#challenge:redux

[black-queen-rising]

The Fruits of My Labour

(Hard Launch Challenge for @asongofgoldenfireandblackblood)

You can get used to anything if you bear it long enough. How long had Rhaenyra been exhausted, grieving, waiting? King Viserys died three days ago, the Kingdom knew he was dying for three moons, the Keep had been expecting his death for three years, in a way Rhaenyra was waiting for him to die for three decades. She had expected, anticipated, in the back of her mind even hoped that the King's death would be like a storm breaking. That after spending so long feeling so used to it all, this would give her some sort of relief, and permission to finally feel something new.

She had cried, that is to say, tears had fallen from her eyes a handful of times over the past couple days. But whether they had done so by sincere emotion, well-practiced performance, or simple expectation even Rhaenyra herself could not say. There was just as much waiting as before the King died, that was to be expected, it went hand in hand with the grief after all. Fealty was pledged, her new Queensguard sworn in, and in fact, all political matters that could be handled in advance were settled by the end of the first full day with Viserys gone from this world. Daemon would remain the Master of War and Lord Corlys would grant Lord Beesbury his hard earned retirement as Master of Coin; the pair would serve as a sort of co-interim Hand until a suitable appointment could be made after her coronation. Lord Dalton would replace Ser Tyland as Master of Ships, Lady Mysaria doing the same for Larys Strong as Master of Whispers, she did not trust either of the formers as far as she could throw them, nor did she feel any different about the Master of Laws, Jasper Wylde, but a satisfactory replacement had not been found for him yet. Ser Steffon Darklyn would serve as her Lord Commander, Gerardys as the Council’s new Archmaester, and with that all Rhaenyra could do had been done.

Under the guise of grief she slept for fourteen hours straight, under the pretense of mourning she had her first afternoon free of audiences in weeks, under the covers she slept with Daemon four times; no one cared, no one noticed, and no one commented. She was delighted by all of it, she was numb to everything, she dared to start hoping for a baby again, she dared to hope she would start feeling anything again. There was a funeral to prepare for, they’d been preparing for moons, there was nothing left to prepare, she didn’t have to prepare until the night before.

“Calla and Willow will make sure Viserys and Visenya are all set, Jace is already on Aeg, and I’ve got the little ones. They there anything else you need, Muna?”

“No, thank you, Rhaena love, you’ve outdone yourself as always. Your gown and the black pearl tiara are all taken care of for tomorrow?”

“Yes, since last week, actually.”

“Good girl,” Rhaenyra finally looked up with a small smile, observing her step daughter through her vanity mirror before she left to her own chambers and the nightly routine they’d both inherited from Laena. “Your braids look lovely, Princess Rhaenys has my compliments as always, and you look wonderful.”

Rhaena’s eyes shined as she returned the compliment, “You look even more beautiful as the Queen.”

Rhaena kissed her cheek goodnight but before she could fully leave Rhaenyra called, “Issy Jorraeliarza?”

“Muna?”

“The night it happened…you were the one who helped Aemond weren’t you?”

It referred to so many events now there was no better way to phrase things, even the ones seemingly simple no less easy to talk about, Rhaena just nodded. “Yes, I was. It was a nice distraction, really, still haven’t the faintest what got to him.”

“Hm” She laughed softly, it didn’t feel quite right though, only a physical reaction…laughing was supposed to feel like joy. “It’s usually best that way. He seems sweet on you.”

“You see it too?”

“I just said what I think, I’m asking you.”

“Do you…did you, with Kepa, did you ever think if you just had enough care, enough time, enough love that it could…well, fix him? Or did it just sort of…happen.”

“Oh sweet girl, I’m afraid I can’t claim to have done that at all. It was your mother, her patience and her grace, that’s where the credit has always belonged. I’ve reaped the fruits of her labor, I’m forever grateful for it…” Her voice got much quieter then, as she added, “But you know the only reason I wouldn’t trade it all back to have her is that she’d never let me.”

