#aemon the dragon knight imagine

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

"Flesh and Blood"

Part 6 - The hunt (part 2)

Pairing: Prince Aemon the Dragonknight x Fem. Reader (Northerner /House Stark | Third Person POV)

Themes: Smut (subtle) | Soft

Warnings: Kissing | Alcohol use | Mentions of sexual activity | Mentions of weapons use (spears and knives) | Animal death

Word count: 2.7 K words

Summary: The hunt continues, this time with a sighting that was never expected.

Rating: 🔥| Minors DNI | 🔞 | You are responsible for the media you consume

A/n: The white stag scene was inspired by the white stag scene in House of the Dragon season 1, episode 3. Part 7 will be the last one. I will be writing Daena’s anointing as queen into this as well.  

Painting: The hunt in the forest by Paolo Uccello

The full masterlist can be found here.

Y/n awoke at dawn. Pale golden rays spilled in through the flap of the tent, gilding everything within.

The campsite was already full of noise and life. Horses whinnied, the hounds barked, and squires ran to and fro, fetching water, bows and arrows, even food and wine, for their lords. In the distance, she heard Lyanna shouting while she chased after Marna. The youngest of the Cerwyn brood had taken something she should not have, possibly a comb or a ribbon, or even her sister’s whale bone dagger. Lady Cerwyn was up as well, laughing heartily. Y/n smiled, and turned to her side.

Aemon was still beside her, lost in slumber. The night before, after they had their fill of the river, he brought her back to their tent and insisted on drying her himself, dressing her himself, and even warming her himself. Y/n blushed and raised a hand to her lips. They were still puffy and bruised. Aemon had kissed her in a way he had never done before. She could almost taste his desperation, his yearning. His eyes darkened and flashed with hunger. It sent shivers through her body. Y/n dithered and wondered what to do next. Aemon put a stop to her worrying when he finally slipped his arms around her and carried her to the pelts that passed for a featherbed.

There was no heated passion in his embraces. Oh, the sparks were there; y/n could feel them, but it would take time for them to burn like searing flames. Still, she did not mind. She gorged herself on his attention, his deep, fervent kisses, and his half-whispered endearments. Aemon had been tender, and willing to free himself from the shackles that had stymied his affections. He listened to her, touched her how she liked, and kissed her how she liked. He took her to heights she had never been before, and when she finally fell from her rapturous high, he was there to catch her and bring her safely back to the earth. Y/n went to sleep in his arms, with a deep, satisfied smile on her face.

A hand curled over her belly. “Good morrow, wife.”

“Good morrow, husband."

“Must we hunt?”

Y/n laughed. Aemon was uncharacteristically lazy this morning. He burrowed deeper into the pelts, reluctant to move or even open his eyes.

“We must. The queen expects it,” she replied, and threw back the furs. The rush of cold air over their skin was a shock to them both. Aemon muttered under his breath and made her laugh again. He opened his eyes this time and looked at her sheepishly.

“Last night,” he began. “The things we did… the things I did…”

Y/n felt the cold stab of fear. Was Aemon regretting the night before? Was he going to say last night was a mistake, that he did not want to yield to lust’s heady embrace? Was he going to ask they go back to how they were before?

“I hope it is not going to be the last of it,” he continued. “I do not wish to stop.”

Relief brought tears to her eyes. Aemond saw it. He sat up, alarmed. “What troubles you?”

“I,” y/n stops, hesitates. “I thought you had changed your mind, and that you wanted things to go back to the way they were.”

Suddenly, she found herself in Aemon’s embrace. It was warm and comforting. “I have not changed my mind,” he murmurs, holding her gently. “I want to make a success of this marriage and prove myself worthy of you. Perhaps, I can show you how much I want to make myself worthy of you right now.”

He had her on her back and beneath him before her next breath. Y/n sighed when the full weight of his body bore down on her own. She slipped her arms around his back, pressing him closer. Aemon trembled and groaned softly. Then he kissed her.

By the time they joined the others for the first meal, they were still flush from exhilaration. Nothing was said in jest. Perhaps the others did not notice. Lady Cerwyn, however, gave her niece a knowing but indulgent look. When y/n took her place beside her, she leaned in and whispered, “I suppose someone made the most of the opportunity to ride the dragon?”

Y/n blushed and turned to her aunt, her cheeks ablaze. She opened her mouth once, then twice, unable to say a word because her tongue refused to heed her. Emma simply smiled and served a full plate of food for her niece.

“Do not be ashamed, little wolf. You are a woman wed.” Emma called for more water. “And he is a good man, I think, despite his flaws.”

“A far greater man than his brother, that is for sure,” y/n replied, and they turned as one to watch Aegon. Already, the prince was deep in his cups and bleary-eyed. Y/n shivered. “To think he would be king if Baelor does not produce an heir.”

Aegon pulled a giggling serving girl onto his lap. Her squeals rattled around the camp. Emma regarded the scene unfolding before them all with distaste.

“Ludicrous notion, if you ask me,” she replied in the Old Tongue, “this Southron business of passing the crown onto the sons and never the daughters. But enough of that. Tell me, little wolf, what happened between you and your lord husband.”

Y/n flushed again, but agreed to answer her aunt’s questions.

An hour later, they were all standing by their horses, ready to ride off and hunt. Emma had a final word for both her own children and her niece.

“At the manse,” she began, “we may fight, get underfoot, and call one another all sorts of colorful names, but out there...” Emma stopped, and grabbed her youngest son by the shoulder. He was already starting a scuffle with his sister, Marna. “Dormeric, are you listening?”

Dormeric nods vigorously. “Yes, mother.”

Emma ruffled her son’s hair. He grumbled and tried in vain to escape his mother’s affectionate clutches. “Good. Out there, in those woods, we watch each other’s backs. Is that understood?”

They all declared their acceptance in unison. Emma then sent them off with a kiss on each of their cheeks. Aemon joined y/n and Uther, and the others. Uther then took his brothers and sisters down another path, leaving husband and wife alone.

“Do all the women in the north hunt?” Aemon asked.

“Many, if they wish to do so.” Y/n took in the clear blue skies and the birds that sang in the trees. She wanted to enjoy the fine weather as much as she could before they had to leave for the north. “Deer mostly.”

“Not the boar?”

“Too big. They make the boar in these parts look like common pigs.”

Aemon barked out a laugh. “Ice dragons and giants, mammoths and direwolves and boars so large they make those south of the Neck look small in comparison. I tell you, wife, the North appears to be a dangerous place to live.”

“Dangerous, yes, and beautiful all the same.” Y/n reined her horse to a stop. There was something strange hanging in the air, something she could not quite describe. She closed her eyes and listened. The forest had gone silent.  

Aemon must have felt it as well. He unsheathed Dark Sister and urged his own horse to step forward. There was a rustle in the brush. Something large was stirring.

“Stay behind me,” he warned. “It may be a boar.”

It was not a boar, but something entirely else. The beast grunted as it stepped into the light, its tines as large as finely forged daggers, their points just as sharp. Its hide was as white as snow, and its eyes flashed like crimson lightning. The stag stood where it was, as curious about them as they were about him.

Aemon turned to face his wife. “Do you wish to slay it?”

Y/n shook her head. “No. She who hunts claims the White Hart as her own. I will be damning myself if I kill it. Let him go, husband.”

Aemon acquiesced and sheathed his sword. The forest grew alive with the sounds of dogs baying. The White Hart grunted at them before turning around and running back into the trees.

“I will not tell the others,” he promised. “If Aegon gets it into his head to go after the Hart, the others will follow.”

