#viserys iii targaryen fan fiction

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Burn with Me

Pairing: Viserys III Targaryen (Game of Thrones) x f!reader Warnings: Smut, imbalanced power dynamics, abuse of power. Word count: ~2k

Summary: Viserys shares a piece of his ancestry with his concubine.

Author's note: Day one of Smuffmas - candlelight and collaring. No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

She steps into the tent that has been erected to serve as Viserys’ personal bathhouse and is immediately enveloped in humidity that clings to her skin like a shroud, as the opening falls closed behind her. True to his Targaryen nature, he favours the heat and, as such, always demands that the water be scalding before it fills the wooden tub, with as many candles lit as the surrounding space will allow, to ensure that it retains its heat.

The atmosphere within the canvas walls is one of resplendence; the rounded tub that sits in the far corner wafts viscous steam up into the air. The water’s surface reflects the vibrant orange glow of more candles than she can possibly count, all casting flickering shadows that dance upon the ceiling. The heady fragrance of Myrish oils lingers in the air, a potent aroma of cinnamon and ginger. Viserys refuses the use of Dothraki spiceflower in his bathwater, despite it being in abundance, and far less costly than oils and spices from the Free Cities.

“It is insult enough that I must exist among these savages,” he had once told her, “I will not smell like them too. See that my command is heeded, or you shall wake the dragon.”

He stands beside the bathtub, spine rigid and eyes narrowed in annoyance. She had come to him the moment she was summoned, yet she can tell from the subtle flare of his nostrils that he is impatient already.

Despite the gossamer fabric of the dress that drapes over her body, she can feel sweat prickling the back of her neck, dampening the hairs that rest at the base of it. She knows this is due to the stifling heat of the bathing tent, but the fearful hammering of her heart as Viserys eyes her in displeasure only serves to exacerbate it.

“About time,” he snaps irritably, beckoning her closer with a restive click of his fingers.

“Your grace,” she greets courteously, before he has the chance to scold her further, “allow me to help you.”

She steps in front of him, deft fingers moving over the forest green wool of the tunic that covers his lithe frame. It is a wildly impractical choice of fabric, considering the climate of Vaes Dothrak, but Viserys shuns more traditional garb in favour of wool and silk. One by one she pulls open the clasps, revealing the creamy, white flesh beneath.

During her time in the pleasure houses of Lys, she had lain with many men and grown accustomed to the sight of skin marred by battle scars and hardened by the ravages of hard labour. Viserys bears no such afflictions. He is thin, an unfortunate consequence of a life lived in squalor, but he has never known battle, he is soft and smooth, unblemished by conflict. She has silently wondered on many occasions how he could possibly ever hope to rule as king of Westeros if he is not competent with a sword, a musing she will never give voice to, lest she pay with her life for it. She has no doubt he will take no issue in wetting his blade with her blood, if provoked into doing so.

Despite his rakish appearance and short temper, she cannot help the appreciative gaze she casts upon him as she strips him of the remnants of his clothing. For all his flaws, Viserys is a handsome man; soft, silver waves of hair frame the hard lines of his face, a strong nose and chin accentuate the pierce of his gaze. His eyes carry madness within them, enticing with dangerous allure.

“Careful with that,” he commands, nodding to the tunic which she has picked back up to fold, “what’s in the pocket is worth at least five times more than what I paid for you.”

“Of course, your grace,” she replies simply, noticing the subtle weight the garment has to it that isn’t usually there.

“Bring it here,” he says to her, stepping into the tub and sitting down. The motion causes steamy water to slop over the sides, soaking into the clay coloured earth of the ground below, as he leans back, resting his elbows behind him on the edge.

“Not the tunic, stupid girl,” he spits, scowling as she steps forward with it, “just what’s in the pocket.”

She blinks rapidly, bowing her head, a fruitless attempt to will away the humiliation that burns hotly at her skin. Reaching into the pocket, she wraps her fingers around something hard, that feels cold against her skin despite the heat that hangs heavy in the air.

Pulling it free, she can see that it is a steel choker. Thick silver plates inlaid with large rubies make up the bulk of it, with a dainty chain that fastens it at the back. She has never held anything so valuable in her hands before, the very weight of it feels representative of its significance.

“I don’t suppose you have ever seen such opulence before,” Viserys tells her, drawing her attention back to him, to where he reclines in the bath, a smug smirk upon his face as he regards her pridefully.

She places the choker in his upturned, waiting palm. “Won’t it rust if you get it wet?”

Viserys grins, the gesture lighting up his face in a way that seems almost unnatural, as the ever present madness dances within the lilac of his eyes. “It is Valyrian steel, forged in dragon fire, it won’t rust, it can’t. Now disrobe and join me.”

He plays idly with the choker, running the chain through his fingers and holding the rubies up to the candlelight as she undresses, though it does not take her long. The near translucent dress is the only item of clothing that he will allow her to wear when tending to him, and it is rare that it stays on for long.

She hisses quietly at the burn of the water against her flesh as she climbs into the tub, the all encompassing heat making her legs tingle. She does not understand how Viserys can stand it, but then there is blood of the dragon coursing through his veins, so she supposes he barely notices it.

“Turn around,” he instructs, and she does as she’s told, presenting her back to him as she faces away. She can hear the splash of the water as he advances upon her within the small space, feel the water moving with him.

Dampened hands scoop her hair away from her neck, before he places the choker around it, carefully fastening it. It chills her skin, a strange juxtaposition to the clamminess that their surroundings elicit. It feels heavy and tight around her throat, more like a collar than a necklace, and as Viserys turns her roughly to face him, sending yet more water cascading over the sides of the bath, she can see that that was precisely his intent.

His eyes are wild as he appraises her, lips slightly parted. “This is hundreds of years old, it would have been worn by a Targaryen princess from the days of Old Valyria,” he tells her, his voice lowering, taking on the seductive timbre that he affects only when aroused. He hooks two fingers beneath the centre ruby, giving it a tug. “How does it make you feel?”

She swallows thickly, considering her answer, wanting to offer words that will please him. “It makes me feel…fortunate…to have the opportunity to wear something of such significance.”

