#“can we go to summerhall next..”

[oflorelei]

Traveling to Nightfort Castle Black with Rhaegar's Ghost.

an asoiaf game but instead of alive companions I get the ghost of Rhaegar who poetically lore drops via song whenever I find some cursed stuff

[visenyaism]

Dunk and Egg Harrenhal Halloween Episode. and scene. Egg tries to swim to the isle of faces and has to get fished out by a pretty fisherman’s daughter because Dunk can’t remember if he knows how to swim. Comes out with a cool rock that Dunk immediately throws back into the God’s Eye, threatening to clout him on the ear. He does not clout Egg on the ear. An old old man tells Dunk he dreamed of him, and that his dreams come true because his mother was a witch and that he should watch out because he dreamed of a big bat descending on him to kill. Recurring bit where Dunk is about to eat whatever people meat pie the Lothstons are serving up but keeps getting interrupted. An old woman Egg meets once who no one else can corroborate the existence of tells him there’s a dragon egg in the basement. He gets lost looking for it and only gives up when the walls start screaming at him. Dunk and some rivermen are getting paid to shore up the inner walls but it takes forever because people keep disappearing. Eventually they accidentally break into a sealed-off room filled with gnarled, burnt-out skeletons. No one can recall when they’re from. Danelle Lothston notices that Duncan the tall is tall, gives him some of the good wine, and is like come over for dinner tomorrow ;) Dunk gets spiked with the crazy blood potion and there’s a freaky weirwood dream sequence involving no fewer than 2 summerhall foreshadowings and 3 bear and the maiden fair references. Danelle Lothston is fixing to eat Dunk the next day but right as she’s about to get him alone Egg comes out like SER DUNCAN I SAW A GHOST. It looked like a WOMAN COVERED IN BLOOD she was wandering the halls near the dungeons and the kitchen. Dunk threatens to clout him on the ear because that’s not real. Lady Lothston is like actually look at the time I’ve got to go and it looks like you do, too. Dunk gets smacked in the head by a bat he didn’t see nesting in the hallway and thinks it’s a ghost for a second. Egg laughs at him. Dunk threatens to clout him on the ear. He does not clout Egg on the ear. Punchline at the end where on their way out Dunk finally gets to eat dinner and is wow like the high lords have everything and yet they’re also serving the same kind of pork that we eat in flea bottom. Queer.

[novaursa]

The Flames We Loved (to wake a dragon)

This is one of my darker works. If it's not your cup of tea, skip it. The story gets progressively worse with each chapter. You have been warned.

- Summary: It started with Harrenhal and the year of false spring, where you danced with a dragon trying to calm his flames.

- Pairing: daughter!reader/father!Aerys II Targaryen

- Note: Since people liked the intro posted, here is the first part of the official story before I retire for the night. Enjoy. ❤️

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Previous part: prelude

- Next part: to ignite an ember

The weight of the crown sits lightly upon your head, the soft petals of blue winter roses brushing against your brow as you sit, dazed, in the gallery. Rhaegar’s silent proclamation, his silver hair gleaming as he rode past, had left the entire court in stunned silence. It was you he had crowned Queen of Love and Beauty—not Elia, his wife. Not the Dornish princess who had been gazing at him with soft eyes and a knowing smile. It was you, Y/N Targaryen, your twin sister by two minutes, born of the same flame in the ruins of Summerhall.

You can feel the weight of their eyes on you, the court buzzing with whispers. The knights, the ladies, even the smallfolk watch, but none more intently than your father. Aerys. His gaze has been fixed on you for far too long, as if he sees something now that he hadn’t before. You shiver under his stare, but not from the cold.

Rhaella, ever pale and fragile, sits beside you. Her hand trembles slightly, hidden beneath her long sleeve, and she’s barely able to smile in congratulations. Her health has declined so much in these years, a thin shadow of the queen she once was. Still, she tries. She always tries.

“Rhaegar…” she murmurs, as though not quite understanding, her soft words almost drowned out by the rising murmurs in the crowd. “Why did he…?”

But she is cut off by the sound of your father’s voice, ringing louder than the court’s gossip. “My daughter! My beautiful, perfect daughter! Crowned by a prince! Crowned by the realm’s future king!”

He’s indulged too much in his wine today. You can tell by the way he sways slightly in his chair, the manic gleam in his violet eyes. Aerys has become more unpredictable over the years, his moods swinging like a pendulum, sometimes sweet as honey, sometimes as sharp as dragonsteel. And today…today he is not sweet.

Tywin Lannister, your father’s Hand, stands behind the king’s seat, his eyes narrowing as he senses the king’s growing unease. Tywin has always been cautious around Aerys, his patience thinning year by year. He tries to step forward, to whisper something in your father’s ear, but Aerys waves him away like a buzzing fly.

“No,” Aerys says, his voice raising, drawing more attention to himself. “No, Tywin, you think I don’t see your game. You’d crown your lioness queen if you could!” His laughter rings out, brittle and sharp, and it makes you flinch in your seat. His gaze slides back to you, hungry and fierce. “But it is my daughter who is queen today!”

A shiver runs down your spine as his eyes linger too long on your form, raking over you in a way that makes your skin crawl. The crowd is watching. You can feel their gazes burning into your skin, and worse, you can feel the whisper of rumors building, slithering through the air like vipers. Cersei Lannister, with her beauty and ambitions, glares at you from her place with her father. The resentment in her gaze is like a dagger, but it is nothing compared to the weight of your father’s stare.

“My king…” you murmur, standing slowly from your seat and approaching your father with a gentle, careful grace. “Perhaps we should—”

“Sit,” Aerys commands sharply, pulling you down into Rhaella’s seat beside him. His grip on your arm is tighter than it should be, and the gesture doesn’t go unnoticed by those around. The court falls into a nervous hush, the once-lively tournament atmosphere now tinged with unease.

“Father, please…” You try to smile, to ease his mood, but the grin he offers in return is unsettling. “The tourney—”

“Do you think they care about a tourney?” Aerys interrupts, waving his hand dismissively at the field, where knights have now ceased their contests, all eyes on the royal box. “No! They’re here for us, for you! My daughter—more beautiful than the moon and stars. More radiant than any queen this realm has ever known.”

“Perhaps we should retire,” Rhaella murmurs, her voice barely audible. “The day has been long, my love…”

“No!” Aerys snaps, his fingers still gripping your arm as he leans closer to you. The sour scent of wine is heavy on his breath, and his words become a low hiss, meant for your ears alone. “Do not leave me.”

You swallow, trying to remain calm. You can feel the dread building in the air, see the way Tywin shifts uncomfortably, his calculating eyes watching the king’s every move. You know you need to de-escalate this, to calm your father down before he makes an even greater spectacle. His moods have been worse lately, more erratic, more dangerous.

“Father,” you whisper, leaning in slightly, trying to ease him, as you always have. “Let us enjoy the rest of the tourney. The people are watching.”

“They watch you,” Aerys breathes, his voice softer now, almost tender. His gaze is too intense, too focused on your face, your lips, your eyes. “You are the jewel of the realm. You shine brighter than Rhaella ever did.”

Your breath catches in your throat. His words feel like a dagger, sharp and cutting, and Rhaella flinches beside you, though she says nothing. She has grown used to such wounds, silent and enduring as ever. But you are not Rhaella. You have always been your father’s favorite, the one who could soothe his tempers, calm his storms.

But now, something has shifted. The way he looks at you is not the way a father should look at his daughter.

“My king,” Tywin speaks up again, his voice cautious but firm. “Perhaps it is best if we retire for the day. The tourney can resume tomorrow, under more favorable circumstances.”

Aerys’s eyes flash with anger, and he releases your arm, turning to Tywin with a sneer. “I do not need your counsel, Lannister. You think you can control me? I am the king! I am fire! I will burn you all before you take what is mine!”

The court falls into an uneasy silence, the tension so thick it is suffocating. You feel the weight of the crown on your head, a crown you did not ask for, a crown that has become a noose. You stand slowly, trying to pull yourself from the chaos that swirls around you.

“Father, please,” you whisper, your voice steady but soft. “Let us leave the field. For now.”

Aerys looks at you, his eyes narrowing as if he is trying to decide whether to listen or lash out. Finally, after a long, tense moment, he rises to his feet. “Yes,” he says, his voice low, but still audible to the crowd. “We will leave. But remember this, Tywin.” He turns to the Hand of the King, his gaze burning with fury. “No lion will ever rule this realm. Only dragons.”

You follow your father as he sweeps out of the gallery, your heart heavy with the knowledge that the rumors will only grow after today. The court will talk, the whispers will spread. And you… you will bear the weight of a crown you never wanted.

You follow in silence, the cold stone of Harrenhal looming ahead, as your father grips your arm with a possessiveness that makes your skin crawl. His steps are uneven, the wine clearly affecting him more than usual, but it’s not just the wine—it’s something deeper, something more dangerous, festering inside him. You’ve seen this before, but never like this.

Aerys leans heavily on you, as though you’re his anchor, his lifeline. His fingers press into your skin, more confident now, more brazen. His touch lingers too long on your arm, sliding down to your wrist, and you feel the weight of his gaze on you, even as you keep your eyes forward, leading him toward the darkened halls of Harrenhal. Behind you, you can hear the footsteps of Ser Gerold and Ser Oswell trailing at a respectful distance, their presence both a comfort and a burden.

“You always know how to calm me,” Aerys murmurs, his voice slurring slightly as he pulls you closer to him. His hand slips to your waist, and you tense, heart racing, trying to keep your expression neutral. “Rhaella could never…not like you.”

You force a smile, the one you’ve perfected over the years, the one that hides the storm brewing inside. “We should retire to the castle, Father. You need to rest. The tourney will continue tomorrow.”

“Rest?” Aerys laughs, a sharp, brittle sound that echoes through the corridor. “Rest is for the weak, Y/N. You think I don’t see how they look at you? At us? They whisper and plot, but they are nothing. Nothing.” He pulls you even closer, his breath hot against your neck, and you fight the instinct to pull away. “You and I… we are fire. We are the blood of Old Valyria. No one else can understand.”

You swallow hard, glancing back at Ser Gerold and Ser Oswell, who remain a discreet distance behind. Their faces are expressionless, their duty unquestionable, but you know they can see. They can hear. The walls of Harrenhal have eyes, ears, and mouths ready to spread stories with each passing breath.

“Father,” you whisper, your voice low but firm. “The guards are watching. The entire court is watching. We must be careful.”

“Let them watch,” he growls, his hand sliding lower, his touch no longer hidden by the guise of fatherly affection. “Let them see how perfect you are, how you were born to rule with me. They don’t understand, but you do. You’ve always understood.”

Your heart pounds in your chest, the once-familiar warmth of your father’s affection now twisted into something dark and possessive. And it feels like you’re losing control, like the storm inside him is growing too powerful for even you to quell.

“Father, please…” you say, more quietly this time, your eyes darting to the guards behind you again. Ser Gerold and Ser Oswell keep their distance, but they’re there, always watching. You need to remind him, to make him understand the danger in his actions.

But Aerys is not disheartened. His hand tightens on your waist, pulling you to a stop as you near the entrance to the castle. His eyes, wild and fevered, lock onto yours, and for a moment, it’s as though the world around you fades. His breath is heavy, his gaze piercing, and he no longer sees you as his daughter—not in the way he should.

“They think they can take you from me,” he whispers, his lips too close to your ear, his voice dripping with possessiveness. “But they can’t. You’re mine. You’ve always been mine.”

A shiver runs down your spine, not from fear—no, not yet—but from the realization that you are losing him. Losing the man you thought you could save. Losing control over the only thing that ever made sense in this madness. The father you once loved and idolized has become something else. Someone else.

“We should go inside,” you murmur, forcing your voice to remain calm. “Away from prying eyes.”

Aerys laughs again, a high, unhinged sound that makes your stomach twist. “Yes… inside. Where no one can see. Where it’s just us.”

His words hang in the air, and you nod, leading him forward, praying that once you’re behind the walls of Harrenhal, you can regain control—praying that you can pull him back from the brink before it’s too late.

But as his fingers dig deeper into your waist, you know that prayer might not be enough.

You walk through the halls of Harrenhal, Aerys still holding onto you as though he might crumble without your support. His hand still lingers on your waist, too tight, too familiar, but you keep your pace steady, knowing that any hesitation, any sign of discomfort, might set him off again. The weight of his touch feels heavier than it ever has before, each step echoing with the sharp reality that you’re losing the father you once knew.

Behind you, Ser Gerold and Ser Oswell follow at a distance, shadows in their silent vigilance. You are keenly aware of their presence, of the eyes watching from the corners of the great castle, waiting for another spectacle to unfold. You must get him to the royal quarters, away from the prying eyes, before his madness consumes him fully in public.

You take a breath, trying to steady yourself, and engage him in conversation. "Father… how are your nightmares?" Your voice is gentle, coaxing, as if you’re speaking to a wounded animal. "Is Pycelle’s tonic helping at all?"

For a moment, you wonder if he heard you, his gaze still fixed on you, his fingers tightening briefly before loosening again. But then he laughs softly, leaning more heavily into you. His breath, tainted by the wine, is warm against your ear as he speaks. “The nightmares? Ah, Y/N, my sweet, my perfect daughter… the dreams have changed.”

You stiffen, your stomach twisting. “Changed?” You try to keep your voice light, unassuming, but there’s a tremor of unease that you can’t quite suppress. You’ve never heard him speak of his dreams like this, not with such… intensity.

He nods, his head resting against your shoulder for a moment as if he finds comfort in your presence. But his words are anything but comforting. “They’re not nightmares anymore. No… they are visions. I see us, Y/N. You and I—together. In fire and in blood, we are unstoppable. No one can take you from me. No one.”

You feel his words sink into you, cold and suffocating. His descent into madness has been long and gradual, like watching a star fall from the sky, knowing it will burn out before it hits the earth. But this—this talk of visions and dreams—it feels different. Darker. More dangerous.

