#Visenya (daughter of Rhaenyra) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aprilcolours · 2 months

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blackheart- part four

part one - part two - part three

A/N: warning: there is smut in this chapter!! A lot!! be warned!! s*x ahoy!! p*nsises and whatnot!! I’ve also started doing valyrian translations underneath the line bc there is a lot, and i'm taking liberties w black aly being witchy bc i wanna and its Cool

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The night was young as they set out across the marshes, their horses galloping through mud and muck.

Benjicot led the way on a black mare, their dark hair almost disappearing into the night. Just behind him rode Visenya, on a white-gray stallion. He had laughed when she picked it.

She had changed into her favorite dress: a deep red gown with a scooping neckline, beaded and encrusted in rubies. It was odd to see her finery against the wild landscape.

They rode North to his keep, their purpose known only to them. Vermithor remained behind, so none were the wiser as they secreted away.

Raventree Hall was certainly not the largest castle she had ever seen, nowhere near as imposing as her home on Dragonstone. It had, however, a quiet grandeur, a dignity that spoke to ages long past and kings long dead.

Entering into the central palisade, despite the late hour, servants immediately began rushing about, lighting braziers, making preparations for the liege-lord’s arrival.

“Maester Daris!” Benjicot called up into the hall.

“So the rumors are true,” a woman’s voice rang out. In a doorway stood a tall thin woman with long dark curling waves of hair. She had a strange look about her, a bird-like turn to her features.

The archer, Visenya thought, a witch they say. Black Aly, she is called.

“The rumors of the Riverland’s witches?” Visenya replied, hair loose about her, but face impassive. The woman laughed with a nod, and bowed. Benjicot interceded to introduce,

“My aunt, Alysanne Blackwood. And this is—”

“A princess who needs no introduction from you,” the strange woman interrupted, stepping into the foyer. “Go find the maester then,” she said, touching her nephew’s arm in reassurance. Benjicot glanced once between the women, before stepping up the stairs to wake the maester.

“An honor, your highness,” Aly began, a cautious tilt to her words. “Would I be remiss in congratulating the joining of our houses?”

“You would not, Lady Alysanne,” Visenya responded, her tone polite and unbothered. It was clear the other woman was sizing her up, assessing her, so she did not squirm.

“The ceremony is to be held here? Now?”

“It is,” she replied simply, daring the elder to question her.

“You will honor our ways then I presume,” Black Aly stated, with a jut of her defiant chin. “A dragon’s maidenhead is a mighty sacrifice to the Old Ones, and I’m sure we will want all the divine favor we can manage for the war ahead.”

The Riverlander witch spoke quietly, so their words were only theirs, but Visenya did not mistake the steel in her voice.

My mother will rule these people, whoever their gods. And so she inclined her head in acquiesce.

The ceremony was small, in the yard outdoors beneath the giant dead Weirwood tree: the maester to speak the words, Alysanne to provide a relative’s blessing, and them.

He passed his family cloak over her shoulders, clasping it at her collarbone. The weight was comforting.

When the Riverlanders finished their ritual however, Visenya asked for a cup of wine and a dagger.

She raised the dagger to her lower lip and cut it, as she had seen her mother once do. She took a pull from the goblet of wine and then passed them both to Ben. He wore a slight smile as he mimicked her, slicing his own lower lip and drinking. The Valyrian ceremony was sealed with a kiss.

Black Aly and the Maester wore twin bewildered expressions, but they witnessed the second ceremony all the same. Then they took their leave, walking back up the cobblestone path to the castle proper.

And they were suddenly, blisteringly, alone.

Visenya’s eyes were wide in nerves, and something else stirring low and tumultuous in her gut, pupils blown open. She had always been able to maintain some small shred of composure around the subject of Bloody Benjicot Blackwood, but here and now she was stripped bare of all of it. She knew what came next and it frightened and excited her in equal measure. Here she could not be the princess, the commander, the dragon rider.

Here, in this torchlight, beneath the grasping unknowable branches of the dead Weirwood, she was just a girl.

She bit her lip nervously, and more blood from the slice beaded through. Benjicot lifted a hand to her face, thumb drawing across her full lower lip and smearing the blood across her chin.

“What troubles you, wife?” he asked, voice so low it was barely a mutter. His eyes caught a flicker of the torchlight and flashed like a wild animal’s.

“Your gods are strange,” she breathed, trying like always to gain some control of the situation.

“Aye,” he chuckled. “So are yours.” Benjicot’s eyes softened then, the viscous gleam undercut by something else— something she did not dare name. He moved his hand to the back of her neck and palmed it gently.

“We need not do this here, if you find it displeasing,” he offered, his other hand slipping to her lower back to toy with the laces of her dress.

She considered it: a warm bed or the cool misty ground around her.

And she kissed him.