He hums, clearly satisfied with her answer, giving a slight nod as he grasps her hips beneath the water and manhandles her into his lap. She can feel his hardened cock prodding insistently at her most intimate area as she settles into the position of straddling him, winding her arms around his neck, as his hands keep a firm grip of her.

“Ser Jorah came by this on his travels,” he tells her, eyes fixated upon her throat, “he was going to give it as a gift to my sister, but I have taken it for myself. I do not see why she should lay claim to such a valuable piece of our shared ancestry, just for spreading her legs and siring a whelp for that savage, Drogo.”

The tone of his voice drips with jealousy, and it makes her uncomfortable to be faced with his arousal, not for the first time, while he speaks of Daenerys. She knows that the Targaryens existed on a foundation of bloodline purity, however, those customs are queer to her and to be faced with the reality of their incestuous nature makes her stomach churn.

All thoughts leave her mind, however, as he tugs her downwards to meet his upward thrust, spearing her open on his cock with a grunt elicited through gritted teeth. She moans at the exquisite stretch, nuzzling into the crook of his neck as she clings tightly to him, her breaths hot against his wet skin.

Viserys keeps his hands upon her hips, helping to guide her movements as she rolls her pelvis against his, bouncing herself upon his aching length. Though he is often cruel to her, when he holds her close like this, and it is just the sounds of their mingling pants for breath and the slap of their skin, it is easy for her to forget that she was purchased for his pleasure, a means to distract him from the want to defile his sister.

When he holds her close, his harsh features contorted in ecstasy, the madness that dances within his eyes conveying only lust, she can allow herself to believe that she is special, that he chose her alone to travel with him and warm his bed because he wanted only her, not because the Beggar King could not afford more than one concubine. 

In her own foolish heart, she has allowed gratitude to be misplaced for love. The fondness she feels towards him for him having taken her from the pleasure houses of Lys, and rescuing her from the life of a common whore, in her mind, is romantic. 

So when he takes one of the stiffened peaks of her nipples between thumb and forefinger and pinches harshly, she mewls wantonly as the sensation causes her sensitive walls to clench around him, wanting him to know just how good he makes her feel, how eager she is to please him.

If he did not return her affection, why else would he allow her to wear the choker that currently sits snug against her throat?

She speeds up her movements, the bathwater undulating around them with more intensity. The head of his cock bullies relentlessly at a spot inside of her that, coupled with the lightheadedness she feels from the heat of the water, makes her forget herself entirely. Before she can stop them, the words tumble carelessly from her lips.

“I love you.”

He halts all movements, and she freezes, her heart hammering wildly against her ribcage as she realises what she has just said. She opens her mouth, wanting to apologise, to take it back, to beg for forgiveness, but before she can he’s grasping her jaw, forcing her to meet the intensity of his stare.

“Say it again,” he orders quietly, leaving no room for argument.

She is hesitant at first, but he tangles his fingers into the back of her hair, not allowing her to look away, so she relents. “I–I love you.”

He snarls, tugging harshly at her hair as he resumes his brutal thrusts up into her. “That’s right, you fucking do.”

For the briefest of moments, she had allowed herself to believe he might say it back, and is not even given the respite to experience disappointment, as he chases his release within her. Her confession of love having been enough to stroke his ego to the point of climax, evidenced by the insistent pulsating of his member as he pumps it in and out of her with renewed vigour.

He holds her tightly against himself, pushing himself as far up into her as he can go as he peaks, spilling inside of her with a shameless groan, before settling back down, her body pliant against his as they both catch their breath.

“I’m finished with you for tonight. Leave me,” he says despondently, as his rapidly softening cock slips free of her.

She offers a curt nod, disentangling herself from him and climbing on shaky legs from the tub, bathwater and Viserys’ seed both dripping down her thighs, as she reaches for her dress, clutching it to herself to protect what little remains of her modesty.

“Wait,” he snaps, and for a moment she believes he will tell her he has changed his mind, that he longs for her company. Instead he snaps his fingers, gesturing to her neck. “The necklace.”

Her heart sinks, but she forces her expression to remain stoic, unclasping it and depositing it back into his outstretched palm. Her neck feels immediately lighter, having been freed from the weight of it. However, as she walks from the tent, it is replaced with a heaviness upon her heart that reminds her irrevocably of her place - or lack thereof - in the world of Viserys Targaryen.

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[witchofthevale]

↷ september '23 fave fic recs!⋆☂｡☽˚.

Okay, okay here we go! This nearly killed me to make, so you better read them.

I'm kidding... I think.

Gentle reminder that what I consider 'fave' is by my own personal tastes and preferences, and you might not agree with them and that's okay! These are very lovely authors you can peruse on your own to find the right fic for you, and there are always the tags + algo. Just because your favourite fic isn't here doesn't mean it's not good; it could be potentially for a variety of reasons (I haven't read it yet, I have just not this month, I don't vibe with that character, etc).

That's what I love about the individuality in fandom and writers— there will always be that right fic from that right author that just hits all your good spots.

This is mine. For the month of September. If you find your next favourite fix here— I'm glad! If not, that's still swell! Hope you find it!

To the writers— thank you for writing such brilliant fics! I struggled setting this up because of how many I enjoyed 💝.

Anyways...

More quick reminders!

This is set chronologically; both by character name and by fic title.

If you are familiar with my blog, you will mainly see HOTD, some TLK, then random characters.

There may be smut! There may be dark fiction! I support and consume both! Please read trigger warnings actively! You are responsible for your own person! Community Labels ruin fandom ecosystems, stop snitching! Ignore or block at bloody will!

There are no series parts here. That is in a different display post that is still being processed lol.

If you see repeated author names, it can be numerous things— mostly, they're just that good, okay? Okay.

These are only for September 2023. I've read about 500+ on this account alone, and would die if I tried to go back before then, sorry. You can still check them out through tag navigation here!

I've also added some of my works that I enjoyed writing for the month, because why not.

Now that's fucking over, I hope you enjoy!

