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darlingofvalyria · 1 year

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❝Ask me, my prince. What a storm is to a dragon.❞

[ Aemond can only breathe through your lungs, through your adoration and love. But when betrayal is nigh, what does it truly beget? ]

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 6,935 ] | Dark!Aemond Targaryen x Baratheon!Reader, minor, sort of (not really) Aemond Targaryen x Alys Rivers.

THIS IS A DARK FIC. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

contains— angsty, smut - DD:DNE: kidnapping, coercion, manipulation, possessive & obsessive behaviour, power imbalance, violence (not to reader) (a little bit to reader... i wrote this too close to book canon!aemond), murder, death, massacre, war - canon typical targcest, canon character deaths, canon divergence - dark!aemy - pregnancy, child, allusions to infidelity, mentions of bastard - i took liberties with canon (as i usually do) - #ripellyn you (sorta) will be missed shshs - the only specific reader descript. i did is the baratheon dark hair ok? ok - nsfw: male masturbation, dubcon/noncon, creampie - no kings, no martyrs, no betas.

a/n— there was this villain playlist on yt that was slowed and sexy, and my brain just. clicked. here it is if you wanna check. the real reason this is long is cos i can't help but add backstory ok? ok. lol. comment, reblog & like at will, mi luvs, mwa!

Storms have always been your favourite view in any window.

It is cliche to say, a proud daughter of the Stormlands, of course she enjoys the dark skies! But you do. There is nothing short of comforting in the rolling, fat clouds darkened in shadows. Occasionally, if the weather moved to your whim, lightning danced between plumes before you hear the boom and crack of it striking.

"It is a privilege to enjoy weathers such as these," your father once said, a hand on your darkened hair, a bluer tint to it, but Baratheon through and through. "It is our might that holds us at paramount, and thus, our privilege beckons warm fires and strong, stone fortresses to watch it all in comfort. To find enjoyment in the dark skies."

"Ours is the Fury," you replied immediately. Your father smiled.

"That, precisely. The paramount of our might and power is one we have taken and given with fury. Never forget."

"Even better than the Targaryens?" Your father's displeasure crumpled his face, and you were at an old enough age to understand his displeasure was not something you enjoy. But you had been learning all day, and the topic that day with your septa had been House Targaryen. You had learned the King's name, that he had a Queen that died, and that his heir is a girl.

His hold on your shoulders was heavy, but you do not flinch. Eyes bore into your own as if he was speaking the words into existence.

"We are the blood of the Kings too, my daughter. The White Hart proves our mark in the world, long before the dragonlords ever whispered in these lands. And what are dragons against the dance of storms?"

You had been little then, no more than six. The smallest of your sisters; Floris, though short in stature, looked elongated. A beauty. A fawn in the making. And your father is not the cleverest of men, but his words shelved itself in the corners of your brain. It eased and assuaged your fears like a quick spell.

Your spine straightens and your chin tilts upward. You are made of fury and storms, the blood of kings of old and solid, impenetrable fortresses.

You fury is your own, and 'neathe your fingers, under your very being, is a storm.

A good reminder, as when you had exchanged childhood for girlhood, a missive had been sent by the Queen Alicent Hightower, requesting for a daughter from Lord Baratheon's Four Storms, as companion for the Princess Helaena.

"Cassandra would do well."

"She hungers, husband. I am afraid of what might happen if we send her to the courts at her age. I do not yearn for a scandal."

"She would not shame her family so, do you reckon?"

"She is the eldest. You know how she is."

A sigh. "If she had a cock, she would be a good heir for my seat."

"Borros!"

"Apologies. Very well, mayhaps a good husband with no grit to him would do her well. She will lead the Stormlands by the hold of his— er, well, yes. Maris? She is clever."

"Far too clever. Even her tongue irks you, no. Definitely not. Her brain works too fast for her mouth. She will say the wrong thing and end us in war."

"You exaggerate, surely."

"I bore them, Borros, but they are your daughters. They live and breathe with your name and your House's banner under their own. What do you think? Bad enough they take so much of your heritage with them, and their looks, but they also plucked and chosen parts of you I'd rather not have for lady daughters."

Your father grumbles incoherently, you laugh under your breath.

"... Floris is too young. So..." The last one. You. You press your ear harder against the wood of your father's study, heart in your throat.

"She will be best," she says softly, insistently. She knows in her heart of hearts that though her husband is a hard, proud man, he has a softened heart for you. "Though she is clever, she minds herself well. Polite. Kind. She will do well with the Princess and her, er, eccentricities."

"Bloody weirdoes, the lot of them." A sigh. Another chastise from your mother, but she too, sounds exhausted. It has almost been a moon since the missive has been sent. Another one is bound to arrive, more order than request. It is all a political game. Princess Rhaenyra had no Baratheon ward under her court when she still resided in Kings Landing, for you and your sisters had been too young and your father had no sister. It is by chance that gives the Green Queen advantage to take a ward under your father's banner now, with a daughter she seeks to be Queen Consort.

"Send her then," your father announces. Though defeat clouds his voice, the Lord in him speaks each vowel clearly. "She will do best to represent the House out of them all. We might have a betrothal in our hands soon enough."

"She is pretty enough for a prince."

An angry snort. "She is more than pretty enough for a prince. Far better than the lot of them."

Softly, "That is because you like her best."

"Why would I not?" your father replies gruffly, making you smile. "A storm grinds and brews inside of her, wife. Even Maestre Loes, the old gnat that he is, sees my bloodline thick in her. Even if the King asks for her hand at this very moment, I would refuse. I would throw him off Storm's End with a smile on my face and a boot on his back."

You fight off a snort as your mother grumbles about treason and Maris.

"She is far better than the best of them." Another sigh. Heavier. "Why are we sending her?"

Your mother sighs. "Because as she is the best of them, she is the best of us. She will survive far better in that cesspit they call a keep than any of our daughters. Her storm can tame dragons."

You would argue that that too is treasonous given the context, but your father merely laughs. His laughter is a crackle and a boom.

"I would upheave our coffers to witness that."

Though you find her odd, you enjoy spending your time with the Princess Helaena. Mostly, she is quiet, in her own little world. Though it took time to get used to her many-legged friends, you soon realised the best times you spend with her are when shipments and gifts of pinned butterflies and books that have reached as far as Yi-Ti, to get to Kings Landing about bugs, and undeniable excitement unfurls in the Princess' face. More like a girl, a sweet one.

It makes her already cherub features appear more child-like, and she grasps your hand voluntarily as she points at each and every critter she recognises. It is so very rare to see true happiness in the princess' visage, and in her enjoyment, you see your sisters.

That is how you meet him, the Prince Aemond.

Princess Helaena had gone for tea with the Queen. It had not been planned. Though she often spent tea with family, either the Queen or the Lord Hand, or either of the Princes. Something had occurred, so now that Princess was having tea with her Queen Mother and her husband. If you had to guess, it was likely that Prince Aegon was being punished in some way.

Though there is no love lost between siblings, it makes you sniff at how blatant the prince's obscene indulgent for vices are. Princess Helaena didn't mind, rather, she didn't care unless they needed to spend time together, a clockwork patch of routine, and that was when you usually came in— you later realised, your primary job — soothing her nerves and distracting her thoughts before she had to enter her marriage chambers.

There is a resigned defeat in her, a woman's duty bearing down, looming like the Mother, and it makes you want to soothe her harder. Make her laugh.

With the change of plans, it was up to you to check for the new shipments of the Princess' things. A dictated note in your hand of the princess' handwriting, you were going through her boxes when a hand, gloved, rests on your shoulder.

"Do not move," a cool voice says behind you. Far too close for propriety.

You freeze. "Pardon?"

"I do not want to scare you, my lady, but there is a critter atop your head." The cool, calm voice waves off a steady rhythm to your heart, calming it further from the earlier panic of someone laying a hand on you (although this, is still not better. You are a lady and unmarried after all). "I will rid of it immedi—"

"No."

"... Pardon?"

"Where is it? Just atop my head?"

"... Yes?"

"It maybe poisonous, pease do not touch it." Before the owner of the hand and the calm voice could react, you pat your head until you touch a hairy, small thing with many legs. Relief spreads. "There you are."

"There you are?" The voice says, almost mocking, incredulously.

You huff, taking the spider in both of your hands, before you tilt your chin behind you, only seeing the gloved hand. "Please take your hand away from me."

The hand retreats. You turn.

Valyrian features are most uncommon than your own, and the jolt of recognising the pale, white hair is a strike to your being, a gasp falling from your lips. It is the one-eyed mask that tells you immediately who it is, but you string everything else you know of the prince.

Prince Aemond had been travelling to Oldtown, a visit requested by the Queen in the guise of seeing family, his brother. But there had been whispers of something more, as the chatter of the maids who cleaned up in the King's quarters talked about how ill he got day by day.

You had seen flashes of him before this, but fate had kept you two apart. You were not there when he visited the princess— on another errand or two, and he starkly ever looked at the ladies surrounding his sister with a vehement light as their voices, high pitched and dreary, tire him so on a good day, increasingly irritating on a bad one, and anyway, the silence that falls in a stone room just from his arrival is enough to irk him.

But here is he now, with one eyebrow rose, a good eye of icy blue iris, and the very visage of a warrior in black leathers, a braided hair pulled to one side, and pursed lips in both amusement and annoyance.

He hums. The sound kicks back your manners, blushing lightly at having gaped at him for far longer than pleasantry dictates, and you pull yourself into a bow.

"My apologies, my prince, I didn't know it was you. I was scared you were going to hurt the Princess' new friend."

"They are bugs," he says steadily. "Not her friends."

"Like so, but just because they have many a legs do not mean we cannot befriend them." A small smile plays on your lips before you place back the spider in the cage he got out of. It is something you had once said to the princess to make her laugh. You feel his stare burn at the side of your face. "Is there a matter, my prince?"

"You are the Lady Baratheon, are you not?"

"I am." A small, ironic smirk tugs at your lips. "Is it the hair?"

He makes a soft sound that exhales like a laugh out of closed lips. He's still quite close, you can feel his warmth and idly wonder if all Targaryens truly do have the blood of the dragons in them for you can feel the contours of him, burning at the edges of his being. Like a comforting little furnace.

"Hm. And the princess has taken quite the liking to you. You are all she talks about during sup."

You can't help it, you're smiling. So many rumours concerning the young prince, not all of them good, but there is a certain novelty in basking under the attention of a prince of the realm. A Valyrian beauty that brought an ethereal glow to him. As so intently stares, catching pieces and niches as if you are the most fascinating creature.

The attention makes you feel like a blushing lady.

"My apologies then, my prince."

He cocks his head, the braid dipping and you catch the movement in your peripheral. "Whatever for my lady?"

You turn to him, unable to curb the cheek to your smile. "For interrupting better conversations with the topic of my name plaguing your sups so."

His mouth twists into a smirk. In Aemond's mind, it is not oft that ladies, especially Helaena's ladies, would care to... flirt with him. Because this is you flirting, is it not? The coy gaze, the curl at the edge of your lips? Aemond has seen these faces in ladies and maids alike, but directed at others. At Aegon.

Directed at Aemond... bereave to keep their conversations to themselves, and though it is not always a fault of theirs for his stoicism is his most valued armour, one would resign oneself of an arranged marriage that will take long moons before his lady wife would see the truest him, that he would not be able to experience such... coy conversations with the opposite sex.

Yet here you are, a light dust of red in your cheeks, a quirk in your mouth, and the playful joust in your eyes, daring him into a swords' dance.

It is thrilling.

"Plaguing is too harsh of a word to say so about a lady of your stature, Lady Baratheon." He steps closer, aware of propriety standards of how close two unwedded people should be, but he feels intoxicated of the whiff of life exhuming from your visage. A light citrus, oranges? Lemons? Tart and sweet, with a powdery finish. It is so very ladylike.

Addicting.

The perfect smell for a lady wife, a musing thought.

"Is that so?"

"Intriguing, I would say, would be the better word."

You laugh, low and sweet. It sends a pleasant warm to his centre. "I'm afraid my memory is failing for I do not remember any wily adventure or conversation the princess and I had for a prince of the realm to say I intrigue him so."

"It is less... about wily adventures or interesting conversations that pique my interest, but the lady herself." His eye, though lone, the other remaining hidden behind an eyepatch with hints of scarred, twisted skin underneath, bore against yours as if he wished to gather all your strings and see what each would give him. What you would show him.

"I'm afraid to disappoint you, my prince, but I still fail to see how I can ever so pique your interest." You meet his gaze, smirking. "I am just me."

Before he can answer, step forward— whatever, he is staring at the curve of your lips so, at the enchanting shimmer of your eyes, and Aemond Targaryen felt breathless — your named is called, and the spell is broken. The prince steps back, taking more space between you that is more appropriate.

His hand flexes.

But that is not the last you see of the prince, nor the last time you are able to hold a conversation with him. It seems that since then, you find yourselves orbiting each other in the fringes before one steps forward and engages. There seems to be a band that tightens either of you so obsessed with seeing the other in the periphery, the topic whatever may came, even as inane as the weather.

It is a dance of swords, kissing blades of sharp quips and interesting parry. You are interesting. Beguiling. Devouring. Aemond searches for you in most places now, unable to stop himself from asking his dearest sister about you— even his mother and grandsire have taken notice, eyebrows rose between shared looks.

"House Baratheon is of a Great House," his mother hesitantly brought up, too focused on her soup for it to just be idle chatter above sup.