You force yourself to keep walking, though your legs feel heavy, leaden with the weight of what he’s saying. “Visions?” you echo softly, trying to keep him talking, to calm him, to pull him back from whatever dark place he’s slipping into. “What do you see, Father?”

Aerys stops suddenly, turning toward you with a manic gleam in his eyes. His hand moves from your waist to your face, his thumb brushing your cheek in a way that feels far too intimate, far too wrong. “I see you beside me. Always beside me. As my queen. As my fire. The world will burn for us, Y/N. They don’t understand, but they will. I’ll show them. We’ll show them.

You stiffen, unable to hide your reaction this time. The words coming from him are not those of a father—they are the delusions of a madman. The way he speaks of you, the way he looks at you, makes your skin crawl, but more than that, it fills you with a deep, aching sadness. You’ve known for some time that Aerys’s mind was slipping, that the father you loved was disappearing beneath the weight of his paranoia and his madness. But this… this feels like something more. Something worse.

“Father…” you whisper, your voice barely above a breath. “These are just dreams. Just… dreams.”

But Aerys shakes his head, his grip on you tightening again. “No, no, Y/N. They are not just dreams. They are the future. I see it. I feel it. The dragons are speaking to me again. Just as they did in the days of old. I am the last dragon, Y/N, and you—you are my fire. Together, we will bring the realm to its knees.”

The words make your heart race, but not with fear—at least not yet. It’s the sadness, the overwhelming sorrow of watching him unravel before you, that grips you most. You’ve always known there was something more to his madness, something beyond the paranoia and the cruelty. The way he speaks now, of visions, of dragons… it’s as though he truly believes he is touched by something divine, something ancient. And that makes it all the more dangerous.

“You must rest, Father,” you say, your voice trembling slightly as you try to lead him toward the royal quarters. “Let us get you to your chambers, where you can lie down. You need to rest.”

Aerys doesn’t resist, but he doesn’t loosen his grip on you either. His eyes are still fixed on you, wild and intense, as though you are the only thing tethering him to this world. “I don’t need rest,” he mutters, his voice lowering to a whisper as he leans in closer. “I need you.”

Your breath catches in your throat. You’ve always been the one to calm him, the one he relied on when no one else could reach him. But now, that reliance has twisted into something else entirely. Something you’re not sure you can control anymore.

As you finally reach the entrance to his chambers, you gently pull away, forcing a smile even as your heart pounds in your chest. “You’ll feel better after some sleep,” you say softly, guiding him inside.

But as he releases you, his eyes linger on yours, and the words he speaks next send a chill down your spine.

“Sleep,” he murmurs, stepping inside. “Yes… but the visions will come again. And when they do, Y/N… I will make them real.”

As the door to Aerys’s chambers closes with a soft thud, you stand there for a moment, the cold stone walls of Harrenhal pressing in on you. Your chest feels tight, each breath shallow and shaky as you replay his words in your mind. The visions. The way he spoke to you. The way he looked at you. It had never been like that before—not like this.

You’re lost in your thoughts when you hear a voice beside you, low and gentle, yet full of concern. “Princess,” Ser Gerold Hightower speaks, his brow furrowed in quiet worry. “Are you well?”

You turn to him, forcing a small, tight smile. “I am… fine, Ser Gerold. I just—” Your voice falters, the exhaustion of the evening catching up to you. You’ve spent so many years keeping up this facade, being the only one to soothe Aerys’s temper. But tonight, you feel as though the weight of it all might crush you.

“If it pleases you, Princess,” Ser Gerold continues carefully, his eyes kind but watchful, “I could escort you back to the festivities. Perhaps it would help you clear your mind.”

The thought of returning to the tourney, to the laughter and the noise, makes your stomach churn. You cannot go back out there, not after what just happened. Not after the way Aerys’s gaze lingered on you, how the court must be whispering even now, waiting for the next scandal to unfold.

“No,” you say quietly, shaking your head. “No, Ser Gerold. I think I should retire for the night.”

Ser Gerold nods, his expression softening with understanding. “As you wish, Princess. I will escort you to your chambers.”

You allow him to lead the way, his presence a steady and silent comfort as the halls of Harrenhal stretch before you. The castle feels oppressive in its vastness, the shadows long and deep, like ghosts of the past watching your every step. You feel raw, exposed, and the weight of what just happened with your father hangs heavy on your shoulders.

When you finally reach the door to your chambers, Ser Gerold bows his head respectfully. “Should you need anything, Princess, I will be near. Rest well.”

“Thank you, Ser Gerold,” you reply softly, offering him a faint smile. “Good night.”

He waits until you’ve safely entered your chambers before he steps away, his heavy footfalls fading down the corridor. Once inside, you allow yourself to breathe—really breathe—as the door clicks shut behind you. The stillness of the room is suffocating, but also a relief. You’ve been holding yourself together for so long, keeping your composure for the sake of appearances, for the sake of the court, for the sake of your father.

Now, in the solitude of your chambers, you finally let the mask slip.

You move to the window, resting your hands on the cold stone sill, and stare out into the darkened sky. The stars glitter faintly above, distant and unreachable, much like the peace you seek. Aerys’s words echo in your mind—visions of fire and blood, of you at his side, as his queen. It is madness. You know this. You’ve always known his mind was slipping, but tonight, it felt different. Darker. More certain.

And the worst part? Some small, nagging part of you wonders if there’s truth in his visions, if the madness of the Targaryens is something far more ancient than you ever realized. Could Aerys’s madness be a reflection of something real? Or is it simply the ravings of a mind long broken?

You lean against the wall, your head resting against the cold stone as you try to calm your racing thoughts. But no matter how much you try to rationalize it, to push it away, the weight of his words lingers.

When sleep finally claims you, it is shallow and restless.

Hours pass, though it feels like mere moments, before you hear it—Aerys’s voice, loud and frantic, piercing through the silence of the night.

“Y/N! Y/N!”

You bolt upright in bed, your heart pounding in your chest. His voice is ragged, desperate, echoing through the halls of Harrenhal. You hold your breath, listening intently, hoping it was just a dream. But no—the sound comes again, louder this time, closer.

“Y/N!”

He’s calling for you. Again and again, his voice cracks with desperation, sending a chill down your spine. You can feel the familiar panic rising in your chest, the fear that he’s slipped further into his madness, that he’ll come for you, that his delusions have become too strong for even you to quell.

You sit there, frozen in the darkness, your hands gripping the edge of the bed as you try to steady yourself. But the sound of your name, repeated over and over, claws at your nerves.

And then, after what feels like an eternity, the sound begins to fade. His cries for you grow distant, muffled by the thick walls of the castle, until finally… silence.

You exhale a shaky breath, your body trembling with the effort of holding yourself together. But sleep will not come again. Not tonight.

You lie there, staring at the ceiling, your mind too heavy with worry, with fear, with the inescapable truth that the father you once loved is slipping further away from you. And no matter how hard you try, you cannot pull him back.

As the night drags on, you wonder if anyone else heard him. If anyone else knows the truth of what’s happening behind the closed doors of Harrenhal. But even if they did… what could they do?

Nothing can save Aerys from his descent. And nothing, it seems, can save you from the weight of it all.

In the dead of night, with the echoes of his voice still ringing in your ears, you wonder how much longer you can carry this burden.

The grand hall of Harrenhal buzzes with quiet murmurs and the clink of cutlery against silver plates, but there’s an invisible weight that presses down on everyone seated at the long tables. You sit among the courtiers, doing your best to appear composed, regal. Your hands rest in your lap, still, despite the storm churning inside you from the events of the night before. Your father’s words, his cries for you in the dead of night, echo in your mind like a ghost that refuses to fade.

You’ve had no sleep, and it shows in the subtle stiffness of your movements, the way your fingers grip the stem of your goblet just a touch too tightly. But you keep your head high, your face calm and composed as you’ve always been taught to do. The princess cannot be rattled, not in front of the court. Especially not after yesterday.

To your right, Rhaegar sits beside his wife, Elia Martell. Her head is bowed, her fingers tracing the rim of her cup absently, her mind clearly elsewhere. You can feel the rift between them like an open wound, one that you know is your doing. When Rhaegar placed that crown of winter roses on your head instead of hers, you could feel the fracture it caused, the hurt in Elia’s downcast eyes, the murmurs that spread like wildfire across the tourney grounds.

But it is Rhaegar’s eyes you feel most acutely, burning into the side of your face, seeing through the mask you wear. His indigo eyes, a mirror of your own, have always had that unsettling ability to see the truth in you. And now, as you glance at him from the corner of your eye, you can see the concern in his gaze, the unspoken questions hanging between you. He knows. He saw what happened last night, how Aerys’s grip on you lingered too long, how his words were too intimate, too possessive.

You can feel Rhaegar’s stare, but you don’t meet it. You can’t. Not with the eyes of the court upon you, waiting for something—anything—to confirm the rumors that have begun to swirl. Rhaella, sitting further down the table, looks paler than usual, her eyes darting nervously toward the door as though she expects Aerys to burst in at any moment. She has always known the worst of him. She lives with the consequences of his madness every day.

And then, as if summoned by her thoughts, the grand doors open with a creak, and a hush falls over the hall.

Aerys enters.

The tension in the room settles immediately, the subtle sounds of the hall fading to nothing as all eyes turn toward the king. He is dressed in his usual dark robes, his silver hair hanging loose and wild around his shoulders. His eyes—those bright, fevered eyes—scan the room, and for a brief moment, they land on Rhaella, who shrinks under his gaze. Then they move to you, and your breath catches in your throat as his lips curl into a twisted smile.

He strides forward with purpose, his presence commanding and unsettling all at once. No one speaks as he moves through the hall, his footsteps echoing against the stone floor. You can feel the weight of the room’s collective gaze, watching, waiting, wondering what will happen next.

Aerys reaches your side, and you feel the shift in the air as he stops behind your chair. His hand rests on the back of your seat, a touch that feels like a brand on your skin. You force yourself to stay still, to keep your breathing steady as the room holds its breath.

Then, without warning, Aerys leans down, his lips brushing against your ear in a way that makes your skin crawl. His voice is a low, dangerous whisper, meant only for you.

“Did you sleep well, my sweet?” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. “Or did you miss me in the dark?”

You stiffen, your fingers clenching in your lap as you will yourself to remain composed. He knows. He must know how his calls in the night haunted you, how the sound of your name on his lips was enough to keep sleep far from your reach. But his words are not filled with concern. No, there’s something darker in them.

The hall is silent, the court frozen as they watch the king’s every move. Rhaegar’s eyes are on you, you can feel them burning into you, filled with a quiet fury, a protectiveness he cannot show here. Not now. Not with all these eyes upon you.

You turn your head slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of Aerys’s face from the corner of your eye. His smile is sharp, his eyes gleaming with something you can’t name—something unhinged.

“I—” Your voice catches in your throat, and you force yourself to swallow the fear, the unease that threatens to bubble to the surface. “I slept well, Father,” you manage to say, your voice steady despite the weight pressing down on you. “Thank you for your concern.”

His fingers brush the back of your neck, and you fight the urge to flinch, to recoil from his touch. “Good,” he says, still leaning close. “You’ll need your strength, my daughter. The dragons demand it.”

With that, he straightens, his presence still looming over you for a moment longer before he moves away, walking toward his seat at the head of the table. The court watches him in silence, unsure whether to speak, to breathe, to act.

You can feel the weight of the moment, the whispers that will follow this breakfast, the eyes that are already on you, waiting for a sign, a crack in your composure. You sit there, your heart pounding in your chest, but outwardly, you appear calm. Regal.

It’s only when you glance at Rhaegar that you see the truth reflected in his eyes—he knows. He knows what Aerys is doing to you, what this descent into madness is costing you. His gaze, filled with sorrow and silent fury, makes your chest tighten. But this is not a fight that can be won with swords or crowns.

You turn away, focusing on the empty plate before you, your mind spinning with the weight of what has just happened, and what might come next.

You are the daughter of a king, the jewel of House Targaryen, but today, more than ever, you feel like a prisoner in a cage made of fire and blood.

Aerys settles into his seat at the head of the table, his presence as heavy as a storm cloud over the grand hall. Silence lingers in the air as everyone watches him with a mixture of fear and curiosity. Then, suddenly, his voice cuts through the quiet like a blade, sharp and commanding.

“Music!” he calls, his voice booming across the hall. “We are not at a funeral!”

The court startles, eyes darting toward the musicians, who scramble to lift their instruments and fill the hall with sound. It’s a jarring shift, the mournful silence replaced by lively music that seems wholly out of place after the events of the previous day. But Aerys seems pleased, his grin spreading as he leans back in his chair, as though he’s basking in the uneasy energy of the room.

The music provides a brief reprieve, a distraction, and Rhaegar takes the opportunity to lean closer to you. His voice is low, meant for you alone as he keeps his eyes trained ahead. “Y/N,” he says, his tone soft but laced with concern. “I saw what happened last night… with Father. Are you—” He hesitates, searching your face for any sign of what you’re feeling beneath the mask of calm you wear. “Are you alright?”

You force a small smile, though it doesn’t reach your eyes. “I’m fine, Rhaegar,” you murmur, keeping your voice even. “You don’t need to worry.”

Rhaegar’s frown deepens, his indigo eyes—the same as yours—piercing as he looks at you. He knows you too well to be fooled by your reassurances. “I know how he is with you,” he says quietly. “What he wants from you. It’s not right.”

You glance around the hall, feeling the weight of Aerys’s gaze on you even before you hear his voice. “We all do what we must,” you reply softly, your voice laced with an edge of resignation. “It’s the only way to keep the peace.”

But Rhaegar shakes his head slightly, his jaw clenched in frustration. “This is not peace. This is madness. If you keep indulging him—”

Before he can finish, Aerys’s voice booms once more across the hall, cutting through the music like a crack of thunder.

“Y/N!”