ABRAHAM (Grantchester)

*Untitled Piece by @ewanmitchellcrumbs

AEGON TARGARYEN II

Ceilings by @sapphire-writes

Lemon Cake To My Tea by @darlingofvalyria

Merciless or Ruthless? by @lovelykhaleesiii

Moan for Me by @st-eve-barnes

AEMOND TARGARYEN

A Mutual Feeling of Hate by @fan-goddess

Gelato by @oneeyedvisenya

Hell Hath No Fury @fromforeigntofamiliarity

His Love by @valeskafics

I'm A Fire, And I'll Keep Your Brittle Heart Warm by @randomdragonfires

Revolution by @valeskafics

The Black Stag by @darlingofvalyria

Til Death Do Us Part by @asumofwords

Unnerved by @dulcewrites

*Untitled by @ewanmitchellcrumbs

*Untitled by @missglaskin

Vulnerability by @valeskafics

ALDHELM

My Heart by @silens-oro

BILLY TAYLOR

The Perfect Send Off by @ewanmitchellcrumbs

BILLY WASHINGTON

Lonely This Christmas by @ewanmitchellcrumbs

DAEMON TARGARYEN

Ask, and You Shall Receive by @ewanmitchellcrumbs

A Thousand Words by @arabellasleopardcoat

Capital by @arabellasleopardcoat

Curse of Womanhood by @just-some-random-blogger

*Untitled by @barbiedragon

Valyrian Bride by @cryingforlife

HARALD SIGURDSSON

A Political Arrangement by @valeskafics

JACAERYS VELARYON

In Bastards of Blue, Wager in War by @darlingofvalyria

MAEGOR TARGARYEN

Little Lights by @dreamsofoldvalyria

OSFERTH

Lacnunga, Or, Remedy by @assortedseaglass

SIGTRYGGR IVARSSON

Little Warrior by @ewanmitchellcrumbs

SIHTRIC KJARTANSSON

Hours by @valeskafics

It's Urgent Darling by @sihtricfedaraaahvicius

Take No Wife by @valeskafics

TOM BENNETT

A Good Wife by @valeskafics

Rest by @fidelias

VISERYS TARGARYEN III

*Untitled by @barbiedragon

MULTIPLE CHARACTERS

Conquerors Reborn by @undertheorangetree | Helaena, Aemond x Reader

El Tango De Roxanne by @valeskafics | Jace, Aemond x Reader

Royalty Fucked by @oorhaellaoo | Baelon, Alyssa x Reader

[horizon-verizon]

You misunderstand me. I'm not saying it has no bearing on the story because it's from Yi Ti, I'm saying that since the Blood Betrayal hasn't yet been confirmed as the official reason why the Long Night began, HotD wouldn't be interested in referencing it. Also I doubt Condal and Hess read TWOIAF.

Anon speaks of this post.

Not sure why you think I misunderstood. I addressed your point about how "we can't know" that this legend explains or thematically explains the connection of misogyny to how we lose the dragons.

A)

Rhaenyra -- Amethyst Empress --- woman who lost her throne and life to an evil younger brother through force

Aegon II -- Bloodstone Emperor --- both usurp their elder, chosen sister

Daenerys/Amethyst Empress/Rhaenyra --- women of authority and power

Viserys (III)/Aegon II/Bloodstone Emperor --- brothers who have endangered, abused, or killed their sister and meant to displce them from their own rights, innate or sociopolitical, for their own power advancement.

As for Condal and Hess, they can't do pattern recognition, now? Condal especially said he was a "fan" of this series and world. He didn't read TWoIaF and he claims to be a AsoIaF "fan"?

It is similar here, with the Bloodstone Emporer/Amethyst Empress and that particular legend's explanation for the Long Night. This legend doesn't have to be totally real, and I mean that it doesn't have to be true that there was a 1000 year old emperor as the Yi Ti are told to believe abt some of the known Emperors. These are metaphorical in the first place.

All the legend is clueing us in on is that this betrayal, whatever it was, was one between relatives, a man undoing a woman's place, and thus speaking to how it threw off the balance of the world's magic. That women are a critical part of that balance. That's the central idea being conveyed, the purpose of this legend--everything points to Dany vs the Others (yes the others of the Big Five are still relevant, but they have no chance without her).

We don't need to know the actual details of who these particular people were and what they weren't when they loved or died, just that something like this usurpation definitely happened and there was a notable affect on magic in the realm those emperors ruled over, as Yi Tish people are also very active in magic wielding...most of Essos is, unlike Westeros.

I'm going to repeat myself in this post, but: this is not a real history book where we'll likely not know much of anything...GRRM provides more answers in his fictional history than real history books do.

All this is important to the theme of F&B: greedy men sideline, abuse, uproot women they are blood connected to for power (just as the Bloodstone emperor did), the women suffer for it/lose their political authority therefore their ability to as actively direct the direction of the House, and eventually the entire house and Westeros loses dragons to use against the Others and the world's magical & biological ecosystem is totally thrown off kilter until Dany literally sets it right again by bring the dragons back. The dragonglass candles at Oldtown, they light up again when she does this. The last of AGoT:

As Daenerys Targaryen rose to her feet, her black hissed, pale smoke venting from its mouth and nostrils. The other two pulled away from her breasts and added their voices to the call, translucent wings unfolding and stirring the air, and for the first time in hundreds of years, the night came alive with the music of dragons.

So again, why do you need "more" "confirmation" when there is so much evidence, when that's not how fiction works (that you need things totally spelled out for you to be true), etc?

Honestly, this seems a literacy and latent sexism issue that causes this cognitive dissonance in fans that makes them deny these types of connections as canon, real, whatever. Bc you have people caliming Jon is Azor Ahai up the wazzo simply because he's the son of a Targ and a Stark (fire and ice), male, the "sword" of the prophecy they take as literal, etc. etc. But "song" means "war" and Jon has done nothing/nothing has happened around him to predicate a connection the Azor Ahai prophecy in-text. Yet so many people ride for this stupid idea, this stupid unsupported idea!