"It is." His forced passivity is not as apathetic as he can make it. For any mention of you and your origins thrums his heart in a dance.

"And the Lady Baratheon has many admirers, a kind and dutiful lady, and Helaena likes her so."

He turned to his mother then, humming. At the barest hint of a smile in her son's face, Alicent beamed.

But others from court also soon took notice, and when Aemond realises the wagging tongues had come to note your name— unkind whispers besmirching your person, he disappears from you altogether.

The differences become stark to him; realising what a foolish endeavour it is to want you. Though he is a prince, he is mutilated, a monster that will ruin you. You are too good for him, a warmth he had forgone in the face of misery, apathy, and hatred. The urge to conquer your every thought and sound, from your fingertips to the top of your hair... it is a gasping thought, one he shamefully sins at the blackest hours, tugging at his cock desperately to the thought of what you had looked like that day. The sound of your laughter, the pull of your lips when you smiled, the gasp you let out when you touched water that had been too cold— his mind bends and moves, and images of you, images that he will have to pray for the in morrow but cannot stop—

Moves him to completion, a strangle grunt of your name from his lips.

And yet, every night since, it happens again and again.

The more he pulled away from you, the more he wanted you. It is a debase urge, one more fit for his drunken cur of a brother than he, more creature than man.

But he cannot stop, so the torturous cycle continues.

Until you've had enough.

You know that during hours of inky night, the prince prefers the sanctum of the library. Not always, and lately, not often, but if there are a few things you learned in the hunting trips your father brought you that your mother never approved of, is that lying in wait, patient, deals a hand much better.

And on the fourth day of your waiting, your hair in a braid, a book on your lap, and a small candlelit close by as to not alert any spooked princes— the door opens at the Hour of Eel, the familiar and sorely missed footfalls of a quiet but sure-footed prince enters.

You admire him for a moment, hidden as you are, your stare drinks in the ever smooth of his twilight-spun hair, those pursed lips and straight lines. He's lithe but you know, having been offered his arm on every walk, he is made of hard muscle. Aemond always walks so smoothly, like a panther, or a gazelle, with the barest hint of austre he can never hide.

It's the prince in him, you giggle to yourself.

A sweet pang in your chest is the reminder of how much you missed his presence. And that ends tonight.

With his back turned, perusing a shelf, you shuffle and make yourself known with a soft, almost admonishing voice.

"Good eve, my prince."

He stiffens, hand poised against a spine of a tome. He barely turns, only his head to the floor, in the general direction of you. "My lady. I did not expect you to be here."

Frustrated, you sigh loudly. "Have I offended you so horribly? Dishonoured you in some way?"

"What?"

"Why can't you even look at me, Aemond?"

A sharp intake of breath. When he speaks again,his voice is changed. "You forget yourself, my lady."

There is an ache to your being, pursuing your lips. "You had given me permission with your given name, my prince, or have you forgotten?" Anger overcomes propriety. Fuck propriety. You charge toward him, heavy, angered steps until you're close enough. "Can't you at least look at me, look at me as you push me away as if I amnothing—"

He turns abruptly, one eye flashing as he grasps your elbows in a grip. His eyes zero in on your lips as a gasp falls, eyes widen— if you could see better, you'd notice the darkened gaze drinking you in. Your widened eyes, your open lips— and Sevens, only a robe hides your nightgown, the smooth expanse of your skin is more bare to him than ever before.

His beautiful, beloved stag.

"You have never been nothing to me, nēdenka riña brave girl," he hisses. "Konir sagon se drīve That is the reason."

"Prince A-Aemond?" you say. He is against the shadows of the moonlight, only his hands holding your own is illuminated.

A wrangled exhale falls from his lips. You follow the sound, worried.

"Are you? Injured? Are you okay?"

"I have not been okay for the moment I met you," he rasps, hands bruising in his hold.

"Well. Gods. I'm sorry. If it's such a offense—"

"It is an offence!" he growls, pulling you abruptly that you yelp, bathed in shadows and darkness together, your eyes adjust as you scramble to have thoughts apart from just being this close to him. Hearing a voice you had never heard of him before, untethered from his princely visage, from manners and proper, and it makes you burn.

The thoughts of wanting him close, of taking more of that space until you are chest to chest are blushing thoughts.

But there is honour still, for he holds you at least an arm's away.

"I have wanted you the moment I have laid eyes on you," he whispers, voice rough, exhausted. "And each day I spend with you, each hour— my honour stands in shambles, in ruins at my feet for I want you as a man wants a woman. Honourably and... and carnally."

You swallow, and he follows the movement like a predator tracking his prey. The blush in your cheeks, the way your lips press together as if you are just as starved of him as he to you— oh, you want him too, don't you?

One hand moves from your elbow to slowly reach up. Your arms, your collarbones, your neck. A thumb brushing your cheek and your eyes flutter.

Aemond wants to devour you.

"You plague me so, and I crave you."

"Then have me," you sigh.

His eye closes. "I cannot sully—"

You grasp his neck, bringing your mouth close to his. "You cannot sully what is freely given. If you crave me, I want you."

Honour unbound, a snap is tightened by the hunger that uncoils from a dragon that wants you. Aemond had grabbed the back of your head, tangled his fingers, and made a mess of your mouth.

Gasps and teeth, touching skin from where you can feel it— touching skin from where you unbuckle, tear through hem and push against cloth. When he slams you again the shelf, a moan so lewd falls from your lips that he groans, pulling your nightgown until he feels the heat from your very womanhood, and so, so wet, that when he flicks his thumb, curious and entranced, moving it around experimentally, you are a mess of sound and feeling, gasping his name, A-aemond, oh gods, please, and he is whispering, forgive me, f-forgive me, like love letters, like penitent, like a kiss from a traitor so wrong but so tasteful against your skin as he pulls himself from his confinements, holds you steady, and breaches your tight cunt.

Just before a scream tears through your throat, he devours your sound, holding you steady, until the pain bleeds pleasure and you are holding him like an anchor in dangerous seas. You cannot think or feel anyone else but him; what you are and who you are do not stand a chance as Aemond Targaryen swallows your senses.

It is harsh and fast, it is sweet and devouring, and more, more, more, you don't know what you're begging him, you feel like a devout and he feels like a god, grunting against your skin, biting through anything his teeth grazes. When he shifts you at an angle, finding a spot that feels like a lightning striking through your entire being, you are screaming, twitching, reaching a high so blinding it feels like white death.

"Is that it? That sweet spot?" he purrs, a breathless laugh, shocked and delighted drinking in your trembling and pleasure. "Your cunt is tight against my own, holding me like you never want to let go." You cry out when his cock hits that spot again. Your combined wetness makes an obscene squelch, just as pretty as the sound you utter. He smirks. "Can you hear that? Not even a whore can make a sound so sweet, hm?"

His teeth grazes your lips, sending shivers through your body as he licks the roof your mouth. "I want more of that sound. As your prince, you would grant me this, yes?"

But he isn't waiting for an answer, planting his feet and holding you steady, angling you back to that spot until he is snapping his hips, fucking into you as you can do nothing but beg and cry and tremble in the arms of a dragon taking what is his.

And you are.

You are his.

Maybe you had known it since then.

You definitely do when his seed floods your womb.

You want to say that that night was a fluke, a mistake that must be regretted. But once your gaze meets another, the fire burns, flickering and dancing, and it repeats. In quick fucks in dangerous spots, to slow, sweet love making in his room.

You are his, in mind, body and soul.

"Death is nothing but a friend," he murmurs against your neck, holding you close. Sweat cooling between your naked bodies. "It cannot stop me from finding you."

"I hope you say that to my father well," you tease.

" Marrying you is but the next step, my love. You are already mine as I am yours." He plays with your hair, brushing it past and kissing a bruise he made on your breast. "In face of every god and more, they will understand that we are but one soul."

You can plan the future in rose-coloured gaze for as much as you can, but the truth of marrying into a family with war brewing inside of it, held together by a dying king's hope and corpse fingertips— it is another matter entirely.

It all comes to a sharp clarity when Viserys I dies... and they keep his rotting corpse a secret.

And then they crown a whoremongering drunk.

"Aemond," you break into the silence, your entire being too cold for comfort. You had just come back from a privy council, a Green Council where the Queen had ordered you and your betrothed to reach Storm's End before the night fully breaks.

As if she knew where your loyalties are.

As if there is no question you will support the usurpation.

You turn to Aemond, busy with packing his things for they have bared the maids and people the of Keep. Because they are making Aegon as king and they know a revolt is underneath the floorboards.

"Aemond!"

"What? What has happened?" He looks confused, irritated. "We must make haste, my love, if we are to beat the storms at—"

"Princess Rhaenyra is Queen," you whisper but it could have been a scream. Saying it aloud gives you confidence, strengthening your resolved. You turn to him. "She is the King's heir, no one else. Aemond, this is an usurpation, unlawful in the eyes of—"

It takes little strides for him to reach you, for him to hold your neck in a tightened grip of warning.

"She," he spits, slow and careful as if you are a simpleton in need of teaching, "is a whore who is attempting to place her bastards on the Iron Throne. Rhaenys Targaryen held no chance of it, just as she. My brother is the firstborn son. He is king." His fingers dig into your skin. "You will do well as my wife to not speak of such blasphemy once more, do you understand?"

Your shock and fear melt from your visage, making way for compliance. You nod once. "Yes, my prince."

"Husband," he corrects, holding you much gentler but the weight of his hand is still there on your neck. A reminder. "Have you forgotten? We only come to Storm's End to officiate our union and your House's loyalty to the King. Once done, we will marry, yes?"

You nod, hands fisting. "Yes."

When he kisses you, harsh and needy, imprinting his will unto you— you close your eyes and plan how you make known to your Queen of their plots.

But Storm's End doesn't go as planned, does it?

Lucerys Velaryon, the Queen's son who had come as nothing more but an envoy for the rightful heir, and Aemond—what you thought to be your Aemond but a monstrous man who needed his revenge, who needed to draw blood for a grudge so deep, for an existence he finds so abysmal — had chased after him and came back to you bloodied, tearing up your dress, rutting in you in harsh, rough thrusts, as you listen to the storms from your window and think,

The Queen will never find his body. Her poor, sweet boy. Half in the belly of a beast, the rest spread and sunken into the water.

"I will not allow any marriage until the realm is at peace," your Lord Father rumbled with finality. He is not a smart man, truly, but he is a father. His gaze meets yours, full of meaning, of promises, before looking back at the seething prince. "You will have my bent knee for your king and for your war, but my daughter's hand shall be her own until the realm is at ease."

Your mother steps forward, her courtly smile on her face. "We want for her to have a grand wedding, my prince. She is the first of our charges to wed, and to a prince of the realm no less! By sure, at the time of war, we must err on the side of caution, as our coffers will no doubt focus on our troops. A future princess of the realm must be mindful, of course."

She bows in deference, your sisters following suit. Maris is the first to look up, defiance burning in her eyes.

You remember a conversation with him, feeling like a lifetime ago.

"Ask me, my prince," you teased. "What a storm is to a dragon. A creature is a creature. Even you must acquiesce to the way of nature for she has bowed to no one since her existence."

Aemond may be blood of the dragons, but he is surrounded by storms on all sides. The fiercest.

And your father will never marry you to a Kinslayer.

Yet you stay beside him, your duty now clearer than ever. Every new information you can grasp is sent back to the Queen and her council. In a courtier of the Greens and Traitors, you are the sole Black Stag. You use Aemond's adoration for you, his possessive obsession of what he thinks is love, as a protection and guise.

Any time he beds you, you sneak in moon tea. His bedding of you is just as much his hold on you and his defiance against your father's refusal. Once caught, you remind him he would not enjoy a bastard child. Especially at a time of war. Not after what they had done to his nephews.

"Do you want for me to suffer as your sister does?" The tears in your face then had not been a folly, for your heart broke for sweet Helaena and her sons. For Jaehaera. The world bleeds and bleeds, and all who die that reaches your ears are nothing more but innocents.

Aemond does not bed you after that, but he keeps you in his chambers, pulls you close as if he is trying to mould your skins as one. Times like this, your heart stutters. Your love to him and your morality as a person is at a test of swords.

You are in love with him,

He is a monster,

He has lost his nephews,

He has killed his own.

And it makes you wonder if you are a monster too, lying beside him as his bedmate, caring for him, wanting him still as his heart beats as your own, so connected to the umbilical of fate and chance while war rages, bodies falling all around you both, most from his own hand and word.

The war rages, and Harrenhal comes to view.

With it, a slaughter and a witch.

The worst of the massacre is the steely, lulling silence.

No one tells you that most of what an execution is that silence. That it amplifies each scream, each shout, each thick drop of a head as it falls on cobblestone. The sound is wet and a mouthful. Then it is nothing, consumed by that silence again.

You are locked in a room with a window that doesn't face the horror of what Aemond is doing. As if this is enough to shield you from what he is, what he truly is doing to win this war.

The worst part, committing genocide of an entire house is nothing more but a horrific grudge.

Strong blood spills, enough to make a lake.

By the time that night bleeds and a maid had entered with dinner to light a fire— your body is still so cold. No food has touched your stomach since the day before yet you retch.

Does loving a monster meant that you are just as monstrous?

Mayhaps it is still worth it, you muse in your silent madness, tears tracking your cheeks as the heaviness of your being stays. For who can say a monster can love you so monstrously? Who else can?