Rhaena nodded once more, knowingly this time, this was hardly a new conversation, and the question that followed was no less familiar. “What do you think she’d say…about him?”

“Never let him push you around, hit him back if it comes to that,” The smile on her lips almost felt like something, almost. “And however love struck he makes you feel? Love him twice as hard.”

It’s quiet then, Rhaenyra thought she’d gone to bed but she calls one last time.

“Never forget, now we get to see yours, and she’d the proudest of any of us for you.”

“My what, darling?”

“The fruits of your labor, the kingdom, and all of us, but I’m—I’m a Princess now and you’re the Queen, you did that.”

Rhaenyra didn’t have the heart to tell her stepdaughter all she wanted was for it to feel like a triumph, but it didn’t feel like anything at all. She hugged her, then went to check over Jace’s clothes, fixed Daemon’s hair exactly the way she’d always found so charming, and by sunrise the bells were ringing right on cue.

She spent the morning allowing her ladies to fawn over her, numb to it, wishing she could at least be upset she felt nothing towards something she’d always enjoyed so much. When Roslin brought up the girls they were in their youth and Cissy assured that even Queen Aemma would be glowing with pride, she teared up, and they cooed and comforted over her grief, but Rhaenyra still didn’t have the strength to admit the tears only came because of her lack of grief. Had her father truly taken so much from her?

The black, elaborately decorated, ostentatiously caped gown shined bright purple and dark red in the light, her curls, neck, and hands dripped with dazzling rubies, amethysts, and onyx. With dark red lips, her icy purple eyes, appearing as perhaps the only unveiled female figure, wearing, arguably even flaunting, The Conciliator’s crown, and Daemon’s equally, perfectly dressed arm around her waist, she looked like a goddess. The gorgeous husband and pristine, glamorous children clustered around her only emphasized the image, The Mother and Father, and all their little children, Syrax and Caraxes, carrying on the legacy of Vhagar, Balerion, and all of Old Valyria with their twelve deified offspring, the ultimate jewels in her crown, a perfect family. “Even the Good King and Queen didn’t have all ten together like that…she must be doing something right.”

As they were about to exit the Red Keep’s grand doors Daemon whispered to her, “Don’t forget, you’ve been working all your life for this, you earned this, try to enjoy the bits you can,” and then, his voice concealed by the sound of the doors opening, “Gods you’re fucking breathtaking.”

This was it, Rhaenyra had been waiting three days, three moons, three decades, done her duty, made her sacrifices, found her freedom, the fruits of her labor, her first public appearance as The Queen.

It all felt nice.

It all felt comfortable.

It all felt numb.

Rhaenyra was already used to not feeling.

[alicenthightowerrp]

Times do change

Challenge: A breakdown/analysis of your characters favourite hobby.

'A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies.'

107 AC

The soft weight of her first born settled in Alicent's arm with less fuss than she expected. Thankfully, that sweet sun of hers was now sleeping with his small hand tightly grabbing her dress. The sight alone brought a sweet smile on Alicent's face. Her chambers were now empty, which was what she preferred especially not having the company of her King which seemed to put both mother and son at ease. "This is my favourite book, sweet boy. Your grandmother used to read to me." Alicent whispered to the sleeping babe; her words falling from her lips without care. Gently, her fingers brushed the thin lock of white hair; so unlike her own it nearly caused her to flinch away.

"It has a happy ending as well, my love." Alicent hummed as she gently moved the book closer and began to read. Her soft voice moved through the chamber as she read, The flower of Oldtown.

~

109 AC

"Shh, my sweet love...there you go." Alicent brought her daughter impossibly close but it seemed the babe wanted the opposite as Helaena only sobbed some more. It was as if her daughter knew she was the worst mother in existence. Gently, the Queen placed her only daughter on the soft cushions she had laid out for the sweet babe who moved too much. "Is that better, hmm?" Alicent stayed close as Helaena did not settle. Helaena only cried; tears falling down her cheeks that had Alicent's heart breaking. Gods, she did not know what to do. "Mama!" Her sweet love hiccuped and her hands banged on the book in front of them.