The entire hall goes still. Your breath catches in your throat as all eyes turn toward you, including Rhaegar’s, filled with alarm. Slowly, you turn your gaze to your father, who is standing now, his wild eyes fixed on you with a strange intensity.

“Come,” he says, his voice carrying across the hall with a commanding force. “Dance with me.”

You feel the air leave the room, the shock rippling through the courtiers like a wave. Aerys hasn’t danced in years. Not since before the madness began to consume him. You hear the whispers rising from the tables, hushed murmurs of confusion and disbelief. But it’s Rhaegar’s voice, low and urgent, that cuts through the noise.

“Don’t,” he says, his hand reaching out to gently touch yours beneath the table. “Y/N, don’t indulge him. You know how he gets with you.”

You turn to your twin, seeing the worry etched in his face, the same worry you’ve seen so many times before. He knows. He’s always known, even if he’s never spoken of it directly. He’s seen the way Aerys’s affection for you has twisted into something else. But you also know what happens when Aerys is denied what he wants. The court has seen it, felt the wrath of his temper.

You place your hand over Rhaegar’s and offer him a small, reassuring smile. “I’ll be fine,” you say quietly. “If I indulge him, it might lift his spirits. And if he’s in a good mood, the court will breathe easier. We all will.”

Rhaegar’s lips press into a thin line, his hand tightening around yours as if he doesn’t want to let go. “Y/N…”

“I’ll be fine,” you repeat, your voice firmer this time. You withdraw your hand gently from his, rising to your feet and smoothing the folds of your gown.

The hall watches in stunned silence as you make your way to the center of the room, the music continuing but softer now, as if even the musicians are unsure of what to do. Aerys waits for you, his eyes gleaming with an unsettling hunger that makes your skin prickle. But you keep your expression calm, collected, as you step toward him, your head held high.

When you reach him, he holds out his hand, and for a brief moment, you hesitate. But then, with a deep breath, you place your hand in his.

The dance begins.

At first, the steps are simple, the movements slow and measured. Aerys’s hand rests on your waist, his grip firm but not yet inappropriate. The court watches, their shock evident, as they witness the spectacle before them—the king, who hasn’t danced in years, leading his daughter in a dance that feels far too intimate, far too close.

You feel the tension in his body, the way his hand tightens on your waist as the music swells. His touch lingers, his fingers brushing the small of your back in a way that sends a shiver down your spine. You try to focus on the dance, on the steps you’ve memorized from countless royal functions, but it’s impossible to ignore the way he leans in, his breath warm against your neck again.

“I see it, Y/N,” Aerys murmurs, his voice low and possessive. “The fire in you. Just like me.”

You stiffen, your heart pounding in your chest as his lips brush against your ear. The entire court watches, their eyes wide with disbelief. They’ve seen Aerys’s madness, his erratic behavior, but this—this is something new.

You want to pull away, to distance yourself from him, but you know you can’t. Not here. Not with all these eyes upon you. So you force yourself to continue the dance, to match his steps, to keep the illusion of control even as his grip tightens and his whispers become more unsettling.

The music crescendos, the dance moving faster now, and Aerys pulls you closer, his hand sliding up your back, his fingers grazing your neck. His lips hover near your cheek, too close, too intimate, and you can feel the court’s gaze burning into you like flames.

“Together, we will burn this world,” he whispers, his breath hot against your skin.

The music swells around you as the dance continues, your body moving in rhythm with Aerys, though your heart races with each step. His hand, once resting lightly on your waist, has crept lower, his touch lingering in a way that makes your skin crawl. But you don’t flinch. You can’t. You’ve always known how to handle him—how to soothe his temper, how to pull him back from the edge when no one else could. It’s always been your role, to keep him tethered to some semblance of sanity.

Today, though, feels different. The madness in his eyes is brighter, more intense, and his gaze has lingered on you in ways that make your stomach twist. You try to focus, to keep him engaged, to steer him away from the edge once more. You’ve done it before. You can do it again.

“Our blood,” Aerys murmurs, his voice low and thick with the weight of years of delusion, “is pure, Y/N. We are the last dragons.” His grip on you tightens, pulling you closer until there is barely any space between your bodies. “No one else can understand that. No one but us.”

You nod, keeping your face serene, though your mind is racing. “Yes, Father,” you whisper, your voice soft and coaxing, just as you’ve always done. “Only we understand. We’re the last of our kind.”

His eyes gleam with that fevered madness as he searches your face, looking for something—what, you’re not sure. “You understand,” he breathes. “You’ve always understood.”

Rhaegar watches from the side of the hall, his hands clenched into fists as his gaze follows every movement, every touch. His concern is visible, his eyes filled with worry, but you avoid his gaze, knowing that if you acknowledge it, if you let yourself show any weakness, Aerys will sense it. He will know, and you cannot afford that. Not now.

Instead, you keep your attention on Aerys, smiling softly as you’ve done a thousand times before, as though you are indulging a wayward child rather than a mad king. His hand slides up your back, and you allow it, letting him take these small liberties, knowing it will keep him placated. If you can control this moment, you can control the situation. That’s what you tell yourself.

But as the dance proceeds, you feel his touch become more brazen. His fingers trace the curve of your spine, his other hand coming to rest at the small of your back, pulling you even closer, until you’re pressed against him. The court is watching with wide eyes, uncertain of what they’re seeing. They’ve never seen the king like this—so close, so affectionate.

And neither have you.

You lean into him, as you’ve done in the past, resting your head lightly against his shoulder, hoping that the familiarity of the gesture will calm him, remind him of who he was before Duskendale, before the madness truly took hold. The king who was once kind to you, the father who looked at you with pride and love. You’re trying to reach him, trying to coax that man out of the depths of his madness, as you always do.

But today once more, there is no reaching him.

Aerys leans down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “I’ve starved for months, Y/N.” His voice is raw, edged with something dark, something that makes your heart pound with a new kind of fear. “But you… you are my fire.”

You stiffen, the meaning behind his words sinking in, and you realize, with a sickening lurch, that you’ve gone too far. You’ve played your part too well this time, given him too much liberty. You thought you could control him, could keep him in check by indulging him as you’ve always done. But now, it feels as though you’ve let the dragon out of its cage, and he is far more dangerous than you anticipated.

His hand slides to your hip, and though you try to remain calm, your body stiff. You feel trapped, ensnared in this dance, unable to pull away without causing a scene that would ripple through the court. The eyes of everyone in the hall are upon you, watching, waiting, and you know that any misstep could lead to disaster. You glance toward Rhaegar, whose expression has shifted from concern to something far more alarmed, his eyes wide with disbelief.

“Father,” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the music, “perhaps we should—”

“Shhh,” Aerys murmurs, his lips grazing your cheek now, his breath hot against your skin. “This is where we belong, Y/N. Together. Always.”

You feel the blood drain from your face as his words settle over you, their meaning as clear as the fire in his eyes. He is not just indulging in a dance; he is making a spectacle, a claim—one that the court will remember. One that they will whisper about long after this day is over. And you realize, too late, that you’ve given him too much.

The music swells again, and Aerys pulls you even closer, his hand sliding to your waist as he spins you in a way that feels possessive, claiming. You’ve danced with him before in your girlhood, but never like this. Never with this kind of intensity, this kind of hunger.

The hall is silent save for the music, but you can feel the eyes of the courtiers following your every move, their shock and unease unhidden. The whispers will spread by the next morning, you know that, but in this moment, all you can do is continue the dance.

You rest your head against his shoulder again, though this time it feels like a surrender, like you are giving him something you cannot take back. You close your eyes, trying to block out the sensation of his hand on your waist, of his breath on your skin, of the court watching this spectacle unfold.

The music plays on, and you continue to dance, locked in this twisted waltz with a king who has long since lost himself to madness.

And as the day stretches on, you wonder how much longer you can keep playing this part. How much longer you can keep the dragon in check before he burns you alive.

[syndrossi]

Dragon questions: because the most recent chapter did not satisfy my hunger for dragon lore. I apologize in advance.

The adult Targaryens in the last chapter discussed that the twins hatchlings are ahead of the curve, both in size and flight capability. Are they fast growing because they are already flying and exercising? Or can they already fly because they are so strong and large even at this age?

Even if its simply because magic: is it that anyone who managed to hatch these particular eggs would also get kaiju sized dragons, or because they bonded with two Prince that was Promised candidates that they are developing so quickly.

If the answers to the above lead to spoilers: How does Daemon's response to being informed his sons dragons can breathe fire at an absurdly young age because I just know that is coming: Celebration or mourning his last day of relative peace. Which is it?

Love the new chapter btw!

I see you and Rhaegar are cut from the same cloth when it comes to dragons! 😂 We are actually getting an intriguing lore source for dragons next chapter that may yield some interesting details, but I'll answer what I can here.

Why are they growing so fast?

These eggs in particular have had some serious exposure to magic, including the ritual that caused Jon and Rhaegar to be Summerhalled here. Then there is the proximity to not one but two TPTWP. And finally there is [redacted]. The freedom to fly around at their leisure certainly helps as far as growth rate.

Their ability to fly so early is definitely partly down to being further along in size/development at hatching, and partly due to [redacted].

Even without the influx of magic, the origins of the dragon eggs means these would have (eventually) been some rather large dragons for whoever hatched them regardless! But Jon and Rhaegar give them a special oomph.

How does Daemon deal with "happy dragonflame day!"?

Daemon is going to be absurdly proud and smug for all of one day before the stress hits. On the one hand, the twins are safer with their dragons able to breathe dragonflame! On the other, you can borrow a great deal of trouble with fire on demand, and given how attuned dragons are to their riders and the emotional turmoil the boys have been dealing with, there's the potential for a few scares...

[atopvisenyashill]

What if Rhaegar and Viserys were age swapped?

Well…okay, let’s assume the first born son of Aerys and Rhaella has a martial bent, and their second born has a bookish bent. Aerys’ trajectory is still much the same - he is a creep towards Joanna and disrespectful towards Rhaella very early on his reign, he is envious of Tywin’s intelligence and control, so even though Aerys has a strong heir in Viserys, Rhaella’s miscarriages are still going to set off his paranoia. By the time Prince Jaehaerys is born, then dies, and Aerys responds by beheading several innocent people, fasting, going to the High Septon, and saying he will remain faithful to his wife, well, 15 year old Viserys might take note of that behavior. But…how?

Viserys at his core was shaped by his experiences, so a Viserys who grows up without trauma, but is still perhaps immature, may take note of his father's behavior and decide it's okay to act up as well. While Aerys' paranoia may not turn to Viserys, because the crowds do not cheer as loudly for a burgeoning mad king, if everyone is worried about the immature, unpleasant crown prince, the rest of the realm are certainly going to be paranoid about him. Does he even marry Elia, if he perhaps shares his father's racism against the Dornish?

Without Rhaegar getting fixated on Lyanna, however, whatever rebellion that sparks isn't going to be centered on Viserys, but likely on Aerys (because remember this man was hiring yes men and dabbling with wildfire even before he murdered Brandon, Rickard, and the others). So similar to those ones that are like "What if Rhaegar was born a girl" or "What if Rhaegar never existed" or even "What if Lyanna was discovered as the mystery knight early", what sets off the war is likely Aerys exploding something. If Westers is really lucky, the fire can be contained to one section of KL and doesn't rage across the entire city - but when is Westeros lucky? In those types of scenarios, it's all about where Viserys, Rhaegar, Rhaella, and baby Daenerys (likely still in the womb, maybe a very tiny baby) are when the explosion happens. If Aerys has gotten paranoid enough and sent Rhaella, young Rhaegar, and baby Dany to Dragonstone while keeping Viserys and whatever children he's had in KL, you have a kind of similar situation where the Lords are looking at either a very long regency with a child of unproven mental health or just crowning Robert, who has not too distant Valyrian blood, is grown, and well respected. We know the Lords prefer an adult heir over a child one (who wouldn't, really), so even without a rebellion, if you have another Summerhall-esque explosion that once again takes out most of the royal family, I think te political situation is tense enough that they might just throw in the towel and go "fuck it, crown Robert."

Is Rhaegar a better brother to Daenerys, becomes the next question, and the answer is...complicated. Surely, both of them having a historical understanding of their place in history is important, but if Rhaegar manages to come across his prophecy anyway, and Daenerys spends her whole childhood being fed stories of a prince that was promised who will unite the realm...genuinely, she's worse off. Look at what knowing too much about her future does to Cersei's psyche. Look at what it does to Rhaegar himself. To grow up believing in it is dangerous, and seems to break children in unfixable, fundamental ways...and then those children become adults with power and with dragons. This one is really interesting because I can't see Rhaegar marrying Dany off to a Khal and yet he's likely to take notice of her dragon dreams, perhaps even encourage her to follow them. If two poor orphans get ahold of some dragon eggs and follow their dreams to hatch those eggs - remember, Dany was working off instinct when she woke her stone dragons, it's not far fetched to say she could do it even without input from MMD specifically. All she needs is a magic user, any magic user, to confirm her dreams are special to convince her to follow her instincts - I think Rhaegar and Dany are only after a third head of the dragon, because they have one and two right there.