When Aemond comes back to you, freshly cleaned and a reminiscent of the prince that you loved, and he is making excuses of wanting you as you are, pawing at your clothes, you let him. You make love in the silence suffering from the massacre he had just finished. You hold him and kiss him in a desperation as you know this will be your ending.

That your Aemond is gone, or worse. He had never truly existed.

When you are both spent, satiated in a sweet glow, your head pleasantly quiet, he speaks about a plan.

A woman, a Strong witch, that promises him an assurance of winning with her sights and blasphemous magic. He had spared her among others, and that itself makes you look at him, truly look at him.

In exchange of what— for such things do not concede so easily as gratitude to mercy of one life, yes? Because desire devours itself. A snake eating itself.

"A child," he whispers against your battered head and bruised heart. "From my blood."

"A bastard," you murmur as he stiffens. "From a bastard Strong. Surely the irony is not lost on you? You have started this war by killing your bastard nephew, and you plan on ending it by fathering—"

"Do not question me," he says softly, grip tightening against your arms. Your eyes close, heavy with the weight of being a spy. Of loving him. "I will fuck a babe in her how many times it takes, and when the war is won, I will kill her and it. For your womb is the only place my lineage will live. I am doing this for the good of the realm. For us."

When he thinks you are asleep and leaves— you take your things and make haste to leave. Not once has your people left you in the arms of the kinslayer. Always one maid, always three guards from your father's army, loyal to only you.

You bundle up quick, and rush for the passage, you are blocked by a woman. Pale skin, dark hair, and eyes greener than wildfire. You know her before she speaks. You hold yourself to fight, and the witch of Harrenhal laughs.

"You have changed the tide of destiny, my lady." Her head tilts as if she can see past you and through you. "Once your choice has affirmed, your thread chosen, I cannot stand in the side of the One-Eyed Kinslayer without the Stranger coming for me. So instead, I will grant you one gift. One that will require no sacrifice."

"I do not want it."

"Ah, but it is a gift." She nods at your torso. "Your belly will soon take size, in it, his heir. You will not escape him as soon as he knows." Her head twists to the window. A raven flies. A storm grumbles. The sound comes first before the lightning strikes. A false storm. "Time is flowing, changing and twisting. He may have betrayed his kin, but he is still a prince. He will know soon."

Her green eyes glint as if she is seeing now and tomorrow. Now and a moon. Moon from a year. "You must run now. Hide and hide well."

You hold your stomach, bile rising in your throat. "Where? Where am I safe?"

A faint smile rises to her lips. "Your heir looks more like him than mine did. You will not escape him. But go north. As far North as you can. The fjords can hide him for a while. He will grow well there."

She moves away, letting you pass.

You never look back.

Dark locks. Baratheon hair.

A tuff of silver lock atop his head.

And the rest... his nose, his eyes. With your fingers, you pull his lids. Bloom in mullish blue with the faintest tint of iridescent violet. You know from your histories, that faint tint will overpower the blue.

Oh, he is utterly beautiful. Utterly yours. And utterly his father's son.

Rough breaths strangle out of your raw-bitten lips, brushing blood away from your babe's face, his head, his wet, silvery hair. Few they maybe, unmistakably Valyrian features they still are.

"Oh, he is beautiful," your mother murmurs, tears stain her cheeks. "Quiet as you were, as a babe. Looks just as much as you."

She is weighing his Valyrian features too. Your blood tried, but it seemed as if Aemond's grudge grasped your womb and affected your shared blood.

"We cannot stay," you say, still staring at him, admiring him. Your heart locking in place, steeling itself as you prepare to do your utmost to protect him. "We will have to travel posthaste."

Your mother swallows her grief. She had almost lost you. She will lose you again, now along with her only grandchild. "Where?"

"North. As far as North as we can."

Your mother nods. Ever a lady. "I will send a missive. The Lord Stark is loyal to the Queen and knows by how much you have sacrificed for this realm. He will protect you on his honour or he is no Stark."

You will need to hide. You will need to hide well.

You pull him close to your chest, hot tears freshly spilling from your eyes.

The witch had not lied, for your boy grew up amongst ice and warmth. He grows up with love from you, from the Lord Stark and his people, and love from his father in the way that he resembles him.

The slope of his nose, the sweet purse of his lips.

When your boy had gotten angry once, nothing but a quick burst, it shocks fear and tears from your eyes for you had seen the prince.Nothing more than a flash.

You pull him close and wound him to your heart as he cried, apologising for scaring you.

The North had granted you reprieve from the war as it came and went. Your betrayal to the Greens had mounted to the Black Queen's win. The betrayal of House Baratheon as House Stark and their bannermen joined the fray had squandered any rebellious thought on which sovereign will preside.

The last you heard of what became the Prince Regent was his surrender at the Battle Above God's Eye.

When you had cried that night, you did not know if it was from relief. Or fear.

But a black stag on white snow is easy to spot.

It takes years, yes, but the Stranger is but an old friend.

For when the day of your wedding to the Lord Stark arrives, a familiar screech of a dragon that your marrow will never forget— tolls the bell of death.

And when you looked up, snow swirling, holding onto your son that looked up in awe at the man who looked so much like him—

Aemond is smiling.

Sweet came the word— dracarys! — as Vhagar split her mouth opened and obeyed her rider.

What have I told you?

You are mine as I am yours.

In face of every god and more, they will understand that you and I are but one soul.

#dark!aemond x reader #dark!aemond #aemond smut #dark!aemond targaryen x reader #elle writes !! ꒱ ↷˗ˏˋ🍒#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x you #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x reader #aemond angst #aemond dark #hotd smut #aemond fanfiction #aemond fanfic #hotd fanfic

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princessbellecerise · 1 year

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Touch The Skies

──── ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧ ────

summary | In which Aemond finally takes you flying on Vhagar

warnings | None

this is a work of fiction. i do not own these characters

divider by @princessbellecerise

You know you shouldn’t be scared, but you were.

The nerves that pooled in your stomach almost made you sick, but you hid them from Aemond as he lead you up the hill, not wanting to making your dear husband upset.

After all, you know how much of an honor this is. For him to even consider showing you Vhagar was one thing, but for him to propose that you ride her?

That was an entirely different story. A true honor, seeing as Aemond had never let anyone ride on Vhagar’s back expect for himself. When you got married, you always assumed that he wouldn’t even let you get close to the dragon he had fought to claim.

But alas, here you were. Ascending the cliff that the gigantic beast rested on, for she was too big for the Dragonpit the ancient Targaryens had designed. A monster in her own right, and utterly terrifying to see in person.

Your stomach churned a little more but you tried your best to keep a brave face. The warnings your dear husband still rang through your head:

Do not ever let a dragon sense your fear. They will deem you weak, and the weak are treated as prey.

Those words nearly paralyzed you; reminding you over and over you could not fault. You had to be as strong as your husband was, fearlessly walking up the dragon as if he was the bigger monster.

Aemond’s back was straight, gaze strong as he first approached the dragon. You lingered back a little bit further way at his command; the Targaryen needing to speak to his dragon before you approached.

Curiously, you watched as words of old Valyria flew from his tongue, prompting the gigantic beast to turn it’s head to your husband.

Yellow eyes stared into lilac ones, and for a moment, all was still. You held your breath as Aemond repeated his commands and Vhagar grumbled. The hefty dragon looked as if she were barely listening to your husband, but you soon found that it was quite the opposite.

Vhagar did heed his commands, and underneath you the ground shook as she moved around. Almost like she was positioning herself, getting herself into the right angle so that Aemond could comfortably mount her.

So that you could mount her.

“Come, my love. She has granted my wish for you to join me.”

You gulped as Aemond held out his hand for you, nerves eating you alive as he awaited for you to join him by the dragon’s side. You hadn’t been this nervous ever since your wedding day—and even then you were sure you didn’t sweat half as much as you were right now.

Clammy hands are what met your husband’s, Aemond giving you a look as you slowly allowed him to pull you towards the beast’s side. You could barely contain your beating heart but the soft tugs and gentle touches from your husband are enough to calm you down a little. At least enough for you finally get close without collapsing all together, Aemond taking your bare hand and lacing it with his before gently setting it on top of Vhagar’s rough hide.

Like you expected, the dragon felt hot and her thick scales had been softened by age. By all means, she was exactly what you pictured a dragon being like. But you had to admit—she was eerily calm as your fingers ghosted over her. Something you weren’t expecting but clearly Aemond was by the way he smiled a bit.

“See?” Aemond’s eye glinted as Vhagar softly growled but still allowed you to touch her. “I told you there was nothing to worry about, sweet wife. She clearly likes you; probably even more than she does me.”

“Well, I guess it wouldn’t be the first time, dear husband,” You laughed shakily, earning a sharp, playfully glare from Aemond. He stood by closely and allowed you to keep stroking Vhagar’s hide before eventually taking your hand again.

Clasping your fingers together, you shared a look and you knew what that meant. Gulping, you let out a breath as Aemond nudged you forward and encouraged you to take the first step towards riding; placing your feet in the ladder and climbing onto the back of the dragon.

Since Vhagar was so large, it was impossible to mount her without doing this. And so, steadily your feet ascended, one after the other as Aemond followed closely behind.

You could feel the encouraging hands of you husband nudging your thighs as you aimed to reach Vhagar’s saddle, ensuring that you would not fall backwards as you climbed. Grateful for this small act of affection, you briefly smiled and then when you finally reached the top, you paused.

You examined the reins which were worn by the various riders of Vhagar and the sheer size of the mount. If that did not help put into perspective how large this dragon was, you didn’t know what would. Of course, you knew that she was huge but staring at the added space of the saddle had your jaw dropped.

Easily, Vhagar could have carried at least twenty people on her own. Maybe even more.

If it was not for the fact that Dragons only bonded with one rider, you had no doubts she could be used as a very useful mode of transportation.

Luckily though, your husband was the only one that held any sort of claims to her. And now you—sort of—as you settled between Aemond and the reigns of the saddle.

Behind you, you felt your husband shifting as he gathered the ropes and all the proper measure before the two of you took flight. He took extra care doing this, making sure that every precaution was met so that no danger would be presented to you.

You found that most of the safety ropes were wrapped around your waist which left Aemond vulnerable a little. If something were to happen or if Vhagar turned upside down, he would not be as protected as you.

Briefly, this caused you to frown but then you chastised yourself for not believing in your husband. Of course—he had done this plenty of times, ever since the age of ten. Now nine and ten, Aemond was sure to know what he was doing and how to control his own dragon.

You did not need to fear for your husband, only seek his warmth as your back pressed to his.

“Are you almost ready, ñuha jorrāelagon?” My love. You smiled briefly as Aemond purred in your ear, turning your body slightly so that you could look him in the eye. Already finding him staring at you with a soft expression, you nodded and then pressed a chaste kiss to his lips.

“As ready as I’ll ever be, dōna valzȳrys,” You sighed, the organs in your stomach beginning to twist and turn with anxiety.

You hadn’t even taken flight yet but you were already nervous. As one should be when riding a literal dragon for the first time, but deep down you knew that you had nothing to fear.

Not when you had your sweet husband with you.

Aemond would never let anything happen to you, and it was this thought that calmed you enough to stay still as Vhagar shook and groaned.

After a few commands from your Lord Husband, she was ready to take flight. And you gulped as your body began swaying along with her, holding on for dear life as she walked towards the edge of the cliff and then made her descent.

A scream—no perhaps a shout of caution got stuck in your throat as she dived downhill, not even being able to release it due to the backlash of the wind. The very particles seemed to nip at your face and all but rendered you breathless, your body going limp as Aemond laughed behind you.

Out of everything, you weren’t expecting your husband to laugh at your misfortune. But alas, while his beast was busy trying to take flight, he leaned forward and caught a glimpse of your face. Priceless—you were sure it had to be. Yours cheeks all but molded by the wind and your mouth open with a silent scream.

Aemond shook behind you, and you breathed like you had never done so before as Vhagar finally straightened out. Her wings spread, and finally you were granted the pleasure of sanity as she flew through the skies.

“See? That was not so bad, my love,” Aemond teased.

You had some not so nice words your husband but you decided to hold your tongue since he was being nice today. Letting you ride Vhagar, which slowly became a more pleasant experience the further you got into your venture.

Eventually, you had stopped holding your breath and allowed yourself to really and truly enjoy the experience of riding a dragon, opting to keep your eyes open to ogle at the sights below you.

It was like Vhagar was touching the skies and you saw everything from mountains, to lakes, to people in boats that ogled you as you shook the water.

Everything that you could possibly imagine, right there under your fingertips. The beautiful sights and land on display only for you; and your husband as he leaned into you.

Eventually, Aemond had taken to relaxing as well once he was sure Vhagar was at a steady pace. This allowed him start pointing certain things out, filling you in on all the things he had seen while you nodded.

You loved hearing him talk about his ventures, especially during a time where you were both so relaxed. It was rare to see your husband look so peaceful, carefree in a way he was not on land. That’s because up in the skies, there existed no worries, no duties. Just the two of you and the soft lulling of Vhagar’s wings.

It made you hum, and it let you savior this moment like it was going to be your last one earth. Your last memory would be of the heavens opening up to you.

As she flew, that’s exactly what it felt like. And perhaps now you understood why people always claimed that Targaryen’s were closer to Gods than men; for now you knew that no man, not even yourself, could ever replicate this kind of serenity without the likes of dragons.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen fluff #aemond x reader #aemond fluff #hotd x reader #hotd #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon

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crazyaboutto · 2 months

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The pain of being a book reader that’s been made into a show

The writers and directors literally have completed series in their hands. They have the writer’s feedback as well or at least they initially said so in season 1.