This idea that has never been "confirmed" and never will be bc there is and has never been evidence to how Jon Snow, a Westerosi Stark through and through, relates to an Essosi prophecy when Dany--who grew up in Essos and was born in Westeros thus is a connector of the two continents; is actively dealing with dragons and having dragons dreams; in Essos where the Azor Ahai prophecy originates; comes from a dragonriding lienage ("fire"); the enemy of "fire" has always been "cold" and Jon is more Stark than Targ, so "cold" must be the ecological and magical threat that is the Others that even GoT has had us anticipate since its very 1st episode as THE enemy before that atrocious last season!!!; when we know "prince" is a gender neutral term form High Valyrian (Prince that was Promised)--has all the evidence of being Azor Ahai.

And why does it matter they they haven't read it when they could have asked GRRM or just read F&B to properly understand the point of the Dance?

Condal can't clock that this legend is narratively important just as much that the CotF/"those who sing the song of the earth's connection to Dany and Westeros' future? Just bc a thing is in Essos, doesn't mean it will not affect Westeros just as real life Ancient Asian societies have been able to make physical trade as well as intellectual "trade" or influence on stuff in the West. He can't clock Rhaena the BB and Elissa's connection to Daenerys? Condal read how Dany is connected to Braavos and how Dreamfyre's eggs went there and didn't put 2 and 2 together?

This is why you don't bring non-fantasy readers to write a fantasy show. who then, bc of said ignorance, want to somehow "make the story better" or different...the same story they don't even understand. Also why you don't bring a marketing guy to write any adaptive as intricate and rich as ASoIaF and to not understand the depth or the patterns of magical phenomenon that good faith fantasy readers have habitually done since their childhood (most readers anyway have read fantasy since childhood and religiously so to understand its conventions) when that's not what they look out for in the first place.

B)

The fact that Dany's eggs are Dreamfyre's also haven't been "confirmed" by GRRM or revealed in The Winds of Winter or A Dream of Spring. That doesn't make this any less true.

1- from his website

What really happened during the Dance of the Dragons? Why did it become so deadly to visit Valyria after the Doom? What is the origin of Daenerys’s three dragon eggs? These are but a few of the questions answered in this essential chronicle, as related by a learned maester of the Citadel

2- It's pretty much fact with how these are THREE eggs that petrified when they are away from Dragonstone; IIllyrio Mopatis had them to give to Dany and she eventually awakens them; F&B takes the time to painstakingly show Rhaena the BB's conversation w/Jaehaerys abt the consequences of THREE dragon eggs going missing. What other reason was there for F&B--a text that aims to contextualize Daenerys by telling the stories of her ancestors before the loss of the dragons and a little after--to do so hard abt 3 dragon eggs stolen during Rhaena's time, from her dragon's clutch, under her watch?! A text that traces the existence of dragons and their maintenance/use by the Targs? Then there is the fact that Elissa Farman--the egg thief--sold the eggs to the Sealord of Braavos, another thing necessary to Dany's arc. None of this is an accident or a red herring, esp since there is literally nothing as damning as evidence or suggestion for the argument of Syrax being the mother...at all. Nothing in the text.

Not everything in ASoIaF is a great and complex mystery; sometimes GRRM gives you clues to a simple "mystery" to deduce the truth of, esp when we already have much evidence of Danyxher dragons being necessary and critical for the coming Long Night against the "ice/cold" others. That she/her dragons are the "fire" in the Song of Ice and Fire, a coming magical war for the world. This is the type of chain of clues that are retrospective and not anticipatory. We already have the result (Dany and the eggs); you were tasked to recognized the line of causation pretty quickly. This is still a fiction series with correct answers.

All this is evidenced just in the main series, TWoIaF acts as a support piece...Condal is a fan, but he can make deductions? Sure.

[thesilverlady]

what is your most problematic ships in f&b

mine are : Rhaenyra\Aegon ii ,Maegor\Aenys , Maegor\Rhaena Aegon ii \ Aegon iii (yeah i know lmao but i love evil uncles\nephews, nieces dynamics and this is ship would become more delicious if you add rhaegon too. Daemon\Alicent Aegon\Baela.

problematic from moral standing or from perspective of fans? Because tame ships like daemon/rhaenyra, alicent/viserys count as problematic apparently 💀

in any case, the ones that have the "are you mentally well?" vibe and I enjoy are:

rhaenyra/aegon ii (they have the most could have been)

aegon ii/aemond (sometimes you have to put the worst people together and watch everything burn)

aemond/rhaenyra (ok stay with me, stay. with. me! All the talk about psychosexuality, mirror imagery, and the fine line of misogyny vs repressed desire [in fiction only] has sold it for me. I'm digging it.)

maegor/aerys (that's canon I swear!)

aegon i/rhaenys/visenya (it's not problematic but ppl act like it is. The most throuple Targaryens we've ever seen. They all loved each other!)

mysaria/rhaenyra (something about taking revenge on your former lover's heartbroken wife and using her to hurt him & uplift yourself is doing it for me)

addam/daeron (listen, George shouldn't have written their dragons practically fucking if he didn't want me to ship them)

lucerys/aemond (I'm kinda cooler on this now because that side of the fandom that stans the Velaryon boys has made me a bit disdain with how they treat certain characters but overall I still like this pair but it's been a year since I've last revisited)

viserys ii/aegon III (survivors guilt, codependency, shared trauma. Do we really need more?)

daena/viserys II (vivi taking after his father is something I wholeheartedly embrace)

baela/rhaena (this isn't even problematic by all means but the reaction is always gets... I think it has earned its spot here. Similiar reasons for vivi & aegon + twincest hello?)

daeron/helaena (originally was gonna leave it in the tags but thought "fuck it". They only have 5 years difference, he's allegedly the best behaved of the brothers and helaena gives me the vibe of someone who wouldn't care about marrying someone younger as long as he's kind to her)

[cxmetery-gates]

A DANCE WITH GHOSTS MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: In the city Pentos of Esos, Evelyne was well known for her dances and songs. It only takes the gentle persuasion of Daenerys Targaryen to convince Magister Illyrio to hire the daisy-adorning woman as entertainment. As the flower shows up more and more in his life, Viserys cannot help but to fall for her alluring nature. However, a dragon can easily destroy a flower. They knew this, and yet were surprised when they both fell apart.