[corviids]

In misty dream, do you think Luke ever felt/feels resentment towards being relegated to the position of the Lady of the house who raises the children and supports the Lord? Like he was raised as one day being a lord to rule over Driftmark and then suddenly is seen as a mere wife by the realm. I just feel like Aemond took the reigns with running Summerhall which made sense at the start of their marriage since Luke was basically a child bride and pregnant, but what about now when he’s older? Will he want to be more proactive in running things? I think Alicent especially treats him as a Lady/wife and sees those as his only duties, but I want people to realize he shares the same position as Aemond. Summerhall is his as much as Aemond’s (who ONLY received it by his marriage to Luke). Honestly I am ready for the moment Aemond confronts his mother about her treatment of Luke (because let me tell ya I was rereading some stuff and she is SO mean). I don’t think Aemond sticks up for Luke as much as he should when it comes to Alicent. How would Aemond react at this latest stage in their marriage if Luke said why don’t you raise the children for awhile and I’ll go run things? I just NEED a serious discussion between the two regarding how the realm sees Luke vs Aemond because on paper they should be equal but in reality Luke is viewed as being subservient to Aemond (though we all know monmon is whipped)

luke feels more insecure towards his role at summerhall than he does resentment about it. basically, he was put in this position by the people in his life (being a bride to a new lordship) and he feels like no one respects him for it. he doesn’t have a natural inclination towards running a lordship in the way he does for childrearing (as a result of being an older brother) so when he’s younger, that’s what he sticks with. in the latest chapters, you can see him taking a little initiative in some things, but he is still learning. what frustrates luke is that he was married to aemond with the assumption that he was meant to basically be a broodmare and no one did anything to stop their marriage/driftmark being taken/tell him otherwise so it annoys him that he is getting settled into that role and people come into his life and disparage it.

luke is a very insecure person and in the way he needed aemond to open himself up to aenys so they could understand each other, luke needs to open up properly to aemond because aemond thinks he is doing what is best for luke/what will make him happiest. aemond isn’t even aware of the things alicent has said to luke beyond picking up on the tense interaction with valerion. outside factors aside, luke is still trying to figure out what he needs to feel happy/fulfilled and the next chapters will def see them learning to communicate better

[wandering-scavenger]

Chapter 8 Update

Fandom:

Game of Thrones (TV)

,

A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Major Character Death, Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark, Robb Stark/Jeyne Westerling, Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, Tormund Giantsbane/Brienne of Tarth, Renly Baratheon/Loras Tyrell

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Regency, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Alternate Universe - Historical, Scandal, Sexual Content, Family, Slow Burn, Sharing a Bed, Marriage of Convenience, Angst with a Happy Ending, mentions of abuse, Alternate Universe - Napoleonic Wars, kissing cousins, Mutual Pining, Period-Typical Sexism, E for Eventually, Regency Period, regency au, In Denial, Hurt/Comfort

Summary

Once considered the diamond of the season, Sansa Stark must now grapple with the aftermath of the scandal concerning her father’s death and her broken engagement to Joffrey Baratheon. Now a War Hero, Jon Snow must fulfill his duties as the newly legitimized son of the King. Danger still hovers near the home of the Starks, threatening to harm anyone who seeks to uncover the truth of Eddard Stark’s death. With only each other to turn to, can they trust one another in a way that they never have before?

Sneak Peak

“I’m her brother. I would have thought that a high-born girl like you would know that siblings can’t dance together.” replied Jon. He only sought to protect Sansa, that was all. While she had never voiced her apprehensions regarding attending the ball, he could sense that his sister would have preferred to spend the night in Summerhall with Arya and the boys.

Jeyne poked at his rib and snorted, “You are regarded as siblings by no one but the family itself. I daresay she looks a little overwhelmed by her admirers. Perhaps you might grant her some respite? I doubt she will go a song without being asked to dance, and we both know she is much too polite to decline an invitation. Consider dancing with her as an act of kindness.”

There was much time left before he had to decide what he would make of Lady Winterfell’s words, enough time to watch the young woman in question spin around the room with her partner and the other couples in line, eyes locked and smiles wide as they danced. He imagined what she must have looked like in the London season, innocent and eager to please at the Queen’s ball. He remembered snickering with Arya whenever she poked fun at her sister’s impatience to be out in society, it filled him with guilt to look back now. As the song approached its end, Jon found himself making his way to where Sansa stood. She curtsied to her partner and was in the middle of thanking him when her eyes met the Captain’s, blue as the sea and so filled with life that Jon nearly reconsidered interrupting her exchange with the other young man.

“If you are not otherwise engaged, would you do me the honour of dancing the next with me, Lady Sansa?” he asked, feeling much too hot and stifled in his maroon coat. 

[warsofasoiaf]

Say to preempt the Harrenhal plot, Aerys decides to redo Summerhall, because the pyromancers assure him they'll get it right, and he wipes out his whole family, Rhaegar, Viserys, Elia, the babies. Robert is next in line, but the circumstances are different. The rebels acclaimed him because they were fighting for their survival and needed the legitimacy of a king, but they don't have that incentive now. Can he take the throne without a war? Or does Westeros Balkanize?

That sounds like a picture-perfect recipe for a Great Council-type scenario to decide what happens next. The problem with predicting the outcome of the Great Council is that we would still have Rickard Stark, one of the chief organizers of Southron Ambitions, still remaining, and we don't know what his motivations are. It's possible that Westeros fractures into Seven Kingdoms, especially since if some kings don't want to swear loyalty, Robert would have to launch an aggressive war which is a lot harder than beating most of the combined enemy forces on the Trident.

If it does break up into the Seven Kingdoms, I'd imagine that the Reach would have the toughest go as families that have a better claim to Highgarden make claim to being the new kings of the Reach. You would probably see the other kingdoms perhaps supporting their favorite candidate. The regions that would handle it the best would probably be the ones whose families were the original rulers of their component regions of the Seven Kingdoms and so preserve a tradition of rule as they return to the pre-Targaryen system of doing things, that means the Arryns, Lannisters, Martells, and Starks (and the Baratheons, who draw descent from the Durrandons and had the whole Lyonel Baratheon Storm King thing going on before). The Tullys might have trouble consolidating their hold on the Riverlands, and the Iron Islands might have a problem either with ambitious Lord Reavers declaring themselves the new Iron King and periodic fights between the Old Way and the New.

Thanks for the question, Anon.

SomethingLikeALawyer, Hand of the King

[sunontherhoyne]

Where was Oberyn during the Rebellion? I’m sure you’ve probably answered this at some point.

I’ve always assumed he was on a sell sword mission in the Free Cities, he was in deep, and communication to Westeros and Dorne wasn’t easy. We have to consider distance and how often Ravens would get lost and killed etc. Plus in a Sellsword company during war, they’d always be on the move, making the process even harder.

Doran probably first told him in the first few months that it could be contained and there was no need to worry, by the time he received the next, more urgent message, it was by the time around after Summerhall perhaps, Oberyn went “fuck this” and immediately tried to get back as fast as he could, but by the time he reached the shores of Dorne, the sack had happened.

I picture a few things: Oberyn might have been distant from Doran afterwards, partially blaming Doran for underestimating the rebellion and therefore not allowing him to come sooner, as well the other half on himself.

The urgent journey back was how he met Sarella’s mother.

Him making the fateful choice not to go back sooner mirrors Jon’s choice not to abandon the Night’s Watch and help Robb.

I actually haven't!

I think he was in Essos as well. Not doing sellsword-y stuff (partially because I have a couple aus where Ellaria was with him and he didn't want to worry her), but simply traveling.

In my mind, Oberyn actually stopped at Dragonstone on his way to Essos- and it was right after Rhaegar ran off. They would never have guessed what he was doing and probably assumed he decided to go be emo at Summerhall again, but don't think for a second that Oberyn doesn't remember that he could have gotten them out right then and there :)

And here's the thing: I also don't think Doran told him anything, and it wasn't entirely because he didn't know where Oberyn was at any point- Oby sent enough letters to his daughters that it would be difficult but not impossible to track him down.

No, Doran didn't tell him because by the point they realized they were about to face a full out war Elia and her kids were already in King's Landing. He knew that Oberyn would likely do something desperate to get them out, and he was terrified of losing both of his siblings in one fell swoop.

And yes, there's a part of Oberyn that can't forgive Doran for not telling him. It's dwarfed by the part that can't forgive himself, however.

(By the way, Sarella was probably born around 280, so he probably didn't meet her mom then. Since we have no idea when exactly he took in the Sand Snakes you can imagine that he found out about Sarella then, though!)

[onthesandsofdreams]

The Wedding [2/3]

Pairing: Rickard x Rhaella Rating: T Summary: “Today is all about you and my son.” Words: 1464 Notes: Another installment of my Rhaella Stark Chronicles.

Read @ AO3 | Chapter 1

When Ynis and Cerella left, Rhaella sat down in front of the fire, she did not wanted to ruin her dress right before her wedding. She was quite excited, but there was something that also rose, fear. She was suddenly afraid that Rickard would no longer wanted her.

So lost in her thoughts she was, that Rhaella almost missed the knock on her door. It startled her when it was stronger, “Come,” she finally called.

The door opened to let Marna in and Rhaella’s fear spiked. Her soon to be good-mother, the woman who had been a mother to her during all of her stay at Winterfell was dressed quite finely. Her usual practical gowns replaced with fine silks in grays and whites. A white fur stole hung from her shoulders. “Hello daughter,” Marna’s gentle voice soothed her. “You are looking quite stunning, you are for sure to leave my son speechless.”

Rhaella smiled, feeling better. Surely, if somehow the wedding had been called off, her own grandfather would inform her. Elderly as he was, he seemed to have found the energy to come to her wedding. “Thank you, mother. You are looking quite lovely yourself.”

Marna gave Rhaella a small smile, “Today is not about me.” She said and sat down next to Rhaella. “Today is all about you and my son.”

Rhaella could feel the slight heat that came to her cheeks. “Indeed. I can hardly believe that our wedding is finally here.”

“Do you remember daughter, years ago when I spoke about not letting my son get away with everything?” Marna asked, and when Rhaella nodded, she continued. “I must say, that I am glad that you have followed my advice, Rickard can be too stubborn for his own good, but you have a good head on your shoulders and I am glad that you will compliment and balance him.”

Rhaella smiled, “Thank you mother.”

“It is truly a joy that you came to us. An even bigger joy that you marry into our house, truly child, you are a treasure and at least I, will be forever thankful to King Aegon for his generosity.”

Rhaella bit her lip, “My marriage was arranged to avoid me marrying my brother.”

“That I know. But nevertheless, you are here and throughout the years, you have been an absolute delight to have as a daughter, and now, your wedding day is here and it will be official.”

“I am a bit nervous.”

“Every woman is,” Marna agreed and took of of Rhaella’s hands in her own. “But it will pass, and tell me, do you wish to avoid the bedding ceremony? If so, I will speak to my son, and I’ll help both of you to leave when you so desire and avoid getting undressed by others.”

“Could we?” Rhaella’s lips quirked upwards and her eyes shone. “Not that I wish to cause some disrespect, but I would truly like to avoid the bedding.”

“At least the part of people undressing you and my son, I take.” Marna gave Rhaella a knowing look. And at Rhaella’s nod, she smiled. “I figured as much. I didn’t like my own bedding, even if I was excited to bed my husband.”

Rhaella’s flushed a darker pink, “Yes, I wish to be a wife, but skipping the undressing by people.”

“Then, I’ll speak to my son. When you both are ready to retire, I’ll make sure people are dancing and have no time to notice you two quietly slipping away. Does that sound good?”

“Yes, mother. Thank you.”

Marna stood, letting go of Rhaella’s hand. “And I’ll remind you what I have always said, that if you wish to talk with me about womanly issues, you always may do so and I will help you as I am able to. Now, I do believe your grandfather wished to speak with you before your wedding. I will send him in,” Marna leaned forward and kissed Rhaella’s forehead. “And I’ll be speaking with my son.”

Rhaella watched as Marna walked towards the door, and exited the chamber. She felt lighter, glad too at the thought of being naughty and slipping away with Rickard before anyone even noticed them gone. It was a relief too, even if she had had time to know those people in the North, she still didn’t like the idea of them seeing her in her undergarments. That was something she wanted to reserve for Rickard alone, at least, the first time anyone saw her in such an intimate setting.

A few moments later, there was a knock at the door, Rhaella smiled, “Come in.”

When the door opened, it was her grandfather and Ser Duncan. Her grandfather looked older now, much, as if weighted by something she couldn’t see. “And how,” King Aegon spoke gently, his whole face radiating gentleness. “Is my little dragon, eh?”

Rhaella stood, entwined her arm with her grandfather and helped him sit on the bed next to her. Giving Ser Duncan a radiant smile. “I am well. Ready to be wed.”

King Aegon patted her hand. “Yes, that I can see. And dear child, you look quite radiant, and I am sorry that your grandmother will miss this moment. But, at least, I can see you wed. Tell me, honestly and here in between us, have you been well and happy?”

“I have, grandfather.” Rhaella starts, taking her grandfather’s hand in both of hers. “I have found a home here in the North, here in Winterfell. I was homesick when young, but soon enough, I found my footing here, I found and made good friends, I found a mother who treats me as if I were her own blood. A good-father who while stern, is not bad. And my betrothed is a good man. You did me a great favor by choosing me to marry into the Starks.”

“That does lighten my heart, dearest child.” Her grandfather smiles at her. “Your letters were always good, but I am a father and grandfather, and I always wondered if you spoke out of duty. At least, until Lady Velaryon came to marry your brother. She spoke of how happy the three of you were, how you were growing into a fine young woman. That soothed my soul to hear.”

Rhaella squeezed her grandfather’s hand. “You made the correct choice, grandfather. I swear it to you, I have been happy here. No one has ever mistreated me, and while at the beginning was a bit strange to be so far away of what I was used to, I found good people here. I carved a place for myself in this wintry land.”

“That is good to hear, child.”

“And what about you, grandfather, have things gone well?”

Rhaella watches, as something crosses her grandfather’s face, but it’s gone too fast for her to identify. “As well as they can be, dearest child. But I wanted to warn you, that after your wedding, I will be going to Summerhall, all the family will be there, I believe that we have found a way to awaken dragons again.”

“Then I should also come.”

“No child,” Her grandfather shakes his head. “You need to take your time to enjoy being married, perhaps after Summerhall we shall meet for you to pick which dragon you wish to have. But let us forget that, let us worry about you and your wedding. Tell me, do you really like Rickard, he seems quite a serious young man.”

“He is quite serious.” Rhaella smiles. “He takes his duties quite seriously, but I do like him. Beneath that ice exterior, there is a romantic side that I am the fortunate one who gets to see it. And yes, I quite like him. I love him very much, he will be a good husband and a good father, when the time comes.”