“Thank you.” Y/n dug her heels into the sides of her horse, and they rode again, this time in companionable silence. More than once, Aemon brought his horse as close to hers as he could manage. Sometimes, he would steal a glance. Other times, he would take her hand into his, squeezing it gently. Then there were other times when Aemon wished to hear her speak and asked her for tales of the North. She told him of Long Fang, the man-eating wolves of the Shadow Pass, and all the tales her grandfather told about his times spent with the Watch.

“No one sees honor and glory in taking the black now,” y/n said. “The Lord Commander once said he is fortunate if he can now find even one knight or lordling in two hundred.”

“It is a pity, really, what has become of the Watch,” Aemon lamented. “My own father and uncle tried to find those who wished to serve, but all they could offer were the finest of Flea Bottom and the Red Keep’s dungeons instead.”

Y/n smiled and took his hand. “Grandfather understands.”

Their horses crested a high ridge when they stopped again. Beneath them, the others had surrounded a boar. The hounds harried it and kept it cornered in front of a tree. Two more lay dead beside it. Y/n recognized the white and black spear Uther favored sticking out of the corpse of one of them. She looked beyond the tree. Several hounds were also dead. She sighed, but accepted the loss. Such sights were a part of life.

“Do you wish to join the others?” Aemon inquired of her.

“Yes,” Y/n replied, and they rode off again, this time to join the throng gathered around the tree.

The boar was already on the ground, struggling for life, when they reached the others. Uther was occupied skinning and butchering his kill. Lyanna and Ned were helping him.

“We are going to feast tonight,” he boasted. “And I am going to keep these for myself.”

“Uther,” Lyanna said, “you do know crushed boar’s tusks are not going to bless you with more virility, yes?”

Ned hooted and made excuses to go back to Dormeric and Marna, saying little children should never be left to their own devices. He was laughing the entire time.

“How do you know this?” Uther dropped everything—the tusk, the knife, a bloodied cloth—and rose in a black fury. “Answer me, Lyanna. How do you know this?”

“Women talk, cousin,” y/n said on behalf of Lyanna. “And your sister has been hearing enough talk since the day she turned ten and three.”

Lyanna stuck out her tongue at her brother. “Wait till I tell mother of this,” he retorted haughtily.

“Wait till I tell mother of this,” Lyanna mocked her brother. “And what do you think she will do, brother mine? Lock me in a tower with no hope for escape? Oh!” She clapped a hand to her heart. “The horror of it all! Confined to a cold, miserable tower all because I questioned Uther and his manho…”

She ran away when Uther growled and chased after her. Y/n turned to her husband to apologize for her kin’s behavior. Her words were unnecessary. Aemon had been struggling in vain to hide his laughter.

“Life with your kin is never going to be a dull affair,” he managed. “Is it?”

Y/n studied him. There was no mockery in his eyes, only good humor. She threw her head back and laughed.

“It never is,” she agreed. “And you best make peace with it, husband. This is your life now.”

It was near dusk by the time they returned to the camp. Kitchen boys were already turning the slaughtered boar on wooden spits, basting them in honey and cider until the meat cracked and spit. Y/n gave the hare she had caught along the way to a servant, asking that it be added with everything else. Aemon led her to their places, and they waited for the feast to begin.

Much like the night before, food and drink flowed freely for anyone who desired them. The last of the iced wine was brought out and served alongside a decadent swan pie. All who could, raised their glasses and cheered when Daena lifted a sword presented to her by Lord Commander Harding and brought it down on the pastry to cut the first slice.

“To a new age!” She declared it to one and all.

More applause followed. Then the feasting truly began. A minstrel strummed a gilded harp and sang of the Long Night and the Age of Heroes, of the arrival of the Andals and the Seven, of the Ironborn and their quest to tame the seas, of the Freehold and its doom. His songs were of such beauty that by the time he had finished, more than one reveler had tears in their eyes. The minstrel took his leave with a bow and a flourish and a velvet bag heavy with coin.

He will not want for his supper, y/n thought. The other nobles will have him sing at their feasts soon enough.  

Servants walked amidst the trestle tables, bearing trays laden with steaming racks of boar. Aemon cut y/n a queen’s portion and fed her the first bite. She closed her eyes and sighed. The meat nearly melted in her mouth. Aemon offered her more. She accepted, and soon she found herself being fed from his own plate. It made y/n feel more than a little cherished. 

More food and drink were served. This time it was quail and new potatoes roasted in lemon and herbs. The seven realms have all enjoyed blessed harvests this year, and it showed.

“Any news of your grandfather?”

Y/n looked at Aemon. “Yes,” she replied, even as her throat tightened. In her previous letter, her lady mother had written of her grandfather's command. "He is well, and he... He insists I stay here a little longer, and show Serena the city. He wants her to see King’s Landing at least once in her lifetime.”

Aemon reached out and took her hand into his. “As soon as your sister has had her fill of the city, we will leave.”

“My aunt said they would stay as well,” y/n supplied. “Then we can all travel together.”

The night drifted peacefully and without incident. When minstrels picked up their instruments, Aemon invited y/n to dance with him.

They had not danced since their wedding, and Aemond proved to be as skilled with dancing as he was with the sword. He led y/n as they all danced in rounds in a little clearing besides the tables, with the stars and brilliant lamps to light the way. When a change in music spun them apart, y/n then danced a turn with Uther, then her good father, and then with Lord Commander Hardyng. Aegon was nowhere to be found, much to her delight. Lord Commander Hardyng finally said the prince had indulged too much and took to his bed. Y/n was gratified. She had no desire to dance even a single turn with her good-brother. The prospect alone was enough to make her ill. Then the music changed again, and she found herself in Aemon’s arms once more.

“Would you care to swim with me like last night?” He whispered in her ear.

Y/n blushed and looked around. No one heard, and her husband’s notion appealed to her greatly. “When the others have taken to their beds?”

Aemon pressed her closer. “Done. And perhaps, sweet wife, we can indulge more in what came after as well?”

A flush crept up y/n’s throat. She looked up at her husband, at the wicked glint in his eyes. It made her head reel more than a little, and left her lightheaded.

He has changed so much, she thought. And it would be glorious to indulge in more of what happened the night before.

“Yes,” she replied, then melted against him when he pressed his lips to her cheek. “I desire that as well.”

[writingsofwesteros]

I had a thought 👀 imagine if one of those times Laenor and Rhaenyra tried together did actually bear fruit, and she had one trueborn Velaryon daughter with him, her eldest, her heir, born a year before Jace. Princess Rhaelys Velaryon. Laenor named her for his parents. She still has dark hair, though with silver streaks mixed in, her dark hair actually coming from his mother's half Baratheon blood lolol, so it's not as bad on her brothers dealing with the bastard accusations when they aren't silver haired😆

Laenor and Rhaenyra with another man being bi lavender poly is a golden gift from this page lately, honestly. I think I need that too, oopsie, so he doesn't die here. Though maybe someone other than Criston this time... Ali can have him... 🤔...... I think Gwayne Hightower would be a good shared knight for Rhaenyra x Laenor here 👀 and the father to a red-haired Jace, Luke and Joff...

What if she was bold and defiant, taking too much after her mother and grandparents.. she claimed the dragon Vermithor "the Bronze Fury" as a girl... barely older than her aunt Laena was when she had claimed Vhagar in the past... the same age Aemond was when he claimed Vhagar on Driftmark... her claiming Vermithor just months before...

Even when her parents+Gwayne move their family unit to Dragonstone, she insists on staying in the capital for a while longer. Being cupbearer to her grandfather and then maid and tending to him when his health declines... what if Aemond is obsessed with his trueborn niece, especially after the Driftmark incident.. she was the only one who went to check on both her uncle and her brother after their fight, and returned with them to King's Landing as her grandfathers ward still... and while she returns his affections, she knows nothing will come of it with all the bad blood between him and her brothers and their parents... when their relationship is discovered and it is in fact denied vehemently by both of their mothers, even though he took her maidenhood, it comes to a swift end, with her not fighting to stay with him.. and returning to her parents on Dragonstone, Laenor having come to get his daughter to bring her home...