Why the fuck are they deviating from canon so much? I’m trying to think HOTD as high budgeted fan fiction but damn it’s so hard. You’re getting paid a lot and working on one of the most well known series and you just fuck up

I was already pissed with Aegon’s dream nonsense as well as Rhaenys bursting out of coronation just for shock value but it’s going downhill fast. That dream leads to absolutely nothing. We don’t even have NK like the GOT version in the books. Also, still prefer book version of Alicent both age and character wise.

It was so fast paced in season 1 and now they’re dragging the story. They’re also deviating from the canon a lot

Why does Alicent actually believe “that’s what Viserys wanted”? She wants the throne for her bloodline and that’s it. It’s her wish for power, not for actually believing in whatever Viserys was saying.

It also feels like Rhaenyra would be fine with Aegon’s usurping if Luke didn’t die. She is the throne. The war started when the greens hid the death of the king.

Why is Daemon tripping for so long? He took harrenhall and that’s it. He raised the armies 3 times before the Dance. He’s a fearsome and competent general but he’s basically just a random dude who took acid trips. Ryan saying Daemon doesn’t have the skill set to raise an army lmao give me a break

Perhaps, they do not want to show cruel side of Rhaenyra by ordering the death of Nettles and not harming Daemon after Mysaria told Rhaenyra? on one hand, Daemon might have cheated with Nettles, or it was father-daughter relationship like Mushroom thinks. It feels like they’re wasting our time with Daemon’s trips like him fucking his mother nonsense to erase Nettles.

Why are they trying to erase the connection between Valyrian and dragons? No normal person can bond with a dragon. Be it Valeryon or Targaryen, you need Valyrian blood. And the whole stupid “illusion” thing in the show.

They also wasted Laena so badly in season 1. If they’re all for sapphic representation instead of just creating buzz on internet, they could have gone for Laena x Rhaenyra moments. I’m not even sure if the adult versions were on screen together. Soon after we got older Laena, she died. It’s literally book canon that Rhaenyra was “very fond” of Laena. It’s also pretty much implied that there were things between them and ot3 with Daemon

Not to mention they erased the lesbian fighter character who loves killing men and kissing women. I’m talking about Sabitha (Frey) and her lover Alysanne Blackwood. Would rather (want to) see them acting like they’re “very close friends” than a Alicole sex scene

We don’t even have Daeron lol

We haven’t seen Haelena’s mourning well instead we saw random things. Blood and Cheese wasn’t even done properly. If you’re slowing down the pace and will end the Dance in season 3, at least show more of Haelena’s mourning. Show the sibling interactions between the greens.

Another thing, who the hell is Aeriana? Her?

I’m just reminded of how after the books ended, D&D took liberties with characters and we got the clusterfuck of season 7-8. Now I feel like they’ll do the same thing in season 3

And I fear what they’ll do with Aegon the conqueror. Like maybe he tricked Visenya and Rhaenys into marrying him and conquering the 7 kingdoms? Maybe the sisters didn’t want to kill but were forced to because they’re such angels? Or Visenya can’t fight well

Why does HBO keep making shows about the house it abhors?

#hotd #anti hotd #rhaenyra targaryen #alicent hightower #aegon ii targaryen #daemon targaryen #laena velaryon #daeron targaryen #nettles #house of the dragon #anti house of the dragon #sabitha frey #haelena targaryen #rhaenys velaryon #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #fire and blood #aemond targaryen

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the-fiction-witch · 5 months

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In The Eyrie P2

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Jacaerys Velaryon Couple - Jacaerys X Reader Reader - Sharra Arynn (OC - Dark Hair / Plus Sized / Pale Skin) Rating - Sweet Word Count - 1261

Plus size OC described as 'Chubby' not meant in a derogatory way

Part One

As the guard led him out of the throne room and through the halls, Jace felt himself with mixed emotions at what was to come. When they reached the door to his betrothed, he was given a look by the guard. A silent warning to be on his best behaviour. The door was opened and Jacaerys moved inside the door slamming shut behind him, he found the chamber to be very beautiful, the grey Vale stone with curtains of blue and white, many windows and sweet stains and silks, furniture of dark wood and blue fabric, two balconies one to the courtyard and he thought of the woman who he had seen looking down at him, to think that may have been her and another balcony to the outside of the castle. He looked around and saw no one but he heard singing like a sweet songbird from the open balcony door. Jacaery’s eyes were drawn to the balcony he stepped out curious about the sight he might see.

The sight in front of him was not a surprise but the voice and melody were one he could not resist, he was stunned. He saw the grey stone balcony that overlooked the Vales rolling hills, birds came to a birdhouse built into the balcony walls, birds settling in before the storm took hold, and on the balcony stood a woman. She looked his age, with long dark brown hair, pale skin, and a beautiful gown of blue velvet and silver embroidery, She had a voice like an angel, but immediately he noticed she was chubby, she had wide hips, broad shoulders but she had freckles she wasn't a Westeros standard of beautiful by any means.

Jacaerys knew in the moment that this was his betrothed. After a long stare, he felt a knot fill his stomach at her curves. She was chubby, he didn’t know how to feel about this, it wasn’t like terrible but mildly disappointing to him, but he felt bad immediately for thinking that, she was still a beauty in that as well. She possessed a charm and a comfort that he had never seen before. As he stared at her, his eyes wandered over her form, from head to toe. She was not what he pictured as his wife but she was a welcome change of pace from the typical beauty of the realm. He took a deep breath and tried to settle the nerves in his stomach as he finally spoke. He didn't want to appear rude or disrespectful to his betrothed, there could be a chance that their romance could bloom. He took a step forward to the woman.

"My Lady." Jace bowed his head formally, He tried his best to ignore it and appear respectful.

She gasped as he spoke as she hadn't heard him arrive, "My prince," she bowed her head as she kissed the head of a baby bird before helping it into the birdhouse and closing the small doors, she turned to him her hands Infront of her stomach picking at her nails as she can barely met eyes with him,

Jace would chuckle gently to himself at the sight before him. The way she took care of the birds and how she fiddled with her fingers. It reminded him of his mother in a way, she had a delicate manner about her. He had not expected this girl to be his wife, but she had captured his attention. The way she looked at him was what caught him most. "You care deeply for those birds don't you?"

"I do, I have watched over them in my room now for six generations. I make sure to take them in before each storm," she answered "I'm - forgive me but... Please do not feel you need to make small talk with me,” she said which stopped him a moment, “I understand that the meer sight of me is likely enough for you to make your decision please do not feel you need to be polite to me. You may just go,"

Jacaery’s heart skipped a beat at the words. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Was she really allowing him to back out if this arrangement made him uncomfortable? That moment was all it took for him to understand what kind of person she was. A kind, sweet, generous woman who was undeserving of anything but the best. At that moment, Jace knew he had to try and make this one work. "I won't be leaving, my Lady."

"why ever not?"

Jace's smile grew upon his face as he looked her in the eyes. "Because just from what you have shown me, I can already see that you are more than what I ever could have hoped for in a wife. I have never had the opportunity to choose my bride, and you were not in my mind as what I sought after, but you seem to be exactly what I need."

"Please... Do not toy and tease me Prince Jacaerys"

Jacaerys paused at her words. She seemed very guarded and he thought he could fix that. He took a few steps toward her, she had a beauty about her that was much more than looks. "I do not toy or tease, my lady. You have captured my eye, my heart, and my interest. I have no desire to joke in this matter."

she stepped back widening the space between them "I offer this to you now. You may go. Now. And I will think no ill of you, you have my permission to go, to leave, and I will not argue with you. Please go. I could not bear another jest..."

The Prince's smile faded as he saw the terror in her eyes. She truly believed that she was unlovable, he could see it in her eyes like she was damaged from previous rejections. He could see a part of himself in her. A part that hurt, felt unwanted, unloved by the realm and even his own blood had called him a bastard, and he felt somewhat unwanted becuase of it. "I do not joke in this, nor do I wish to mock you as some cruel jape. I came here and I saw you, the sight before me was all I needed to see. A beauty that makes everything appear dim by comparison." he explained, "I came here to wed you and I'll be damned if I leave without you by my side as my wife. Let the world mock and laugh at us, but I would rather have someone sweet, and kind, that I can love by my side instead of one who fits their mould of beauty with no way of kindness of conversation. I see a beauty and a strength in you that others may not. I would marry you tomorrow if I could. But I beg of you, give me a chance."

she nodded and after a moment offered her arm to lead them both inside

Jace was stunned when she accepted, taking her arm as he followed her inside. He could feel his heart beating out of his chest, she had offered him the chance he had been looking for his entire life. She wasn't beautiful by Westerosi's standards but that didn't matter, she was beautiful to him. He glanced at her as he walked beside her, noticing her hands once more. They were soft, feminine, and full of beauty. Once inside, he couldn't help but notice the smell of the chamber itself and how it mixed with her sweet perfume. Everything about her was perfect.

Masterlist Of Jacaerys Velaryon

Tags (Sorry didn't see them till now)

@astarborntowrite

@ximetrevino2021

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asumofwords · 1 year

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Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: Well... Here we are..... And here we are going omg. The poor reader doesn't even understand what she has signed herself up for ! Thank you so much for all the love and kind words and for coming along with me on this little journey hehehe <3

Chapter 50: Farewell

It is not an easy burden to bear, being a woman. It is far harder when you are the eldest daughter at that. You will have to navigate your life at the whims of men. Stand pretty, but not too pretty. Be confident, but not loud. Be quiet, but have wisdom.

To be a daughter, is a paradox.

To be the eldest, is to be a second mother.

You have to mature, and fast, whilst your brothers are given the allowance to grow slowly, and mature with age. You must support your parents and family at all times, and put the needs of your blood above your own. You are to be the doting daughter, sister, mother, wife, maid, and servant all in one.

To be a nymph and a maiden. A teacher and a student.

To be a woman is a terrible thing.

A life of struggle, doubled by the sex of your birth.

Today you were faced with the hardest sacrifice of all. And whilst you would never be ready for it, your entire life had prepared you for this moment. To be wed to a man, who held no love for you. A political move no doubt, despite the attempts of your mother.

A man who is cruel and unforgiving.

Many women had faced the same fate as you.

And you would endure it.

Daemon and you had watched as Vhagar flew above you, light green belly passing over the castle, and the glimpse of a long scar on her back leg, curtesy of Syndor.

None of you were left unmarked.

Aemond, his eye.

You, your side.

The large, dark ship had moored itself down in the waiting docks below, the green banner of the three headed dragon staring unforgivingly at you as it had approached.

A vision of misery.

A reminder of loss.

The harbinger of sorrows.

As you waited beside Daemon, two heads appeared, walking steadily up towards you both from the long winding path that led to the lush greeneries where you stood. The long face of Otto Hightower approached, flanked on his side by a helmeted Ser Criston Cole.

You felt your father start to move, and you uttered beneath your breath at him.

“Set aside your grievances, if not for mother, then for me.”

The Rogue Prince did not move after, standing beside you stiffly as they approached.

Otto wore deep green robes and Ser Criston Cole wore his armour, bright white cloak clasped on his back. Such a funny thing to see on a man who had broken his vows.

The white cloak is to signify purity, yet this man had been nothing but filth.

Otto, despite being at war with your father for years before Viserys’ death, lowered his head stiffly to address you both.

“Princess Y/n.” He greeted you.

You shifted on your feet.

“King Aegon wishes that he could be here to bear witness to this union, however he had more pressing duties to the realm. I have come as his Hand to witness this union, and ensure the agreements of his treaty.”

The Rogue Prince shifted, muttering beneath his breath in High Valyrian.

You nodded.

“The King in his wisdom,” Began the Hightower, looking just as pompous and self righteous as you remembered, “Offered this treaty to your House out of duty to the realm and its people. Blood needlessly spilt over the Iron Throne would destroy the realm, which was not the King’s wishes. By splitting the realm into two,”

Movement caught your eye.

You watched as Aemond walked down the grassy knoll towards you, dressed in the traditional garb of Valyria. The cream of the robes moved in the wind, whilst the seeping red brought out the violet of his eye.

“Both King Aegon and Queen Rhaenyra may rule in seperate Kingdoms, bound to peace by this unification of each House.”

Aemond’s sapphire eye shone in the light of the sun, the depth creating small stars within the precious stone as he got closer to both you and your father. Wordlessly, Daemon turned to look at you, to see one last time if you wished to run.

If you wished for him to fight.

You gave him a small smile, and that was all he needed.

Daemon walked to one end of the stone alter, opposite to where Otto and Ser Criston stood, where the Hightower continued to rattle on about the farce of the treaty. Aemond’s eye never left you once, and you felt heat rise into your cheeks.

The robes fit him well, and you fought the urge to accept that he looked handsome. He had pulled half of his long, silver hair back, the top braided down gently, and you watched as he took determined steps towards you.

Three Septon’s of House Targaryen walked up the path, large offerings in hand as they made their way to the table as both you and Aemond stood together, staring at one another.

Reunited at last.

He towered over you, gazing at your face, and the headdress that sat upon your head.

There was no going back.

There was no running from this. There was no escape from the marriage that was about to be affirmed, in the tradition of your House. There would be no more Dragonstone with your family, and no more nights alone.

The Septon who had married your parents stepped forward beside you, as you walked to stand before the alter together.