“That is good to hear, my dear child.” There is a knock at the door, and her grandfather turns towards it. “Come.”

A servant maid appears when the door opens, “Forgive me, your Grace, my Princess. But I was send to inform you that everything is ready, we will simply wait for you.”

“Thank you,” Rhaella speaks. “I am quite ready myself, my grandfather and I will make our way to the Godswoods soon.”

The maid nods and departs.

“Well, child, it seems that it is time that you finally say those vows.”

“Indeed, I am ready grandfather, very ready.”

Her grandfather smiles and stands, offering his arm to Rhaella, who takes it. “Then, let’s get you married, little dragon.”

And they begin their walk towards the Godswoods, with ser Duncan two steps behind. And Rhaella can feel herself lighten a bit, she is to be married, all would be well.

[aboveallarescuer]

Dany telling herself hopeful stories

As I was rereading ASOIAF, I made it my goal to compile all* the book passages demonstrating either certain key attributes of Daenerys Targaryen (e.g. that she's compassionate and empathetic) or aspects of hers that are usually overblown (e.g. that she's violent and ambitious).  Doing such a task may seem exaggerated, but I'd argue it's not, for many, many misconceptions about Dany have become widespread in light of the show's final season's events (and even before).

It must be acknowledged that it can be tricky to reference, say, ADWD passages to counter-argument how she was depicted in season eight (which allegedly follows ADOS events). Dany will have had plenty of character development in the span of two books. However, whatever happens to Dany in the next two books, I would argue that there is more than enough material to conclude that her show counterpart was made to fall for flaws that she (for the most part) never had and actions that she (for the most part) would never take.

Another objection to the purpose of these lists is that Game of Thrones is different from A Song of Ice and Fire and should be analyzed on its own, which is a fair point. However, the show is also an adaptation of these books, which begs the questions: why did they change Dany's character? Why did they overfocus on negative traits of hers or depicted them as negative when they weren't supposed to be or gave her negative traits that were never hers to begin with? Another fact that undermines the show=/=books argument is that most people think that the show's ending will be the books', albeit only in broad strokes and in different circumstances. As a result, people's perception of Dany is inevitably influenced by the show, which is a shame.

I hope these lists can be useful for whoever wants to find book passages to defend Dany's character in analysis or even conversations.

 *Well, at least all the passages that I could find.

Also, people may interpret certain passages differently and then come up with a different collection of passages, so I'm not arguing that this list is completely objective (nor that there could ever be one).

Also, some passages have been cut short according to whether they were, IMO, relevant to the specific topic of the list they're in, so the context surrounding them may not always be clear (always read the books!). Many of them appear in different lists, sometimes fully cited, sometimes not.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm not including quotes that misrepresent Dany here because I couldn't find them on a quick glance and, frankly, I didn't want to find them. But we know that some people like to paint Dany in an overly negative light for taking pride at her ancestors (never mind the numerous double standards) or for not being completely aware of their history. And we know that she should be defended from these accusations. I interpret Dany as someone who, sometimes, needs to tell herself hopeful stories to keep going, especially for having had no family but an abusive brother. Her bias in regarding her relatives and Westeros in an idealized light and her enemies in an overly negative one is part of that pattern (which is contextualized by the universe she lives in, in which familial bonds are the most important ones). And so, I'm listing passages in which we see that pattern come up.

A Dance with Dragons

ADWD Daenerys X

She might have wished for colder, clearer water ... but no, if she were going to pin her hopes on wishes, she would wish for rescue.

She still clung to the hope that someone would come after her. Ser Barristan might come seeking her; he was the first of her Queensguard, sworn to defend her life with his own. And her bloodriders were no strangers to the Dothraki sea, and their lives were bound to her own. Her husband, the noble Hizdahr zo Loraq, might dispatch searchers. And Daario ... Dany pictured him riding toward her through the tall grass, smiling, his golden tooth gleaming with the last light of the setting sun.

Only Daario had been given to the Yunkai’i, a hostage to ensure no harm came to the Yunkish captains. Daario and Hero, Jhogo and Groleo, and three of Hizdahr’s kin. By now, surely, all of her hostages would have been released.

~

It makes no matter. By now the Yunkai’i will be marching home. That was why she had done all that she had done. For peace.

~

But none of those things had happened. Bells, Dany thought again. Her bloodriders had found her. “Aggo,” she whispered. “Jhogo. Rakharo.” Might Daario have come with them?

 ADWD Daenerys IX

The boar was a huge beast, with tusks as long as a man’s forearm and small eyes that swam with rage. She wondered whether the boar that had killed Robert Baratheon had looked as fierce. A terrible creature and a terrible death. For a heartbeat she felt almost sorry for the Usurper.

 ADWD Daenerys VII

“And my father? Was there some woman he loved better than his queen?”

Ser Barristan shifted in the saddle. “Not … not loved. Mayhaps wanted is a better word, but … it was only kitchen gossip, the whispers of washerwomen and stableboys …”

“I want to know. I never knew my father. I want to know everything about him. The good and … the rest.”

“As you command.”

~

How beautiful, the queen tried to tell herself, but inside her was some foolish little girl who could not help but look about for Daario. If he loved you, he would come and carry you off at swordpoint, as Rhaegar carried off his northern girl, the girl in her insisted, but the queen knew that was folly.

 ADWD Daenerys V

The day might come soon when she would have need of every knight. “Will they joust for me? I should like that.” Viserys had told her stories of the tourneys he had witnessed in the Seven Kingdoms, but Dany had never seen a joust herself.

“They are not ready, Your Grace. When they are, they will be pleased to demonstrate their prowess.”

 ADWD Daenerys IV

“One day I will want to return to Westeros, to claim the Seven Kingdoms that were my father’s.”

“One day all men must die, but it serves no good to dwell on death. I prefer to take each day as it comes.”

Dany folded her hands together. “Words are wind, even words like love and peace. I put more trust in deeds. In my Seven Kingdoms, knights go on quests to prove themselves worthy of the maiden that they love. They seek for magic swords, for chests of gold, for crowns stolen from a dragon’s hoard.”

~

“Ninety days and ninety nights without a corpse, and on the ninety-first we wed?”

“Perhaps,” said Dany, with a coy look. “Though young girls have been known to be fickle. I may still want a magic sword.”

~

“I saw your father and your mother wed as well. Forgive me, but there was no fondness there, and the realm paid dearly for that, my queen.”

“Why did they wed if they did not love each other?”

“Your grandsire commanded it. A woods witch had told him that the prince was promised would be born of their line.”

[...] “What became of her?”

“Summerhall.” The word was fraught with doom.

Dany sighed. “Leave me now. I am very weary.”

~

“Most queens have no purpose but to warm some king’s bed and pop out sons for him. If that’s the sort of queen you mean to be, best marry Hizdahr.”

Her anger flashed. “Have you forgotten who I am?”

“No. Have you?”

Viserys would have his head off for that insolence. “I am the blood of the dragon. Do not presume to teach me lessons.” When Dany stood, the lion pelt slipped from her shoulders and tumbled to the ground. “Leave me.”

 ADWD Daenerys II

Dany shut her eyes and tried to think of home, of Dragonstone and King's Landing and all the other places that Viserys had told her of, in a kinder land than this ...

~

“Tell me a tale, ser,” Dany said as they climbed. “Some tale of valor with a happy ending.” She felt in need of happy endings. “Tell me how you escaped from the Usurper.”

“Your Grace. There is no valor in running for your life.”

Dany seated herself on a cushion, crossed her legs, and gazed up at him. “Please. It was the Young Usurper who dismissed you from the Kingsguard …”

~

“[...] I was gathering my things when it came to me that I had brought this on myself by taking Robert’s pardon. He was a good knight but a bad king, for he had no right to the throne he sat. That was when I knew that to redeem myself I must find the true king, and serve him loyally with all the strength that still remained me.”

“My brother Viserys.”

~

“Stark was a traitor who met a traitor’s end.”

“Your Grace,” said Selmy, “Eddard Stark played a part in your father’s fall, but he bore you no ill will. When the eunuch Varys told us that you were with child, Robert wanted you killed, but Lord Stark spoke against it. Rather than countenance the murder of children, he told Robert to find himself another Hand.”

“Have you forgotten Princess Rhaenys and Prince Aegon?”

“Never. That was Lannister work, Your Grace.”

“Lannister or Stark, what difference? Viserys used to call them the Usurper’s dogs. If a child is set upon by a pack of hounds, does it matter which one tears out his throat? All the dogs are just as guilty. The guilt …” The word caught in her throat.

 A Storm of Swords

ASOS Daenerys VI

“Your father is called ‘the Mad King’ in Westeros. Has no one ever told you?”

“Viserys did.” The Mad King. “The Usurper called him that, the Usurper and his dogs.” The Mad King. “It was a lie.”

“Why ask for truth,” Ser Barristan said softly, “if you close your ears to it?” He hesitated, then continued.

[...] The truth is, I wanted to watch you for a time before pledging you my sword. To make certain that you were not ...”

“... my father’s daughter?” If she was not her father’s daughter, who was she?

“... mad,” he finished. “But I see no taint in you.”

“Taint?” Dany bristled.

~

“Was my father truly mad?” she blurted out. Why do I ask that? “Viserys said this talk of madness was a ploy of the Usurper’s ...”

“Viserys was a child, and the queen sheltered him as much as she could. Your father always had a little madness in him, I now believe. Yet he was charming and generous as well, so his lapses were forgiven. His reign began with such promise ... but as the years passed, the lapses grew more frequent, until ...”

Dany stopped him. “Do I want to hear this now?”

Ser Barristan considered a moment. “Perhaps not. Not now.”

“Not now,” she agreed. “One day. One day you must tell me all. The good and the bad. There is some good to be said of my father, surely?”

“There is, Your Grace. Of him, and those who came before him. Your grandfather Jaehaerys and his brother, their father Aegon, your mother ... and Rhaegar. Him most of all.”

“I wish I could have known him.” Her voice was wistful.

“I wish he could have known you,” the old knight said. “When you are ready, I will tell you all.”

 ASOS Daenerys V

“...Your war is in Westeros.”

“I have not forgotten Westeros.” Dany dreamt of it some nights, this fabled land that she had never seen. “If I let Meereen’s old brick walls defeat me so easily, though, how will I ever take the great stone castles of Westeros?”

~

“Why are you here?” Dany demanded of him. “If Robert sent you to kill me, why did you save my life?” He served the Usurper. He betrayed Rhaegar’s memory, and abandoned Viserys to live and die in exile. Yet if he wanted me dead, he need only have stood aside ...

~

“...And since the day you wed Khal Drogo, there has been an informer by your side selling your secrets, trading whispers to the Spider for gold and promises.”

He cannot mean ... “You are mistaken.” Dany looked at Jorah Mormont. “Tell him he’s mistaken. There’s no informer. Ser Jorah, tell him. We crossed the Dothraki sea together, and the red waste ...” Her heart fluttered like a bird in a trap. “Tell him, Jorah. Tell him how he got it wrong.”

“The Others take you, Selmy.” Ser Jorah flung his longsword to the carpet. “Khaleesi, it was only at the start, before I came to know you ... before I came to love ...”

“Do not say that word!” She backed away from him. “How could you? What did the Usurper promise you? Gold, was it gold?” The Undying had said she would be betrayed twice more, once for gold and once for love. “Tell me what you were promised?”

“Varys said ... I might go home.” He bowed his head.

I was going to take you home!

 ASOS Daenerys IV

“Tell me more of my brother Rhaegar, if you would. I liked the tale you told me on the ship, of how he decided that he must be a warrior.”

~

“...He never loved the song of swords the way that Robert did, or Jaime Lannister. It was something he had to do, a task the world had set him. He did it well, for he did everything well. That was his nature. But he took no joy in it. Men said that he loved his harp much better than his lance.”

“He won some tourneys, surely,” said Dany, disappointed.

~

Dany did not want to hear about Rhaegar being unhorsed. “But what tourneys did my brother win?”

~

“But that was the tourney when he crowned Lyanna Stark as queen of love and beauty!” said Dany. “Princess Elia was there, his wife, and yet my brother gave the crown to the Stark girl, and later stole her away from her betrothed. How could he do that? Did the Dornish woman treat him so ill?”

~

“But I am not certain it was in Rhaegar to be happy.”

“You make him sound so sour,” Dany protested.

 ASOS Daenerys II

“Yet I must have some army,” Dany said. “The boy Joffrey will not give me the Iron Throne for asking politely.”

“When the day comes that you raise your banners, half of Westeros will be with you,” Whitebeard promised. “Your brother Rhaegar is still remembered, with great love.”

“And my father?” Dany said.

The old man hesitated before saying, “King Aerys is also remembered. He gave the realm many years of peace.[”]

~

“Viserys would have bought as many Unsullied as he had the coin for. But you once said I was like Rhaegar ...”

“I remember, Daenerys.”

“Your Grace,” she corrected. “Prince Rhaegar led free men into battle, not slaves. Whitebeard said he dubbed his squires himself, and made many other knights as well.”

“There was no higher honor than to receive your knighthood from the Prince of Dragonstone.”

“Tell me, then—when he touched a man on the shoulder with his sword, what did he say? ‘Go forth and kill the weak’? Or ‘Go forth and defend them’? At the Trident, those brave men Viserys spoke of who died beneath our dragon banners—did they give their lives because they believed in Rhaegar’s cause, or because they had been bought and paid for?” Dany turned to Mormont, crossed her arms, and waited for an answer.

“My queen,” the big man said slowly, “all you say is true. But Rhaegar lost on the Trident. He lost the battle, he lost the war, he lost the kingdom, and he lost his life. His blood swirled downriver with the rubies from his breastplate, and Robert the Usurper rode over his corpse to steal the Iron Throne. Rhaegar fought valiantly, Rhaegar fought nobly, Rhaegar fought honorably. And Rhaegar died.”

 ASOS Daenerys I

“Did you ever meet my royal father?” King Aerys II had died before his daughter was born.

