a few days.

Jacaerys Velaryon had become the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and you had become his Queen Consort. Grief, sacrifice and pain carried the weight of crowns. The daily tragedies would happen forever until one of you died. This was the true destiny of the Greens and Blacks. There were never victors after the war. The eternal unhappiness was the only conquest.

HOTD Edition - Masterlist

Criminal Minds Edition - Masterlist

Venusbyline's Kinktober 2024 - Masterlist

[creganslover]

Hello!! First of all I loved your Adam de Hull fanfic you wrote. I know you wanted requests to be specific so I will do my best. Could you do a (Hurt/Comfort) fanfic in which (male) OC, an old friend of Helaena Targaryen, with her is in love with, hears her scream during a nightmare about Blood and Cheese and cuddle with her to sleep since all her family seems to have better things to do? Thanks in advance and sorry if it's too or too little specific or if my english is not perfect.

hellish dream, helaena targaryen x male! OC! Velaryon! Reader

wc: 1.8k

warning/s: the dance doesn't happen, they're a functioning family, canon-typical incest, slight angst from helaena's nightmare, pining, hurt/comfort, not beta read

note: your request is perfect! and if you don't mind, I had altered it a little and I hope it's up to your liking! thank you <3 likes, reblogs, and feedbacks are greatly appreciated.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

Sleep was futile for Aerys Velaryon tonight within the Red Keep. 

It could possibly have been due to the fact that he had not walked in these walls for quite a few years now, perhaps the last time being when he was but one and ten if he recalled, before having moved to Dragonstone where he grew up. Though being back in King’s Landing with his family had its perks, specifically where he was able to reconnect with Helaena, and her brothers Aegon and Aemond, the same goes with Aerys’ own brothers, Jacaerys and Lucerys. 

All of them had been tied together in youth, getting into all sorts of mischief, mostly due to Aegon, with Jacaerys following suit, then Lucerys, and reluctantly, Aemond. Aerys had been known to participate in their occasional prank pulling or banter, however he often stayed behind and watched, yet this does not mean he would refuse a challenge or two. 

That’s when once Helaena had found Aerys sitting on the steps by the grounds of the Red Keep, an amused look on his face as Aegon and Jacaerys had been placing a bet on who could win in a game of tug-of-war on the mud between them and their brothers, and that the losers would follow whatever the victors asked.

Aerys had barely engaged with Helaena before as she had been often with herself and within the confines of her chambers, and when she had approached. Unbeknownst to Aerys, an iridescent beetle had settled upon his shoulder, shining a metallic red. The young girl had spoken right beside him which- honestly- made him jump as he wasn’t alerted of her presence, then catching sight of her as Helaena pointed at his shoulder.

 “It likes you.”

It was a simple phrase, yet it had budded a friendship between Aerys and Helaena. It seemed they had both bonded over their like and amusement for being observant, Aerys indulging in Helaena when she had seeked for him the following weeks when she felt it, to show a new critter she had in her collection, or whether it was a finished needlework, in which Aerys had always praised Helaena for and had always made time for her despite the demands of his lessons as a prince. 

They were good childhood friends, Aerys even defending Helaena from Aegon’s unnecessary jabs until their family had ultimately parted with Aerys’ mother Rhaenyra Targaryen moving to reside in Dragonstone, therefore grew in their separate ways.

Moving forward to the present, Aerys had found himself tossing and turning in his given chambers in the Red Keep, before he sighed, sitting up and moving out of bed, rubbing at his face in frustration. His feet had taken him to one of a small chest sitting on his table, fingers fiddling with the lock as it creaked open. 

There he pulled out a cloth, not just any cloth, but an embroidery of his dragon, Skysplitter, given to him by Helaena when they had last met. Even though they had glimpsed each other earlier in the dining hall after such years passed, neither had made a move. 

It was understandable since they were now both grown into a man and woman. Despite that, Aerys managed to give Helaena a smile, in which the latter only pursed her lips and averted her gaze from him in shyness. 

However, it felt as if no time had changed when the cousins Targaryen and Velaryon boys had gotten together, the whole feast spent catching up and having to tolerate Aegon’s jokes and reliving the memories of their childhood now over cups of wine. 

Aerys dragged his thumb down onto the fabric, its threads smooth and firm, Helaena had put much work and detail into it possible, even for its small size, it had depicted Skysplitter’s silver-red scales, wings spread and tail curled. 

It sent Aerys’ mouth quirking to a boyish grin, shaking his head, in all their time apart, he had not been able to let Helaena out of his thoughts, always lingering in the back of his head, even thinking about her had his heart hammering against his chest, begging to be let out so it could find its way to where it wanted to belong. 

Aerys then placed the embroidery back into the chest, shaking himself out of his foolish thoughts, closing the chest with a thud and clicking it shut, before deciding to venture out the halls, throwing a robe over on his shoulders to beat the cold that managed to seep into the castle in the night. 

Mostly everyone should have been asleep now, his family in their own respective chambers. 

Then as he had moved up the stairs, trying to challenge himself if he could remember the way to the balcony where he and Helaena often spent time together. 

Passing by large intricate doors, with guards nowhere in sight, there was a noise making Aerys halt in his steps, eyes meeting the handle. With brows knitted, Aerys knew he should not intervene, and that it was probably something else.

As he made to continue in his steps again, there was a gasp followed by a short yell, muffled through the doors. Aerys instincts kicked in, grabbing at the large door handle, pulling it open imagining someone was in need of help when darkness greeted him, except for a few candles lit. 

There were no signs of trouble, though only then Aerys realized it was another sleeping quarters, based on the heap on the bed. Aerys blinked back, he should turn away now, or it would have been a cause of immodesty for him to be found within another’s bedroom. 

Yet before he could turn back again, the voice was much clearer this time, and in distress. “No, no, not him- please!” 

Helaena. 

Aerys inhaled a sharp breath as the realization of being in Helaena’s quarters hit, and she was there struggling with a nightmare, with no guards posted to alert her family of it. The longer she cried, Aerys broken free from his stupor as he approached where she lay on the side of the bed, hand immediately darting as he spots Helaena’s face scrunched, a stray tear rolling down her cheek in her sleep as she tossed, trying to fight her way out of the nightmare that had a hold on her. 

“Helaena, Helaena, wake up.” Aerys urged, squeezing at her shoulder and trying to shake her awake. It took a few tries with Aerys’ tone deepening in concern before Helaena had jolted awake, sitting up and looking frantically, gesturing and managing to grab a hold of Aerys’ arm, her eyes wide and stricken with grief and panic as she called out for her twins that she did not have at the moment. 

“Where are they? My- my children! Jahaerys, Jahaera- oh Jahaerys…” Helaena said, breathily, seeming as if the air had been knocked out her lungs as she was a mess, tears freely rolling down her flushed cheeks of her creamy skin.

“Helaena.” Aerys voiced firmly, Helaena gasping for air as her body shook, looking at him, mouth parting open and closed as she registered his presence. “Aerys.” She replied, almost in relief, without thinking, pulling him in an embrace, sending him to be sat upon her bed, face buried in his chest, grasping at his robes.

Only then Aerys realized how cold Helaena had been, in turn wrapping his strong arms around her delicate form, though his heart beat faster than a horse could run. Aerys rubbed up and down her back, careful of where he situated his hands as he slowly rested one upon the small of her back, the other shy of just touching her waist. 

“Shh, you are alright, there is no harm here.” Aerys comforted as Helaena’s shaking body soon started to relax, this here, Helaena being in his arms had felt right, as if something had shifted in the stars.

 “No harm will come to you, I swear of it.” Aerys voiced in a fleeting thought. Helaena stayed buried in his chest, arms clinging around him as she steadied her breath with the help of Aerys. 

“They, they took him from me, Aerys.” Never had Aerys heard such fear in her voice, Aerys knew better than to prod when Helaena was clearly distressed. “No one will take anything from you, Helaena.” He responded. He had spent a few minutes ensuring Helaena had come back down from whatever dreams plagued her mind. 

Once Helaena had gone quiet and was now breathing normally, with Aerys rested back on the bed, leaned back against the headrest with Helaena laying her head on his chest now. Aerys absentmindedly traced patterns on her arms through her sleeves of her chemise, before propriety had struck his mind like a blacksmith would hammer a forged sword. 