NOTES: Kinda mushy, I’ll be honest. Viserys is a little out of character, but this is fan fiction and I can do what I want. Contains fluff, some angst, major character death, sad (kinda depends) ending.

CAST:

Lucy Boynton as Evelyne Harry Lloyd as Viserys III Targaryen Emilia Clarke as Daenerys Targaryen

SOUNDTRACK:

Spotify Link!

TABLE OF CONTENTS:

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

RAMBLES:

[militant-holy-knight]

Baelor the Blessed and the Role of Historical Counterparts in the World of Ice and Fire

Of the seventeen Targaryen kings to have sat the Iron Throne in George R.R. Martin’s World of Ice and Fire, Baelor the Blessed was by far the most pious, almost to a fault. Though his reign only lasted ten years, it resulted in a peace with Dorne that lasted the entirety of his reign, as well as a reform of most of Westeros and the building of the extravagant Great Sept of Baelor in King’s Landing. Though Baelor I Targaryen is a small part of a fictional history, his reign is not entirely fictional, as it borrows from the lives of factual historical figures who ruled in various places and times in medieval Europe and were later remembered as saint-kings whose religious zeal guided their reigns. These historical connections not only provide Baelor’s character with a narrative foundation but also allow the audience to engage with the narrative by drawing on historical parallels to build theories and predictions about the course of the narrative as well as provide a location for essential moments in the story. 

The most direct historical inspiration for Baelor the Blessed is King Louis IX of France, son of Louis VIII and Blanche of Castile. Both Baelor and Louis led zealously religious lives, and Louis was even canonized as a saint. There are many similarities between the two pious kings, especially between what they did and how they chose to rule their respective realms: both made attempts at reconciliation with neighbouring territories, both made a pilgrimage of some kind, and both oversaw many religiously motivated changes. One of Baelor’s first actions as king of Westeros was to travel to Dorne, where his late brother King Daeron I had died attempting to put down a rebellion, “‘with neither sword nor army,’ to return their hostages and sue for peace”, rather than have the hostages executed and the feud with Dorne continue. Louis IX also made attempts to reconcile with neighbouring nations—in his case, he made attempts to annex Toulouse after the revolt and death of Raymond VII. For Louis, this was a political move, but for Baelor, forging an alliance with Dorne and forgiving them their treason was an act of piety, and Maester Yandel, the fictional historian in The World of Ice and Fire, writes in his account of Baelor’s reign that “[m]any similar acts of piety and forgiveness followed throughout Baelor’s ten-year reign”. For both kings, this involved a pilgrimage, though the fictional and the historical kings each carried this out in their own way—Baelor walked barefoot from his throne in King’s Landing to deliver the Dornish hostages to their home in Sunspear, while Louis took a crusader’s vows and travelled to Jerusalem. While the motivations behind both kings’ pilgrimages were undoubtedly both religious and political, it is the manner in which they left their kingdoms that sets Louis IX and Baelor I apart: before embarking on his crusade, Louis IX ensured his subjects’ security and “wanted to leave the realm pacified and subject to a just power”. Baelor, however, did not take any precautionary measures before departing for Dorne, only leaving Prince Viserys, his brother and Hand of the King, to rule in his absence. Again, while their motivations for embarking on these pilgrimages were similar, that Baelor put his religious activities before the needs of the realm indicates an important distinction between the fictional king and his historical inspiration: Louis IX did not let his devout nature hinder his ability to rule France, but Baelor’s piety became the focus of his reign. This distinction is demonstrated by the remainder of the two kings’ reigns. Both made attempts to reform their respective realms, Louis IX’s being described as “a political and moral reform of the realm”. Baelor’s attempts, however, are described by Maester Yandel more negatively: the people were outraged when he outlawed prostitution and “chose not to acknowledge” the unrest that it caused; he poured funds into his religious ambitions, using the royal treasury to “fund his charitable acts” and to build a grand new sept that he claimed to have seen in a vision; and he confused the line of succession when he dissolved his marriage to his sister Daena, claiming it had never been consummated, locked his three sisters in the Maidenvault to eliminate temptation and to “preserve their innocence from the wickedness of the world and the lusts of impious men”, and, taking a septon’s vows, would never wed again, therefore having no heir except for his brother, Prince Viserys. Maester Yandel writes that “[t]he king’s edicts were becoming more concerned with spiritual matters at the expense of the material”. By contrast, Louis IX, “[t]hough pious, even devout, […] never sacrificed the royal prerogative”. Therefore, Louis IX did not allow his piety to hinder his ability to rule competently, but Baelor I’s reign suffered because of his. So, while the two kings shared some traits and motives, Baelor the Blessed is depicted by Maester Yandel as almost too pious and a poorer ruler than Louis IX is depicted in historical accounts. Many aspects of Baelor’s reign are certainly inspired by that of Louis IX, yet his religious fervor and the consequences of his piety are greatly exaggerated for the purposes of the narrative.

A less direct historical counterpart for Baelor the Blessed is Edward the Confessor, the Anglo-Saxon who was king of England from 1042 to 1066. Both were noted for their generosity to the poor, and both were childless after allegedly unconsummated marriages. In Baelor the Blessed’s case, “the smallfolk loved him—he emptied the treasury regularly to fund his charitable acts”, though the nobility in Westeros were less pleased, in part because the king was “aided and abetted by a High Septon who was becoming increasingly more influential in the kingdom”. While there seemed to be a negative reaction to King Baelor’s generosity, Edward the Confessor’s “reputation for holiness was based on his generosity to the poor and his allegedly unconsummated marriage”, which gives no indication that these two items were an issue with the nobility. In fact, Edward used his childlessness to his political advantage, making promises of succession to his lords in order to secure their loyalty. Baelor, however, took no advantage of the results of his religious nature in order to improve the realm’s political situation, instead focusing on moral reform in Westeros. While there are fewer connections between Baelor and Edward than there are between Baelor and Louis IX, it is still evident that Baelor’s reign is inspired by many different historical counterparts, and although Edward the Confessor’s life was not entirely focused on religion as Baelor’s was, it is still likely that the events in his life are a part of the foundation for Baelor the Blessed.