Alicent had forgotten she was going to read to her child and her eyes could only widen as Helaena ripped the first page of the story. The act only had her daughter sobbing more as the Queen scooped her up; the book forgotten about.

~

110 AC

"My Queen...you need to rest." The familiar voice of the servant came over her. Still, Alicent's eyes never left the small, sickly babe resting in his cradle. "I am fine." Gently, she reached for her son and stroked his cheek. They were not as chubby as Aegon and Helaena's had been and the sight alone broke her heart. She had prayed every day since Aemond had been born for his strength to return to him. Still, nothing had changed. Her free hand clutched at the stuffed dragon Aegon had picked out seemingly so long ago now. "I love you." Alicent whispered down to her sleeping son as if that would heal him.

The flower of Oldtown stayed under the cradle; dust gathering on the book as the Queen stood and watched over her darling boy as she clutched the seven pointed star necklace.

~

114 AC

The birth of the twins took more out of Alicent than she would ever admit to, especially with her husband's failing health and the duties of Queen only becoming harder. The mothering that never came easy to her only took a back seat as the nurse maids looked after the two of them. "Mama!...mama, look!" The soft calls of her youngest daughter held her attention for a moment as she turned her head. "My love?" Alicent asked as she noticed the larger book trailing behind her child and looked at it without acknowledging the title. "Read this..." Rhaenya babbled as the Queen slowly began to reach for the book but the act was disturbed by a servant rushing into the room.

"The council is in need of you, my Queen." Alicent only nodded; her hands dropping to the side. The book and her child forgotten about even as she smiled down at her daughter. "Another time, my love. I promise." It was only one of many promises Alicent would break.

Life is like a flower, it can die and wilt any time, but with a little care, it will bloom for what seems like forever.

[theladymysaria]

Character Challenge for @asongofgoldenfireandblackblood

Challenge: Write a drabble about the most important relationship in your muses life.

🤍☁️

—————————————————————-

“No!” Mysaria screamed into the night, running away from her elder sister. The moon lit their way as the two sisters ran about the city of Lys.

“I found it first, Sereina! So that means I can wear it!” The young girl looked back at her sister, Sereina, stopping at a large fountain. The water continued to run and splash as Mysaria took a seat on the edge. She knew her sister hated the water, and her sister knew Mysaria wouldn’t hesitate to pull her in if she got closer. This battle was over, and Mysaria had won, so she smirked.

This chase had all started not long ago, when the young Mysaria had found her mothers pearl necklace sitting on her bed. Her mother had gifted it to Sereina earlier, she knew, but she still wanted to wear it. I never get to wear the lavish things, she thought to herself. I deserve this.

It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence that the two were fighting, thought it never lasted long, the sisters were always starting an argument with one another. Those arguments had usually resulted in chasing, hair pulling, screaming, and then an eventual apology (or something of the sort). It also wasn’t uncommon that they were venturing the city by themselves. They were well familiar with Lys and never had been lost, even at their young ages. Sereina was only four and ten, and Mysaria herself recently turned ten.

Sereina stopped a bit aways from the fountain and sighed. She looked Mysaria in the eyes, the older girls own eyes were angry, yet sad and tired, all at the same time. Mysaria would never forget that look. “That is my only necklace, please, don’t lose it…or I’ll kill you!” Sereina gave her a mad look to prove she was serious, then started to walk in the opposite direction.

Mysaria suddenly felt guilty, but not so guilty that she would give it back. She had a compromise on her mind. “Wait!” She yelled out to her sister. “I want to walk home with you! I promise I’ll give it back… but I want to sleep in it tonight! I’ll look beautiful in my dreams!” She held the string of pearls around her neck as she jumped down from the fountain. She joined her sister in her walk home.