It was so quiet, so silent in the space, that only the sounds of waves, wind, and robes moving about were heard. The gentle breeze brushed your hair over your shoulders, a slow shiver running through your body.

The Septon wore a grey hooded cloak, with a golden vest atop, old Valyrian runes were embroidered on the front as he began the ceremony, eyes peering at the both of you, and then to your witnesses.

“Ānogar se perzys,” (Blood and fire) The Septon began, as the other two stood behind him, “Konir sagon skoros mazverdagon Targārien Lentor” (That is what makes House Targaryen.)

Your eyes settled on Aemond’s face as the Septon continued to speak behind you, his words lost to you as you looked upon your soon to be husband. His lone eye was soft as he gazed at you, appreciative, drinking in every inch of your face.

His lips were not pulled into their usual smirk, nor their hard line, instead they were relaxed as he watched you.

Your eyes inspected his scar closely, now that you were both still.

No bickering or fighting, nor moving or yelling, no violence or lust. Simply observing what you had not been able to before. The scar was deep and the tissue had scarred a dark pink on his face. The lid where his eye had been was rippled and torn, permanently opened to the world.

To witness his sins.

The skin around the flesh looked tired, dark and sore. You wondered if his scar brought him pain to this day, if the nerves had grown badly into the scar tissue, bringing agony to him at random hours.

You hoped that it did.

The sapphire was a choice that you would never understand. It was beautiful, polished and shaped to fit perfectly within the empty socket, and shone under certain lights. Your fingers itched to reach up and touch it, to feel the smooth precious stone lodged inside of his head.

You clenched your fist instead.

As you observed him, he observed you.

A lazy smile pulled from the corner of his lips. The most his mouth had moved this entire time. He had not greeted you when he arrived, he had not taunted you, nor had he mocked you. Instead he was quiet in waiting.

“Perzys.” (Fire) The Septon spoke, handing two lone unlit candles into either of your hands.

You both took the candles from the Septon, before each lighting the others with a soft lit wick. You held the wick to his candle, watching it come to life, and stared as Aemond’s long fingers moved forward to do the same to yours.

When both candles were lit, you let yourself look up at him. He was already watching you.

You turned to place the candles upon the many others on the stone alter, securing your position in Valyrian ritual, ensuring your candles sat amongst the many others who had placed theirs before you.

“Se ānogar.” (And blood).

Your heart raced in your chest as you watched Aemond pick up the sharp blade of dragon glass from the alter beside you. It looked so small in his grip as he moved forward towards you, slowly.

You flinched as he lifted his hand up. His face remained still.

Slowly Aemond dragged the dragon glass down your bottom lip, almost with reverence, almost with care, as you felt the stinging slice cut through the soft flesh of your lip.

How many times had he cut you? How much blood had he taken from you forcefully? How many times had he watched you bleed at his hands?

But this time, it was different.

This time, you let him.

You swallowed thickly, his eye drawn to the blood that had been to leak from the cut he made.

His hand came up gently, thumb pressing into the slit, causing a dull sting, as he swiped blood onto his digit. He did so reverently, with caution and a carefulness you could not place. It was ritualistic, and confident.

It was intimate, and it was almost more than you could bear.

It made your heart race and your stomach flip as he lifted his thumb gently, running the warm wet blood of your lips down the middle of your forehead between your brows.

And then his palm opened to you, small blade resting atop his large hand. Hands that had killed, hands that had been inside of you. Hands that had forced yours into this marriage.

Your own grabbed the black dragon glass, lifting it up to his lips, less gentle as he had been, more anger than you should’ve had, and sliced roughly into his bottom lip.

His eye fluttered close as you dragged the blade down, revelling in seeing his blood pool from the cut, before you pressed your thumb sharply into it.

You wished to hurt him, you wished to maim, but you paused as your thumb pressed against his lip.

His violet eye opened to watch you, as you held your breath.

Thumb pressed to his forehead, you drew an arrow with his blood, where he had drawn on you. You felt the smooth wet blood spread against his skin, its warmth diminishing as your hand lingered. The One-Eyed Prince looked down at you from his height as he breathed deeply.

Taking the blade from you, he cut into his palm, the skin pulling apart gently, blood quickly rising to the surface and pooling in his palm. You grasped the blade and moved to do the same but stopped.

You looked as the tip of the blade pressed into the scar of your palm. The skin was raised where you had once grasped a piece of mirror, before plunging into the man before you’s shoulder.

Aemond blew out a sharp breath out of his nose as he waited. You pressed the tip into the scar and dragged down slowly, revelling in the pain as you watched blood rise from the cut, the Septon’s voice pulled you away from your thoughts.

“Hen lantoti anogar.” (Blood of two.)

Aemond’s hand pulled the blade away from you, placing it on the alter beside you, before he gripped his bleeding hand with yours. A sharp stinging shot through your hands as he held onto you, mixing your blood together.

It was the first time he had held you so softly since you were children.

The Septon stepped forth to wrap red cloth around your bound hands, as you stared at each other.

“Va syndroti. Vaedroma.” (Joined as one. Ghostly flame.)

Another Septon stepped forth, handing the officiant another strip of material, soft black and embroidered in gold as he gently wrapped it about your hands, keeping them tightly together. You watched as blood began to drip from where you hands met, the thick liquid dripping onto the rock and grass below.

Joined as one.

Your blood and his.

Coursing through each others veins.

A bond that cannot be undone.

A goblet was placed in your hand and you pulled to sip it, the unfamiliar burn laying on your tongue before slowly sliding down your throat as you swallowed.

“Mero perzot gihoti. Eledroma iarza sir.” (And song of shadows. Two hearts as embers.)

Aemond’s hand reached forth to grasp the goblet from you, his fingers grazing yours.

It felt so wrong.

So wrong to hold him like this.

So wrong to be wed in the tradition of Old Valyria, and the mighty House Targaryen.

It felt wrong to feel a spark of something in your heart, and emotion you couldn’t quite out your finger on as he slowly raised the goblet to his lips, eye on you as he drank deeply.

“Izuli ampa perzi. Prumi lanti seteksi. Hen jeny mazilarion. Qelossa ozundesi. Syndroro ono jedo.” (Forged in fourteen fires. A future promised in glass. The stars stand witness. The vow spoken through time.)

And as you stood together, and the breeze brushed against your legs, you let your eye stray beside you, to where Lucerys had been, to where he had been you watching you the whole time.

But now stood empty space, and that little piece of loss made you squeeze against Aemond’s hand in your grip, blood seeping out in thick rivulets into the cloths, before dropping to the earth below.

“Ry kivia mazvestraksi.” (Of darkness and light.) The Septon ended, and you felt a small piece end with you.

You gazed at each other, waiting to move, waiting for the inevitable to happen and you felt your heart race faster in your chest, shuffling on your feet before Aemond stepped forward, closer to you, his face in front of yours, nose almost brushing each other.

And then he closed the gap, lips coming to brush against yours gently at first as your eyes slid shut. You held still as he came closer, free hand coming to grasp the back of your neck, so soft, so unlike him that it almost startled you.

It was so unlike him that wondered if it was him.

His tongue pressed up against the cut on your lip, pushing sharply into it as he licked the blood, causing you to quietly gasp, mouth opening. He deepened the kiss, and you followed, nipping roughly at him, making the hand at the back of your head grip your hair roughly.

And as suddenly as a warmth began to pool in your stomach, he pulled away, eye wild and lips smeared with the both of yours blood.

“Mēre ñelly, mēre prūmia, mēre soul, sir se forever.” Aemond purred, looking down at your lips as his tongue darted out to lick away at the blood that had begun to drip down from his mouth. (One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.)

“Mēre ñelly, mēre prūmia, mēre soul, sir se forever.” You repeated back, voice quiet.

You both stood and waited as the Septon’s came fourth and undid the binding of your hands, gentle fingers pulling the ceremonial rope away, leaving your hand still firmly clasped in his, blood leaking slowly as your hand began to throb.

The peace was broken.

One small word. One little utterance under his breath was all it took for the gentleness of the ceremony to disappear. To wither and die, right before your eyes.

“Wife.”

Your husband purred, testing the word on his tongue as he smiled, hand tensing in your shared grip, causing more blood to leak from the union of flesh.

“In the eyes of the Seven, and witnessed by King Aegon the Second’s Hand, the marriage of treaty between Prince Aemond, First of his Name, and Princess Y/n, First of Her Name, of House Targaryen has been confirmed.” Otto’s voice rung out into the air.

Your grip on Aemond’s hand faltered and he let yours go, your hand limply falling beside you as you turned to face your father who looked at you in both awe and pity. You found your legs taking you to race towards him before you could stop yourself. You threw yourself into his arms, his hands catching you as he held you against him, eyes piercing a hole through Aemond.

“Shh, you did good. I am so proud of you.” He cooed quietly into your hair.

You pulled back away from him nodding gently.

“We will have the Princess’ belongings brought down to the ship, before we make our voyage back to the King’s Landing.” Otto continued.

And then it was over.

The ceremony was complete.

And you had been wed to a man who you never thought you would have since you were a child. Back when things were simpler between the two of you. Back when things were not murky, or clouded with hate, and loss and despair.

You had thought when young, how good it would have been to be wed to him. How kind of a husband he would have been to you. How you could continue to read and play and enjoy each others company.

Back when he had done no wrong.

Back when he had not lost his eye, or become the cruel man he was now. Back when you had an unbreakable bond, though nothing lasts forever.

Life included.

There would be no celebrations. There would be no joyous dinner. There would be no families coming together to celebrate the union, or end of the war. Because there was nothing to celebrate. There was no joy. And there would be no reunion of blood.

You all but raced back into the castle, sparing neither your father nor husband a glance as you moved to ready yourself to leave. Each step closer you got, the more your feet became heavy until suddenly you were standing outside of your chambers staring at Ser Darke.

Your knight looked you up and down before giving you a soft and sad smile, opening the chamber doors, but you would not enter. You shifted on your feet, trying to delay the inevitable as you watched the dark haired knight step forward towards you.

“I wish I could come with you, My Lady. To protect you, as I was sworn to do.”

You inhaled deeply and then out.

“But you cannot, and so I ask you to protect them all in my absence. You are sworn to me, and must do as I command-“

“You do not need to command me to do this for you.” The Knight smiled, and you were grateful, as you gave him a short tight hug before entering the chambers where Saria and Aella waited.

Neither spoke a word to you as they undressed you, before you pulled on your riding leathers. They worked gently to quickly buckle you in before saying short and strained goodbyes.

You promised them you would be back, and they promised to wait in your absence. But you felt that they did not truly believe you.

You could not waste more time saying goodbyes, more time waiting about in the castle, avoiding the fate and future that lingered outside of Dragonstone’s walls. When you exited your chambers, your father stood waiting with your knight, both silent as he walked you towards the front of the castle doors.

Aemond, Otto and Ser Criston were all waiting for your arrival.

Aemond was now dressed back into his dark leather riding garb too, and he looked you up and down shamelessly. The blood on his forehead and lips had not been wiped away, much like yours, and his hands were held tightly behind his back.

Your palm itched.

“The Princess will join us on our ship back to King’s Landing. Your belongings have been loaded for you.” Otto spoke, looking down his nose at you as Aemond smiled gently.

You turned to Daemon as he looked at you, before you stepped to hug him once last time. One last time for Gods know how long, would you be able to hug your father. To hold him. To smell his familiar and calming scent.

One last time in his presence.

It would never be enough.

The Rogue Prince pulled you tightly against him, placing a lingering kiss atop your head before muttering quietly.

“Dracarys, ñuha byka vīlībāzmio.” (Dracarys, my little warrior.)

You buried your head further into his chest before pulling away.

“I’ll write to you.” You promised.

“When you are ready, Princess.” Otto interrupted, rushing you to leave.

You could not bear to linger any longer. Nor look at your fathers saddened gaze. It would break you. It would make you not leave. And so you forced yourself to go, before you broke in front of them all.

And with that you turned on the balls of your feet as you made your way to move up Dragonmont.

They were mad if they thought you would leave your dragon here.

They were mad if they thought they could seperate a Targaryen from their dragon.

“Princess!” Otto called after you, but you pushed on, hearing your fathers laugh in the air, which served to make you smile.

Truly smile, for the first time that morning.

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

Tag List:

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alicentflorent · 2 months

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Teen Rhaena reminds me of young Alicent in a way. Besides both being Rhaenyra’s handmaidens and having bad fathers, Rhaena is never involved with the plans everyone’s making about her life like Alicent. People won’t see it this way because Luke was her age and it seems like they got along well but Rhaena (and Baela) was betrothed without her consent to further the ambitions of others for the throne. She wasn’t asked prior to the agreement by Rhaenyra and Rhaenys.

Their feelings are constantly disregarded by those around them because they don’t have dominant personalities. While the other kids/teens (minus Aemond) were being playful and joking around at the dinner table in S1Ep8, Rhaena was sat there very mature, ladylike and proper. When the fight broke out, Rhaena was breaking it up along with the adults. It just reminded me of Alicent’s dynamic with Rhaenyra when they were young. Alicent was always treated like one of the adults by the adults around her , while Rhaenyra was still called “a child” and got to act her age. Her immaturity is taken into account by writers and viewers.