Some other parallels can be drawn between the reign of Baelor I and the lives of historical pious kings, though they are less obvious than Louis IX and Edward the Confessor. Oswald of Northumbria, who spent much of his youth in exile and was converted to Christianity by monks on the island of Iona, is attributed with bringing Christianity to Northumbria in much the same way that Baelor the Blessed enforced the Faith of the Seven in Westeros. Just as Baelor’s rule was guided by the High Septon, the reign of Emperor Henry III was heavily influenced by the Church, with which he was also deeply involved: he selected several popes during his reign and was a supporter of the Cluniac movement. Much like Henry III, Baelor was very much involved with the Faith and did not rule idly when it came to issues of religion. Baelor’s reign was influenced by many different historical figures, although in The World of Ice and Fire the more religious aspects of his life are exaggerated for the purpose of the narrative and are depicted as having a negative impact on his reign, while historical saint-kings were often well-balanced between politics and religion.

These historical inspirations do more than simply give Baelor’s history foundation—they encourage the audience to look further into the narrative and make predictions based on connections made between the fictional and the factual. Many fans of the Song of Ice and Fire series produce intricate theories regarding the backstories of characters and the direction that the narrative will be taking. One fan, under the username Crowfood’s daughter, posted in October 2014 on the site “A Forum of Ice and Fire” a theory regarding Baelor the Blessed and the possibility of a prophecy connecting him to Prince Rhaegar. The theory suggests that Baelor was celibate and locked his sisters away not out of piety but out of fear of a child being born who would fulfill said prophecy:

My theory is that Baelor I feared something that he read and thought it had to do with one of his sisters having a child.  Even though his sister wife was imprisoned, Daena escaped many times and, “had an affair with her cousin Prince Aegon, despite his marriage to his own sister-wife Naerys. When she became pregnant she refused to name the father of the child and became known as ‘Daena the Defiant’.” —the wiki. As we all know this son was the bastard Daemon Blackfyre, and the father, Prince Aegon became King Aegon the Unworthy.

Crowfood’s daughter then goes on to support this theory not only with research from The World of Ice and Fire and quotes from the novels, but also with two myths: the Greek story of King Acrisius and his grandson, Perseus, and the Celtic story of Balor and his daughter, Eithne. In both myths, there is a prophecy that the man’s grandson will murder him, so he locks his daughter away in the hopes that no man will ever find her, only to have his plan foiled and his daughter impregnated. This is similar to Baelor’s decision to lock his sisters away in the Maidenvault—in his case, it was his sisters and not his daughter, and according to Maester Yandel, King Baelor was not murdered by anyone, but the theory suggests that the studious king came across something resembling this prophecy and, fearing either for his life or the good of the realm, locked his sisters away. It is also noteworthy that his sister, Daena, did in fact bear a child, just as the daughters in the Greek and Celtic myths did, whose father she refused to name. The child was later revealed as one of Aegon the Unworthy’s natural sons, Daemon Blackfyre, and Crowfood’s daughter’s theory suggests that this may have been the very thing that Baelor was trying to prevent, since the Blackfyres later caused much turmoil in the realm with their many attempts to claim the Iron Throne. By making connections between the narrative and the outside world, fans are engaging with the text on a level that would not be possible if Baelor’s history were not inspired by historical figures and cultural mythologies such as the ones referenced by Crowfood’s daughter.

It is important to note that the history of Baelor’s reign does not exist within the narrative simply as a backdrop. Baelor the Blessed and his legacy act as a recurring motif throughout the narrative, as parts of his history, his actions, and his sept are often referred to in passing. In the fifth season of the television series, a scene takes place in an old chapel underneath Baelor’s sept when the High Sparrow is speaking to Cersei about Queen Margaery’s trial:

Here Baelor the Blessed is spoken of in a negative context as the High Sparrow compares Baelor’s extravagant methods of worship to a simpler kind of religion, or what he believes is “clean faith.” Baelor’s sept is not only used here as a setting—his legacy is also used as preamble to lead into Cersei’s arrest, a pivotal moment in the narrative in which power suddenly changes hands and the plot takes a very different direction. Another critical moment in the series in which Baelor’s sept serves an important role is in the ninth episode of the first season, when Eddard Stark is executed on the steps of the sept:

Again, the Sept of Baelor is the location for a pivotal moment in the narrative when a character who appeared to be the protagonist meets his untimely demise, sending the narrative into a new and unexpected direction. The location of the execution of Eddard Stark is mentioned once again in the paperback series’ fourth installment, A Feast for Crows, when Cersei meets with the High Sparrow for the first time. Cersei complains of the filth that the Sparrows are leaving on the steps of the sept, and the High Sparrow replies that “[n]ight soil can be washed away more easily than blood, Your Grace. If the plaza was befouled, it was befouled by the execution that was done here”. It is evident that the location of certain events are remembered by the characters, and to one such as the High Sparrow, the fact that such an event took place outside the Sept of Baelor is not easily forgotten, and this reminder to Cersei serves as a warning to the reader that the High Sparrow is not going to be her ally. Therefore, Baelor the Blessed is not simply a figure mentioned in passing: he is mentioned again and again throughout the narrative, and his legacy is an integral part of the plot, providing a setting for pivotal events and a subject to emphasize the religious inclinations of many characters.

It is clear that the reign of Baelor the Blessed is not a wholly fictional creation: Martin draws on several historical figures for inspiration—saint-kings such as King Louis IX of France and Oswald of Northumbria, whose rule was guided by their devotion to their faith, much like Baelor I was led by his. In The World of Ice and Fire, the most extreme examples of Baelor’s piety are presented, many of them similar to events in the lives of Louis IX and Edward the Confessor but exaggerated to make apparent that he was pious to a fault. This is also a product of Maester Yandel’s bias as an historian, as much of his research is based on legends, tavern tales and ancient scrolls. However, the historical connections to Baelor have more purpose than simply giving him a more concrete backstory. They also allow the audience to engage with the text, much like the fan theories that draw on historical parallels for evidence. Therefore, while there are many differences between the reign of Baelor the Blessed and those of historical pious kings, the similarities that do exist allow for another level of engagement with Martin’s texts, both on the page and on the screen.