“I had that great honor, Your Grace.” “Did you find him good and gentle?”

Whitebeard did his best to hide his feelings, but they were there, plain on his face. “His Grace was ... often pleasant.”

“Often?” Dany smiled. “But not always?”


“He could be very harsh to those he thought his enemies.”


“A wise man never makes an enemy of a king,” said Dany.

~

“Along with a thousand others at some harvest feast. Next you’ll claim you squired for him.”

“I make no such claim, ser. Myles Mooton was Prince Rhaegar’s squire, and Richard Lonmouth after him. When they won their spurs, he knighted them himself, and they remained his close companions. Young Lord Connington was dear to the prince as well, but his oldest friend was Arthur Dayne.”

“The Sword of the Morning!” said Dany, delighted. “Viserys used to talk about his wondrous white blade. He said Ser Arthur was the only knight in the realm who was our brother’s peer.”

Whitebeard bowed his head. “It is not my place to question the words of Prince Viserys.”

“King,” Dany corrected. “He was a king, though he never reigned. Viserys, the Third of His Name. But what do you mean?” His answer had not been one that she’d expected. “Ser Jorah named Rhaegar the last dragon once. He had to have been a peerless warrior to be called that, surely?”

~

Dany turned back to the squire. “I know little of Rhaegar. Only the tales Viserys told, and he was a little boy when our brother died. What was he truly like?”

The old man considered a moment. “Able. That above all. Determined, deliberate, dutiful, single-minded. There is a tale told of him ... but doubtless Ser Jorah knows it as well.”

“I would hear it from you.”

“As you wish,” said Whitebeard. “[...] Until one day Prince Rhaegar found something in his scrolls that changed him. No one knows what it might have been, only that the boy suddenly appeared early one morning in the yard as the knights were donning their steel. He walked up to Ser Willem Darry, the master-at-arms, and said, ‘I will require sword and armor. It seems I must be a warrior.’”

“And he was!” said Dany, delighted.

~

I am still half a world from Westeros, Dany reminded herself, but every hour brings me closer. She tried to imagine what it would feel like, when she first caught sight of the land she was born to rule. It will be as fair a shore as I have ever seen, I know it. How could it be otherwise?

 A Clash of Kings

ACOK Daenerys III

“The Arbor makes the best wine in the world,” Dany declared. Lord Redwyne had fought for her father against the Usurper, she remembered, one of the few to remain true to the last. Will he fight for me as well? There was no way to be certain after so many years.

~

“If you go west, you risk your life.”

“House Targaryen has friends in the Free Cities,” she reminded him. “Truer friends than Xaro or the Pureborn.”

~

“Illyrio believes in no cause but Illyrio. Gluttons are greedy men as a rule, and magisters are devious. Illyrio Mopatis is both. What do you truly know of him?”

“I know that he gave me my dragon eggs.”

He snorted. “If he’d known they were like to hatch, he would have sat on them himself.”

That made her smile despite herself. “Oh, I have no doubt of that, ser. I know Illyrio better than you think. I was a child when I left his manse in Pentos to wed my sun-and-stars, but I was neither deaf nor blind. And I am no child now.”

~

“Sellswords have their uses,” Ser Jorah admitted, “but you will not win your father’s throne with sweepings from the Free Cities. Nothing knits a broken realm together so quick as an invading army on its soil.”

“I am their rightful queen,” Dany protested.

“You are a stranger who means to land on their shores with an army of outlanders who cannot even speak the Common Tongue. The lords of Westeros do not know you, and have every reason to fear and mistrust you. You must win them over before you sail. A few at least.”

 ACOK Daenerys II

It felt good to close her eyes and float, knowing she could rest as long as she liked. She wondered whether Aegon’s Red Keep had a pool like this, and fragrant gardens full of lavender and mint. It must, surely. Viserys always said the Seven Kingdoms were more beautiful than any other place in the world.

[...] Viserys had believed that the realm would rise for its rightful king ... but Viserys had been a fool, and fools believe in foolish things.

~

The Usurper will kill you, sure as sunrise, Mormont had said. Robert had slain her gallant brother Rhaegar, and one of his creatures had crossed the Dothraki sea to poison her and her unborn son. They said Robert Baratheon was strong as a bull and fearless in battle, a man who loved nothing better than war. And with him stood the great lords her brother had named the Usurper’s dogs, cold-eyed Eddard Stark with his frozen heart, and the golden Lannisters, father and son, so rich, so powerful, so treacherous.

~

“A gift of news. Dragonmother, Stormborn, I tell you true, Robert Baratheon is dead.”

Outside her walls, dusk was settling over Qarth, but a sun had risen in Dany’s heart. “Dead?” she repeated. In her lap, black Drogon hissed, and pale smoke rose before her face like a veil. “You are certain? The Usurper is dead?”

“So it is said in Oldtown, and Dorne, and Lys, and all the other ports where we have called.”

He sent me poisoned wine, yet I live and he is gone. “What was the manner of his death?” On her shoulder, pale Viserion flapped wings the color of cream, stirring the air.

“Torn by a monstrous boar whilst hunting in his kingswood, or so I heard in Oldtown. Others say his queen betrayed him, or his brother, or Lord Stark who was his Hand. Yet all the tales agree in this: King Robert is dead and in his grave.”

Dany had never looked upon the Usurper’s face, yet seldom a day had passed when she had not thought of him. His great shadow had lain across her since the hour of her birth, when she came forth amidst blood and storm into a world where she no longer had a place. And now this ebony stranger had lifted that shadow.

“The boy sits the Iron Throne now,” Ser Jorah said.

“King Joffrey reigns,” Quhuru Mo agreed, “but the Lannisters rule. Robert’s brothers have fled King’s Landing. The talk is, they mean to claim the crown. And the Hand has fallen, Lord Stark who was King Robert’s friend. He has been seized for treason.”

“Ned Stark a traitor?” Ser Jorah snorted. “Not bloody likely. The Long Summer will come again before that one would besmirch his precious honor.”

“What honor could he have?” Dany said. “He was a traitor to his true king, as were these Lannisters.” It pleased her to hear that the Usurper’s dogs were fighting amongst themselves, though she was unsurprised.

 A Game of Thrones

AGOT Daenerys IX

She told herself that there were powers stronger than hatred, and spells older and truer than any the maegi had learned in Asshai. The night was black and moonless, but overhead a million stars burned bright. She took that for an omen.

 AGOT Daenerys VIII

She was the blood of the dragon, she would not be afraid. Her brother Rhaegar had died for the woman he loved.

 AGOT Daenerys VII

Slaves, Dany thought. Khal Drogo would drive them downriver to one of the towns on Slaver’s Bay. She wanted to cry, but she told herself that she must be strong. This is war, this is what it looks like, this is the price of the Iron Throne.

 AGOT Daenerys IV

And sometimes she found herself wishing her father had been protected by such men. In the songs, the white knights of the Kingsguard were ever noble, valiant, and true, and yet King Aerys had been murdered by one of them, the handsome boy they now called the Kingslayer, and a second, Ser Barristan the Bold, had gone over to the Usurper. She wondered if all men were as false in the Seven Kingdoms. When her son sat the Iron Throne, she would see that he had bloodriders of his own to protect him against treachery in his Kingsguard.

[immured-soul]

Daenerys Resurrection Fanfiction

“She'll come back as fire to burn all the liars 

Leave a blanket of ash on the ground”  

 — Nirvana

»»————-　　————-«« 🔥 🔥 🔥  »»————-　　————-«« 

    Her eyes peeled open to stare at the ancient cobble stoned ceiling illuminated by the only two braziers that burned in the cold room. Instinctively her hand reached for the spot under her breast that ached weakly. Her eyes darted around the stone room she lay in. Grey walls surrounded her with thick columns of grey granite that bore runic carvings. The floor around her was carved in a circular pattern and the altar she laid on sat in the middle of it all.

           “You were asleep for some time Your Grace,” the voice of a woman spoke in High Valyrian.

           Dany’s eyes searched in the dim room and met the red priestess but she was more nonplussed because she did not hear her approach. A sudden chill crept on her and she pulled the robe tight about her. “Kinvara,” she managed. Her own voice sounded strange—coarse and raspy—as if she had not spoken in centuries.

           The priestess regarded the two priestesses who just entered the room holding a wooden chest studded with silver. They rested it beside Kinvara with a soft thud and knelt to open it then they retreated to the doorway. Inside, seven dragon eggs nested on blue damasks with silver scrollwork. Dany’s eyes grew wide and she almost felt dizzy. She rose from the cold, stone altar where she laid and walked barefooted towards the chest. There were two eggs that bore a different shade of blue, another was ebony flecked with violet, one enameled in white scales, the bronze egg cradled next to that one was smaller while the largest was coated in grey scales. The last Dany lifted and turned in her hands and examined its green and white swirls in the dim light. Illyrio Mopatis gifted her three dragon eggs on the day she wedded Khal Drogo, said to be the last in the world, yet seven laid before her now. The red priestess studied her.

           “Salvaged from the great fire that swept Summerhall,” she explained, her dark eyes gleamed.

           Daenerys took a shaky breath and laid the egg in the chest. The fresh wound of memory trickled. King’s Landing. The blood. The screams. She stumbled to one knee but the priestess caught her by one hand and supported her shoulder with the other.

           “Release me,” Dany commanded.

           “Your Grace?” Kinvara stepped back, her red robes creased smoothly with the movement.

           “I—I need…” she stammered. What did she really need?

           “Your dragon brought you to Asshai. It would seem that the Lord of Light is done with you.”

           Realization seized her and her hand clutched the spot where Jon’s knife had stabbed her. He tried to murder me. The stone beneath her feet had grown harder and colder after the thought. You are my queen. Now and always. Jon’s words echoed in her mind as her last moment with him sang clearly. He meant for me to die and yet I live.

           “You struggle to remember,” Kinvara said softly as if she were reading her own thoughts.

Daenerys turned to face her. Her senses felt dull. “I slaughtered a city,” she drawled.

The red priestess raised a pale hand dismissively. “Fire,” she insisted, “is cleansing. To create the new, the old must be burnt away. The baptism of fire in King’s Landing purified the sins of the old world.” She sauntered to the chest and lifted the grey egg, offering it.

Dany’s fingers felt frail under its weight. Kinvara held the top. “And now you can build a new one,” she assured. She pressed the egg into her hands and took a step backward.

“And who would trust me? After everything…” She could hear her voice cracking.

“As we speak your khalasar has allied with Dorne against the Six Kingdoms. Your Unsullied search for you while Astapor, Yunkai and Mereen bleed with the blood of slaves once more.” She shook her head. “There is work yet to be done.”

Gingerly she placed the egg into the chest. She turned away, crossing her arms and tucking her hands under her armpits. “Six Kingdoms?” asked Dany, curious.

“The Stark girl has declared the North independent. The same North you sacrificed your children for. Four moons gone you hoped to liberate the world. Truly, I would trust you have not abandoned such plans. Many here have worked tirelessly to keep you safe.” She gestured to the two priestesses who stood at the doorway with hands clasped and heads bowed. “Our fires have shielded you from the three eyed Raven who usurped your throne. The flames last showed us your former Hand offers him counsel now, Your Grace.”

Dany reflected contritely on the betrayals of those who had sworn to serve her loyally. Varys. Tyrion. Jon. “Three eyed Raven?”

“Bran Stark. It would seem he now embodies the spirit of a greenseer of yore. We took measures to ensure that his eyes never found you.”

Dany’s mouth twisted at that. She felt half a child again. The fear of being hunted was something she resolved she would not bring herself to relive. “I will not hide,” she decided.

“Well said Your Grace.” Kinvara nodded curtly. “However, the eggs must be kissed by fire and your dragons will need time to grow.”

Dimly, the words of the broad faced maegi Mirri Maz Duur reminded her only death can pay for life. She shook her head, glancing at the chest of colored eggs that shone faintly. “I—I will not sacrifice more lives for this.”

“The baptism of King’s Landing has paid half the wage. With dragon’s breath the exchange is complete.”

“You said that Drogon brought me here,” she said suddenly feeling anxious. “Where is he?” The prospect of him being all alone made her heart twinge with fear and sadness.

“He sleeps in the hills nearby crying night and day. He encircled the temple tonight, roaring and breathing flame. He rejoices that you are awake.”

“How long was I—” she began but stopped. “Four moons” she mused. Was she asleep or dead? Suddenly she remembered seeing herself running along the ports in Braavos to the house with the red door and the lemon tree that stood outside her window. She had also seen herself with Khal Drogo and Rhaego riding horses through the Grass Sea. But most of what she had seen was only still blackness. Her memory of it was elusive like a gust of wind. Was that what death felt like? “Why am I here?” she asked. “Why did Drogon bring me here?”

Kinvara’s eyes pierced Dany’s knowingly. “Why, you should know why you have come beneath the shadow, Your Grace.”

The braziers seemed to have burned cold then because a familiar tingle on Dany’s wrist seemed to answer her own question as the image of a woman in a red lacquered mask resurfaced to her memory. To go north, you must go south. To reach the west, you must go east. To go forward you must go back, and to touch the light you must pass beneath the shadow. “Truth,” she realized. Her hands reached for the egg with green and white swirls and pressed it against her stomach as she could feel heat inside her and a faint warmth in her womb.

[dwellordream]

Prompt and/or food for thought/discussion: what if Aemon had accepted the throne instead of ceding rule to Aegon V? Would the realm have been better for it? Or the Targaryen family? Given Maester Aemon lived to the ripe age of 102, one can imagine there's be a stable rule for the most part, but that may not have stopped the antics of some of his relatives, though it may have lessened their impact if they're lower in the line of succession...