Teen Alicent and teen Rhaena’s grief is minimized by the writers because their grief isn’t loud, angry or rebellious. Again they are mini adults, Alicent doesn’t get the same grace as Rhaenyra despite losing her mother very recently too and we see Baela speak about the loss of Rhaenys to multiple people throughout the episode. We even see Rhaenyra shed tears for Rhaenys (odd because neither woman really liked the other). We see Corlys grieve, we see the smallfolk grieve the damn Dragon. Only one brief scene is given to Rhaena and her grief and it’s not even the focal point of the scene.

Their grief takes the back seat to others and the grief of those others becomes more important than their own. The general audience isn’t going to give much thought to the impact of this loss on Rhaena, just like most of them forget that young Alicent lost her mother too.

Anon, how can you say something so controversial yet so brave?

I definitely see parallels between them. You've listed some perfect examples. I also think Rhaena and Young Alicent both have parallels with Sansa Stark. I sometimes think of Sansa as a character that breaks the cycle Alicent couldn't break and I think the key difference is that Sansa had a family who loved her and who cared about her as more than a political pawn. Her parents tried to save her from her situation in kingslanding. This is a key difference between Rhaena and Alicent too. Rhaena has a support system and a family that loved her she'd never get sold off to an old man to be raped and used as a broodmare and even if daemon tried to arrange a marriage like that Rhaenys and probably even Rhaenyra would likely try to stop it. Baela at her young age would probably kill someone before she allowed her sister to be married off into a horrible situation. Alicent had no one in her corner.

#this applies to the show version of the characters btw #rhaena targaryen #alicent hightower #sansa stark #hotd meta

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complextheories · 3 months

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Okay. Wrap up on feelings from S2E5 of HOTD!

First, I really enjoyed that we got more Rhaenyra and Daemon screen time as well as seeing more from the people around them in this episode.

I love seeing the discontent from the small folk that resulted from Criston Cole parading Meleys’s head through the city. A total miscalculation on his part and as we progress the episode, we see Mysaria coach Rhaenyra, urging her not to make the same mistake. And this moment, Mysaria educating Rhaenyra is so so important. I really think the will of the people is something that her father, Viserys, at least, recognized. If not Viserys, we know that it’s something Otto pays attention to and advised as such.

This also foils Daemon’s current character progression. Daemon continues to ignore the will of not just the small folk, but the other lords and ladies of the Riverlands. Daemon sitting in the grass in his armor, saying “I did not think they’d be so eager to die.” and then telling Willem that they’re the type of men he needs is hilarious. I think showrunners are doing a really good job showing Daemon’s inner psyche.

I like seeing Rhaenyra educate Jace, but also them frustrated together at the state of things and strategizing! Rhaenyra reminds her son that she is the Blood of the Dragon too and she is as frustrated as he is, if not more, at the state of thigns. But as they strategize about more dragons, Rhaenyra lets Jace in, even more than before, to the inner workings of this war the way she urged Viserys to when she was his age.

Seeing Helaena ask Aemond if it was worth it is a big moment to me. When you look back at their childhood, Aemond is more sympathetic to Helaena. He understands her more than Aegon. Maybe this goes both ways. She sees him too. And she’s disappointed.

Baela’s interaction with Corlys and Rhaenyra about her grandmother Rhaenys — it shows how she’s grown, how her grandmother and her stepmother have influenced her. She is fire and blood just like them and she burns.

Lastly, Aegon murmuring "Mummy" as Alicent leaves his room is very Hightower Trauma coded. We're really seeing generations of trauma -- how it is passed down and the effects of it.

Edit: I also really enjoyed seeing Alicent fall victim to the patriarchy she helped affirm. It's karma that she didn't see coming. I mean Larys is right, if Team Green elevates Alicent to the regency then how are they better than Team Black? If Alicent had supported Rhaenyra that conversation would have been so different.

One of my favorite episodes of the season. See y'all in a week!

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd spoilers #house targaryen #hotd s2 #rhaenyra targaryen #jacerys velaryon #baela targaryen #daemon targaryen #helaena targaryen #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aegon ii targaryen #criston cole #corlys velaryon #rhaenys targaryen #willem blackwood #larys strong #larys clubfoot

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darklinaforever · 1 month

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https://www.tumblr.com/aryas-faces/759627378192465920/the-house-of-the-dragon-writers-are-so-jealous-of?source=share

Lol just lol

Wow. Reading so much crap at once should be banned.

The delusion that Aegon II took the throne for his family is reported by Eustace, a maester pro-greens and anti-Blacks / Rhaenyra, who spends his time whitewashing them as much as possible. What he says about the Greens is still highly questionable. Especially since this bullshit of only wanting to protect one's family as a motivation to take the throne can quickly be challenged when we see how different Aegon II seems to be with the crown on his head, ready to do anything to keep it for himself and absolutely not mischievous. Firing Otto and refusing the peace agreement proposed by RhaeRhaenyra which would precisely save his family, except his grandfather who... well that's good because he doesn't care! Not to mention calling Rhaenyra a whore as easily as he breathes when apparently before taking the throne he actually respected Rhaenyra saying what kind of brother would steal what belongs to his older sister ? A little common sense. Eustace's comments about the Greens / Aegon II taking the throne are not at all consistent with Aegon II's behavior after that.

Then, the same, the so-called great exceptional link between Syrax and Aegon II is propaganda bullshit. Did Sunfyre love Aegon II? Yes. Is the opposite true ? No. He saw it as a kind of replaceable accessory. As proof, when he loses Sunfyre, he says that he wants a new dragon which will be an even more efficient Sunfyre. That doesn't sound like someone who cares about their dragon. Unlike Rhaenyra who just says that her team just needs dragons otherwise they are lost to the war. At no time does she look for a better, more efficient Syrax. Also, if we really have to decide who seems to have a better connection with her dragon in a deep way, it is undeniably Rhaenyra with Sunfyre. I remind you that Sunfyre was hatched for Rhaenyra and that she rode him from the age of 7, making her the youngest dragonrider. Syrax also formed a mated paur with Caraxes, Rhaenyra's husband's dragon. But apparently, it is Aegon II who has an exceptional bond with his dragon ? My eye. Once again, we must differentiate between the words of propaganda and the facts in the book. Also, gold and yellow are almost the same color. When you put official images of Syrax and Sunfyre side by side validated by GRRM sorry but... Well Syrax is also golden from what we see. Honestly, who tells you that the maesters didn't just try to tone down the color of Rhaenyra's dragon to highlight Sunfyre and Aegon II ? See here for more development on the color of Syrax :

If the writers wanted to make Rhaenyra want to participate in the battles in HOTD, it's simply because they didn't know what else to do with the character and give her a false badass look. Not to show off her doing to Aegon II or make her as brave and selfless as him. This literally has nothing to do with your dear Aegon II here. It's just that the writers have no imagination. Then, sorry to shatter your dreams, but there's nothing brave about Aegon II going into battle. It's unconscious. A monarch generally does not go to the battlefield. Because life is precious because... well it's the fucking monarch ?! Sending him to death's door is stupid and counterproductive. Also, people seem to forget that Rhaenyra couldn't even fly a dragon in Fire and Blood when the war started, because she had just had a complicated stillbirth with Visenya. But obviously, no one is going to take all that into account. Let's forget the historical context and Rhaenyra's physical state to treat Fire and Blood's version as cowardly and selfish for not going onto the battlefield when there's no the fucking point here. All this to try to make Aegon II appear brave and selfless ?! Aegon II ?! He is neither of those two fucking words.

I remind you once again that no, the idea that Aegon II was forced to take the crown is bullshit, completely invented by Maester Eustace.

And no, Rhaenyra doesn't take the crown to protect her family in HOTD. She doesn't even have children when she accepts to be heir in 1x01. Rhaenys' words in 1x10 are just a classic fucking warning. Rhaenyra was already planning to be queen before this because she saw it as her duty and did not expect to be usurped the way the Greens went about it. So what are that person talking about ?! Rhaenyra even considers giving up her crown and her youngest boys (Aegon III and Viserys II) to the Greens to ensure the peace of the kingdom. So once again, what are you talking about ?! Rhaenyra didn't accept the crown at all to protect her family in this whole situation. Also, when you are designated heir, you accept and you keep quiet, that's all. Do you think 7 / 8 year old Rhaenyra was an aide to the throne or something ? Reading this kind of bullshit you might think that's what is being insinuated. To say that the Rhaenyra of the show is forced to have the crown is essentially saying that the 7 / 8 year old Rhaenyra who was named heir was completely on board and wanted it, when we're talking about a child who probably only accepted what was his duty in the first place, to then grow up always having this perspective in mind and having been educated for it, and then obviously considering the crown as rightfully his. Because it is. Quite simply. But apparently, with Green stans it's horrible... On the other hand, an impersonation if you have a dick is okay for them.

I also remember that in Fire and Blood, when Aegon II was crowned, the population demanded Rhaenyra...

On the other hand, I don't know in what universe this person lives to believe that Aegon II is the favorite of those who watch the show ? All the polls that are done on the internet simply prove the opposite. Yes, we all recognize the actor's performance on Team Blacks side, but he is certainly not one of our favorites and even less the favorite. Even some of the Greens Stans hate him... And yes, a large part of the Greens stans love an Aegon II that they fantasized in their heads, but they are not at all representative of the majority of the fandom. Again Aegon II is not a fan favorite in general in HOTD. This place is rather held by Daemon or then (to my great despair) Aemond (ironically because he is precisely a poor version of Daemon).

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mrs-gauche · 25 days

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Vows & Vengeance Episode 1

ALRIGHT GUYS! As always, I'm super late to the party (although for once, I actually have a good reason, which is that I'm currently kinda in the middle of renovating my place lol), and while I first listened to the episode on Thursday, I just wanted to let it sink in a bit and listen to it again a few times, to really appreciate all the details. :D So here are a trillion few notes on the first episode (spoiler, I loved it! <3333) and I hope this doesn't sound too jumbled, I haven't had a lot of sleep lately. 😂😂💀💀

- Ok, so my first reaction to the ending was basically: "OH MY GOD NOTHING CAN EVER GO RIGHT", "DAMN THAT ESCALATED QUICKLY" and sobbing for Elio, I guess. lol

- My general thoughts: I loved it!! ❤️❤️❤️ I felt like it was gripping and immersive from the beginning, but also genuinely funny and moving at times! I think this first episode did a good job of setting up the plot, the pacing was good and I'm already invested in the new characters! The sound design and voice acting was top notch (albeit maybe a bit over the top and a little cheesy in a couple of scenes lol) and I absolutely LOVED the little nuggets of the Veilguard soundtrack we got throughout (Zimmer and Balfe confirmed!!). There are a few tiny nitpicks, but overall this was fantastic and correct me if I'm wrong, but I've never heard of a game being marketed with an audio drama before? 😂 But looking at Dragon Age's amazing voice cast (and the fact that they all made us develop a voice kink lmao), this makes so much sense and I need like a hundred more of these in the future. lol

Notes on the episode itself:

- The narrator reminds me so much of the ones in these old anime dubs. I was expecting him to be like "LAST TIME ON DRAGONBALL Z". He got lost in the wrong dragon franchise. lol Really cool voice though!

- I LOOVE how it starts off with a minute of just the ambient sounds, chatters and music of the tavern, to really get that immersion, as if you just walked into this place yourself. - That new rendition of "Oh Grey Warden" hit me in the feels ngl.. ;-;

- Nadia just walking it and poisoning Olen to get answers was such a badass introduction to our main character! - I like how the narrative is neatly tied together by making this a retelling of what happened, starting off with loads of questions and by the end we're back in the present again.

- Nadia and Elio are so sweet nawww <3333 - Those sounds of Elio waking Nadia up were straight up ASMR. lol - The tune that's playing in the back here is sooo nice, I wonder if it's part of the new Love theme or something. 🥹❤️

- A sort of forbidden love between Liberati and Altus, oh this better end f*cking well!! 💀💀💀 - Well, that birthday got cancelled REAL fast. lol - I get Nadia's outbreak, but DAMN, she went OFF on him from like 0 to 100 in a heartbeat. lmao I guess something was bottling up for quite some time. - "I'm sorry" Oh no. I notice a certain pattern. *sob* - Again, that track that's playing here, wooow. Goosebumps! It's a super tragic rendition of the main theme. I just know this one's gonna hit so hard whenever that plays in Veilguard. 😭

- I wonder if the docks here are the same we've seen in screenshots. :3 - The soundtrack that's playing here reminds me SO MUCH of Unravel (one of my favorite tracks in recent years! <3333) - I like Nadia and Vik's dynamic. Super authentic. :D

- Nadia's reaction to the gold and then "TRIPLE the bag for delivery??" Yeah, Solas truly is the richest apostate hobo in all of Thedas. Those vaults from Trespasser come in handy now. Good thing the currency of old Elvhenan is apparently still valid. lol - Solas' quest of collecting every ancient powerful artifact continues. - Isn't this like the second time now that Solas indirectly hired someone to break into the Archives? lol They really need to improve that security. (Watch there being a quest in Veilguard where you have to break in there again, but it's impossible due to the amounts of guards now and Solas is like "Yeah, that might be my fault, sorry." lol)

- Super random thought, but judging by the sound design, there's gotta be lots of chickens running around in the streets of Minrathous. lol - NEVE!! <3333 (I'm sorry to anyone who had the wildest conspiracy theories about that teaser image and was expecting someone else. lmao) - So, wait. Does that mean Solas also anticipated Neve to talk to Elio? Or maybe someone else was supposed to do that but Neve got there first? lol

- Nadia and Vik have got to be the noisiest thieves I've ever heard. LMAO HOW did you manage to steal anything until now?? 💀💀💀 - I love how you keep hearing Vik laughing in the distance while distracting the guards. lol