Aemond is none the wiser to her baring his bastard son some months after returning home, Rhaenyra going to great lengths ensuring news of it doesn't leave Dragonstone or Driftmark as long as her father is alive... Gwayne also begrudgingly agreeing not to tell his sister or father.. knowing Aemond would probably show up on Vhagar as he nearly did once or twice since she left him... speaking with Rhaelys in depth of it.. knowing she doesn't want to cause a fight.. her knowing too well the hatred he still holds for her brother Luke after Driftmark... loving him but not trusting him and brother... Gwayne, wanting to keep her and the babe at peace here just as much as Rhaenyra and Laenor, and also worrying for his second son, agrees not to mention the boy in his letters...

She named her son Aemon Waters. After her grandmothers father, the true Heir Prince Aemon, of course.. but also, unspokenly, for Aemond as well... As time goes on, and she heals from the birth and goes riding back and forth between Dragonstone and Driftmark once more, always avoiding flying too near the capital, though.. not wanting to catch sight of him... her constantly visiting her grandparents and cousins Baela and Rhaena, who are both maybe wards there, with Daemon returning to the Stepstones after Laenas death instead of Corlys 🤔... she begins spending more time in other places on Driftmark Island... taking young Aemon through the stalls of the bustling market in Spicetown with her cousins... visiting her grandfather while working in Hull.. she meets a handsome, strapping sailor one day... and swears he looks so familiar... so like her grandfather... she grows to quite like him and his rugged charm... and gives chase like a dragon to pray when he tries everything to avoid her attention... eventually breaking through his patience and making him have his way with her on the beach... hoping the princess got what she wanted and will leave him be now... only for her obsession to grow tenfold after knowing his touch...

Aemond is soooooo not happy when news reaches them in King's Landing after Vissy has died and the war has started brewing, whispers of her having a natural son that was born not too long after their relationship ended... the boy having pure silver hair.. his name Aemon... putting the pieces together.... and also hearing whispers of her growing to quite love her bastard uncle, Alyn of Hull 👀 Aemond hearing of Rhaelys doing with Alyn what she didn't do with him... fighting with and defying her mother when again her choice of man is refused... and this time marrying him regardless of allowances... her being pregnant with the Oakenfists child also being rumored heavily... now he really just might fly to Driftmark in his rage.... he just might turn to the blacks and bend the knee.. only if Rhaenyra legitamizes their son and allows him to become her heirs second husband... what a shame for the cold prince that his bold princess has a great big heart with enough room to love both him and her sailor equally... and a temper to match her dragons and stop them from killing each other over her... barely... she might have ways to make them get along, though....

:) ;) Tag name suggestion: old flames burning anew

ALL OF THIS

I love !!

Poor Aemond !!

[missglaskin]

Of the targaryens, who do you think is the most intense yandere vs the least intense yandere? Like not so much if they’re terrifying- just who is the absolute most obsessed with their darling vs who is more yandere-like and most ‘normal’?

These are the somewhat ‘tamer’ compared to others but still intense; Daemon Targaryen, Rhaenyra, Viserys I, Aegon I, Queen Rhaenys, Queen Visenya, Jaehaerys I, Helaena, Rhaenys (queen who never was), Aegon V, Alyssane, Saera, Daeron I, Daemon Blackfyre, Daeron (son of Viserys I) 

Daemon Targaryen, Aegon I, Visenya, Daeron I, and Daemon Blackfyre fall into the same category as they are all much more possessive of their darling than they are obsessed If anything were to happen to their darling, they are ready to unleash hell and will also stop at nothing to have the darling to themselves. Along with Saera and Rhaenyra who ensure their darling is by their side at most times.

Queen Rhaenys, Viserys I, Jaehaerys I, Helaena, Aegon V, Alyssane, Rhaenys (queen who never was) and Daeron (son of Viserys I) are all quite possessive, though they are more restrained than the ones mentioned above. They are far gentler with their darling and are aware of their tendencies, which they try to keep hidden, with the exception of Queen Rhaenys.

The more obsessed with their darling and quite intense: Viserys III, Aegon II, Rhaegar, Aemond, Queen Daenerys, Aerys II, Jacaerys, Maegor I, Aenys I, Baelor I, Aegon IV, Baelon, Aegon III, Aemon the dragon knight 

Aegon III and Queen Daenerys have experienced a great deal in their lives. They are familiar with the concept of loss and they make sure to keep the darling on their side at all times. The two also cling to the reader as one of their few sources of happiness. However, Aegon III is much more intense than Daenerys. Aegon II also follows them, but due to the treatment he received from his family, he has become fixated on a darling who shows him gentleness.

Viserys III, Aerys II, Aegon IV, and Maegor I are a nightmare to be around as they are capable of harming the darling if she continues to resist them. They are so obsessive and possessive of the darling that they are willing to keep her locked away in her chambers at all times. They expect to receive their darling's undivided love and devotion. Unexpectedly, Aegon IV is the least intense of the quartet.

If Aemond and Jacaerys' obsession didn't so strongly correlate with their possessiveness of the reader, they might have been put in the latter category above. They two devote themselves entirely to the darling that they don't even consider the thought of being with anyone else. Aemon the Dragon Knight follows. In the name of protecting their darling, all three are prepared to commit heinous acts.

Aenys I, Baelor I, Baelon, and Rhaegar are regarded as intense because they are so fixated on the darling that they essentially worship the ground she walks on. There are a lot of delusions in Baelor I, almost to the point where he sees the reader as this flawless, pure being. Rhaegar also imagines a somewhat idealized version of the darling, and along with Aenys and Baelon, he is willing to do anything to please them.

[alaynasansa]

Her empathy

Sansa was too well bred to smile at her sister's disgrace

&

The rasping voice trailed off. He squatted silently before her, a hulking black shape shrouded in the night, hidden from her eyes. Sansa could hear his ragged breathing. She was sad for him, she realized. Somehow, the fear had gone away.

The silence went on and on, so long that she began to grow afraid once more, but she was afraid for him now, not for herself. She found his massive shoulder with her hand. “He was no true knight,” she whispered to him

&

Of course, Jeyne had been in love with Lord Beric ever since she had first glimpsed him in the lists. Sansa thought she was being silly ; Jeyne was only a steward's daughter, after all, and no matter how much she mooned after him, Lord Beric would never look at someone so far beneath him, even if she hadn't been half his age.

It would have been unkind to say so, however, so Sansa took a sip of milk and changed the subject

&

She had always imagined the Night's Watch to be men like Uncle Benjen. In the songs, they were called the black knights of the Wall. But this man had been crookbacked and hideous, and he looked as though he might have lice. If this was what the Night's Watch was truly like, she felt sorry for her bastard half brother, Jon

&

“I'm certain your father is well,” Sansa told her when she had finally gotten the dress buttoned right. “I'll ask the queen to let you see him.” She thought that kindness might lift Jeyne's spirits

&

Sansa dried her own tears as she struggled to comfort her friend. They went to sleep in the same bed, cradled in each other's arms like sisters

&

They all laughed then, Joffrey on his throne, and the lords standing attendance, Janos Slynt and Queen Cersei and Sandor Clegane and even the other men of the Kingsguard, the five who had been his brothers until a moment ago. Surely that must have hurt the most, Sansa thought. Her heart went out to the gallant old man as he stood shamed and red-faced, too angry to speak

&

Sansa heard herself gasp. “No, you can't.”