Shifting, Aerys waged a war within his mind, a part of him selfishly wanted to stay, another deemed that he had done his part and must now leave Helaena alone before he could get in trouble and drag her with him. 

“I think I must go, Helaena.” Aerys carefully voiced, moving and slowly trying to detangle himself from her, reluctantly. 

“Must you really?” Helaena croaked and Aerys felt his composure fracture. He had long avoided looking into Helaena’s face and he made the mistake of doing so now, gazing down at her to find her eyes still puffy and red, eyes conveying more emotions than she spoke.

“I… I would not want to get you in trouble.” Aerys swallowed down. “You could leave before the sun shows…” Helaena suggested before she was tugging onto the sleeve of Aerys’ tunic. “Tell me what endeavours have you sought to do in your years at Dragonstone?” She added, liking to hear more of Aerys’ voice which had managed to calm her tonight. 

Thus with Aerys  taking a quick glance out into the window of Helaena’s chambers, calculating that he likely had a few more hours before the keep would come alive again, he obliged. 

“-you should have seen the look on poor Lucerys’ face when he had first rode on Arrax.” Aerys could fondly remember having to steady the youngest on his feet when he got back down onto the ground, unable to even jest with his brother in between laughter. 

As he looked down at Helaena, he found her fast asleep, curled up against his side, a hand splayed on his abdomen, stirring feelings he had held back for so long with them in this position. Smoothing a few stray hairs away from her face, smiling dearly when Helaena’s nose would scrunch in turn, he placed a featherlight kiss upon the crown of her silver head. 

Whatever the Gods had in store for them now, Aerys vowed that in time and come whatever may, one way or another, was going to ask for Helaena’s hand.

[aemonds-favorite-rider]

Aegon's Halloween Party.

mdni. nsfw below

hi everyone. i like halloween. do you like halloween? this is what i think modern! hotd men would dress up as with their girl to attend Aegon Targaryens yearly halloween party.

Aegon Targaryen:

Bonnie and Clyde. He's your ride or die and vice versa. He dresses in the old timey clothes with his dress shirt sleeves rolled up. Joint tucked between his teeth as his hands run up your old timey suit. Telling you what a pretty partner in crime you are. He absolutely pounds the shit out of you in his bed mid party before going back with a cheeky smirk. Your stolen panties in his suit pocket like the perfect thief.

Aemond Targaryen:

Ghostface. Could you imagine? Getting this tall man into a ghostface mask paired with your Sidney costume? It's a miracle you even make it to Aegon's halloween party. You last all but an hour pretty much before you're both leaving to get back to your place...where a lovely night of role play goes on that leaves you absolutely screaming :)

Jacaerys Velaryon:

Hear me out! Victor Van Dort and Emily from Corpse Bride. Is he not perfect for it?! Tall and lanky, even the hair. He absolutely loves the effort you put into it all and 100% is bending you against the bathroom counter at the party hiking up the tattered dress as he murmurs for you to be so good for him so you don't get caught. Letting you know you're his woman.

Cregan Stark:

Little Red Riding hood and the big bad wolf. It writes itself folks. Letting you tease up his long brown hair and giving him fake canines...you don't even go to Aegon's party. He takes you straight to the woods and letting you roam out far enough before hunting you down...who's afraid of the big bad wolf?

[viihelii]

HOUSE OF THE DRAGON, 1.05: "WE LIGHT THE WAY", 1.08: "THE LORD OF THE TIDES", 1.09: "THE GREEN COUNCIL" + art (4/...)

Lord Boremund Baratheon, Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen and Ser Criston Cole ∙ The Reluctant Bride by Auguste Toulmouche, 1866 Queen Alicent Hightower ∙ Mary Magdalene by Giacinto Brandi, 1621-1691 Queen Alicent Hightower ∙ Lying Female Nude by Victor Casimir Zier, 1881 Queen Alicent Hightower ∙ The Last Day of Pompeii by Karl Pavlovich Bryullov, 1830-1833

+ bonus (creds to dingusfreakhxrrington for divider)

King Viserys I Targaryen, Prince Daemon Targaryen and Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen ∙ Théodore Géricault on His Deathbed by Charles Emile Champmartin, 1824 The Royal Family (Houses Targaryen, Velaryon and Hightower) ∙ The Last Supper by Leonardo da Vinci, 1494-1498 

[sharararararara]

MASTER LIST★

AVATAR

NETEYAM:

All I wanted was you...( Yandere Neteyam x Metkayina reader)

Neteyam HCS( Neteyam x reader)

Husband Neteyam x reader( AGED UP) (NO SMUT)

Not all stories end with a happy ending( Neteyam x Metkayina reader) (ANGST)

AO'NUNG:

Ao'nung HCS( AO NUNG X READER)

Yandere Ao'nung HCS

TSIREYA:

I see you...( Tsireya x Fem Metkayina reader) (Angst turns into fluff)

Tsu'tey:

Nga yawns lu oer...(Tsu'tey x Omaticaya reader) (angst turns into fluff)

YANDERE AVATAR THE WAY OF WATER FAN FICTION:

INTRO

CHAPTER 1

HOUSE OF THE DRAGON

AEMOND TARGARYEN:

RIGHT PERSON WRONG TIME( Aemond x reader ANGST)

Fire and blood( Dark Aemond Targaryen x reader) ( Coming soon)

Yandere Aemond x Older sister reader (Chapter 1) (Chapter 2) (Chapter 3 )

Aemond Smut Imagine

Jacaerys Velaryon:

Yandere Jacaerys Velaryon x reader HCS

Harry Potter

CEDRIC DIGGORY:

ALMOST LOOSING YOU- DARK CEDRIC DIGGORY X READER

VICTOR KRUM:

My swan( Yandere Victor Krum x reader)

DRACO MALFOY:

Yandere Draco Malfoy x reader( coming soon)

HARRY POTTER:

Coming soon

NEVILLE LONGBOTTOM:

Coming soon

HUNGER GAMES

FINNICK ODAIR:

Never letting you go- Finnick Odair( Dark Finnick x reader)

CATO HADLEY:

Blood in my hands- DarkCato Hadley x reader( coming soon)

CORIOLANUS SNOW:

Cold as snow( Dark Coriolanus Snow x reader)

PEETA MELLARK

Coming soon

HONKAI STAR RAIL

JING YUAN:

Yandere Jing Yuan x reader HCS

DAN HANG

coming soon

BLADE

Coming soon

ONE PIECE

ZORO:

Yandere Zoro x reader HCS

SANJI:

WILL POST SOON

BUGGY:

WILL POST SOON

LORD OF THE RINGS/ THE HOBBIT

LEGOLAS:

WILL POST SOON

THRANDUIL:

Letter from Dark Thranduil

Dark Thranduil HCS

FRODO:

WILL POST SOON

PIPPY:

WILL POST SOON

MERRY:

WILL POST SOON

SAMWISE:

WILL POST SOON

ARAGORN:

WILL POST SOON

Game Of Thrones

Daenerys

Coming soon

Jon Snow

Coming soon

Sansa Stark

Coming soon

Rob Stark

Coming soon

Oberyn Martel

Coming soon

PERCY JACKSON AND THE OLYMPIANS

LUKE CASTELLAN

Dark Luke Castellan x reader HCS

The sun shines brighter when I'm with you.

Wrapped in a deadly embrace

PERCY JACKSON

Finding you

ANNABETH CHASE

COMING SOON

GROVER UNDERWOOD

COMING SOON

CLARISSE LA RUE

WAR AND BEAUTY

Outer Banks

RAFE CAMERON

Sick.

[atopvisenyashill]

THE HISTORY OF MARRIAGE ALLIANCES BETWEEN HOUSE VELARYON AND THE SUMMER ISLANDERS OF ESSOS

The more I think about Corlys and the Dragon Twins as characters, the more I really like the change to book canon that their heritage isn't quite so strictly Valyrian. They seem to be this middle ground between the Celtigars, who imo likely "went native" very quickly, and the Targaryens, who, ya know, *gestures at that mess* because they seem to have more Valyrian marriages and their Valyrian heritage is taken more seriously than the Celtigars.