- I wonder if all the turmoil could have been avoided if they just informed Elio about his ancestor's connection to the Eye and the Venatori from the get go. I guess he needed that push of knowing to never be able to return to his life in Tevinter to go along with it, but.. *sigh* poor Elio. - "I trust you." UHGGHH We were on the right track there. 😭😭 - That music AGAIN?? Chilllls!! - Nadia just casually destroying hundreds of years worth of relics. Love it. lol - "FLAME BLAST!!" Oh, this is so anime. lmaoo - Elio going from "WE'RE NOT DOING THIS" to fully enjoying beating up templars and go full criminal in a matter of seconds as soon as he sees his girl in her element. He loves her so much. <33

- "Who's the hat?" lol - That groan after the Dread Wolf name drop? Yeah, that was actually me. lmao - So, I assume this also ties in with Neve already knowing about Solas and his shenanigans in Minrathous when she met Varric in The Missing. Maybe it was this very incident that Neve was talking about? - Noooo, Vik!! 😭😭 (I knew you for like five minutes, but you made in impact. lol) - Sooo... I take it these "assassins" were actually Venatori, since they were the ones going after the Eye in the first place? Or am I stupid now? - "The eye went boom!" Love that delivery. lol - "She's trying to freeze the bay!" Yeah, Neve just DID that. What a boss. - "An elf with a fancy tongue." Oh, I know who THAT is. lmao

- "Me and you." 😭😭😭😭 You two are killing me. - That motif AGAIN. 😭😭😭😭😭 - Oh, for fuck's SAKE. Solas really always has the best flippin timing. They're all sweet and loving and here goes our disaster man "I'm about to ruin this couple's day so good." 💀💀💀 It's her BIRTHDAY, dammit!! - "Ominous looking chap in the road" lmao All I could think of there was THIS (for anyone who gets the reference LMAO)

- How is it that I knew he would appear in this episode from the teaser, and yet I still freaked out so hard. lmaoo After such a long time, it's like any second of new Solas content makes my heart skip a beat (or several). 😭😭 I still can't believe we're getting all this. 🥹

- Look, I may be a Solasmancer and have my biases, but godDAMN.. GDL is so good. HE IS SO GOOD. That Welsh accent. That rolling lilt. A voice like velvet that can be both so smooth and so sharp. There is just something about his performance that has you on the edge of your seat every time he's talking and I looove these little moments when you can so clearly hear that cheeky little smile in his voice. 💜

And it's so nice to hear him talk so calmly (well, at first at least lol) and kinda playful again, opposed to how super anxious he sounds at the beginning of Veilguard. 🥺 It's kinda interesting to compare this performance with DAI now, because now he's fully embracing the Dread Wolf role, and I keep thinking this is him after being isolated for the past ten years. ;-;

- Anway, so Nadia "unknowingly employed by the Dread Wolf" gets her pay from Richie Rich and girl, that would've been the moment to LEAVE. *sob* - "What other choice do we have?" Well, I dunno, RUN?? lmao - *chuckles* "I will demonstrate." Alright, I'm dead. Why did you say it like THAT? T_____T - Hearing Solas talk in elven after so long.. Dead again. Overkill. And yes, he's saying the exact same thing he said to Sera once. No, we don't know what it means. lol Maybe Sera IS actually an ancient magical artifact and he tried to trigger.. something. lol - That whole flippin dialogue. Solas please stop talking like an old witch trying to lure her prey into her lair. 💀 - "I do not play games." *screaming* - Honestly, I was like "NOOO WHY would you GO with himmm" but then I remembered, SHIT I WOULD FOLLOW HIM ANYWHERE. Hell, I *HAVE* followed him anywhere. To Hell and back. 💀💀💀💀💀 - Solas' persuasion game is at maximum at all times.

- "Energy is neither dark nor light." Speak for yourself, Trickster God of In Between. - "It is the Fade. The Veil is fragile here."

- Solas finally gets to answer questions again, but Nadia is rude about it. 😂 Solas slightly approves AND disapproves. lol - "Kindly remove your blade from my neck."

- Those damn Venatori at it AGAIN with their hunt for magical McGuffins. After TN and the Missing, I'm starting to believe that is all Solas did in the last ten years, snatching one deadly toy out of the their hands after another. lmao - "And it is up to me to ensure we arrive at the best possible outcome." Oh, we're so doomed. - "You're sharper than you let on." Here we go again with the backhanded compliments. lol Ohhh, how I missed it.

"Some people confuse a reckoning as an ending." "I seek... regeneration."

Holy shit. The voice. The long pause. The delivery of that last line. Shivers down my spine. It feels eerie. Like he sounds.. desperate.. and maybe a little.. insane? lmao (That's how you start to talk if you've been separated from your soulmate for ten years 💔💔💔)

Ok look, I've seen a TON of people thinking that, because of the way he says this and him using the word "reckoning" ("For a reckoning that will shake the very heavens"), this HAS to be whatever part he took of Mythal speaking now that has taken over his mind or something. But.. I don't think so? lol

I honestly think this is just Solas who, after a thousand years of preparing to "heal" the world again that he broke, even after admitting to himself that this world and its people are in fact real and he has to destroy it, is SO close to getting there now and there's NO ONE who could possibly understand him or how he truly feels or what any of this or the Blights/Titans/spirits/gods/Veil even truly ARE, so no WONDER he sounds a little f*cking unhinged. 💀💀💀

The choice of words is very interesting though.. "Regeneration" is not something he has ever used, BUT it immediately made me think of the line "But still, some hope remains for restoration" in Trespasser. This is what google tells me:

Regeneration represents a form of upgrade from restoration. If restoration means “to make something well again,” regeneration, for some authors, means “to make it better” than a (supposed) origin condition.

Regeneration: "a renewal or restoration of a body, bodily part, or biological system (such as a forest) after injury or as a normal process/ or a spiritual renewal or revival"

You know.. if I read "restoration of a bodily part or biological system", you know what's the first thing that comes to my mind yet AGAIN.

Look, that Titan's body is SPLIT IN HALF and we know that this was kinda the catalyst for everything Solas did back then, so... I'll just leave that here and listen to rest of the episode now. lmaoo

- "And the eye will make us fix that?" "More or less." dksdjjgdkfvlf THE SMILE IN HIS VOICE. What does that even MEAN? What do you MEEEAN, SIR?? I would've RUN out of that cave SO flippin FAST. - "And you're sure this is safe?" "As safe as we make it." *literally two minutes later* "SOLAS, SOMETHING IS WROOONG!!" This is a goddamn comedy show. lmaoo - "Silence, please." lol at him still being polite. - "This is all to be expected!" *five seconds later* "WE MUST FLEE!" I BUST out laughing. WHY are you such a DISASTER. Nothing EVER goes right and yet you always keep trying, you fool, omg!! - I don't think we have ever heard Solas so distressed. lol Like, not even when Wisdom died or at the beginning of Veilguard. - "Take my hand!" I would've never thought to hear THAT Trespasser line repeated under those circumstances, but here we are. lmaooo - We know Solas is a hopeless romantic, so for him to see that sweet couple torn apart because of him, and him still trying to save Nadia, I'm not ok. - Solas being responsible for Elio getting banished to the Fade and him being trapped there not long after.. Do you believe in karma? 😂 - "I'M SORRY!" WHY DOES IT ALWAYS END WITH HIM SAYING THAT. 😭

- So.. uh... what even WAS the plan, exactly? lol Like, what was supposed to happen?? Maybe they should've asked a few more questions after all. 💀 - That following scene with Nadia all alone. I got chills again. That hit different. ;-;

- "Where can I find this wolf??" Oh, she is about to hunt him down. 😶 "...I'll be back." Nadia in full Terminator mode now. 😂 - How are she and Elio connected now though? How can she hear him? 🥺 And I can't help but think about whoever was left in the Fade in DAI again, too. 😭😭😭 - Not the credits making me almost sob AGAIN because of the music. 😭 It is so so good.

So there we are. Everything went wrong, a couple is doomed and Solas is sorry. So, nothing changed. LMAO Everything as usual. 💀💀💀 Solas, I swear, if you don't get these two back together again and pay Lavellan a visit afterwards, my Rook might rethink listening to your advice in Veilguard. lmao

I can't wait for that next episode! This was so much fun and an amazing start, and I'm so excited to hear all the other companions! :D ❤️❤️❤️

#vows & vengeance spoilers #da vows & vengeance #solas

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alittlebitofwonk · 6 months

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@bonesandthebees has me thinking about book recs, so I’m posting some of my favorites in case anyone wants something new to read!

FANTASY

Priory of the Orange Tree: This is a BRICK of a book. The hardcover would make a good weapon. But it’s also an incredibly good read. A well built fantasy world, dragons, sapphic romance, and it centers WOC characters. The prequel, A Day of Fallen Night, is also amazing.

Legends and Lattes: This is such a cozy little book! It’s fantasy, sent in a DND inspired world where a retired orc mercenary opens a coffee shop. Also, sapphic romance side plot. It’s very cute.

A Thousand Steps Into Night: A Japanese folklore inspired novel where the protagonist must make bargains with spirits to avoid becoming a demon. I learned a lot about Japanese legends and folklore in this one, and the protagonist, Miuko, is just so earnest and lovable.

SCI-FI

Project Hail Mary: Andy Weir does it again. A fantastic novel featuring a struggle across the galaxy to save earth as we know it, the most endearing alien EVER, really cool futuristic science, and a reminder that humanity also instills in us all a sense of good.

The Kaiju Preservation Society: This book is so much fuuuun. It’s just a blast. Inter dimensional travel, giant monsters, conservation, and a protagonist that had me cackling with laughter the whole time.

MYSTERY/THRILLER

The Final Girl Support Group: When the survivors of several horror-movie esque massacres are all targeted by a new killer, how will they survive? A really awesome story about a bunch of badass middle aged women who kinda hate each other teaming up to identify their would-be killer… before it’s too late.

Gone Girl: Nick Dunne didn’t kill his wife. He has no idea where she is, or what happened, and he swears he didn’t hurt her… but no one really believes him. Meanwhile, the truth is far more interesting, and a testament to the phrase “hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.” This is THE female rage story.

#book recs #priory of the orange tree #day of fallen night #a thousand steps into night #project hail mary #the kaiju preservation society #legends and lattes #final girl support group #Gone Girl

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stinkytrashman · 27 days

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I've been seeing a lot of hate for dragons rising and the later seasons of ninjago and I have my thoughts. As usual. Im a very thought filled person. So I'm gonna tell you all my very correct and right opinion on the matter. Also it's very long be warned now 🧙‍♂️ (little recap at the very end in case you dont wanna read the whole thingg)

The later seasons of Lego ninjago and the entirety of Dragons Rising is not bad. It's just different.

The first season of lego ninjago came out in 2011.

The expectations for a kids show in 2011 are different than the expectations in 2024. The humor kids like is going to change naturally over the years. The tropes in media that kids like is going to change over the years.

We were the target audience when the show first came out, because we were kids. It's a show aimed for a younger audience. Unfortunately, the intended audience did not change as we got older. The show is still aimed at a younger audience, but guess what? There's new kids. The age range is filled with new people. And to still have their target audience hit, they are obviously going to have to change a few things so the kids nowadays will want to watch the show.

The original seasons had more focus on the character vs character conflics. Of course it dabbled in characters having internal struggles and side plots related to building/destroying relationships, but those were more episode specific and he newer seasons just delve more into it for multiple episodes. There was a focus on the fighting, on the action, on the cool outfits and mech armor. The new seasons are still fighting bad guys, with all of the cool effects, but also fighting feelings. You can do both at once. Shocker, I know. Why is there more focus on emotions? Because that's the standard in well written shows these days.

The humor is less characters making fun of eachother, and more a dead silence filled with a silly sound effect. This is one of the things that irked me, but it's okay. My humor is not the humor of the intended audience. The space is intended for the audience to have the audible laughter/reaction. Quick reminder who the show is intended for. (I hold up a sign saying "new generation of young people with different humor then people my age".)

The characters are not annoying. The characters are not weak, or pitiful, or embarrassing. A character having emotions other than love or anger or happiness is okay. Arin not feeling worthy enough for his team? Guess what? That's an emotion lots of people feel. This character is allowed to have self doubt. Lloyd having panic attacks from his visions? Hey, his visions scared him! Characters are allowed to be scared, and have a reaction to being scared.

Characters are allowed to be replaced. I know, I loved the original elemental masters, and wish they could come back for a cameo now and then. Would love to see Griffin Turner once and a while. But you have to remember in the canon, it's been years. Time passes. Wanna know what happens when time passes? People die, people move on, people come into others lives. The new elemental master of air is fine. She's allowed to exist. Do you honestly expect Morro to show back up and be like "omg hiii >< I'm here I want my power back !!" Be honest with yourselves.

Final thought: who cares if characters are gay. A background character wears a nonbinary flag on their jacket?!?!?!? It must be armageddon!! Come on now. One or two flags in the background isn't the end of the world. Cole and Geo's relationship has no effect on the main plot. Geo could be replaced by any character, or even removed, and the plot would still go forward. Gay people aren't out to get you, or turn your show woke, or indoctrinate your kids. They're just there. Cole is still Cole, and Geo is cool. Another thing about Geo: I will not take Geo slander from lava shippers. He is very sweet and kind and just because Cole is not with Kai doesn't mean yall should hate on him. Also I don't even think Cole and Geo are 100% confirmed. So why is everyone going bananas over it? Very silly behavior if you ask me.