Joffrey turned his head. “What did you say ?”

Sansa could not believe she had spoken. Was she mad ? To tell him no in front of half the court ? She hadn't meant to say anything, only... Ser Dontos was drunk and silly and useless, but he meant no harm

&

Sansa found herself possessed of a queer giddy courage. “You should go with her,” she told the king. “Your brother might be hurt.”

Joffrey shrugged. “What if he is ?”

“You should help him up and tell him how well he rode.” Sansa could not seem to stop herself.

&

Prince Tommen sobbed. “You mew like a suckling babe,” his brother hissed at him. “Princes aren't supposed to cry.”

“Prince Aemon the Dragonknight cried the day Princess Naerys wed his brother Aegon,” Sansa Stark said, “and the twins Ser Arryk and Ser Erryk died with tears on their cheeks after each had given the other a mortal wound”

&

Halfway along the route, a wailing woman forced her way between two watchmen and ran out into the street in front of the king and his companions, holding the corpse of her dead baby above her head. It was blue and swollen, grotesque, but the real horror was the mother's eyes. Joffrey looked for a moment as if he meant to ride her down, but Sansa Stark leaned over and said something to him. The king fumbled in his purse, and flung the woman a silver stag

&

“I want the man who threw that !” he shouted. “A hundred golden dragons to the man who gives him up.”

“He was up there !” someone shouted from the crowd.

The king wheeled his horse in a circle to survey the rooftops and open balconies above them. In the crowd people were pointing, shoving, cursing one another and the king.

“Please, Your Grace, let him go,” Sansa pleaded.

&

“If I'm not betrayed by my own guards, I may be able to hold here for a time. Then I can go to the walls and offer to yield to Lord Stannis in person. That will spare us the worst. But if Maegor's Holdfast should fall before Stannis can come up, why then, most of my guests are in for a bit of rape, I'd say. And you should never rule out mutilation, torture and murder at times like these.”

Sansa was horrified. “These are women, unarmed, and gently born”

&

“I will remember, Your Grace,” said Sansa, though she had always heard that love was a surer route to the people's loyalty than fear

&

Sansa went to Ser Lancel and knelt beside him. His wound was bleeding afresh where the queen had struck him. “Madness,” he gasped. “Gods, the Imp was right, was right...”

“Help him,” Sansa commanded two of the serving men.

One just looked at her and ran, flagon and all. Other servants were leaving the hall as well, but she could not help that. Together, Sansa and the serving man got the wounded knight back on his feet. “Take him to Maester Frenken.” Lancel was one of them, yet somehow she still could not bring herself to wish him dead

&

The Hound had turned craven, she heard it said ; at the height of the battle, he got so drunk the Imp had to take his men. But Sansa understood. She knew the secret of his burned face. It was only the fire he feared

&

How can I let my sister marry Joffrey ? she thought, and suddenly her eyes were full of tears. “Margaery, please,” she said, “you mustn't.” It was hard to get the words out. “You mustn't marry him. He's not like he seems, he's not. He'll hurt you”

&

She did not want Margaery to suffer as she had, but she dreaded the thought that the Tyrells might refuse to go ahead with the wedding. I warned her, I did, I told her the truth of him. Perhaps Margaery did not believe her. Joff always played the perfect knight with her, as once he had with Sansa. She will see his true nature soon enough. After the wedding if not before. Sansa decided that she would light a candle to the Mother Above the next time she visited the sept, and ask her to protect Margaery from Joffrey's cruelty

&

When Sansa turned, the little man was gazing up at her, his mouth tight, his face as red as her cloak. Suddenly she was ashamed of her stubbornness

&

He is as frightened as I am, Sansa realized. Perhaps that should have made her feel more kindly toward him, but it did not. All she felt was pity

&

Sansa had been wary of Tyrion's squire at first ; he was a Payne, cousin to Ser Ilyn Payne who had taken her father's head off. However, she'd soon come to realize that Pod was as frightened of her as she was of his cousin

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He had not been dead when she left the throne room. He had been on his knees, though, clawing at his throat, tearing at his own skin as he fought to breathe. The sight of it had been too terrible to watch, and she had turned and fled, sobbing

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Robert did not need to know that, though. He was only a sick little boy who'd loved his mother

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Robert had spindly arms and legs, a soft concave chest and little belly, and eyes that were always red and runny. He cannot help the way he is. He was born small and sickly. “You look very strong this morning, my lord.” He loved to be told how strong he was

&

A few moments later and the big man sprawled dazed in the dust with his helm askew. When his squire undid the fastenings to bare his head, there was blood trickling down his scalp. If the swords had not been blunted, there would be brains as well. That last head blow had been so hard Alayne had winced in sympathy when it fell

&

Ser Wallace reddened. “I am no more a s-squire, my lady. My n-nephew knows full well that I was k-k-kni-k-k-kni—”

“Dubbed ?” Alayne suggested gently.

“Dubbed,” said Wallace Waynwood, gratefully

&

After that Ser Roland Waynwood swept her up and made her laugh with mocking comments about half the other knights in the hall. His uncle Wallace took a turn as well and tried to do the same, but the words would not come. Alayne finally took pity on him and began to chatter happily, to spare him the embarrassment

Sansa Month 2023 : day thirty - your favorite sansa trait

[atopvisenyashill]

Even Jon's fantasies and idolization of Young Dragon and Dragonknight, which everyone loves raving about, are about wanting to do something great to make Ned proud and get acknowledged as a 'true Stark' lmao.

"When Jon had been Bran's age, he had dreamed of doing great deeds, as boys always did. The details of his feats changed with every dreaming, but quite often he imagined saving his father's life. Afterward Lord Eddard would declare that Jon had proved himself a true Stark, and place Ice in his hand."

Boy! He is going to feel so disappointed when he finds out he is not Ned's son.

I knowwwwwwwwwwwwwww, like from a Writer's and Reader's perspective, those comparisons are supposed to mean somehting and hint at something regarding his identity aka his mother and rhaegar. but when people are like "but he's a targaryen he's even sub consciously comparing himself to them!" that's like saying some random boy in oklahoma who loves roman reigns and naomi is secretly an Anoaʻi family member. no, that kid just loves the biggest names in wrestling!!! jon idolizes daeron, who is roughly around his age, and aemon, who is one of the most famous knights ever, because he's a fourteen year old boy and they're popular. it's always a means to becoming A Real Stark and taking his place as an equal amongst his siblings and his father. he's not gonna be excited about being a targaryen; he's going to be devastated.

[leedamandy]

Aemond Targaryen x fem!OC (blonde strong) / Aegon II Targaryen x fem!OC (blonde strong)

°• Hēnkirī •°

(Together)

Part 2

                                         •*•

A soft gurgling sound jolted Mhaenyra from her fitful sleep. It sounded like a dragon. She listened into the darkness, unsure if she had imagined it while half asleep.

Dragons had always been particularly fascinating to her. Mhaenyra had been denied the wings of a dragon by the gods for 16 years now. Of course, she had been given an egg. This one never hatched. She lived with it and it hardly bothered her. At least that's what she told herself.

Again a plaintive cry in the firmament! The young girl stood up briskly and made up her mind to accept the prince's invitation. She wanted to ride on Vhagar.

With a queasy feeling, she braved through her chambers and dressed. A dark, almost black dress with silver embellishments at the waist. Over it a cloak, held together by heavy chains at the chest that looked like dragon necks. She braided her long hair into a loose side braid and stepped confidently out the door. Ser Oats, her guard, seemed to awaken from his trance and looked at Mhaenyra, visibly shocked. "Princess, please return to your chambers. It is very late at night and-" "Thank you Ser Oats. I admire your loyalty and protection. I will go for a walk, my mother need not know of this. No harm will come to me." The knight's gaze grew uncertain, not wanting to let her go alone. "I will come with you, princess." "That will not be necessary, Ser Oats. Thank you. I wish to be alone. I will be back soon. You will stay here until then." "As you wish, Princess." His words were followed by a curt nod on his part.