Sereina looked down at her, with those same eyes. The eyes that would constantly haunt Mysaria’s dreams in the future. The eyes she would never forget. “Mother worked had to get us that,” she moved to hold Mysaria’s hand, still keeping the eye contact, “we must keep it safe, and in perfect condition!”

Mysaria squeezed her older sisters hand. “Of course! I’m careful with everything. I’ve never broke anything, but you do all the time! You’re so clumsy!” She laughed, expecting her sister to laugh with her. But when she didn’t, Mysaria didn’t care. So what if she was still mad at her? She had won the pearls, and she was going to give them back anyway. What more did her sister want? She rolled her eyes.

Sereina looked away, now looking up at the night sky. There were many stars this night. “I don’t mean to be.” She said, in almost a whisper. Mysaria ignored the comment and copied her, looking upwards. The sisters were silent the rest of the walk home, holding hands, and looking at the vast amount of stars.

[crimson-kraken]

Dalton was hiding in his mother's chambers. Along with his siblings and his new salt wife. The screams echoed in the castle's walls. « He's killing her. »

—Her name is Mara... —Dalton whisper to himself, soon everyone will act as she never existed. Mara was taken from somewhere in the North. Forced to be his father's eighth salt wife and soon she would become his father's eighth dead salt wife.

A knock in the door alarmed everyone, until his uncle's familiar voice could be heard from the other side and his mother let him through. In his hands were clothes for the six of them, all tiny, smelly, worn and old.

—Get changed. Fast!

They changed their garments in silence, Dalton could see the bruised skin in his brother's arms. A gift from their father. Dalton learned to not say a word about it. His new salt wive, Tess, was in the farthest corner of the room; but even in the distance, Dalton noticed the fear —and anger— in her eyes. Tess hated his uncle Vickon. He stole her from Oldtown, a gift for Dalton's fourteenth nameday. Some nights she tried to kill him, she never did. For some reason, Dalton now wakes up yearning for Tess to put a knife in his throat and started to get mad when she didn't. He never said his hopes aloud. After a year forced to share chambers, Dalton grew used to her presence. They even had an arrangement for sleeping: Dalton on the floor while Tess slept in the bed.

Another scream. His sister, Esgred, started to cry and his mother got annoyed. « Silence! If he heards you he'll be furious! » His brother Veron gave Esgred a doll, she hugged it like her life depended on it. Maybe it did. Sometimes their father didn't even bother to notice which one of his children he was hurting, and even with that Dalton noticed his sisters were beated more often. He had the luck of being ignored instead of harmed... most of the time.

The next scream was weaker than the last, a signal Mara was dying, no one would go save her. Dalton felt like he couldn't breathe. After one of them died, his father would ask for him. He'll lecture him about the fragility and worthlessness of women, he'll encourage Dalton to hurt his own wife « He'll hit me if I don't do it, again. »

Dalton was scared. « Ironborn do not frightened. » He panicked, his father would eventually come looking for him. And Dalton couldn't hide anymore, he was almost a man grown. He stared at his siblings, each one of them more scared than the other. « I should be the example. » Dalton tried to put a strong and calmed face. He crossed the room and hold Tess' hand, her discomfort was obvious, but Dalton ignored it. He was trying to look in control.

The screams became whimpers. « He'll come for me next. » His mother finally finish to dress his sister Gysella, she was five years old next week. She left his sister in his uncle's arms.

—Leave. Before its too late.

Their uncle Vickon guieded from the sea tower, crossing the three bridges into a secret port to the shores of Lordsport; a small boat was waiting for them. They escaped covered by darkness. The cold breeze blowing. Hiding beneath a blanket, while their uncle sculled. They arrived at the "Raven", his uncle's ship, at midnight.

—Where are we going? —Veron asked.

—Wherever the drowned god guides us —His uncle answer. They set sail and didn't come back to the Iron Islands until his father was dead.