[ao3feed-tywin]

The North Remembers

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2A8RQkz

by azgx29

So this is something that the three of use worked on as sort of an AU/Fan Fic type thing. Basically Aegon III and Dacey Mormont get married as they are somewhat alike and then a Red Wedding 2.0 happens where the North is Avenged. I hope you enjoy.

Words: 2380, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death

Categories: F/F, F/M, Multi, Other

Characters: Aegon III Targaryen, Dacey Mormont, Daenaera Velaryon, Edwyn Frey, Gregor Clegane, Joffrey Baratheon, Emmon Frey, Hosteen Frey, Walder Frey, Tywin Lannister, Sandor Clegane, Shiera Seastar, Viserys II Targaryen, Brynden "Bloodraven" Rivers, Roose Bolton, Ramsay Bolton, Arthur Dayne, Aemon "The Dragonknight" Targaryen, Barristan Selmy, Petyr Baelish, Aegon V Targaryen

Relationships: Aegon III Targaryen/Daenaera Velaryon, Aegon III Targaryen/Dacey Mormont, Alysanne Blackwood/Dacey Mormont, Roose Bolton/Tywin Lannister

Additional Tags: fan fiction

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2A8RQkz

[lemoncakesandwine]

Ahhh Viserys, never change....

Burn with Me

Pairing: Viserys III Targaryen (Game of Thrones) x f!reader Warnings: Smut, imbalanced power dynamics, abuse of power. Word count: ~2k

Summary: Viserys shares a piece of his ancestry with his concubine.

Author's note: Day one of Smuffmas - candlelight and collaring. No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

She steps into the tent that has been erected to serve as Viserys’ personal bathhouse and is immediately enveloped in humidity that clings to her skin like a shroud, as the opening falls closed behind her. True to his Targaryen nature, he favours the heat and, as such, always demands that the water be scalding before it fills the wooden tub, with as many candles lit as the surrounding space will allow, to ensure that it retains its heat.

The atmosphere within the canvas walls is one of resplendence; the rounded tub that sits in the far corner wafts viscous steam up into the air. The water’s surface reflects the vibrant orange glow of more candles than she can possibly count, all casting flickering shadows that dance upon the ceiling. The heady fragrance of Myrish oils lingers in the air, a potent aroma of cinnamon and ginger. Viserys refuses the use of Dothraki spiceflower in his bathwater, despite it being in abundance, and far less costly than oils and spices from the Free Cities.

“It is insult enough that I must exist among these savages,” he had once told her, “I will not smell like them too. See that my command is heeded, or you shall wake the dragon.”

He stands beside the bathtub, spine rigid and eyes narrowed in annoyance. She had come to him the moment she was summoned, yet she can tell from the subtle flare of his nostrils that he is impatient already.

Despite the gossamer fabric of the dress that drapes over her body, she can feel sweat prickling the back of her neck, dampening the hairs that rest at the base of it. She knows this is due to the stifling heat of the bathing tent, but the fearful hammering of her heart as Viserys eyes her in displeasure only serves to exacerbate it.

“About time,” he snaps irritably, beckoning her closer with a restive click of his fingers.

“Your grace,” she greets courteously, before he has the chance to scold her further, “allow me to help you.”

She steps in front of him, deft fingers moving over the forest green wool of the tunic that covers his lithe frame. It is a wildly impractical choice of fabric, considering the climate of Vaes Dothrak, but Viserys shuns more traditional garb in favour of wool and silk. One by one she pulls open the clasps, revealing the creamy, white flesh beneath.

During her time in the pleasure houses of Lys, she had lain with many men and grown accustomed to the sight of skin marred by battle scars and hardened by the ravages of hard labour. Viserys bears no such afflictions. He is thin, an unfortunate consequence of a life lived in squalor, but he has never known battle, he is soft and smooth, unblemished by conflict. She has silently wondered on many occasions how he could possibly ever hope to rule as king of Westeros if he is not competent with a sword, a musing she will never give voice to, lest she pay with her life for it. She has no doubt he will take no issue in wetting his blade with her blood, if provoked into doing so.

Despite his rakish appearance and short temper, she cannot help the appreciative gaze she casts upon him as she strips him of the remnants of his clothing. For all his flaws, Viserys is a handsome man; soft, silver waves of hair frame the hard lines of his face, a strong nose and chin accentuate the pierce of his gaze. His eyes carry madness within them, enticing with dangerous allure.

“Careful with that,” he commands, nodding to the tunic which she has picked back up to fold, “what’s in the pocket is worth at least five times more than what I paid for you.”

“Of course, your grace,” she replies simply, noticing the subtle weight the garment has to it that isn’t usually there.

“Bring it here,” he says to her, stepping into the tub and sitting down. The motion causes steamy water to slop over the sides, soaking into the clay coloured earth of the ground below, as he leans back, resting his elbows behind him on the edge.

“Not the tunic, stupid girl,” he spits, scowling as she steps forward with it, “just what’s in the pocket.”

She blinks rapidly, bowing her head, a fruitless attempt to will away the humiliation that burns hotly at her skin. Reaching into the pocket, she wraps her fingers around something hard, that feels cold against her skin despite the heat that hangs heavy in the air.

Pulling it free, she can see that it is a steel choker. Thick silver plates inlaid with large rubies make up the bulk of it, with a dainty chain that fastens it at the back. She has never held anything so valuable in her hands before, the very weight of it feels representative of its significance.

“I don’t suppose you have ever seen such opulence before,” Viserys tells her, drawing her attention back to him, to where he reclines in the bath, a smug smirk upon his face as he regards her pridefully.