The cloak fell from her shoulders first. Then the tunic off his chest. Then his fingers tangled in the laces of her dress finally gave way. She may have heard some ripping and though it was her favorite dress, he was suddenly kissing at her neck, and she couldn’t be bothered to care. He licked along her jaw and down to the juncture of the shoulder and bit down, hard. She gasped loudly, breath misting in the night air. He passed over the bite with his tongue to soothe the ache and she shivered.

Finally, the gown slid away, and Visenya stood nude before him. She wanted badly to cover her breasts but she dared not balk. I am a dragon for gods’ sake, she thought, and so she stood straight backed, silver hair loose and tumbling over one shoulder.

He slid his hand down her neck and to her breast, peaked against the cold. He fell to his knees, hands sliding down her frame as he went.

He kneeled for a moment before her, as if he worshiped at her altar. She ran a hand gently through his hair.

Then he kissed at her navel, at her hip, and finally at her core.

He licked into her, and this too, he did like a drowning man. She gasped, and breathed, and gasped again at the foreign sensations, so strong and new, as they rocked her body. While he sucked and tongued at her center, one hand crept up to her breasts again. He pinched one nipple, rolling it in his fingers, and it was all suddenly too much—overwhelming. She called out a gasping warning, hands gripped tight against his head, before her climax rang through her like lightning.

Her spine shot straight, back arched up to the night sky, before she folded to the ground, her head and waist caught in his hands so he could lower her carefully.

Safely laid against the ground, Visenya caught her breath. It seemed as if the world had shifted and she was now trying to find her way back to it. Blinking her eyes clear, she noticed the Blackwood above her, watching. His eyes were unfathomably dark.

She glanced down quickly and noticed the straining bulge against his trousers. All feelings of trepidation gone, only bliss and quiet satiety left in their wake, she reached a hand down to pull at his belt.

“Are you sure my lady,” he breathed, a grin slashing across his flushed cheeks. “More?”

She aimed for her signature raised brow, though she felt so content she doubted she could manage it. He laughed all the same, kneeling back for a moment to undo his belt.

He pulled his trousers down and his manhood sprung loose, arced with a curve that looked nigh painful.

Visenya bit her lip again. Emboldened by the pleasure still quivering through her body, she reached a hand to it and ran a thumb across its beaded tip. It was then his turn to shiver.

They kissed languidly, unhurried, as he situated himself above her, her legs parting naturally to bracket him. They fit together well, slotting into place with a long pull of tongue against tongue. She tasted herself on him.

His manhood teased at her entrance, before slowly inching forward with a rock of his hips. She could hear a whining-moaning noise. Distantly, she was aware it was her. In tiny increments he sheathed himself fully, pushed to the hilt. The feeling was momentarily so intense that neither dared move, foreheads resting together.

She was so full, every pleasured nerve drawn taught in the fullness. It was perfect and also agony. So she whined, kicking her heel at his back for him to move.

He buried a moan into her neck, and obliged.

They rocked together, slow at first but quickly building pace. The electricity began to arc up her spine once more and she clenched her thighs in warning. As she came, the reverberations of her body ripped his climax from him as well, in a stuttering, heaving, sort of groan.

They lay together for a long while, and the blood and seed fed the earth beneath the tree.

They returned to the war camp that night, nearly as the dawn broke, exhausted but happy. He lingered at her tent, hesitant to part. She gave a soft private smile.

“You may stay. If you like,” she offered. He simply nodded his own small smile back, too content to be the biting grin he usually wore.

After too few hours of rest, Visenya and Benjicot rose and dressed for the council. They traded lazy kisses in the golden light of morning.

The morning, like always, brought news.

Caraxes had landed nearby.

Her father stood, posture as familiar and straight backed as her own, at the council table as she approached. His dragon helm was tucked beneath one arm. The other lords eyed him warily, speaking to each other in hushed tones.

Visenya did not falter, striding into place next to him with her chin held high. Benjicot stood behind her a few paces, defensively guarding her rear flank.

“Kepa,” she greeted.

Father.

Daemon flicked his eyes to hers, they were ringed with dark circles.

“Olvie ēza arlinnon ziry vestragon,” he rumbled, voice rasping.

Much has changed it seems.

Something is different in him, she noticed. Her father carried a weariness he had not before his time at Harrenhal. She inclined her head in a gesture of respect.

“Eman won ērinnon rȳ se Qelbria,” she proclaimed.

I have won victories across the Riverlands.

She gestured at the pieces on the board and continued, “Eman gūrogon hāre sombāzmion sīr tolmiot.”

I have taken three castles so far.

He nodded slightly, and she paused to take a slight breath before she continued, “Eman gūrogon iā valzȳrys hae sȳrī.”

I have taken a husband as well.