I settled on this idea that being a house of seafarers, they often intermarry with various Essosi nobles and that’s part of why ~the blood of valyria~ is still strong with them despite not partaking in incestuous marriages; like Larra Rogare or Serenei of Lys, many Essosi do have Valyrian looks and Valyrian heritage and the Velaryons are in a position as adventurers to meet and fall in love with these nobles.

One thing I noticed about the Summer Islands is that they seem to have a healthy diaspora, not just in King’s Landing but in Braavos - Arya mentions Bellegere Otherys still resembling a Summer Islander despite it being several generations since Bellegere Otherys the First. It also seems like there’s Summer Islanders that live long term in Braavos; there's 50 Summer Islanders in the Golden Company, Arya mentions seeing many Summer Islanders, and Sam and Gilly travel on a boat crewed largely by Summer Islanders. This all makes sense world building wise - they're a culture of seafarers and we usually see them at large hubs like King's Landing and Braavos.

So really, folding show canon Corlys into book canon is incredibly easy when you think about the high number of Summer Islanders at port cities. My thought here is - Corlys is a proud man and very insistent on how he built his own fortune, both in the show and in the books. I thought of the type of parents he could have had and settled on a man who becomes angered at the comments he and his mother get for being darker skinned and Essosi/Summer Islander and deciding to just double down by marrying a rich Braavosi Summer Islander. So first Daemon meets a Sumemr Isles princess on his own travels, Salata Xam, and falls in love, then Corwyn, like Corlys, attempts to build a fortune through his own accomplishments, including his marriage to the rich Sarissa Jaedosys, and passes that stubborn streak onto his son.

Then, similar to how Sybell uses her new connections to get her brother some land (though he’s still kinda fucked there lol), and the Lyseni Spring, the House of Jaedosys ("jaedos" means "summer" in Valyrian, so while the family is Braavosi and has considered themselves Braavosi for some time, their house name is a reference to their origins in the Summer Isles) uses their new connection in Westeros to build their own fortunes up as well. Corwyn’s (canon) brother, Victor marries a cousin of Sarissa's, Doreah Jaedosys. In canon, Daemon and Corwyn have several children - Daemon’s names here are all canon (AND he has some daughters), and Corwyn has an unknown amount of kids. I think this explains why there’s so many Black Velaryons - there’s just like, a shitton of Velaryon cousins right now!

So once I established Corlys and his brothers as being mostly Summer Island descent, from there I moved onto who is likely a descendant of the Dragon Twins (and Corlys). For Rhaena’s many daughters, I thought of Targaryen names that sounded Andal-ish/Reacher-ish and Andal names that sounded Targaryen-ish; there's a pattern in the Reach of using the more religious-affiliated Targaryen names as Reacher names (Aemon, Aegon, and Baelor have all come up!) so I think at least part of this is Rhaena's influence. I decided on Alyssa, Leyla, Victaria, Aelora, Denyse, and Rhaella.

I also combined this with my “Elaena marries Baela’s grandson” theory, which I feel makes a lot of sense - not only the Penrose-Valyrian connection and story implications, but notably the name “Laena” is a Velaryon name. I think if Ronnel’s mother was also a Laena, and both of them were half Velaryon, this little bond between them of choosing a Velaryon name for their first born daughter feels very sweet and romantic even. PLUS, if a Targaryen descended girl marries into another house, I can see people wanting to show that off every once in a while through a name. This is why Rhaena’s girls marry a Costayne and a Hightower!

Then I started thinking about the timeline and what was happening politically as all these descendants of Corlys start marrying. Given that the Tarlys were staunch supporters of Rhaenyra, I can see Rhaena wanting to reward that, and Garmund agreeing due to them being a powerful Reacher house. Since there is mention of the Blackfyre Rebellion ~pitting brother against brother~ and the Costaynes sided with Daemon, I thought having a Hightower-Targaryen involved in that mess would be thematically fun; either Aelora sides against her husband or Aelora marries a Costayne that sides against the main branch. Either way, when the rebellion is over, Daeron punishes the main branch Costaynes by taking most of their lands and giving it to Aelora and her daughters. As for Denyse, I thought it would make sense, once again, for her to turn back to the Braavosi Sumer Islanders for a husband; a First Sword of Braavos, perhaps, who use Hightower grey and a pink dragon to represent Denyse's heritage in their sigil.

Also Alyssa Hightower was originally supposed to marry Leo Hightower (Lady Sam and Lyonel's oldest son) but when she found out Leyla was in love with him, she committed herself to the Faith. Why? Because I think that's absolutely hilarious. Septa Alyssa is making Daemon roll over his grave lmao.

[rainwingmarvel7]

My OC Masterlist

An introduction to my main OCs in some of the fandoms I’m in! (There are many more than these trust me lol)

Nadya Dormaire (Game of Thrones)

Queen Consort of the Six Kingdoms; paired with Robb Stark, Jaime Lannister, and Jon Snow (among others)

Therese Targaryen (HotD)

Princess of the Seven Kingdoms; daughter of Rhaenyra; Team Black; paired with Aegon II Targaryen, Criston Cole, and Jacaerys Velaryon

Kaia Kestis Solo (Star Wars Sequel Trilogy)

Jedi Master and Head of Crimson Dawn; daughter of Cal Kestis and Qi’ra; paired with Kylo Ren/Ben Solo

Keira Velaris (Star Wars: The Bad Batch)

Jedi Survivor and Member of the Batch Batch; paired with Tech and Crosshair

Sigyn/Michelle M. Mobius (MCU)

Former Valkyrie and Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D, Avenger; secret daughter of Michael M. Mobius; paired with Loki, Ikaris, Steve Rogers, and Bucky Barnes (among others)

Fenrir Lokison (MCU)

Former TVA agent and Avenger; son of Loki and Sigyn; paired with Agent C-20, Cassie Lang, Wanda Maximoff, Kate Bishop, and Jennifer Walters

Elizabeth Newby (Stranger Things)

Daughter of Bob Newby; best friend of Nancy Wheeler; paired with Jonathan Byers and Steve Harrington

Demeter Allday (Hunger Games)

Victor of the 73rd Hunger Games; from District Nine; paired with Finnick Odair and Peeta Mellark

[lumillsie]

ೃ⁀➷ fandoms & characters I write for. ੈ✩‧₊˚

the fandoms I'm currently taking requests for are marked red. my favorite characters to write for will also be marked red.

if a piece of media you want to see me write for isn't on this list, ask me about it and I'll see if I'm familiar with it or intrigued by it enough to watch/read it. this list will be edited in case I become interested in writing for another fandom.

banner credits : @dollywons <3

╰┈➤ movies ₊❏❜ ⋮ ⌒

- the twilight saga - aro volturi, caius volturi, marcus volturi, demetri volturi, felix volturi, sulpicia volturi, athenodora volturi, leah clearwater, paul lahote, jasper hale, rosalie hale, alice cullen, carlisle cullen, benjamin (of the egyptian coven)

- the hunger games - finnick odair, johanna mason, gale hawthorne, cressida, cato, madge undersee (platonic)

- the ballad of songbirds and snakes - coriolanus snow, lucy gray baird, sejanus plinth, tigris snow, livia cardew, reaper ash,

- james bond franchise (daniel craig) - james bond, vesper lynd, le chiffre, gareth mallory (m), maximilian denbigh (c), lyutsifer safin

- harry potter - godric gryffindor, salazar slytherin, rowena ravenclaw, helga hufflepuff, newt scamander, theseus scamander, tom marvolo riddle, abraxas malfoy, barty crouch jr, regulus black, severus snape, evan rosier, james potter, sirius black, remus lupin, peter pettigrew, lily evans, marlene mcckinnon, pandora lovegood, xenophilius lovegood, bill weasley, charlie weasley, fred weasley, george weasley, ron weasley, draco malfoy, theodore nott, blaise zabini, hermione granger, harry potter, oliver wood, cedric diggory

╰┈➤ tv shows ₊❏❜ ⋮ ⌒

- game of thrones - robb stark, sansa stark, jon snow, daenerys targaryen, jaime lannister, margaery tyrell, cersei lannister, ramsay bolton, tywin lannister, tyrion lannister, joffrey baratheon, theon greyjoy, viserys targaryen, oberyn martell, bronn of the blackwater, edmure tully, ygritte