The only way I can see Aemon agreeing to take the throne is if Aegon were dead, leaving him as the only adult male Targaryen at the time.  If, say Aegon had died during the Peake Uprising (which very well could have happened, he was present for the fighting, during which both Maekar and the heir to Casterly Rock, Tywald Lannister, died, then in 233 AC the Targaryen family tree looks like this: All of Maekar’s sons save for Aemon are now dead.  Daella and Rhae Targaryen, Maekar’s daughters, are alive and married with children (presumably to non-Targaryens, unless there’s some other cousins we don’t know about).  Aegon is leaving behind his widow, Betha, and their own five children. Duncan as the oldest is within the ages of 9-13, depending on his birth year. The Great Council does not want to deal with a regency period which could lead to further unrest, and they also probably look down on Duncan for being Aegon’s son, and the disagreement over Aegon being seen as far too immersed in the lives of the common people and therefore unkingly.  What I can see Aemon doing is agreeing to take the throne with the expectation that after his death Duncan or Duncan’s own sons will inherit. So Aemon is crowned king but does not marry and names his eldest nephew as his heir and crown prince of Dragonstone. Aemon himself is only 35 in 233 AC, and there probably is some protesting that he could easily wed and have many children of his own, but I don’t think he agrees to that.  I think Aemon would also sentence Brynden Rivers to death but allow him to go to the Night’s Watch. One would hope he doesn’t also let Brynden Rivers take Dark Sister with him because that’s kind of a slap in the face to the royal line, but whatever, for narrative purposes Bloodraven needed to take his cool sword, I guess. Following this the winter comes to an end in 236 AC, and the Blackfyres invade (again). I do not see Aemon suddenly turning into this warrior king, but I would hope that Duncan the Tall is still alive and kicking and leading the Kingsguard, and I think the Blackfyres are probably still successfully defeated by the Targaryens. Aemon would have studied war at the Citadel and so hopefully even though he’s not leading the fighting, he’s still a decent tactician and the royalist armies succeed.  The next big event I guess you could call it that is potential issues with Duncan and/or his siblings breaking their betrothals, assuming those have still been arranged. Duncan’s for sure would be, and so the question becomes if the Jenny affair still happens and if it does, whether Aemon lets it slide and simply replaces Duncan with Jaehaerys as his heir, or if Aemon insists on having the marriage annulled, and Duncan is forced to go through with his arranged marriage to the Baratheon daughter. I think we can make an argument that Aemon would, for all the love he bears for his nephew, crack down in this instance ie. ‘Kill the boy, and let the man be born.’ and that Duncan would wind up unhappily wed, but still wed and expected to be having heirs, with Lyonel Baratheon’s daughter. Which then possibly changes a lot of other things, depending on what those kids are like and whether there is still an attempt to bring back some dragons with Summerhall. (I’m inclined to again, say no to that still happening). 

[nightqueendany]

Original Final Season 7 - Episode 6: Summerhall

Last Episode was a bit of a cliffhanger so here’s the fallout from The Storm:

*Wish I had a better image for the episode, but this is the only artwork for Summerhall I could find! Hmm, this needs remedying. 

It’s finally snowing in King’s Landing in this episode, appropriate for us to finally see snow in the south right after the Night King has broken through the Wall

IN WINTERFELL

Picking up directly where the last episode left off, Bran tells Sansa they need to get word to all the Northern Houses, everyone has to get to White Harbor, there will be ships waiting for them there (no explanation), no time to wait for Targaryen armies to come, they can’t hold the North that long

Bran also mysteriously tells Sansa they need to send a raven to Summerhall - Sansa mentions its an abandoned ruin, a raven could never get there, Bran says he can warg the bird, Sansa just needs to write that the Wall has fallen and the dead come south

AT SUMMERHALL

Team Jon/Dany arrive on dragon-back (this was Jorah’s suggested location) and make camp in the ruined halls (it’s abandoned, no one - enemies - would find them there)

Sitting around the fire, Jorah tells them all what he knows of Rhaegar and how Rhaegar used to love coming there, the tragedy at Summerhall when Rhaegar was born, etc.

In their explorations of the ruins, they come across one part of the castle that isn’t entirely destroyed - the library - and Jorah mentions Rhaegar used to be quite scholarly until, according to rumor, he read something in his scrolls that made him believe he had to be a warrior (like Barristan’s story to Dany in ASOS)

Missandei begins picking through the books, some disintegrate when she picks them up due to age/damage from the elements, but some do not, she takes a few that are not damaged

While plotting their next move (where should they go, The Reach? Dorne? King’s Landing?) they receive a random, hastily written raven’s scroll from Sansa and Bran - The Wall has fallen, the dead march south.

They send the raven/Bran to Davos and Tyrion at Gendry’s shop in King’s Landing telling them about the attack on Dragonstone and that they will meet them there in the capital

After the raven leaves, Jon, panicked, insists he and Dany fly to Winterfell to rescue his family/make sure they make it to safety and Dany reluctantly agrees

IN OLDTOWN

They receive word from Winterfell, the Wall has fallen, encourage maesters to spread the word to the rest of the Kingdoms so they can prepare for the fight, the maesters are old shits about it, debating the validity of the scroll, etc.

Sam, in frustration, finally leaves the Citadel with Gilly and Little Sam

BACK IN THE NORTH

Everyone is rushing to pack and leave, Sansa is incredibly emotional about leaving Winterfell when they’ve just fought to get it back, Bran finally tells her the ships that are waiting for them at White Harbor are Greyjoy ships and Theon is anxious to see her, Sansa is then less reluctant to leave

Team Stark/the North arrive at White Harbor just as Yara and Theon do, Bran and Sansa quickly explain the circumstances - the Wall has fallen, not enough time to get Dany’s armies North, North must flee south on the Greyjoy ships (we see Howland and Meera in this group somewhere among other prominent Northerners like Lyanna Mormont, Lord Umber, etc.)

Yara begins to plot course for Dragonstone but Bran explains Euron has taken it, most of his fleet is destroyed but he and his men still occupy the castle, Yara then wants to make course for the Iron Islands to take her home back and it’s “Somewhere the dead can’t go” but again, Bran advises against it, he tells them to set a course for King’s Landing - it’s where EVERYONE is headed and will meet up

Theon and Sansa reunite (obviously), Sansa is stressed about going to King’s Landing where Cersei is and where she was held captive for years, Theon comforts her and sparks fly, they end up falling into bed together - AKA Theonsa boatsex

IN KING’S LANDING

Cersei gets word from Euron about the attack on Dragonstone, pissed that it was a relative failure, she wanted all of them dead and nearly everyone, save a few nameless soldiers, survived, she then tasks Jaime with finding Tyrion and killing him, “Bring me our brother’s head” (much like Aerys wanting Jaime to bring him Tywin’s head) and this is Jaime’s last straw, he can’t support her anymore and so he leaves her

In getting ready to flee King’s Landing, Jaime runs into Tyrion, Davos, and Gendry, Jaime explains that Dragonstone has been taken so they can’t go there, instead, they regroup at Gendry’s shop to figure out what they should do next, receive Bran/Jon’s raven about heading to King’s Landing, it’s decided, they stay in the city

After Jaime leaves her, Cersei wakes up in a “bed of blood,” she's miscarried her baby

The Riverlands, Northerners, and Vale forces arrive outside King’s Landing and join up with the forces from Dorne and the Reach/the Dothraki and Unsullied, Baelish and Varys are there to greet them

Baelish and Varys impress upon the troops the importance of the alliance between Jon and Dany, they are there for one purpose and one purpose only - to defeat the Lannisters who have had a hand in harming every single one of them in the last several years, it’s finally time to take the Lannisters down

Baelish and Varys are next seen sneaking into the city in order to meet with...Qyburn

Arya, knowing how to sneak in and out of King’s Landing secretly, gets into the city as well and goes where Bran told her to go - she winds up standing just outside...Gendry’s shop

BACK IN THE NORTH 

In an unidentifiable location, Jon and Dany take a flying break at a waterfall and discuss what to do, from what Dany can tell on their flight, the North is deserted, Jon agrees and concludes the Northerners must have fled south or to White Harbor

Seeing Jon in a better mood, Dany quips they could “stay a thousand years” and no one would find them, not even this “Night King”

She mentions that, because they’ve been flying a very long distance and it’s getting dark, they need to make camp somewhere for the night, give themselves and the dragons a rest

Jon reveals Winterfell isn’t far, it’s likely deserted but they can stay for the night before heading back south to King’s Landing

IN WINTERFELL 

Jon “cloaks” Dany as she has no suitable clothing (it was all left on Dragonstone when they abandoned the castle to Euron), it’s visually symbolic but nothing official

When Dany asks why Jon went back into the castle (Dragonstone) when they were attempting to flee Euron’s forces, he finally explains to her about R+L=J and gives her Rhaegar’s harp

There’s a tense moment between them until Jon finally suggests they marry to join the realm (King of the North, Queen of the South) and their claims, Dany asks if it would be a political marriage or because of something more (as she has started to fall for him), Jon says it would be both, he and Dany end up sleeping together, AKA Jonerys castlesex

Jon and Dany wake up to it still being night and both remark that it feels late and should be morning, though it’s not, upon going outside they see in the distance the AOTD approaching Winterfell, the Night King did, in fact, find them

It should be relatively easy for them to escape with the AOTD in the distance but the Night King raises the dead from the Winterfell crypts and Jon and Dany have to fight their way out of the keep

In the confusion of trying to escape, Viserion is killed

After Jon and Dany have fled south on Drogon and Rhaegal, the Night King finally raises Viserion as his mount

Title is obviously for Team Jon/Dany making camp in the ruined castle of Summerhall for the night.

Episode 6 Inside the Episode: Summerhall

1) First off, I know you guys are going to wonder, why Summerhall?

I know it’s an odd initial choice. It’s never (I don’t think) been mentioned on the show. But, for the purposes of this episode, it’s a great way to a) get out some much needed exposition and b) connect Rhaegar to the PTWP prophecy. And yes, for book nerds, I know Rhaegar would have been younger when he began training as a warrior, too young to have begun visiting Summerhall by himself, and therefore the book or scroll that led him to think he needed to be a warrior wouldn’t have been found at Summerhall. But 1) allow this one time suspension of disbelief or 2) headcanon that Rhaegar left the book/scroll containing this information at Summerhall for Missandei to eventually find. Whichever works for you.

2) The North escaping on the Greyjoy ships?

This one is too obvious. We had all thought this might need to happen. In 8x01 Yara even tells Theon they’ll need “somewhere the dead can’t go,” but NOTHING was ever done with this line. It was pointless. So this scene actually pays off Yara’s useless line from canon and also solves the issue from it - why wouldn’t Dany just retreat to her own island of Dragonstone? (Because she can’t, because Euron took it over, because that fucking makes sense that he and Cersei would do that).

3) Jon/Dany wake up and it is still night?

Yes, because the “Long Night” is actually not just one fucking night. I can’t even believe they had the audacity to call that idiotic episode “The Long Night” when it was, actually, just ONE night. *Sighs* *Rubs head*

Anyway...that’s it for Episode 6! As always, you guys are free to leave comments. I’d love to see people’s opinions, questions, speculations, predictions. Whatever you guys want to discuss!

Original Final Season 7: Preface Post

Season 7 Episode 1: Family, Duty, Honor

Season 7 Episode 2: Greywater Watch

Season 7 Episode 3: The Last of the Dragons

Season 7 Episode 4: Dragonglass

Season 7 Episode 5: The Storm 

Season 7 Episode 6: Summerhall (Current Episode)

Season 7 Episode 7: A City Fit For A King

Season 7 Episode 8: Protectors of the Realm

Season 7 Episode 9: The Battle For The Dawn

Season 7 Episode 10: ?

[nineteensixtieschikadee]

Jon Snow and his Two Fathers: A balance between Ice and Fire

You know what I utterly despise about what Double Dicks did with Jon Snow’s character in the show--aside from omitting the whole Azor Ahai storyline, and making the entire R+L=J plot absolutely meaningless?? It’s that Double Dicks apparently “FORGOT” that aside from Ned Stark, Rhaegar Targaryen was ALSO Jon Snow’s father. Now lemme explain what I mean. Yes, the show has established however did NOT PAY OFF R+L=J. And not only was this whole plot line the entire purpose of Jon Snow’s arc, it was also the whole backbone of GOT’s history, 20 years before it began. And Rhaegar Targaryen was the center of it all. 

Part of what makes !BOOK Jon such a fan favorite, and why he would arguably make an EXCELLENT ruler/king, is because NOT ONLY does he have his adoptive father’s HONOR AND MORALS, he also has his biological father’s PASSION, CHARISMA AND LEADERSHIP SKILLS. Meaning that while Jon has a strong set of honor and morals--which is known to get you killed in GOT--his passion and natural borne leadership skills help BALANCE those things out that effectively makes not only a WORTHY leader, but also a POWERFUL one. 

I started rereading the books again since the show’s garbage now, and just in the first couple of Jon chapters in AGOT you can already see how much Jon is growing and developing into that of a worthy leader. For example, when Jon first enters the Night’s Watch, he is almost somewhat of a formidable bully to the other night’s watch members. Not only because of his ego of being a “highborn raised bastard,” but because he is actually a better swordsman than they are. (Which he proves.) And also because the other members keep teasing him about how he’s a bastard with no mother. It isn’t until Donal Noye calls Jon out on his bullshit, and Tyrion once again having to reaffirm Jon of his identity by letting him know that his title can be used as an effective armor, that Jon beings to realize his mistakes and then tries to become better. And by his next chapter, Jon is already TEACHING the other night’s watch members how to sword fight effectively. He begins to be much more patient with them, and each time they fall, he helps pick them back up. 

And it’s not like no one else can see his leadership skills. Like if you didn’t think Jon could become a great king because he lacks, why do you think Jeor Mormont chose Jon to be his successor? From the point when Jeor gives Jon Longclaw, he begins to train him under his wing, because he saw potential in Jon. Jon has the skills and the mind to become a leader. A GOOD ruler. And no, don’t tell me Jon is too dumb to become a good king/ruler. Because !BOOK JON is not. Let’s compare this to Sansa. Sansa stans claim that Sansa would be a good ruler because she was trained under Cersei, Littlefinger, Olenna, Margery, and to some extent, Tyrion? But if you notice, all her mentors are DIRTY. While they are smart, they’re cheaters and DISHONORABLE people. And have proven multiple times that they wouldn’t be good rulers. 