[aemond-one-eyed]

The Gods Love You, But Not Enough To Save You

(A part of the #challenge:redux for @asongofgoldenfireandblackblood)

Aemond was preparing to attend the garden party that was being thrown, he believes that Rhaena had planned it. It was one of the many events being thrown before his father passed as a way for everyone to speak with their future Queen, and try to weasel their way into her good graces exactly as he had tried to do the other evening. He would have to try to behave himself, to rein in the temper that he let rule his life. He wanted that so badly, wanted to prove that he could be worthy of a position on the small council, no matter which it would be. This afternoon however, he had a particularly horrible headache and was a couple poppy vials deeper than he usually would be at this time. It only manages to take the edge off today's pain, was there supposed to be rain soon? That was usually a large contributor to his more severe headaches. He dressed in one of his finer tunics for the party, black with red accents of course. He fixes Blackfyre to his hip and strides out to the gardens.

It would seem his cousin knew how to put together quite a nice gathering, he was impressed. There was a band playing music and an array of snacks and sweets laid out for everyone to grab while servants circulated with cups of wine. He swears that everyone who had arrived in King's Landing was attending this party. He decided he would try to find Rhaenyra, best to show her he could piece himself together and entertain if needed. When he finds her she is fussing with Lucerys' hair, he's trying to swat her away but she has a loving smile on her face as she still manages to fix the stray strand. The sight makes him want to puke and run a sword through his own gut at the same time. The boy was nearly grown and his mother still showed this much care to him? She was willing to love him so openly and it made him see green. What had Luke ever done to deserve such affection? He had taken Aemond's eye, walked away unscathed, and yet his mother still showered attention on him any chance she had. He grabs a cup of wine and downs one, then a second.

He didn't actually hate Luke, he never had; but it was so much easier to blame the boy who maimed him for the ugliness that had taken root inside him than realize it's origins lied in the neglect of his childhood. His mother had done the best she knew how to do, he knew that deep down but it didn't make it hurt any less. That she had already had Aegon, then Helaena and had chosen to have him anyway despite not being able to give the love he should have gotten. He knew there was Moon Tea to prevent pregnancies, if his mother couldn't spare him the love why didn't she do them both a favor and drink it when she had the chance. Meanwhile Rhaenyra had an entire litter of children and showered them all with love, and always expressed interest in the hobbies of her children despite practically running the kingdom for years.

When Luke had stabbed him in the fuss they all had, he truly wasn't that angry over losing his eye. He had claimed Vhagar, and it was a fight amongst children, things happened. What had twisted his soul and started the jealousy he claimed was hatred was watching how his sister had soothed Luke in the aftermath of the event. How she had fiercely defended her son when his own mother halfheartedly tried to have Luke's own eye taken in return. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair and Aemond's treatment of Luke the past few years hadn't been fair either but he couldn't help it. He couldn't help it then, and he couldn't help it now when he unsheathes Blackfyre and holds it towards Lucerys' face.

"I believe it's been enough years, I believe that Lucerys' Velaryon owes me his eye," he slurs out, the wine catching up to the poppy in his system quite quickly. He knows he's fucked up almost as soon as the words leave his mouth but this has dogged him for over a decade. Not a day went by where he didn't envy Lucerys Velaryon for having the life he so wished he himself had.

[lady-vypren]

Sabitha's life was heavily influenced by her mother. Ever since she could remember, Lady Lythene was meticulous and strict during her daughters' education but she also made sure to amplify their talents.

Their mother arranged for her sister's high harp and musical education. And for Sabitha's love for writing and poetry to be perfected.

Her mother didn't approve of Sabitha's increasing talent for kissing maids and for a full year she debated to send her to become a septa. Until Sabitha replied « Living surrounded by women sounds like paradise. » And she arranged a marriage for her instead.

Even in the distance, Sabitha kept in touch with her Lady mother. They would send letters to each other almost daily. There's only one person Sabitha trusts to read her poetry: and it's her mother.