- house of the dragon - otto hightower, alicent hightower, gwayne hightower, daemon targaryen, rhaenyra targaryen, aegon 'the elder' targaryen, aemond targaryen, jacaerys velaryon, mysaria, alys rivers, addam of hull, ser criston cole

- from - ellis stevens, sara myers, nathan myers, kenny liu, fatima hassan, randall kirkland, jade herrera, tabitha matthews, jim matthews, boyd stevens, julie matthews (platonic), victor kavanaugh (platonic), kristi miller, marielle sinclair

- elementary - sherlock holmes, joan watson, marcus bell, mycroft holmes, jamie moriarty, odin reichenbach, gareth lestrade

- criminal minds - aaron hotchner, jennifer jareau, kate callahan, emily prentiss, elle greenaway, spencer reid, derek morgan, luke alvez, penelope garcia, tara lewis, jason gideon, david rossi, will lamontagne

- bones - zack addy, seeley booth, temperance brennan, angela montenegro, jack hodgins, camille saroyan, lance sweets, daisy wick, arastoo vaziri, jessica warren, finn abernathy, vincent nigel-murray, wendell bray

- castle - kate beckett, richard castle, javier esposito, kevin ryan, lanie parish, tom demming, hayley shipton, alexis castle (platonic)

- gotham - jim gordon, barbara kean, victor zsasz, oswald cobblepot, edward nygma, sofia falcone, jerome valeska, jeremiah valeska, tabitha galavan

- brooklyn 99 - rosa diaz, gina linetti

- shadow & bone - genya safin, kaz brekker, nikolai lantsov, jesper fahey, zoya nazyalensky, nina zenik, inej ghafa, matthias helvar

╰┈➤ books ₊❏❜ ⋮ ⌒

- a song of ice and fire series (mostly fire & blood) - arianne martell, young griff "aegon", aegon ' the conqueror' targaryen, rhaenys 'the conqueror' targaryen, visenya 'the conqueror' targaryen, maegor targaryen, rhaena targaryen, aemon targaryen, baelon targaryen, aegon 'the younger' targaryen, viserys ii targaryen, aemon 'the dragonknight' targaryen, daemon blackfyre, shiera seastar, daemon blackfyre

- the secret history - julian morrow, richard papen, henry winter, camilla macaulay, charles macaulay, edmund 'bunny' corcoran

- the folk of the air - jude duarte, cardan greenbriar, locke, nicasia, valerian, dain greenbriar, the ghost, the roach, the bomb, liriope

- house of hollow - iris hollow, vivi hollow, grey hollow, tyler yang

[thevelaryons]

I’ve always found it interesting that of the lowborn/bastard women in the DotD, Marilda is the only one who doesn’t get slandered and insulted in the Westerosi history books.

Speaking specifically about the women who were rumored to have had affairs with noblemen, the women (Sara Snow/Alys Rivers/Nettles) in particular get derogatory descriptions for various reasons. The men they are linked to all either die or are unable to do anything about the rumors (Sara: her rumored lover Jace dies and her brother Cregan is far away in the North when those rumors become a thing in the South years later/Alys: her rumored lover Aemond dies and her son is obviously too young to do anything about the insults people are saying about his mother/Nettles: her rumored lover Daemon dies). Regardless of whether any of the rumors were true or not, it's still the women in the relationships who were described in a negative manner. Even men like Aemond or Daemon don't get as slandered, despite their more controversial actions.

Sara may or may not have existed (the fact that her existence alone is doubted speaks for itself) but in the history books she is described as an "unwashed" bastard. Even the fact she was a virgin at the time of her affair with Jace is called into question. Alys gets descriptors like "slattern" and "cow". She is reviled as a seductress and witch who would sacrifice her own children. Nettles gets insulted as well, both by characters around her and the maesters/septons recording the histories. Beyond the classism, there is also a racial angle to the insults with her skin colour always being at the forefront when she gets called "dirty" and "creature". It’s unfortunate but Westerosi society is unfair to women, especially those of a lower social class, and so they do often have to rely on the men in their lives, whether that’s a male lover/husband, their father, brother(s) or son(s) as a source of protection. Characters like Sara/Alys/Nettles don't get that protection.

Then you get to Marilda's descriptions in the book, and it's completely clean. Not a single insult is uttered against her despite her supposed involvement with two different Velaryon men. Whether her affair was with Corlys or Laenor, it occurred at the time when they were married men. Laenor is dead by the time when he's claimed to be the father of Marilda's sons. But Corlys is alive and well. Not to mention, he's a very well respected figure in Westerosi society. That being said, I can’t see Corlys doing any major PR control here since he does not have the means to do so.

Alyn, however, could ensure his mother did not get negative remarks. He's the one said to have fostered close ties to the Citadel and a positive relationship with the Faith. On more than one occasion, he was anointed by the High Septon himself, which is something that's typically reserved for the King or his Kingsguard. So I think Alyn might’ve used that influence to his favor.

While Alyn does seem like the type who doesn’t care much about what others think of him, he clearly respects his mother so I doubt he would want her to have a bad reputation. Even concerning the rumors of Alyn's potential affairs, the maesters are somewhat dismissive about them and call the rumors "unreliable". They don't give much credence to what third parties are saying on such matters. As for Alyn's mother, she is spoken of with nothing but respect and even flattery at times.

History is truly written by the victors.

[backjustforberena]

By the time of Episode 09, Rhaenys BARELY knows Alicent. She's hardly given her any thought at all, especially adult Alicent. They've never spent any time together - the Velaryons boycotted the wedding, then they were at war in the Stepstones so no visits to court at all. First time Rhaenys would have seen Alicent as Queen would have been Laenor's betrothal feast- her green dress is not a move she has context for nor is it the most important thing to then happen that day, and then in the next ten years MAYBE they've seen one another in formal occasions or family events but they don't KNOW each other, they've not spoken to one another, really.

The only other time they are in one another's presence is when Alicent goes "mad" at HER daughter's funeral and her standing soberly in judgement at Vaemond's petition because Rhaenys kept to her island for the next six years.

Rhaenys has never HAD reason to give Alicent the time of day or any reason to try and figure her out. Alicent has never been a political threat to what Rhaenys holds most dear, during times in which Rhaenys has been political active. She has no opinion on the Queen because she doesn't need one.

Alicent, arguably, knows more about Rhaenys than the other way around. She'd have had informants like Viserys, Otto, Vaemond. Information will have trickled through over the years, enough for her to make assumptions that she then tries to weaponise.

Rhaenys gets about two seconds. A "beat" of looking Alicent Hightower up and down. Of study. And then Rhaenys is able to hit her at her core and play mind games and send Alicent in a tailspin that has her all but RUNNING from the room in FOUR sentences.

When Alicent is the one who has Rhaenys imprisoned and the one with the better position and power... Rhaenys comes out as victor.

[sansacherie]

THE ONCE PRINCESS OF DRAGONSTONE: A RETELLING OF RHAENYRA I BY MAESTER LUTHOR

King Viserys I reigned for almost a decade before a burst belly took him in the year 111.

Between his two marriages, he had sired three trueborn children. Princess Rhaenyra, his eldest daughter by his cousin Aemma Arryn, and his younger children, Princess Alysanne and Princess Helaena by Alicent Hightower.

Viserys was twenty-six when he succeeded his grandfather. In contrast, Princess Rhaenyra was fourteen and therefore still two years from her majority. Her father was not only a man-grown but a wedded one. True, he and his queen were still bereft of a prince after enduring numerous losses. But a hale princess enabled hope of strong brothers, especially when Queen Aemma was still young and capable of getting with the King’s child. Viserys was also the victor of the Great Council of 101. Lords great and small voted overwhelmingly to support his claim if the rumors were true. No precedent existed for the princess, too young to recall Harrenhal.

Most importantly, while Viserys Targaryen had been the fifth Targaryen king, Rhaenyra would be the first Targaryen queen.

She was, of course, not the first girl to be named heir to the Iron Throne in its history. Aerea Targaryen was her uncle’s until King Jaehaerys began propagating the royal line. And while Rhaenys Targaryen had never officially been declared Princess of Dragonstone, she was of a birth that saw her considered by many in the realm as a future queen regnant, including her grandmother Queen Alysanne. However, this was different.