#teeheeeee #thanks for waiting guys sorry this part took longer i was hella busy #davos blackwood #kieran burton #fancast! benjicot blackwood #benjicot blackwood x oc #benjicot blackwood #house of the dragon #benjicot x reader #bloody ben #targaryen!oc #targaryen!reader #visenya targaryen #visenya! daughter of rhaenyra and daemon

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daeneryseastar · 6 months

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i’m being so serious rn i’m going to need tg to stop glomping onto half of rhaenyra’s kids 🫨

jace would NEVER abandon his family to back aegon’s claim (‘wah wah wah he HATES his mother bc she *made* him a bastard-’ one, jace does not care enough about that to abandon his mother [to whom he is literally the miniature version of] and two, his entire personality is his love for his family. he literally dies trying to save aegon and viserys *after* his mom told him not to go fuck OFF).

rhaena would also *never* abandon her family to back aegon’s claim (apparently she’ll feel sorry about blood & cheese and want to make amends with them. i don’t think so, i think she’d be more upset that her betrothed was ruthlessly slaughtered despite his status as a peace envoy but whatever).

baela is one of rhaenyra’s staunchest supporters (‘the greens reach to usurp our queen’s throne and they must be answer with fire and blood.’ i DO NOT care that it didn’t make it into the show that is canon!baela) and does *not* want driftmark (which only corlys has a say in, and he chose bAsTaRdS over her and rhaena at every single turn don’t even mention it), so stop trying to conflate your hatred of rhaenyra onto her daughter.

aegon iii would never have been happy married to jaehaera and vice versa. these were two heavily traumatized children. jaehaera would have to deal with being married to the son of the man who had her brother executed (not to mention that she already had severe physical and mental health issues that were not being treated and the people around her [aegon ii before he died and alicent after] were actively making her life worse). aegon would have to deal with being married to the daughter of the man who had his dragon burn and eat his mother alive while he watched. which he never ended up letting go of (even with a wife who we know he obviously loved dearly) he wore black for the rest of his life and was stated to be the most solemn king due to what he experienced during the dance. there was no saving them.

leave. them. alone.

#fire and blood #house of the dragon #rhaenyra targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #rhaena of pentos #baela targaryen #aegon iii targaryen #mini rant #pro team black #anti team green #anti team green stans #y’all do not CARE about these kids #you just want to use them as scapegoats to prop up your actual favs #luke joff and both vis’ are usually left alone #bc luke is the reincarnation of all things evil #joff is considered the biggest dumbass #viserys is forgotten about #and visenya is used to make fun of rhaenyra for losing her long awaited daughter #keep my team black kids away from the targtowers 2k24

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chachamaru-sama · 8 months

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I’ve been trying to finish this one for a month. A gift for a very talented, persistent and awe-inspiring @sweetestpopcorn, hope you liked it 😉

Here we have left-to-right Rhaena, Visenya and Baela, the canon we deserved)

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coveredinsun · 2 months

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what i think about sometimes is that it’s lowkey crazy that it took 130 years for an eldest girl vs. younger boy succession conflict to break out into Actual War among the targaryens. i mean, in every single generation after the conqueror’s sons (in which there were no daughters at all) the eldest child of that generation had always been a daughter, but their inheritance was never formally scorned until rhaenys.

firstly, rhaena was aenys i’s eldest child, but she was quickly married off to her brother, not necessarily with the explicit intention to prevent a succession conflict, but prevention was a result; it made for a simple father-son succession with a built in queen consort.

of the next generation, there were 2 daughters elder than jaehaerys’ eldest male child aegon (who died as an infant and actually left a presumed female heir for a few years, daenerys!): aerea and rhaella. rhaella was sent away to be a septa, but aerea was even proclaimed heir! her claim against jaehaerys, like rhaenyra and daemon later, was a matter of king’s daughter vs. king’s brother. however, her inheritance was unofficially spurned, and with less publicity and outcry than rhaenys, because A) her father aegon “the uncrowned” was, as his nickname implies, never officially crowned king; and B) she was proclaimed heir by maegor, which left a bad taste in everyone’s mouth. but jaehaerys was indeed chosen over her because of the male primogeniture that put viserys over rhaenys! and rhaena, her mother, held a valid resentment over that.

and then finally after jaehaerys is crowned king and has ruled for a little while, he actually has an eldest female heir, daenaerys, for ~6 years—and her mother alyssanne specifically contended for her right to be heir! but then she dies, and jaehaerys gets an uncontroversial male heir, AND a uncontroversial male backup. but then both of those male heirs die, and like 4 of their daughters die/run away/are sent away in rapid succession (alyssa, daella, viserra, saera, maegelle) and suddenly there are TWO possible options for jaehaerys’ children, so he turns to his children’s children, and we all know how it goes.

TLDR: the dance of the dragons was not the first succession conflict based on gender. it is simply the only one that did not have a clean “wrap up” (sorry for such an insensitive turn of phrase), and thus turned into a war. targaryen women have been spurned since day 1, but it was never officially ordained until rhaenys, and never viciously fought over until rhaenyra.

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