Mhaenyra strode through the keep, enjoying the quiet of the night. She turned left, then right. Then left again.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, something heavy laid over her shoulder from behind and squeezed her mouth and nose shut. Adrenaline shot through the young woman's petite body and panic crept up inside her. She was pressed against something warm and hard behind her, feeling trapped. Her heart hammered in her chest and she grew incredibly hot. Why hadn't she listened to Ser Oats?

"Be still!"

They were whispered words, close to her ear that should have eased her panic. Prince Aemon's voice, she could recognize it. However, this fact simply did little to alleviate her excitement. With one of his strong arms, he spun the young woman around without loosening his grip, making sure through intense eye contact that she would not scream. The prince removed his hand from Mhaenyra's face, who immediately gasped audibly. She snatched herself from his grasp, breathing heavily, and bent forward. Then she looked at the clearly amused, grinning Aemond with her evil eyes. "Don't look at me like that Princess, I had to make sure we weren't exposed."  His grin widened, the longer Mhaenyra took to collect herself. "I might have been scared but I wouldn't have screamed. Don't do something like that again! Never again!" Admonishingly, annoyed, she held her index finger in Prince Aemond's face. "Of course, forgive me, dearest niece." His smile did not disappear, and Mhaenyra noticed that it did not reach his eye. "You looked incredibly beautiful. With my hand on your sweet face and your big eyes full of fear." The Velaryion instantly averted her gaze. A shiver ran down her spine. She suddenly felt uncomfortable. "Come. I'll show you Vhagar." His hand, which had been blocking Mhaenyra's airway earlier, now grabbed hers and pulled her along briskly. Aemond walked with long strides along several paths. Some secret and narrow, some led through gates and across streets. The young woman let it happen, not wondering how he could use these paths and shortcuts without being seen. She thought of her options in case of emergency. Would he kill her? Himself or would it be done by his dragon? Did he even want to kill her? Could she stop him? Maybe poke out the other eye? She cursed herself for not taking her small knife with her. The one Ser Harwin Strong had given her. Her mind was foggy with the questions that were bouncing around in her head. After what felt like an eternity, they arrived at a large green area. They stood side by side and looked out over the meadow. Vaghar had settled down on it. Every time she saw it, this dragon impressed Mhaenyra, just by its size. When Vaghar shook her head, swinging it back and forth in the air, it triggered a breeze that resembled strong wind.

The young princess watched the colossal dragon with shining eyes. A strange giggle from Aemond snapped Mhaenyra back to reality. She only now realized that their hands were still intertwined. As she tried to untie her hand, Aemond ran off again, pulling her along with him.

"Care for a ride?" Closer and closer they came to the huge creature, which sniffed skeptically at first, but then lay down quietly. "Vaghar seems tired, we could go at another time-" "Nonsense. Vaghar will love it when you ride her." His words sounded kind, his look on the other hand was.... Final. She had no choice, for she did not want to find out what this man was capable of. "Alright, my prince... How will two of us ride her?" And again, a creepy, too-wide grin graced his full lips. "Come."

The Targaryen helped her onto Vaghar's broad back. "Slide forward as far as you can and hold onto this..." He pointed to the fastenings of the saddle. "...Hold on tight." "And if Vaghar flies too steeply?" She asked anxiously. Aemon's soft laugh echoed through the air. "That's what I'm here for, Princess."

He sounded amused as he sat close behind her, grabbed her hips, and roughly pulled her closer to the lower half of his body. He ignored her surprised gasp and his arms and hands then settled over hers. He squeezed her legs with his. His sudden closeness and smell, made Mhaenyra nervous. Her breath quickened and she didn't know what was worse, the behemoth beneath her that was about to sweep her mercilessly into the air, or the figure behind her that held her in a very personal position that would leave her no way out of it. All of this gave her a tingling sensation. A forbidden feeling. "Gaomagon ao feel ȳgha sir, dārilaros?" (Do you feel safe now, princess?) He whispered the last words lustfully in her ear. Breathing more heavily, Mhaenyra only nodded. The whole situation overwhelmed her. She couldn't see his grin as he lifted his head, made sure his fragile niece was safely in front of him and could hold on, and prepared for his next command.

"Vla!"

                                         •*•

Part 3 (Smut)

Part 1

Thank y'all for reading, liking and reblogging:')

lets all wait for the new episode*-*

-LeeDaMandy-

[dragonsfromthemoon]

There are three names I think are the likeliest to be Jon’s birth name: Jaehaerys (after Rhaegar’s grand father and the first one), Daeron (after the Young Dragon whom Jon admires very much), and Aemon (after Maester Aemon and the Dragon Knight). These are the three I think are the likeliest though it could be something totally different. Imagine if his name were Jacaerys after Jacaerys Velarion. Not impossible. Jacaerys was the one who helped form the Pact of Ice and Fire with Cregan Stark. Imagine that. Jacaerys has a nice ring to it. I am very sure however that it is not Aegon. I know some people who think (and I mean are very stubborn about it) that Jon’s name is Aegon but I really don’t think it is. Rhaegar already had a son named Aegon (I am sure Dumb&Dumber forgot that) and I am sure he and Lyanna discussed names and considering he already had an Aegon, I am sure they picked something else. I wonder if we will know Jon’s birth name in Winds.

Those are all beautiful Valyrian names!

Well, personally, I think if Jon does have a Valyrian name (we can never discard the possibility he does not, and that's okay), it is Aemon. Period.

1. Rhaegar corresponded with Maester Aemon. They were close enough to discuss prophecies and share knowledge. So it is not far-fetched to think Rhaegar might have mentioned his uncle to Lyanna, and together they decided to honor him.

2. Jon is paralleled to Maester Aemon by the text itself. It was a deliberate narrative choice.

It made him feel odd. "My lord, why have you told me this, about Maester Aemon?"

"Must I have a reason?" Mormont shifted in his seat, frowning. "Your brother Robb has been crowned King in the North. You and Aemon have that in common. A king for a brother."

"And this too," said Jon. "A vow." [Jon I, ACOK]

Both of them faced the same heart in conflict with itself, love versus duty, as well. Three times they are tested in their Night Watch's vows, three times they have to make choices.

3. Also...

But he had not left the Wall for that; he had left because he was after all his father's son, and Robb's brother. The gift of a sword, even a sword as fine as Longclaw, did not make him a Mormont. Nor was he Aemon Targaryen. Three times the old man had chosen, and three times he had chosen honor, but that was him. Even now, Jon could not decide whether the maester had stayed because he was weak and craven, or because he was strong and true. Yet he understood what the old man had meant, about the pain of choosing; he understood that all too well. [Jon IX, AGOT]

They were not little boys when they fought, but knights and mighty heroes. "I'm Prince Aemon the Dragonknight," Jon would call out, and Robb would shout back, "Well, I'm Florian the Fool." Or Robb would say, "I'm the Young Dragon," and Jon would reply, "I'm Ser Ryam Redwyne."

That morning he called it first. "I'm Lord of Winterfell!" he cried, as he had a hundred times before. Only this time, this time, Robb had answered, "You can't be Lord of Winterfell, you're bastard-born. My lady mother says you can't ever be the Lord of Winterfell." [Jon XII, ASOS]

lol.