With the absence of trueborn brothers, Princess Rhaenyra was unquestionably His Grace’s heir according to Andal tradition, followed by her half-sisters, until she wed and sired children. However, it was well known that the Velaryons only begrudgingly accepted the outcome of the Great Council. Corlys Velaryon, an ambitious man, was most aggrieved by the claims of his beloved wife and son being overlooked. Therefore, one can see why they acted to advance the interests of House Velaryon.

Just one day after His Grace’s body was cremated in the Dragonpit, Princess Rhaenys flew to Kingslanding on Meleys. Nor was she alone. Her daughter Lady Laena accompanied her on her own mount, the mighty Vhagar. They came with a proposal, although some might be more ready to believe it a demand. The Great Council ruled that the Iron Throne must pass through the male line to his male descendants. However, King Viserys left no legitimate sons of his body. Princess Rhaenys remained of an older line than Princess Rhaenyra. She also possessed a male heir, who was still free to be used in marriage.

Therefore surely the Hand understood why there was a need to solve the matter of succession peaceably between the King’s daughters and the Velaryons.

Otto Hightower understood their perspective, but he was reluctant to accept such an agreement. While he gave Princess Rhaenyra’s position all its due honor, he was also a man who knew something of ambition. He did not want to relinquish the girl’s regency, nor was the Lord Hand blind to the fact that if Rhaenyra ascended, his own grandchildren would be first and second in line.

Furthermore, such an event would surely take months to arrange as it did before, although, of course, one could say that a war would take even longer, and be considerably bloodier.

However, they could not so easily dismiss the Velaryons. Thanks to Lord Corlys, they were the wealthiest house in Westeros. It was also reasonable to assume that the power of the stormlands would be with them, as Rhaenys was the daughter of Jocelyn Baratheon, whose brother was fierce in his support of his niece.

And perhaps most critically, they had three dragons to Rhaenyra’s one.

It is sometimes that the correct answer is the simplest one. It was the Dowager Queen who proposed that instead Rhaenyra be betrothed to her cousin, Laenor Velaryon.

Grand Maester Runcitor would record this meeting between the queen and the queen who never was.

“Let us not waste our time with great councils,” Queen Alicent is said to have told Princess Rhaenys. “Let us betroth Princess Rhaenyra to your son, and have their marriage put this matter to bed for the good of the realm.”

“A tempting offer,” the proud Rhaenys would reply. “If made in good faith.”

“I assure you it is,” answered Alicent Hightower. “Just as I accepted the King’s hand in good faith.” The implication, just as the one that Rhaenys had given by arriving on a dragon, was clear. Queen Alicent had not forgotten the rumors that arose about her virtue when she wed His Grace. The cause of such rumors could reasonably be traced to Driftmark, as they had been most wroth over the King’s choice in bride. However, such unpleasantness could be left in the past, for the sake of a marriage alliance that was dignified for both parties. The Dowager Queen held no interest in making an enemy of Driftmark, not when she had two little girls to consider. Queen Alicent feared Alysanne and Helaena being inevitable targets if knives came out over Rhaenyra’s succession.

It is not recorded how Rhaenys Targaryen responded. However, she agreed to present the match to her lord husband, after first bringing King Viserys’ ashes to Dragonstone.

Lord Corlys must have seen the sense in the offer, although he was displeased that the terms meant neither his wife nor son would rule in their own right, and that instead, Laenor was reduced to a consort. That is perhaps why he inquired if Rhaenyra and Laenor’s children would take the name of their father, as was the custom.

Rhaenyra was insulted. “Has the Sea Snake swallowed too much seawater?” She demanded of her ladies. “My sons will be Targaryens, whoever their father is.” In the end, it was accepted that they would have their mother’s name, but upon Lord Corlys’ passing, their second son or eldest daughter would take the Velaryon name and Driftmark.

Their betrothal ended with a lavish ceremony in 112 AC. Rhaenyra was fifteen, Laenor three years her senior. Being a cousin and of Valyrian descent on both sides, he was a suitable match for a Targaryen princess with no brothers.

Princess Rhaenyra did not however consider him suitable. Still fresh in grief for her doting father, she demanded to know why she must marry a cousin that she had not laid eyes upon for years when she could have any man in the Seven Kingdoms.

Why should she sacrifice the enjoyment of seeing men fight for her hand, just so Driftmark could be appeased?

“Then do it not for their sake,” Lord Beesbury, the Master of Coin. “But for the sake of your father the King.” King Viserys might have been a romantic who had wed for love, but he was not a romantic fool. He would agree with the need for Velaryons. This inevitably sobered the young maiden.

So Rhaenyra took Laenor to husband, and all agreed they made a striking couple. While the Velaryons enjoyed their hour of triumph, Queen Rhaenyra and Queen Alicent paid tribute to each other at the wedding feast. Princess Helaena was judged too little for the festivities and thus remained in the nursery. However, Princess Alysanne was old enough to attend, to her sheer delight. At one point she could be seen dancing with a laughing Lady Laena. When it came time for the bedding, Laena swapped jokes with her good sister.

The end of Rhaenyra’s regency came quickly. In 113, before a sea of thousands in the Dragonpit, she was proclaimed Queen Rhaenyra, the First of Her Name. Ser Criston Cole, her sworn protector, and Lord Commander of her Queensguard, solemnly placed the crown upon her head. Queen Alicent, beloved of the smallfolk, in turn, placed the crown commissioned for Laenor upon his own. The memory of the coronation over time would be a fond one. In Kingslanding, there was a week of celebrations that ended with a service conducted by the High Septon. On Driftmark, they perhaps would have celebrated even longer, as they toasted to Laenor and Rhaenyra. Of course, there were lords and common alike who muttered about a girl on the throne. Indeed years into the future, such discontent was strong enough to lead to a failed coup that if successful would have seen Rhaenyra take holy vows, therefore enabling her son to take the throne earlier.

It is now that we must raise a sensitive matter. Laenor Velaryon was apparently immune to the charms of women. However, desire was not necessary for duty. That being said, it was not until 115 AC that Queen Rhaenyra presented the realm with children.

As they grew, Prince Jacaerys and Prince Lucerys looked very much like their aunt, Princess Alysanne. The amity between Queen Alicent and Queen Rhaenyra had flowered into a deep affection. If the Dowager Queen resented being unable to have a son before His Grace’s unexcepted passing, she hid it well. It was Her Grace gave comfort to the young queen while she labored to bring forth her twins.

In 117 AC, when Princess Alysanne was ten and Princess Helaena was eight, their mother Queen Alicent wed the dashing Lord of Casterly Rock. It was a match worthy of a queen who was still fair and fertile. More importantly, he had no children by any previous union.

Queen Rhaenyra was not entirely pleased by the marriage. Some whispered that she resented her stepmother for attracting the eye of a man that she herself fancied as a girl. But girls have a hundred fancies, and Rhaenyra was not a girl anymore. More like that Rhaenyra was always wary of any potential threat to her reign, while Queen Rhaenyra loved her half-sisters, the connection they now shared with the Lannisters through their lady mother meant she must continue to hold them close.

Queen Alicent understood this, knowing it was a vain hope to bring one of her daughters with her. She left her weeping daughters behind with a thousand kisses and solemnly bade them to do her proud while she left for the Westerlands. Queen Rhaenyra’s face was guarded as she watched, but when it came to her goodbye, her pride broke. She had known Queen Alicent since she was a little princess, and while Alicent was still too close in age to Her Grace to be her mother, Queen Rhaenyra knew her better than she remembered Queen Aemma. “I pray that you will be happy,” she is said to have told Queen Alicent. “I know that is what our father would want.”

Sadly, the Lady of Casterly Rock suffered several miscarriages before she gave birth to her first son in 120 AC, whom she named Jaime. She was followed by a sister, Johanna, in 121 AC. The babe was named in honor of Johanna Marbrand nee Westerling, whom Alicent had become very close with. Johanna was very like Alicent, a precocious girl who had grown into a confident woman.

To Alicent’s joy, shortly after the birth, Princess Alysanne and Princess Helaena arrived at Casterly Rock atop dragons.

Alysanne had claimed Sunfyre, while her sister’s mount was Dreamfyre, the beast that once bore Rhaena Targaryen through the skies. They were, of course, accompanied by a retinue. Alysanne and Helaena were now thirteen and eleven respectively.