She places the choker in his upturned, waiting palm. “Won’t it rust if you get it wet?”

Viserys grins, the gesture lighting up his face in a way that seems almost unnatural, as the ever present madness dances within the lilac of his eyes. “It is Valyrian steel, forged in dragon fire, it won’t rust, it can’t. Now disrobe and join me.”

He plays idly with the choker, running the chain through his fingers and holding the rubies up to the candlelight as she undresses, though it does not take her long. The near translucent dress is the only item of clothing that he will allow her to wear when tending to him, and it is rare that it stays on for long.

She hisses quietly at the burn of the water against her flesh as she climbs into the tub, the all encompassing heat making her legs tingle. She does not understand how Viserys can stand it, but then there is blood of the dragon coursing through his veins, so she supposes he barely notices it.

“Turn around,” he instructs, and she does as she’s told, presenting her back to him as she faces away. She can hear the splash of the water as he advances upon her within the small space, feel the water moving with him.

Dampened hands scoop her hair away from her neck, before he places the choker around it, carefully fastening it. It chills her skin, a strange juxtaposition to the clamminess that their surroundings elicit. It feels heavy and tight around her throat, more like a collar than a necklace, and as Viserys turns her roughly to face him, sending yet more water cascading over the sides of the bath, she can see that that was precisely his intent.

His eyes are wild as he appraises her, lips slightly parted. “This is hundreds of years old, it would have been worn by a Targaryen princess from the days of Old Valyria,” he tells her, his voice lowering, taking on the seductive timbre that he affects only when aroused. He hooks two fingers beneath the centre ruby, giving it a tug. “How does it make you feel?”

She swallows thickly, considering her answer, wanting to offer words that will please him. “It makes me feel…fortunate…to have the opportunity to wear something of such significance.”

He hums, clearly satisfied with her answer, giving a slight nod as he grasps her hips beneath the water and manhandles her into his lap. She can feel his hardened cock prodding insistently at her most intimate area as she settles into the position of straddling him, winding her arms around his neck, as his hands keep a firm grip of her.

“Ser Jorah came by this on his travels,” he tells her, eyes fixated upon her throat, “he was going to give it as a gift to my sister, but I have taken it for myself. I do not see why she should lay claim to such a valuable piece of our shared ancestry, just for spreading her legs and siring a whelp for that savage, Drogo.”

The tone of his voice drips with jealousy, and it makes her uncomfortable to be faced with his arousal, not for the first time, while he speaks of Daenerys. She knows that the Targaryens existed on a foundation of bloodline purity, however, those customs are queer to her and to be faced with the reality of their incestuous nature makes her stomach churn.

All thoughts leave her mind, however, as he tugs her downwards to meet his upward thrust, spearing her open on his cock with a grunt elicited through gritted teeth. She moans at the exquisite stretch, nuzzling into the crook of his neck as she clings tightly to him, her breaths hot against his wet skin.

Viserys keeps his hands upon her hips, helping to guide her movements as she rolls her pelvis against his, bouncing herself upon his aching length. Though he is often cruel to her, when he holds her close like this, and it is just the sounds of their mingling pants for breath and the slap of their skin, it is easy for her to forget that she was purchased for his pleasure, a means to distract him from the want to defile his sister.

When he holds her close, his harsh features contorted in ecstasy, the madness that dances within his eyes conveying only lust, she can allow herself to believe that she is special, that he chose her alone to travel with him and warm his bed because he wanted only her, not because the Beggar King could not afford more than one concubine. 

In her own foolish heart, she has allowed gratitude to be misplaced for love. The fondness she feels towards him for him having taken her from the pleasure houses of Lys, and rescuing her from the life of a common whore, in her mind, is romantic. 

So when he takes one of the stiffened peaks of her nipples between thumb and forefinger and pinches harshly, she mewls wantonly as the sensation causes her sensitive walls to clench around him, wanting him to know just how good he makes her feel, how eager she is to please him.

If he did not return her affection, why else would he allow her to wear the choker that currently sits snug against her throat?

She speeds up her movements, the bathwater undulating around them with more intensity. The head of his cock bullies relentlessly at a spot inside of her that, coupled with the lightheadedness she feels from the heat of the water, makes her forget herself entirely. Before she can stop them, the words tumble carelessly from her lips.

“I love you.”

He halts all movements, and she freezes, her heart hammering wildly against her ribcage as she realises what she has just said. She opens her mouth, wanting to apologise, to take it back, to beg for forgiveness, but before she can he’s grasping her jaw, forcing her to meet the intensity of his stare.

“Say it again,” he orders quietly, leaving no room for argument.

She is hesitant at first, but he tangles his fingers into the back of her hair, not allowing her to look away, so she relents. “I–I love you.”

He snarls, tugging harshly at her hair as he resumes his brutal thrusts up into her. “That’s right, you fucking do.”

For the briefest of moments, she had allowed herself to believe he might say it back, and is not even given the respite to experience disappointment, as he chases his release within her. Her confession of love having been enough to stroke his ego to the point of climax, evidenced by the insistent pulsating of his member as he pumps it in and out of her with renewed vigour.

He holds her tightly against himself, pushing himself as far up into her as he can go as he peaks, spilling inside of her with a shameless groan, before settling back down, her body pliant against his as they both catch their breath.

“I’m finished with you for tonight. Leave me,” he says despondently, as his rapidly softening cock slips free of her.

She offers a curt nod, disentangling herself from him and climbing on shaky legs from the tub, bathwater and Viserys’ seed both dripping down her thighs, as she reaches for her dress, clutching it to herself to protect what little remains of her modesty.

“Wait,” he snaps, and for a moment she believes he will tell her he has changed his mind, that he longs for her company. Instead he snaps his fingers, gesturing to her neck. “The necklace.”

Her heart sinks, but she forces her expression to remain stoic, unclasping it and depositing it back into his outstretched palm. Her neck feels immediately lighter, having been freed from the weight of it. However, as she walks from the tent, it is replaced with a heaviness upon her heart that reminds her irrevocably of her place - or lack thereof - in the world of Viserys Targaryen.