4. Jon builds a bond with Maester Aemon. He comes to respect and value the wisdom of the old maester, much like his father Rhaegar before him. Maester Aemon grows to appreciate Jon as well. He praises Jon, saying Jon's mind is as deft as his blade. When Jon comes back from his time with the Free Folk, despite of his advanced age, Maester Aemon is there and defends him fervently. Maester Aemon gives Jon the same counsil he gave his brother Egg, many years ago: kill the boy and let the man be born.

A few quotes to showcase what I have been saying:

"Aye," Slynt said. "A blind man with a chain about his neck, who does he think he is?"

Aemon Targaryen, Jon thought, a king's son and a king's brother and a king who might have been. But he said nothing. [Jon X, ASOS]

"If you ask the Citadel for more maesters …"

"I mean to. We'll have need of every one. Aemon Targaryen is not so easily replaced, however." [Jon II, ADWD]

The odors of smoke and burned flesh still clung to Jon's blacks. He knew he had to eat, but it was company he craved, not food. A cup of wine with Maester Aemon, some quiet words with Sam, a few laughs with Pyp and Grenn and Toad. Aemon and Sam were gone, though, and his other friends … "I will take supper with the men this evening." [Jon III, ADWD]

So, apart from the parallels, Jon also shares an emotional bond with Maester Aemon. Being named in his honor would give Jon all sorts of feelings — and I can see GRRM exploring that!

Not to mention Maester Aemon had family right in front of him, but unfortunately did not know. A boy that might have been named after him, no less! This kind of tragic irony is GRRM's cup of tea.

[ladymorghul]

It's really a jobless behaviour to attack people because of fictional ship and making your whole life about a ship wasn't there in the book *not even the dirty mushroom claim the existence of it*, and it won't become canon in the show since the director of season2 is book purist and he has adapted GOT 2&3 seasons as book accurate as possible. And even Ewan himself said that Aemond never received unconditional love from his family and he felt like an outsider in it that's the reason he was able to connect with vhaegar easily, debunk any theory of Aemond having "secret affair" with his sister. So crying over "anti helaemond" is funny because nobody is bothering themselves over an edgy one eye patch and his bland sister , it's the annoying and misgonystic behaviour of most of you. Calling an oppressed woman an ugly hag, or has put some "black spell" on Aemond. or even worse, Claiming a war prize has groomed the man who captured her and slaughtered all of her family, who also ride the largest dragon and had a huge army is like saying Sansa has groomed joffery lmao . So i hope you one day realise that it's not about your crackship but it's because of the disgusting behaviour of most of you . who will say the most insensitive, misogynistic shits then start playing the victim and act as people dislike you because of your fictional ship.

And Aemond wasn't meant to be the original dragon knight Aemon and that's not even the point of Aemond's character . so if your fantasies didn't come true, that's fine you still have AO3 for whish fulfillment . Or if you hate the way Grrm has written Aemond then you can easily just stop watching and stop crying in the tags like this.

imagine being this deranged and hurling such baseless accussations at me that you pulled out of your own ass

like i don't even have to answer this, i will just share it, to show everyone the kind of assholes that roam in that side of the fandom

also, did i not tell you guys there's lowkey helaena haters everywhere? did i not say? i speak the truth, only the truth and nothing but the truth

as i've said before: seethe and cope. and if you send me one more disgusting message where you write me your personal frustrations to me and accuse me of things i did not do, i will block you. remember tumblr lets me block anons :)

[tbtgtr-incorrectquotes]

"a quadruplet Jocelyn, Alyssa, Aemon, and Baelor, "

Could you guys tell us more about this AU?

Other than Leonyra (and her midwives) probably being made a saint for having a birth of 4 babies, who all survive and thrive

Well this AU is called Sweet Briar, and it's the one that's supposed to come after we finish Red Falcon. (I know, it's a while away) but basically, the plot revolves around four points of view, Rhaenyra's, Baelor's originally and then two more later with the occasional sibling interlude. This time, Rhaenyra is a bit less reluctant to make the Baratheon girls offer to Borros since Aemon is older, and Baelor is the image of a romantic knight, although how he pictures romance is a big point of contention in his family as he refuses to marry someone he's not in love with despite him being a pragmatic fellow in everything else (you win some you lose some).

Unfortunately, it's Sara Snow that he's in love with despite already being promised to Kathryn Greyjoy, Lord Dagon Greyjoy, the Red Kraken's sister. As you can imagine this dissolves into a conflict even more dangerous as the Realm recovers from the Dance of the Dragons and everyone seeks to get this boy under control as Aemon strives to become the perfect heir, Jocelyn adjusts to being Lady Reyne, and Alyssa has to fight in the Eyrie against Osgood's rivals. It's more of a romantic-political novel than the Red Falcon which is more coming of age + politics, and I'm really excited to start it after we finish the Red Falcon.

[shipcestuous]

Silly little Aemond/Helaena thought... since it seems we're on a roll today. ;)

I imagine that, after being mocked by his brother and cousins and putting so much importance on getting a dragon of his own only to have his bonding with Vhagar overshadowed by all the mess that followed it, Aemond actually still cares a lot about how people see him even if he pretends he doesn't give a damn. People disliking or hating him or being scared of him? That's fine with him, because in the end it still gives him the upper hand, makes him able to goad them or terrorize them into doing whatever he wants. People laughing at him? He can't stand it. (Lucerys bringing up the pig thing again, however subtly or unintentionally? Worth ruining possibly the last chance at peace between the Greens and Blacks.)

Now, let's take Helaena, who's also been mocked, dismissed, called stupid since she was a child but seems to have taken it all in stride, without holding grudges. Who's so gentle and delicate, so unlike her proud, violent, unforgiving brother...

What if she was the only one he felt comfortable expressing any real vulnerability with anymore, trusting her to never laugh at him or reject him? What if she was the only one he still trusted enough to see his tears and shame, after deciding he was too grown (and had to be too strong) to let even their mother handle them? What if she was the only one able to soothe his embarrassment and frustration before they even had the chance to become destructive rage? (Just think about an alternative take on the Doomed Family Dinner where she was there to put a hand on his shoulder and say some calming words in his ear before he started up with his "Strong boys" toast...!)

And on the other hand, what if he was the only one always ready to defend her against anyone who called her weird or stupid, no matter the cost? What if he was always willing to throw hands for her? What if he was her knight in not-so-shining armor who was also always ready to let her ramble on about fascinating bugs and never looked at her funny because of her prophecies even without understanding them?

Yesssssssss.

This is how I see them, Anon. We haven't seen Aemond and Helaena have a long quiet moment alone together and I just imagine this transformation for each of them, because they're with the one person they can entirely let down their guard, be themselves, not have to worry what the other person is going to say/do/think.

I think Aemon loves Helaena deeply for a lot of reasons but I think the fact that she's the only person (just headcanoning here) that he can be relaxed around and let go of all that tension that is so much a part of his interactions with other characters makes her his favorite person and very dear to him.

And I love that image of Helaena putting her hand on Aemond's shoulder, and whispering to him, or maybe not even needing to, and how that might entirely change his mood or his course of action. What I wouldn't give for a scene like that!

And I feel like we can almost sense that Aemond doesn't care about those things about her that others think are weird. Not just that he'll defend her to Aegon or whoever else, but he literally loves her perfectly exactly the way she is and finds her eccentricities charming.

[kellyvela]

If Jon and Dany get to meet in books, I would like to hear his thoughts of her smell. Oh I remember he also described the smell of Ygritte which is onion breath. He also smell cold when Val smell sweet in cold air. If Sansa going to meet Jon it would be sweet smelling Sansa.

This was my live reaction when I watched the "you stink of dragon" scene:

Because, like you did, I also remembered Ygritte's onion breath.