While Helaena was enchanted with her “sweet siblings”, Alysanne laughed at their golden hair. “Their hair matches my Sunfyre’s coloring,” she teased. That was Alysanne’s way. A teasing girl who could be as clever and sweet as she was lazy and cheeky. Queen Rhaenyra could not help but find her sister amusing, although she took Lord Royce’s advice (Rhaenyra had several years before, decided to replace Ser Otto with a vassal to her kin, the Arryns) Instead, to Lord Royce’s chagrin, Alysanne would sometimes interrupt the Small Council, heedless of propriety and the flagon in her hands. Her Grace indulged her sister, as Alysanne worshipped Rhaenyra, although she would not have tolerated herself being interrupted. After consulting with her stepmother via raven, Rhaenyra sent for suitable girls to be companions for Alysanne. However, the princess would declare these girls “boring”. She seemed content enough with having Helaena and Sunfyre as her “best friends”. Alysanne was admittedly quite boastful of her golden beast, particularly when her nephews’ cradle eggs had never hatched.

As for Helaena, she was of a gentle heart that was treasured by many. Like her sisters though, she was not without pride and could be given to sarcasm at times. When asked by one of the queen’s ladies if she hoped to marry Prince Jacaerys or Prince Lucerys one day, Helaena replied that yes, she meant to marry both.

However, when Jacaerys was twenty, he caused a scandal when he wed Alysanne. Alysanne was seven years older than him. She had married a “forgettable” Redwyne, who was good enough to get her with child before dying. Even at four, Lady Alicent was a pious thing of solemn mien.

Some whispered that Alysanne had deliberately seduced Jacaerys. The Lady of Casterly Rock was incensed by the whispers, as much as she was troubled by the breaking of a betrothal.

So was Rhaenyra for that matter. In the wake of Luke’s death, Jacaerys had become even more precious to her. However, she was angered by the dishonor Jacaerys caused. So, too was Lady Laena. The cousins had become very close over the years, but Jacaerys’ actions would make Laena considerably cool towards Queen Rhaenyra. It was perhaps just as well that Laena was now without her Vhagar, the beast dying in its sleep in 131.

The scandal also caused conflict with her brother, Ser Laenor. Ser Laenor was torn between his sister and his son, and this ended up causing more tensions in his marriage with the queen, a marriage already hurt by Lucerys’ death. Fortunately, he was able to find much comfort in Joffrey Lonmouth, long beloved to him. Joffrey had too wed and sired sons, and they had trained alongside Jacaerys and Lucerys.

Eventually, a peace of sorts was reached. In 136 AC, Queen Rhaenyra organized a match between her niece and her half-brother, the sixteen-year-old Lord of Casterly Rock. The match proved to be a success, and in time they had three children – Myrcella, Cerelle, and Jason.

Queen Alicent did not live to see the birth of Jason, however. She died in 143, after an illness that coiled itself around her body. “I want to be with Helaena again, my sweet girl,” the once-queen said to her septa and Lady Johanna as she awaited death. “I want to tell her how proud I am.” The princess had died at the age of 15. When visiting Casterly Rock, a Lannister enemy was so brazen to attempt an abduction of Lady Johanna in front of her royal sister. Helaena had done more than scream, she had fearlessly given her own body to the villain's knife so her sister could snatch an escape, however, it ended up costing her life. The realm wept over Helaena, most of all her sister Alysanne, but Alicent and Rhaenyra found anger better than tears. Grief-drunk, Alicent Hightower demanded the man’s wife and children found if he had them, so she could bathe in their blood. Meanwhile, Rhaenyra ordered that the murderer be brought to Kingslanding, where upon his arrival, it is said that she had tortured him for seven days before Ser Laenor finally put an end to him with his Seasmoke.

While dying, Alicent often spoke of Helaena. She did not however mention either of the two men that had both made her widows. Indeed, in the years after her death, some whispered that Alicent Hightower seemed to prefer her Lady Johanna during her years at the Rock, a preference that went beyond mere friendship. That being said, it is perhaps easier to speculate about the dead than the living. As for Lady Johanna, if she knew of the rumors she paid it little mind. She would continue visiting Oldtown, where Alicent’s bones were sent, once a year until her death.

It is now that we turn to Jaehaerys, the Queen’s first grandchild, born in 135 AC. The failure of his cradle egg to hatch foreshadowed what was to come – the fall of the Targaryen’s glory and bane, the dragons.

[arraxies]

Lucemond! Hunger games idea

“Joffrey Velaryon.”

Lucerys could not believe his ears. He must have heard wrong.

How else could his little brother, Barely twelve years old, be reaped for these horrid games?

How?

His name had only been in the pool once!

Luke looks up and catches Joffrey move to the road leading up to the podium.

He could barely hear his mother’s screams, Jace most likely holding her back from stopping the young boy.

The oldest Velaryon was too old to do anything. He could not volunteer or stop this.

But Luke could.

With no hesitation Lucerys makes a run for his brother, but he was promptly stopped by the peace keepers.

“Joffrey!” His brother looks back towards him. Fear and hope shining in his eyes as he looks to his older brother for help.

Luke trashes and throws their hands off him as he finds his voice.

“I volunteer, I volunteer!” The peace keepers let’s him go.

“I volunteer as tribute.” Luke musters up all the confidence he can as he says his dooming words for all to hear.

Rhaenys, district 12’s chaperone has a fake smile on her face, one of pain and understanding.

She gestured for him to come up. But before he can reach the podium he stops by Joffrey.

The young boy is sobbing as he crushes his brother in a hug

“Listen to me” Luke begins, “you need to go to mom and Jace.”

“No.” Joff protests, not wanting to leave his brother.

“Joffrey listen. You need to stay safe. Now!”

Luckily Luke doesn’t have to say any more as Jace comes to collet the youngest boy.

Luke can still hear the loud cries of his brother, now mixed with his Mother’s own cries for him.

But he can’t look back now. He’ll break if he does. And even he knew the games had just began.

—-

In district one, their own reaping is happening.

It was not unusual for academy graduates to volunteer, for them the games were an honour. A secured win for most.

This years unquestioned candidate was none other than Aemond Targaryen, who’s own brother had won two years prior.

If Aemond could choose he would have volunteer last year, but his mother had begged him not to. To wait for graduation, and so he had.

But now, finally, it was his turn.

No longer would he be the simple brother of a victor. No, he would be a visor himself, and he would be a feared one, nothing like his drunkard brother.

The name on the note wasn’t even fully read before he raised his had high.

“I volunteer!”

Alys, district 12’s very own chaperone smiles brightly as he is brought forward to the podium.

—

One boy volunteered for love and to protect his family, the other; for glory fame and acknowledgment.

who knew their fate was bound by the same words

“I volunteer.”

[horizon-verizon]

Genuine question, but why do fans on both sides treat who was the wife and mother of Aegon III's children as a "victory"?

If I understand the dance fans (I am almost tempted to say "scholars" because the way and the fanaticism with which some argue I really think they deserve it) have argued that victory consists in having their blood on the throne. So it has been an argument made by TB that with Aegon III sitting as King Rhaenyra and her side are the victors.

Now TG seems to start from this same argument saying that Alicent (somehow) is ancestor of the Hightowers and Tyrells for AsoIaF (she is not) or that Jaehaera SHOULD be Aegon's queen and mother of his children, either because they think that they deserve it as a reward for the victim or because they believe that it is narratively more satisfactory to unite both claims as if it were a parallel to The War of the Roses and not of Anarchy.

I've also seen TB posts talking about how Vaemond Velaryon should feel good from the grave because his granddaughter was queen or TB telling the TG to shut up because his blood still achieved a good status.

My problems with these arguments are:

A. I think no one won the war, that it was a loss for House Targaryen as a whole from which they never recovered. However, I think the narrative pushes us to see Rhaenyra as the right side given the Alicent bloodline being extinct and the stark difference in deaths on both sides.

B. If you're going to use the argument of perpetuity of blood on the throne... Aegon ends up being a dead end and his descendants end up being generation after generation of would-be usurpers.

Actually the descendants of Viserys II and Larra Those who end up sitting, holding and now fighting to regain the throne.

Who Aegon III's queen was matters because: a. It's part of the worldbuilding and consistently that woman was named Danaena Velaryon B. Jaehaera's death is part of the story and the themes that Martin is trying to tell.