Jon on the other hand, has had 3 mentors. Jeor Mormont, Mance Rayder, and Stannis Baratheon. (Technically Jeor is the only mentor. But Jon has served under the wing of both Mance and Stannis.--Especially after he becomes Lord Commander.) Two of Jon’s “mentors” are KINGS. While the other is simply an “ARMY LEADER”. What do all 3 of these leaders have in common? People follow them, not only because they have to, but because they are seen as “worthy to be followed.” All 3 of them not only have effective leadership skills, but they DO NOT have “Shit for Honor.” At least, to some extent. Jeor poses as the leader that knows the REAL THREAT beyond the wall. And that’s what he trains Jon for. Becoming the leader that will become the shield that guides and protects the realm. Mance is King that wants to guide his people to safety because of the THREAT OF THE OTHERS. (White Walkers.) And Stannis the Mannis is the RIGHTFUL KING of Westeros. He is cold and harsh. But he is HONORABLE  and JUST. He is the most effective ruler out of the 3, and part of the reason is because of Jon. To those who say Jon cannot be a good ruler, guess who’s the man who suggested Stannis fight the Ironborn at Deepwood, and in turn, win the support of the Mormonts and the freefolk? When Stannis is fighting battle outside of Winterfell, it’s JON who maintains all the political shit for Stannis back at the wall. You can kinda say Jon was acting “Hand of the King,” while Davos was at White Harbor. And you can be damn sure that he was good at it. It’s not up until the Arya--pink letter plot in ADWD where we see Jon start to lose it a little before ultimately succumbing to love over duty.  

ALL of these traits and effectiveness to rule, came from one man. HIS BIOLOGICAL FATHER, Rhaegar Targaryen. He didn’t get it from Ned, who we we know was a pretty weak Hand for the King. He got it from Rhaegar, the man who conspired to usurp his father from the throne as he was growing madder by the day. (In theory.) From Barristan’s pov, Rhaegar would’ve made a BETTER KING than all the 3 kings he’s served previously. He was DETERMINED, DELIBERATE, AND DUTIFUL. He was also very PROTECTIVE of his people, as claimed by Jamie, who was tasked by Rhaegar to protect Elia and their children. All of that, can be found in Jon. ESPECIALLY in Jon’s chapters in ADWD. 

Rhaegar was a natural born leader. He was loved by the people, and people followed him because the people believed in him. Sound familiar? Jon is also a natural born leader, (with evidence from above), and the fact that he does whatever he can to protect his people too. The Battle at the Wall against Wildlings is an excellent example of how Jon leads his people, and how he protects his brothers. This is what ultimately leads him to become Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch. 

Another trait that Jon took after Rhaegar, was his ability to sword fight. (To all the people who claimed that Jon couldn’t have killed the Night King in s8e3, because he’s not a good swordsman, or wasn’t “stealthy” enough: Fuck you. Lmaoo, jk.) In the books, out of Robb, Jon and Arya, who do you think is actually considered the better swordsman of the 3??? HMMMMMMMM I WONDER WHOOOOO???? While Robb is the better military tactician/commander, and Arya is pretty damn good with a bow, it’s JON who’s the better soldier. In the books, it is known that while Robb was better with a lance, Jon was better with a SWORD. Sooooo that just shat on all fancystans that claimed only Arya was “skilled” enough to kill the NK. LMAOOOO WHY DO YOU THINK THE NK EVEN AVOIDED 1 ON 1 COMBAT WITH JON?? BC Jon was slowing him down? LMAOO K, whatever helps you sleep at night. XDD (I’m still bitter about this one.)

Let’s also talk about Jon’s attitude in comparison with Rhaegar’s. Rhaegar, while being charismatic and passionate, was also very melancholic and very introverted. He was “born with a sense of doom.” Jon while also solemn and introverted, he has a “melancholic temper” to him. (Actually he gets this from both his mother and father. Rhaegar being melancholic, and Lyanna being wolf-blooded.) While Jon does not express his feelings much, when he is overcome with emotion, he acts impulsively. Going back to the “sense of doom,” Rhaegar was melancholic because he was born out of grief in the midst of tragedy. (Summerhall.) Jon, for obvious reasons, because he was a bastard and felt unloved. Who was ALSO born most likely out of GRIEF and in the midst of TRAGEDY. (Robert’s Rebellion.)  Both these two were an enigma by the people around them. Speaking of introverted, both these two broody boys loved to read too. And often used it as an escape from the real world. 

MORE PARALLELS: Both Rhaegar and Jon broke their vows FOR woman. Jon broke them twice. Jon broke his vows to be with Ygritte, but he BROKE THEM AGAIN for Arya. Interestingly enough, Rhaegar, if he really loved Lyanna or not, still BROKE HIS MARRIAGE VOWS for her. And Arya is a younger, direct parallel of Lyanna. So there is some beautiful symmetry going on here. Also, there is this nice little irony I found, that while Rhaegar represents FIRE, he has a melancholy made of ICE. And while Lyanna represent ICE, she has a WOLF-BLOODED TEMPER made of FIRE. Jon is the balance between those two. And one more parallel: From Ned’s POV we learn that Rhaegar did not frequent, or liked going to brothels. If we play this in with Jon, we learn from Jon that he HATES the idea of fathering a bastard. Which is actually a conflict that prevents him from sleeping with Ygritte on multiple occasions. He’s afraid of getting her pregnant, because he’s a bastard, and that would make his would be child a bastard too. 

So yes, while it’s evident that Jon has a lot of Ned in him--more so than ANY of the Stark children--aside from Arya, Jon has SO MUCH MORE of his biological father in him. And yes, it is important that Jon has Ned’s traits. It really puts emphasis on how Jon tries hard to be like his father, and how Ned’s presence and morals still lives even after he’s long dead. But the same should be claimed about Rhaegar too. His presence strongly lives on in Jon. And it shows very deeply, despite nobody knowing anything about it. Actually, you could probably theorize that Ned saw it in Jon too. 

This is why I HATE what the show has done with Jon. Other than saying fuck you to the Azor Ahai story in favor of fanservice, and not properly paying off R+L=J, the show ultimately decided to omit ANY IMPORTANCE Rhaegar had in this fucking wretched story. Let’s also not forget, the only reason why everyone’s storyline was there in first place was because of Rhaegar! Rhaegar Targaryen is arguably the REAL MAIN CHARACTER of ASOIAF and by making his whole storyline/character utterly meaningless, almost ALL the plot lines in GOT have become pathetically pointless and in vain. Jon in the books has both Ned’s traits AND Rhaegar’s traits. Adding MORE EMPHASIS to ICE & FIRE. By having both honor and morals, and the INTELLIGENCE to lead, you can be assured Jon would’ve made a good fucking King. His rule would literally be a direct replica of Aegon the Unlikely. Who was considered one of the BEST KINGS westeros had. But nooooooo the show just had to go out of their way and make Jon a Ned 2.0. Jon Snow was removed of all his intelligence and complexity to become a painfully 1 dimensional HONORABLE IDIOT. Where’s the balance? You know who would’ve been good at ruling the 7 kingdoms? I DON’T KNOOOOW, UHHHHH THE YOUNGEST LEGITIMATE SON OF RHAEGAR WHO NOT ONLY HAS A STRONG SENSE OF LEADERSHIP AND POWER, BUT ALSO THE DAMN MORALS AND HONOR OF THE MOST HONORABLE MAN OF WESTEROS AKA NED STARK??????? WHO HAS ALSO TAKEN NUMEROUS LEADERSHIP ROLES AND MENTORED UNDER SOME OF THE BEST RULERS/LEADERS OF WESTEROS IN HIS GENERATION??? But whooops, I forgot, DEEP/GOOD STORYTELLING IS ONLY FOR 8TH GRADE BOOK REPORTS. 

Jon though, is highly unlikely to become king of 7 kingdoms in the books though. Most probably just King in the North. But to those who say Jon doesn’t want power and all that, naaaaah. Jon’s always wanted to be a Stark. He’s always wanted to inherit something, or have power in some way. When Stannis was willing to legitimize Jon to get the North, Jon was actually contemplating on doing it. But then he saw Ghost and remembered his vows. So he declines. But Jon’s whole importance is actually to protect the realm against whites. And from the end of Dance, we are getting closer to that direction. Jon’s whole parentage while yes, makes him have the most legitimate claim to the throne, holds much more IMPORTANCE for the war against the Others. (Azor Ahai). However because of this whole AA/WW storyline, Jon becoming king, would make it that much more MEANINGFUL. A king that guarded and protected the realm from those who would harm it. A king worthy of ruling the realm. You can be certain that not only would his adoptive father be PROUD, but his biological father would be too. And that’s the ultimate reward that Jon’s ever wanted. 

But Jon’s arc in the show might actually be the same path he might take in the books. It’s a very appropriate ending for Jon to go North of the wall in the end and reject the throne. But holy fuck, the show made it so unrewarding and overall proved to be a terrible ending for Jon. IF GRRM has the same ending for Jon in the books, you can be damn assured that it’s going to be far more superior to his parallel ending in the show, and will be the most rewarding ending for Jon. (Kinda like what happens to Frodo in LOTR.) It will be Jon’s A Dream of Spring after a harsh winter’s night.

( Whether he wants it or not, I’m still hoping for Jon to be King of the 7 Kingdoms though.) This is really long, holy shit. Congrats for making it to the end. xD

[tomakeitbeautifultolive]

Djawadi: That’s open to interpretation, right? Clearly the relationship dilemma with Jon and Daenerys you could relate to Duncan and Jenny. Now that [Jon] knows who he is, and Dany knows who he is, you can draw a comparison to the conflict or the decision to come. ○.○ ○.○ ○.○ OH FUCKING GOD!!!!!!

Anon, I can’t tell whether you are excited or terrified, lol.

I’m going to drone on about this topic some more to try to clarify further, in case this is terror rather than excitement, lol. (Plus frankly, I just love me some Jenny and Duncan).

There are two important takeaways regarding Jenny and Duncan:

“Even when the High Septon, Grand Maester, and small council joined together to insist King Aegon force his son to choose between the Iron Throne and this wild woman of the woods, Duncan would not budge. Rather than give up Jenny, he foreswore his claim to the crown in favor of his brother Jaehaerys, and abdicated as Prince of Dragonstone.”

And that:

“The Prince of Dragonflies loved Jenny of Oldstones so much he cast aside a crown, and Westeros paid the bride price in corpses.”

So, this dark-haried Targaryen heir to the throne chooses love over duty. That already sounds familiar, doesn’t it?

I believe that when Maester Aemon said this to Jon:

“What is honor compared to a woman’s love? What is duty against the feel of a newborn son in your arms … or the memory of a brother’s smile? We are only human, and the gods have fashioned us for love. That is our great glory, and our great tragedy.”

It was foreshadowing.

We already see Jon give up a crown for love! Imagine once he experiences the feel of a newborn in his arms… Our boy Jon was fashioned for love, just like his (real) daddy.

Like Duncan, Jon already stepped down. And Jon and Dany’s actually savvy (full shade) advisors are already discussing why Jon and Daenerys would be a good political match.

Quick aside to say: Fuck off, Varys with your “Nothing lasts” comment. Ever heard of Alysanne and Jaehaerys? Sometimes shit does last.

For some context on why I don’t particularly like or trust Varys:

“Ser Barristan once told me that the rot in King Aerys’s reign began with Varys. The eunuch should never have been pardoned. No more than the Kingslayer.”

I don’t trust him or his intentions. (Also, I forget which of my brilliant pals pointed this out, but, who informed Qyburn about the Wall falling, anyway?)

So, while Duncan offending House Baratheon by breaking his betrothal for love led to a short and bloody rebellion… Jon isn’t betrothed to anyone, nor is Dany. They’re both free and clear to marry if they so choose. Who would rebel, really? The northerners? After Dany saves their asses? I think Jon’s comment that they’ll come to see her for what she is - is true. We’re almost certainly going to see the payoff for that line next episode.

The reason Jenny’s song is a somber song: The Tragedy at Summerhall.

This event was most likely the result of some sort of conspiracy against Aegon and his plan to hatch dragons. According to Barristan Selmy:

“All three of the sons of the fifth Aegon had wed for love, in defiance of their father’s wishes. And because that unlikely monarch had himself followed his heart when he chose his queen, he allowed his sons to have their way, making bitter enemies where he might have had fast friends. Treason and turmoil followed, as night follows day, ending at Summerhall in sorcery, fire, and grief.”

So, it’s sort of implied that someone was taking revenge on House Targaryen for slighting them. Another popular (more interesting) theory is that the maesters had some sort of anti-dragon/anti-magic conspiracy. (Unfortunately that I do not know as much about as I’d like, but that doesn’t matter much for my point.)

Anyway. Those are the tragedies associated with Jenny and Duncan:

A rebellion born of a spurned would-be queen (I don’t see a parallel in current show canon), and a tragedy born of either conspiracy or treason involving wildfire. The best potential for something similar in the show is Cersei going full mad queen and threatening to burn down King’s Landing, but someone putting an end to her the same way they did, Aerys, before it comes to fruition.

But as I’ve previously stated, I think the use of Jenny’s Song has more to do with the fact that it was almost certainly written by Rhaegar and sung to Lyanna.

It is my hope that this is foreshadowing that we learn why it’s important that Jon must be Rhaegar’s son at all - since he believed Jon to be the prince that was promised. Does the casual fan even know, truly, what that means, in any context outside of Melisandre? I doubt it. I’d personally love more clarification, myself.

“That is our great glory, and our great tragedy.”

Virtually the entire history of love in Westeros has been tragic.

It’s time for a change. For spring.

Break that wheel and go paint the door red!