The scene about Val is different because Jon and her were "tasting" different things in the air, sweet and cold. But that scene do reminds me of this stinky scene from the tales of Dunk and Egg:

Beyond, the haunted forest waited, dark and silent. The light of the half-moon turned Val’s honey-blond hair a pale silver and left her cheeks as white as snow. She took a deep breath. “The air tastes sweet.”

“My tongue is too numb to tell. All I can taste is cold.”

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon VIII

Dunk had stripped off his tunic to enjoy the warmth of sunlight on his skin. When a little breeze came up, cool and fresh and fragrant as a maiden’s breath, he sighed. “Water,” he announced.

“Smell it? The lake can’t be far now.”

“All I can smell is Maester, ser. He stinks.” 

—The Mystery Knight

"Maester" was Egg's mule, its name was a tribute to Maester Aemon who gave the mule to Egg.

When Jon meets his aunt, I'm not sure if George would write a comment about dragonstink, but if he does, it sure will be great!

But I can imagine Ghost reacting in a bad way, similar to its reaction to that boar at the Wall.

...

Now, Sansa Stark is a different matter, she has a lot of scenes bathing and wearing flowery and lemony perfumes, so yeah she's really sweet smelling and clean.

Thanks for your message :)

[butterflies-dragons]

I don't think antis know about meaning of 'willowy'. When Jon said that Val is a warrior princess not a willowy creature brushing her hair, willowy is not an insult. It means tall, slender and graceful. And Sansa qualifies as willowy brushing her and like knights. It seems like Jon throwing shade on Sansa, but why? Considering he liked her brushing Lady hair and he himself wanted to be knight. Why he subtly remember Sansa while differentiating her with Val?

This is what I wrote about Val and the willowy creature line a while ago:

Val

Repeat after me: Val is not a warrior woman. Again: Val is not a warrior woman.  One more time: Val is not a warrior woman. If you don’t believe me, then read this:

However, in my own defense, I should note that Dalla was not a “warrior woman” per se. She was from a warrior culture, yes; one that gave women the right, but not the obligation, to be fighters. Ygritte was a warrior woman, as was (most conspicuously) the fearsome Harma Dogshead. Dalla and Val were not.

[Source]

But you may say, ¿What about the “the warrior princess and the willowy creature that only brushes her hair” quote?

Well, as GRRM has stated many times, all his POVS are “Unreliable Narrators”.  Being from a “warrior culture” doesn’t make you automatically a “warrior woman”.  But here is Jon Snow “deciding” that Val was a “warrior princess”. Once again, the contrast, the dichotomy in one single person: ¿A warrior like Arya, a princess like Sansa?  Not that Arya has ever fought in a war, but you get my point.  And Sansa was created following the princess archetype.

I will show you one of my favorite Jon’s passages that will serve us to read “the warrior princess and the willowy creature that only brushes her hair” line with a better and more revealing light:

I call this passage the “Jon -It’s nothing special- Snow”.  Or as we say in Spanish when we can’t get what we really want: “Al cabo que ni quería”, that can be translated as “I didn’t even want it anyway”.  Let’s see:

"Oh, I learn things everywhere I go.” The little man gestured up at the Wall with a gnarled black walking stick. “As I was saying … why is it that when one man builds a wall, the next man immediately needs to know what’s on the other side?” He cocked his head and looked at Jon with his curious mismatched eyes. “You do want to know what’s on the other side, don’t you?”

“It’s nothing special,” Jon said. He wanted to ride with Benjen Stark on his rangings, deep into the mysteries of the haunted forest, wanted to fight Mance Rayder’s wildlings and ward the realm against the Others, but it was better not to speak of the things you wanted. “The rangers say it’s just woods and mountains and frozen lakes, with lots of snow and ice.”

—A Game of Thrones - Jon III

I mean… COME ON!  This is one of the most telling passages to know, to really know Jon’s true nature, and it’s very, very similar to the quote about “the warrior princess and the willowy creature that only brushes her hair”:

They are all convinced she is a princess. Val looked the part and rode as if she had been born on horseback. A warrior princess, he decided, not some willowy creature who sits up in a tower, brushing her hair and waiting for some knight to rescue her.

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon XI

“Some willowy creature who sits up in a tower, brushing her hair and waiting for some knight to rescue her.”  Nah, it’s nothing special, I didn’t even want it anyway, not for me, no.

“It’s nothing special,” Jon said. He wanted to ride with Benjen Stark on his rangings, deep into the mysteries of the haunted forest, wanted to fight Mance Rayder’s wildlings and ward the realm against the Others, but it was better not to speak of the things you wanted. “The rangers say it’s just woods and mountains and frozen lakes, with lots of snow and ice.”

Do I have to say more???

Actually, yes, I have.

Jon Snow does really want a lady.  Jon Snow does really want to be a knight and rescue a maiden.  Jon Snow does really want a lady to love and be loved back by her.  Here some evidence:

Jon Snow wished that his mother were a highborn lady: “Not my mother, Jon thought stubbornly. He knew nothing of his mother; Eddard Stark would not talk of her. Yet he dreamed of her at times, so often that he could almost see her face. In his dreams, she was beautiful, and highborn, and her eyes were kind.”

Jon Snow wanted to be a hero like the Prince Aemon Dragonknight.  The same Prince Aemon that jousted in a tourney, won it, and crowned his sister and lady love “Queen of Love and Beauty”, something that is straight out from the courtly love book: “The Dragonknight once won a tourney as the Knight of Tears, so he could name his sister the queen of love and beauty in place of the king’s mistress”.

Jon Snow tried to comfort Gilly with courtesy: “Gilly, he called me. For the gillyflower.”  “That’s pretty.” He remembered Sansa telling him once that he should say that whenever a lady told him her name. He could not help the girl, but perhaps the courtesy would please her”.

Jon Snow put Ghost between Ygritte and him and remembers that knights put their swords between their ladies and themselves, something that is straight out from the courtly love book: “After that he had taken to using Ghost to keep her away. Old Nan used to tell stories about knights and their ladies who would sleep in a single bed with a blade between them for honor’s sake, but he thought this must be the first time where a direwolf took the place of the sword”.

Jon Snow imagined romancing Ygritte as if she were a lady: “If I could show her Winterfell … give her a flower from the glass gardens, feast her in the Great Hall, and show her the stone kings on their thrones. We could bathe in the hot pools, and love beneath the heart tree while the old gods watched over us”.

Jon Snow wished for a domestic life in Winterfell, with his wife and children: I would need to steal her if I wanted her love, but she might give me children. I might someday hold a son of my own blood in my arms. […] I could name him Robb. Val would want to keep her sister’s son, but we could foster him at Winterfell, and Gilly’s boy as well. […] Mance’s son and Craster’s would grow up brothers, as I once did with Robb. He wanted it, Jon knew then. He wanted it as much as he had ever wanted anything. I have always wanted it, he thought, guiltily”.

Jon is a romantic that called his mare “sweet lady”.

Jon Snow closer friends in the Night’s Watch are Samwell Tarly and satin, they are literally male!Sansas.

Jon remembers fondly Sansa’s more feminine and ladylike traits: her romantic nature, her courtesies, her singing.

It’s also worth to mention that, despite Val’s beauty and physical attractiveness, Jon Snow, once again, appreciates her being maternal and singing to Gilly’s son, but was turned off by Val saying she would kill Princess Shireen:

“I have heard you singing to him.”

“I was singing to myself. Am I to blame if he listens?” A faint smile brushed her lips. “It makes him laugh. Oh, very well. He is a sweet little monster.”

“Monster?”

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon VIII

Once outside and well away from the queen’s men, Val gave vent to her wroth. “You lied about her beard. That one has more hair on her chin than I have between my legs. And the daughter … her face …”

“Greyscale.”