Having Jaehaera stay as his queen ruins those two points, but I don't understand how it's a win one way or the other which of the two is the mother of his children with the argument that TG and TB are making.Sometimes I think they don't know that it is Viserys' children who will eventually perpetuate the Targaryen lineage*...

*In that aspect I recognize that Daemon Darkfire He is a descendant of both Aegon III and Viserys II, however he is not officially a Targaryen and never sat on the throne.

Anon, you're just basically repeating why Rhaenyra/the blacks are the ones who end up HAVING THE MOST PRESERVED, thus "winning". It was a pyrrhic victory, in that it was "a win that comes at such a high cost that it resembles a defeat" (google search). why are you making as if your points abt Aegon being a "dead end" and Viserys II (who was RHAENYRA'S SON STILL AND WHO COULD HAVE DIED OR NEVER RETURN TO WESTEROS IF AEGON AND JAEHAERA DIDN'T BECOME ""DEAD ENDS") is some new information and doesn't matter as to how Rhaenyra "wins"? Of course it does and no you are not the one to think of these things.

A)

The point of someone "winning" the Dance was to seat either Rhaenyra or Aegon as the ruler, sure. Though Rhaenyra ruled for a few months, Aegon also only ruled for a few months even though he ultimately killed her. If we took that aspect as the end-all-be-all, neither won. but it isn't the end-all-be-all, because the point of having children/heirs is to reaffirm your own rule and make sure it is you who "lives on"; fighting for the throne is next to meaningless without being assured that your heirs become the next rulers, as we saw when Stephen of Blois (Aegon's real life inspiration in the English war Anarchy) was recorded to feel some type of way when Matilda's reps and the writers' of a treaty that made him king also said that his children would not be his heir. Instead it would be Empress Matilda's son who would be Stephen's heir. Matilda still got soemthing out of that, even if she herself could't rule AND it basically made Stepehen's work futile if he can't even pass on the throne to those he wanted to rule and "continue" his lineage. Thereby, it's obvious that to these people, this ALWAYS mattered.

Here is an example from the text to show how important that was to them/Westerosi nobles (F&B -- "The Sad Short Reign of Aegon II"):

Again, it is not just about who gets to sit the throne, but also, who got to propagate the Targ lineage...bc in a feudal system, who gets to propogate the lineage is the one with the conventional "glory" because, literally, it is your line who goes on to do anything and anything at all, which includes infamous and positively famous things. Which couldn't occur without you (here Aegon or Rhaenyra) existing and passing on surviving heirs. This is just how it works, anon, for this society. Rhaenyra and Aegon both were fighting for themselves AND their heirs to rule/pass down more heirs.

This all began with people in the fandom debating whether or not this story is as "neutral" and balanced in its critique of patriarchal violence, which should have never been the case because it's clear that the greens were the more punished villains AND antagonists no matter how you slice it. They lost the most.

And fans who deny such either never read the books (which can include the main ones and AWoIaF), are lying about it, are sexist, or just very stupid. could be all of the above, whether they read them or not.

B)

Sometimes I think they don't know that it is Viserys' children who will eventually perpetuate the Targaryen lineage*... *In that aspect I recognize that Daemon Darkfire He is a descendant of both Aegon III and Viserys II, however he is not officially a Targaryen and never sat on the throne.

I understand that some fans who aren't TB or TG think that such identifiers mean that both teams equally don't know what's really happening in the orig text from the mere "audacity" to declare themselves as either TB and TG juvenilely. Because they somehow think the Dance wasn't that much about misogyny...even the events before the Dance somehow wasn't about how stupid and destructive misogyny is for the "health" and balance of the entire world, much less Westeros. They have taken Condal at face value or wnat to validate Hotd, or don't understand what colonization vs conquest is or hate Dany and/or don't want her to be azor ahai/the prince that wa promised. Or to admit/see F&B is written to contextualize queenship, leadership, and therefore Daenerys Stormborn's arc, narrative role, and characterization. Which has beena thing for years.

However, they are wrong. As they always have been.

What exactly do you even mean by "Viserys' children...perpetuate the Targaryen lineage"? And? Aegon and Rhaenyra both are his kids and the Dance was about who would get to sit the throne AND be which of these two will be lineage-propogater. It was by itself and by definition something that was supposed to go to ONE of these two....why you trying to make as if someone has said it wasn't a child of Viserys who would and/or got to do this? Are you trying to confuse people on purpose?

Finally, it's Daemon BLACKFYRE, and no one said that the Blackfyres were the ones to rule? He's pointed out bc people said the none of Daenaera xAegon's kids live on or propogate any sort of lineage of current, relevant storyline/"glory"/historical deeds and events....when this is blantantly false because both Elaena and Daena mother still-living scions form house Plumm or the Blackfyres.

Without Jaehaera or Aegon II being involved bloodwise/lineage-wise.

Go back and re-read. Let go of your claim to superior "neutrality", when the fandom has never been fait in its assessments of characters and the writing and the arcs. It's never been objective in this fandom and never will be; there are headcanons and fanons upon fanons about Dany going Mad for god' sake! People believing Brothel queens happened.

ASoIaF may not be didactic, but it does have ideas that sit in moral contemplation and has moral arguments. It's just that, like most fantasy fiction, it's not spelled out for you; it's shown, not told.

[garagesesh]

A Bushel of Oranges for Thee

gif: notalicent ↸

Pairings: Criston Cole & Rhaenyra Targaryen

Summary: Everything he did, he did for her. And now he will die for her.

Warning(s): Violence & Death

A/N: Honestly I really cannot tell you why I wrote this. I don’t ship them. I don’t even like him. I was just rewatching HOTD and found myself intrigued by their dynamic and I guess with tbosas just being released, the theme of men being rejected by women they love turning them into spiteful people has been running through my mind lately. I have also been finding myself unable to sleep nowadays so this is how I spent my evening yesterday.

⌘ this is also available on ao3

␛ to masterlist

part one of the begging for rain series | go to part two ⌦

✦ looking for more asoiaf stories? check out my wintering series! ✦

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　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　 　

Ser Criston Cole surrendered himself to the black army at the second battle of Tumbleton.

He knew that his fight was over as he laid down his sword in the scorched field. Removing his gilded helmet on his own.

Stripped of the rest of his armor and of the Hand’s sigil by the Tully army under the looming threat of Addam Velaryon’s dragon. Lord Tully and Velaryon had not taken long to sentence him to face the Queen one last time but not before they made him reap what he had sown.

He was further stripped to his smallclothes, tied to a post and lashed for his sins until they deemed him worthy to be brought before his judge.

The tight iron chains rubbed his wrists raw, blood seeped out of his blisters making them only more irritated. The chill in the air made his wounds fester and he had once tried to wash them in the river before he was concussed with the heel of a Blackwood sword

“Get on.”

So he marched for weeks. From the Reach into the Crownlands until his exhausted, bloodshot eyes saw the Red Keep.

Where he would undoubtedly meet his end.

At the gates of King’s Landing, they leashed him. A rope around his neck that just like his chains were too tight, choking him. What was left of his small clothes were also relieved from his body.

A walk of shame to welcome him back to where he once considered home.

Through the gates, hundreds of peasants waited for the parade of the victors and their prizes. They threw anything and everything at him. Food, mud, stone, animal excrement. Human excrement. They screamed and mocked. They exposed themselves. He had nothing left of his ego.

Kings- no, Queensguards awaited him at the end of his shameful return. They had no care for their once brother. Pushing and shoving him along. Pulling at the rope around his neck.

He used to patrol, to protect the walls from monsters. Monsters like him that he used to throw into the cavernous dungeons they were now confining him to. The pride that came with the clink of his armor heavy on his once muscular, built young body and the feel of the heavy white velvet cloak on his shoulder that was now long ripped from his person.

He spent days chained to the wall unclothed. Meager rations of water and food were given to him when the guards felt like it. Rats ran across the floor and his flesh when he slept.

It was a fortnight before they let him down.

A moon before they gave him some sort of robe.

Two moons before they had given him anything other than stale bread.

Three moons before they changed his hay.

Just shy of the fourth moon when they gave him a bucket of water to wash. That’s when he knew that the Queen was ready to sentence him.

“Clean your filth, mutt.”