That's all I have to say thank you for coming to my tedtalk 🧙‍♂️

Recap: the target audience is young people, young people are different now then when we were young, they have different humor, it's fine for characters to be emotional, new characters aren't the end of the world, gay people are fine.

#lego ninjago #ninjago dragons rising #dragons rising #rant post

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mixu · 1 year

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Naruto and H1n0t0's wedding chapter confirms SNS

Today in why Shippuden’s ending actually supports sns case, we’ll analyze the last sequence of the last chapter. (If you haven’t read the previous parts, you can find them here pt. 1&2, pt. 3, pt.4, although it’s not necessary to read them in order.) So, without further ado:

Pt 5. Naruto would rather be anywhere but here

As usual I leave my crappy clip from the scene then we’ll examine the expressions, body language of the characters and some of the editing. There’s very little dialogue but a lot to unpack.

The scene starts with Naruto and Hinata staring up at the Hokage Monument.

Who knows how long they’ve been at it, but Hinata is making the same face I make when I go to the museum and fail to understand why someone takes more than 5 minutes to appreciate a painting (excuse my uncultured ass). She then tells Neji’s ghost she is getting married (as if poor Neji cared) and turns to look at Naruto who is uncannily serious for someone who is about to marry the love of his life.

We get a close off of Minato’s face and Naruto’s profile, still serious. What is he thinking about? I very highly doubt he’s thinking about the honeymoon.

Then we get Hinata true to her stalker self, blushing, looking lovingly, dreamingly at Naruto, when Naruto doesn’t even know she’s there. She’s getting married to the man she loves (if you count that as love) so, acceptable, understandable expressions. And I want to emphasize how many expressions of Hinata they show us in contrast to Naruto’s during the whole sequence (3 is being generous).

One could argue that Naruto is looking back at her, but is he? Then why don’t they show us a broader shot of them staring at each other lovingly? Because that’s not the case. That’s their relationship in a nutshell: Hinata staring at Naruto incessantly while Naruto is barely aware of her presence. Furthermore, when Hanabi and Hiashi enter, making Naruto and Hinata turn around, Naruto first looks at Hinata as if asking “you were here the whole time?” then goes back to serious mode.

The following shots of the Hyuuga give us so much information. Hanabi is excited, smiling because she has no clue of the farce, while Hiashi is stern as he has always been, but he had changed after the Chuunin exams, didn’t he? Why does Hinata suddenly looks so worried? She was smiling a second ago? The transition of Hiashi’s expression reminds me of that meme where the father says “He looks gay to me, but whatever makes my princess happy.” So, with Hiashi’s blessing, Hinata smiles again. Once more, notice how many different expressions she has, when Naruto doesn’t even appear in the shot.

What follows is pure gold.

Is it just me or Naruto takes ages to return Hinata’s handhold?

Next, the first image of this batch is so hilarious to me. Hinata is looking down at their hands as if to confirm it is actually happening. Hanabi is more excited than anyone in the room even when it is Hinata and Naruto who are getting married. Naruto’s expression in images 1, 2 and 6 might have been as well copy pasted. Why? He is your main character, why are you hiding his face on every opportunity. Plus, number 4 is so bad. It looks like he is bracing for battle.

Naruto asks Hinata if she's ready, and off they go into a mediocre, loveless marriage for the sake of Konoha and Kishimoto’s, SJ and SP wallets. Look at Naruto’s half-assed smile.

This clip is 74 sec long and we only get to see Naruto’s face/head during 19 sec. That’s roughly a quarter of the whole sequence, and even when Naruto appears, we rarely get a close off of his face. Furthermore, when we do get a close off, there’s no range of emotion (watch Dragon Ball or FMA Brotherhood’s last chapter and compare Edward and Goku’s portrayal to that of Naruto). Why would the studio hide the main character like this? Why focus so much only in the love interest and not the couple? Because there is no happy ending for Naruto. He got trapped between duty, his promises and the expectations cast upon him, and the worst part is those who were supposed to look after him looked the other way.

You can read this post in which the author analyzes similar inconsistences across Gaiden and Boruto. The conjecture is pretty much the same: Naruto gave up Sasuke and married Hinata because that was what everyone told him, directly or indirectly, he was supposed to do.

None of these choices are accidental. We saw what the studio wanted to show us like we read what Kishimoto wanted us to read. Perhaps those last chapters weren’t as clumsy as we thought, but we were too hurt by the Last, Boruto and chapter 700 to notice the characters were responding accurately given the circumstances they were facing and the values of their world. And, people can say whatever about us sns being delusional, but Naruto didn’t get a happy ending (I won’t even talk about Sasuke because there’s no doubt that he got the short end of the stick). We know how happy Naruto is supposed to look like.

So, this is it. Even this wedding fiasco reinforces SNS and now it hurts a thousand times more. Thanks for reading my ramblings and sorry for the quality of the images and the video. I don’t have time to make better edits but I really wanted to share this. I’ll go back to the fanfic world where everything is right.

#sns #sns analysis #sasunaru #narusasu #anti naruhina #anti naruto ending

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that-ari-blogger · 3 months

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Family (The Coronation)

She-Ra and the Princesses of Power has an earned reputation. It is a story about war, domestic and emotional abuse, healing, and redemption, all tying into one main idea. Trauma.

I genuinely cannot think of a series that handles the concept with as much depth and nuance as this. She-Ra even beats out Arcane here, in my opinion, although that is mostly through sheer force of runtime.

I’ve said before that She-Ra doesn’t go places or get good. It starts there and consolidates its ideas. Case and point, Glimmer.

Let me explain.

SPOILERS AHEAD: (She-Ra and the Princesses of Power)

The episode is dedicated to setting up a new status quo for the series and a minour conflict for the setting. In the past, this was the overprotectiveness of Angella, but with her current situation, a new order is in order.

This takes the form of Glimmer not being cut out for queenly duties. She doesn’t have the bureaucratic mind or skillset. And I could mention that this is an example of the inherent flaws of monarchy. How, even without the moral component, not everyone has the interest or patience for rulership and bottling in one family to the role will eventually lead to one ruler with less aptitude for it. I could mention that. I could. But I won’t.

Anyway…

Glimmer doesn’t begin the series without a tragic backstory. The death of her father has had a significant effect on her growing up through Angella. I wouldn’t call Glimmer traumatised by this, but the information isn’t lost on her.

However, the death of a parent is something that will mess a person up, especially when it happens to you as a teenager.

And for the record, I will be referring to Angella as dead for the rest of my coverage of this series, because that’s effectively what she is. Yes, she’s trapped between dimensions and technically still alive, but functionally, she’s dead.

The unfortunate thing about life is that, if things go well, you will have to grieve a parent. But this is usually in your older years. Glimmer was at a formative age when Angella died, and the two didn’t even get a proper goodbye.

For the best example of this, the stone that embodies Angella’s legacy is eternally in view while the characters are in the castle. In every scene there is a convenient window or similar that can be put in shot whenever the director wants. You can’t always see it, but its always there.

Angella's last remnant is put on a pedestal above everything else. Her legacy is raised up and idolised as an impossible target and reminder.

But She Ra doesn’t just ask questions; it proposes an answer. Glimmer feels like she has lost her family, and everyone else would agree with her. Except she hasn’t. Not entirely.

One of my favourite little details in the series is its appropriation of TTRPG aesthetics and themes. I say TTRPG because I am the type of person who preffers the more obscure systems and wanted to be general with this analogy (Seriously, check out Mythras, it’s so much fun), but we all know exactly what is going on here. She-Ra plays with the themes inherent in a game of Dungeons and Dragons.

The episode features a ragtag group of heroes, the mage, the fighter, and the rogue, as they journey beneath a castle to retrieve a MacGuffin and subdue the temple’s guardians. Everyone has a tragic backstory except for the one character whose notable trait is that they don’t. It’s even called a quest.

So, what gives?

TTRPGs are fundamentally cooperative experiences. If you have a main character, you are playing the game wrong, and as such have a habit of forming close knit families amongst their casts of characters. The takeaway from the game should be that nobody can do anything alone.

More specifically, TTRPGs promote a nuanced understanding of support and family. It doesn’t just push you to do great things, it looks after you when things go wrong. A good family will lift you up, whether that is to the heights, or up from rock bottom.

She-Ra uses the imagery and gets the thematic rollover as a result, and it works. The moral of this episode is that Glimmer has people around her to rely on.

Angella wasn’t all that Glimmer had. She had a found family in her friends, and she still has that.

This is backed up by the subplot of the series, that being the buddy cop dynamic developing between Mermista and Perfuma and the manic OCD of Castaspella, while Frosta is… I mean she’s there, I guess.

Mermista and Perfuma are so much fun as a pair, but most of their relationship up to this point has been conflict. Mermista is deliberately obtuse while Perfuma is way too extroverted for Mermista to deal with. They have strengths and skillsets, but they cross each other’s boundaries, and need to find a middle ground. Which they do.

They discover how to work together. It’s a simple plot, but there’s room to grow.

Meanwhile, Castaspella is being narcissistic. Not in a malicious kind of way, but in a “I need things to go well and I’m the only person I trust” kind of way. Her story is about learning to back off and let others make their own decisions.

Now that I spell it out, that tracks really well with her relationship to Micah and Angella. Overbearing and distasteful of their decision making in an accidentally unempathetic way.

But I want to dwell on Castaspella for a moment, because I read her as neurodivergent. Entrapta is the posterchild for this representation and storytelling within the series, but Castaspella to me is another side of that. She has a lot of that coding in this episode, most notably is her complete inability to read a room, which, I know how that feels.

But this is never represented as a core flaw, just a quirk of her character. Castaspella is just neurodivergent, and it plays into the story, but it isn’t framed as something she has to fix in herself. Even in this episode, the thing she overcomes isn’t her hyperfixation, it's her disinclination to trust other people’s decision making. Which isn’t a trait unique to neurodivergent people at all.

It’s almost as if neurodivergent people are people and writing them as such isn’t actually that hard. BBC Sherlock, look at this and learn, you got outclassed by a side character in a He-Man spinoff.

However, there’s a difference between family and closure, and one is not a substitute for the other.

Adora spends the entirety of this episode trying to avoid the subject of Angella, which shines a light on her own coping mechanisms more than anything else, but it also takes away from the need for Glimmer to just talk through her feelings. Sometimes you have to grieve.

The twist is that Glimmer has also been avoiding the issue by avoiding recharging, and it is literally weakening her. This is magical literalism, of giving mechanics to the metaphor. So, what better to fix that by having Glimmer talk to the literalization of her mother's legacy?

The symbolism of Glimmer trying to grab her mother's hand for support and failing, only for that role to be filled by her friends is brilliant. Sometimes things don't have to be complex to be meaningful.

“Glimmer, You are walking in the footsteps of all those who have come before us. Now, my darling, it's your turn. I wish I didn't have to leave you. But I know you will be all right. Because you are Glimmer, and you are so, so strong. I have done my best to prepare you to rule, but you were always ready to lead. I am so proud of you, Glimmer. I love you.”

This isn’t closure, and the tragedy and trauma of Glimmer is that she never will get the chance for that. The hologram is a prerecorded message, but it reminds Glimmer of something important. She was loved.

Because, if this was a prerecorded message, that makes it more powerful. It means Angella got to choose her final words to her daughter, knowing that this message would be played after her own death, and she chose to end the message with love.

Also, side note, this speech deliberately separates rulership from leadership, saying that Glimmer has what it takes for one of the two, but leaving it ambiguous as to the other. This episode does that a lot, hint at Glimmers capability as a queen.

Holy moly is this a good shot. Angella is with Glimmer in spirit, hence the wings. But Glimmer is also physically raised above everyone else, finally equaling that pedestal she has put her mother on. Meanwhile, the shot creates smaller and smaller frames with Adora, then the monster, then the stairs, guiding your eye to the smallest thing in the shot, that being Glimmer. This is just really cool, and I wanted to point it out.

The speech reframes their last interaction from one of conflict to one of affection, and it lets Glimmer get out a response.

“I love you too.”

Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think Glimmer hasn’t said this yet in the series. She is by no means stoic, but she is awful at showing affection to people, just like the majority of the other main characters. So, this is catharsis for her, and I think that is rather special.

This episode starts the last tragic circle, the one that continues into the last season, but it starts it with the same message that it will end on.

No matter what happens, there will always be love.

Final Thoughts

And we’re back with She-Ra analysis, and I have big plans for this series. I want to reference more archetypical tragedies to show how the series plays into the tropes and subverts them, and I want to avoid Shakespeare, because my final season analysis will feature that pretty heavily. I hope. I haven’t written it yet, but we will see.

I didn’t talk about Catra in this episode, or the new character designs, and that’s because I don’t really think much of Glimmer’s new design. She looks older and more mature as she is forced to grow up and fit a new role, but there isn’t much else there. Catra meanwhile isn’t really in this episode. She climbs to power, and that’s about it. But we will get to her in time.

Next week, we will journey into The Valley Of The Lost to reenforce the idea of community and coexistence, as well as to give more development to Perfuma, which I always welcome. Stick around if that interests you.

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#rants #literary analysis #literature analysis #what's so special about...?#character analysis #she ra and the princesses of power #spop #she ra #spop glimmer #spop perfuma #spop adora #spop mermista #spop castaspella #mermista can do no wrong #meta #meta analysis

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