He peered into the bucket and saw his reflection for the first time. His black hair was stringy and outgrown. A beard covered his face. Dirt and excrement caked all over. He scrubbed his skin raw with the bar of tallow given. Trying to bring forth some sort of good appearance for her.

He wished he could have shaved.

After, he was dragged to the dark halls of the dungeons and into the bright keep. His eyes took long to readjust to the soft light.

“Ser Criston Cole the traitor.” Corlys Velayron was older but his wrath was still strong and his hatred still burned, wearing the very symbol he used to flaunt. “You stand before Queen Rhaenyra, Princess of Dragonstone, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.”

His eyes shifted upon the throne.

Rhaenyra.

She was stoic on the iron and unmoving before him, her face was shadowed by the haze streaming through the window. Anonymous to those who had not been graced to look upon her features. Her quiet presence dominated the grand hall, like he should completely submit himself to her again with vows of obedience. Like they all should.

Like a true Queen.

The throne had been waiting for its rightful owner and it finally had it. She commanded the throne, the throne did not command her.

Or was he just a man back from the battlefield looking upon the woman he loved for so long? He surmised it was both.

“You are charged with treason.”

Criston recalls when he made a King of Aegon in spite of her.

“Murder.”

He can’t recall names or faces of the dozens he had killed but he had killed for her. Both those who wished her dead and those who died in her name.

“And for breaking your sworn vows of the Kingsguard.”

He looked up at the last of his crimes.

Once again betrayed by her for something he had done for her.

He has been replaying the night of which she guided him gently to her bed. Kissed him. Undressed him. He hadn’t made love since then.

He had fucked and whored himself to the green queen. Locked himself away in pleasure houses on the street of silk and buried himself in maids but he never let go of that moment with her.

“Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?” She finally spoke. He couldn’t tell whether she was challenging him or pitying him.

He had nothing, nothing but empty air when it came to her and instead just shook his head.

“Ser Criston Cole, you are hereby sentenced to death.”

Now he will die for her.

All for her.

He spent his life still avow to her, even through his betrayal.

He made no move, made no indication of his thoughts or feelings at his doom.

“Bend the knee to your rightful Queen.” Corlys barked but Rhaenyra’s fingers lifted from the pommel of Blackfyre, stopping her Hand.

“He has already resigned himself to me, Lord Corlys.” She rose, now completely haloed by the light. “The terms of your execution will be determined by the small council.”

“Do you understand?”

“Yes, my Queen.” His shackles shifted as he hung his head in unmitigated submission to his queen.

“Take him away.”

He was dragged back to his damp cell like before. His withered and broken body was thrown into the old hay and chained to the wall once more and despite being condemned to the grave, sleep found him easily.

He dreamed of her. Accepting his proposal of running away to Essos. He saw her clearly in the grove of oranges they planted together at their seaside home, isolated from the rest of the world. Orange blossoms in her hair as she swelled with their child. Them in the ocean and devouring orange slices on the rocks in the warm sun afterwards.

“Kingsguard.” He jolted awake from the dream. “A Princess’s and Queen’s sworn guard. Hand of the King. Coward, traitor, prisoner. How far you have fallen, Ser Criston.”

“Rhaenyra-“ He croaked. He couldn’t see her at first in the dim light but her voice he would remember even in death.

Rhaenyra stopped, meeting his eyes in the torch light before nodding to her sworn guard. The cell door closed swiftly behind her just as quickly as it had opened. “Leave us.”

The guard bowed his head and clanked down the dark hallway. Leaving only the two of them in the dungeons.

“Ser Criston Cole.” He remembered when she used to say his name full of honey and attention back when he used to delude himself into believing she had felt the same toward him. He almost smiled.

“The council has decided.” He hung his head. ” You will die in a fortnight. I thought that I should tell you myself.”

He stayed silent, for he had nothing to say. Only his dark bruised eyes watched her as she paced in the soiled hay. No longer wearing her crown and stripped of her own regal gowns for rough woven trousers and a starched blouse underneath a crimson doublet.

“I hope you are satisfied with your time on this short life journey, for I’m sure you have enjoyed the years spent as a traitorous dog.”

He flinched but finally found his voice. His throat was dry from the lack of water and felt coated in sawdust. His voice broke. “I was o-nce a traitorous dog for you.”

“Yes, I remember it all too well. When you broke your vow of duty, of honor for me.” She stopped pacing to kneel in front of him, pausing. It was then he could see the scars from dragon fire puckering at her neck and up upon her left ear. “For Jaecerys.”

He met her violet eyes with her words, first confused at what the Queen had meant before understanding. His mind for the hundredth time that day thought of when she stole his helmet all those years ago. When they had spent weeks together reveling in each other, he fell harder for her than he already had. When she had married only a moon after she rejected him, where he stood in the corner unable to look at the princess without his heart unequivocally breaking. He can still hear the echoes of her screams in labor only to see the babe she birthed lacked the Valyrian features of what was expected of a Targaryen and Velaryon coupling.

He, like the rest of the court and of what the green queen told him, had assumed Ser Harwin Strong as the father.

He would watch the young boy with disdain. Remembering how disgusted he felt whenever the Prince would pick up a sword in the training yard. Telling Aegon to hit him hard. Hit the bastard hard.

Bastard was dirty in his mind now. A black spot that has forever now tainted him.

Alicent had directed and manipulated him with her sweet voice. Telling him of the ways Rhaenyra was a whore.

Another dirty word.

Visions of the battle in the Neck began to blur his mind. Visions of where he plunged his sword into the Prince’s back. Jacaerys had died before he even reached the floor.

His son.

Ser Criston Cole had been a father all this time.

Bringing his own son into the world and taking him out of it. For all he had endured in the years of his now realized meaningless life, this was the worst torture of them all. Cruelty in its highest form.

Murderer of his son.

“Forgive me, Rhaenyra.” He wasn’t asking, he was begging.

Rhaenyra hummed. “You murdered your own son. For what? Traitors?”

“Rhaenyra-“ The only water he has tasted in days was from the tears streaming down his face. “If only I had known-“

“If you had only known what? Ser Criston?” She stood, her shadow flickering in the firelight above him. “Hm? Known that you had a son? What would have that changed?”

“Everything-everything would have changed!” He sobbed.

“Is my claim to the throne valid now? Is that what it takes for you?” Rhaenyra sneered at him. “A child dead in the grave!”

“F-forgive me!” He strained against the chains, “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry-“

“I think we are far past the time for apologies and forgiveness between us.”

“Kill me then.” He was almost incoherent through his sobs. “Please! Kill me!”

“You had begged me once, remember? But I think it’s time you forget your dreams of oranges, for you had squashed them when you betrayed me.”

He had no response. His chains rattled as he strained against them, trying break free of the confines before he was consumed.

“Ser Cerwyn?” The guard appeared, “I think it’s time for my bath.”

“Certainly, my Queen.” Unlocking the cell, he held it open for the queen and extended a gloved hand for her to take.

His chest heaved, unable to breathe through his tears and guilt. The walls closed in, pushing him against the wall with an imaginary force. He continued to plead but it came out as a gurgle into the void as the light that was Rhaenyra disappeared. “I’m sorry!”

“Rhaenyra!”

He spent his last days completely mad. Murmuring his apologies to his dead son and to the queen. Cursing the green queen and all of those who were traitors.

When the sun set on his last evening, a covered platter was brought before his decrepit being.

“Eat, mutt.” The guard commanded as he opened the cell, all but throwing the concealed meal on the floor. The cover flew off, clattering against the stone to allow the ochre meal roll away from him.

His last meal was an orange.

Tears rolled down his cheeks silently as the guard freed a single arm from the confines of his chains. A kindness for his last night.

Picking up the orange from the soiled floor, it took effort and strength that he no longer had to peel back the citruses layer. The smell of the fruit overcame him and he was reminded of her. Taking his time with each of the slices, sucking their juice, smelling and savoring each one.

The orange lasted until apologies spewed from his mouth when the guards came to collect him at dawn. He put up no fight as they sheared off his lice infested hair to be able to get a clean swipe. They paraded him in empty halls to the outside chopping block in the cold pouring rain.

Ser Criston Cole was beheaded in front of a single witness, a gold cloak.

Some say no one showed up at all.

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go to part two ⌦

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✦ looking for more asoiaf stories? check out my wintering series! ✦