“The grey death is what we call it.”

“It is not always mortal in children.”

“North of the Wall it is. Hemlock is a sure cure, but a pillow or a blade will work as well. If I had given birth to that poor child, I would have given her the gift of mercy long ago.”

This was a Val that Jon had never seen before. “Princess Shireen is the queen’s only child.”

“I pity both of them. The child is not clean.”

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon XI

Wait a minute! Val was “singing to herself” like Jon’s memory of Sansa “singing to herself” while brushing out Lady’s coat???

Where did Jon get this idea of “some willowy creature that only brushes her hair” from???  It could be from his half sister Sansa, a literal princess, now trapped in a tower, that always brushed her hair and even brushed out her direwolf’s fur???

“She had brushed out her long auburn hair until it shone” —Sansa

“Her thick auburn hair had been brushed until it shone.” —Eddard

I often sent away her maid so I could brush her hair myself. —Catelyn

He thought […] Of Sansa, brushing out Lady’s coat and singing to herself. —Jon

And I also suspect that when Jon said this about Val:

Then Ghost emerged from between two trees, with Val beside him.

They look as though they belong together. Val was clad all in white; white woolen breeches tucked into high boots of bleached white leather, white bearskin cloak pinned at the shoulder with a carved weirwood face, white tunic with bone fastenings. Her breath was white as well … but her eyes were blue, her long braid the color of dark honey, her cheeks flushed red from the cold. It had been a long while since Jon Snow had seen a sight so lovely.

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon XI

He was remembering another pretty girl, princess like, next to a direwolf, looking as though they belong together.

A young beautiful girl, that everyone considers a princess, next to a direwolf???

Val is a beautiful young woman, Sansa is a beautiful young maiden.

Val has long blonde hair the color of dark honey which she wears in a braid. Val actually take care of her hair, enough to braid it, like Sansa that always brushes it. And if you google “dark honey” hair color you will find a variety of reddish brown (auburn) and reddish blonde hair colors.

Val has high sharp cheekbones, like Sansa.

Val’s eyes are pale grey or blue.  Again the grey/blue eyes pattern…

Val is slender with a full bosom, like Sansa.

So?

Then Ghost emerged from between two trees, with Val beside him. […] It had been a long while since Jon Snow had seen a sight so lovely.

Of Sansa, brushing out Lady’s coat and singing to herself.

Think about it!

* * *

For anyone interested, this is an excerpt from this post.

[agentrouka-blog]

I don't know why Rhaegar considered to be romantic by Jon Con, Cersei and even Dany. I found that guy weird because he liked to sleep in ruins of Summer hall and singing tragic songs about those king who dies. Plus the GOHH told Ary@ that she had enough grief from Summer hall tragedy. Do you think she had some connection with Rhaegar?

Well, the Ghost of High Heart is the reason his grandparents forced his parents to marry against their will: prophecy.

Her influence likely also lead to Aegon V's ill-fated egg-hatching experiment at Summerhall, where he found his death alongside Jenny's Prince Duncan while Rhaegar was born. The prophecy led to his birth, it shaped his childhood and education, it led his choices. It was the subject of his last letter to Maester Aemon before abandoning his wife and newborn son to kidnap Lyanna.

There's a reason Rhaegar was a melancholy emo boy before he turned into an evil creep - it's the inescapable cloud of doom hanging over him, this prophecy that destroyed so many people - including later himself and half the Realm.

Excluding that dark turn, I can sort of see the general surface appeal of a handsome fellow who hangs out in Gothic ruins and plays sad music.

"And yet Summerhall was the place the prince loved best. He would go there from time to time, with only his harp for company. Even the knights of the Kingsguard did not attend him there. He liked to sleep in the ruined hall, beneath the moon and stars, and whenever he came back he would bring a song. When you heard him play his high harp with the silver strings and sing of twilights and tears and the death of kings, you could not but feel that he was singing of himself and those he loved."

"What of the Usurper? Did he play sad songs as well?"

Arstan chuckled. "Robert? Robert liked songs that made him laugh, the bawdier the better. He only sang when he was drunk, and then it was like to be 'A Cask of Ale' or 'Fifty-Four Tuns' or 'The Bear and the Maiden Fair.' Robert was much—"

(ASOS, Daenerys IV)

It's very Romanticism. Just check out the general vibe of Caspar David Friedrich or Claude Lorrain. Melancholy solitude in dramatic architectural ruins that exude an air of tragedy and greatness gone by... It barely gets more Romantic than that, aesthetically. It's not for everyone, but beauty lies in the eye of the beholder. And it's not necessarily less attractive than a fratboy who is known for binge drinking and bedding any girl within reach.

Can't blame Cersei for idealizing the handsome silver prince her aunt promised her. Young Sansa would have appreciated the surface image as well.

I also imagine he had a somewhat charismatic personality. Every quote of his that we have has him making fairly decisive but calm statements, like someone who is confident but not aggressive, almost paternal. At the same time, he's sensitive without being shy, singing and playing the harp for the whole court at the Harrenhal Tourney.

I can totally see why he was great material for a crush, on first glance. Being fairly reserved and emotionally unavailable would have made the first impression stick longer, as well. Someone like Jon Con would never have been intimate enough with Rhaegar to see beyond the surface.

Under the surface, you would have had all the downsides. The egocentrism and single-minded obsession, the inability to prioritize human beings and their feelings, the emotional manipulation, the ruthlessness of justifying anything in the name of his higher purpose...

"He has a song," the man replied. "He is the prince that was promised, and his is the song of ice and fire." He looked up when he said it and his eyes met Dany's, and it seemed as if he saw her standing there beyond the door. "There must be one more," he said, though whether he was speaking to her or the woman in the bed she could not say. "The dragon has three heads." He went to the window seat, picked up a harp, and ran his fingers lightly over its silvery strings. Sweet sadness filled the room as man and wife and babe faded like the morning mist, only the music lingering behind to speed her on her way. (ACOK, Daenerys IV)

That is Rhaegar below the surface. Elia almost died giving birth, but his newborn son is nothing but another piece in his prophecy puzzle. He doesn't reach for them, only ever for his harp.

*

(I once dated a handsome French musician who liked to spend hours in the wood practicing with a longbow. He had a handsome surface, too. Then he told me in all seriousness that his spirit animal was a fox who lived in those woods and that they shared a soul, while making a super-melancholy face, and I never recovered my ability to respect him as an independent adult. I feel like Rhaegar is kind of that person. He's handsome on the outside, but you don't want him holding actual power over anyone because down inside it's all bonkers.)

[jackoshadows]

Came across this quote today

“Everyone is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid.”

and it really embodies how characters in Westeros are put into certain boxes   with certain expectations by family and society, and then seen as less than when they don’t live up to those expectations.

Like Arya, who often questions her mother’s love because she is expected to be like Sansa in all ways and no matter how hard she tries, she cannot be like Sansa.  And then there is Sam, who just wants to read his books in peace and is instead forced to hunt and learn to fight. And because Sam is not good at fighting, even when taught by a dozen men at arms, he believes that he is an useless coward.

And then there is Jon Snow who believes that he is as qualified as Robb Stark to lead and that he is as deserving of Winterfell as Robb. Maybe, it’s this self-confidence in himself that helps Jon cut through all the superficial BS and see people for who they really are.

Like understanding that Arya is perfectly fine as is and having a sword made in the Winterfell forge for her because she wants to learn how to fight and that could be what she’s really good at.

Or just being happy that Bran is alive instead of being sad that he’s a cripple.

“He woke up,” he said. “The gods gave him back.”

“Crippled,” Mormont said. “I’m sorry, boy. Read the rest of the letter.”

He looked at the words, but they didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Bran was going to live. “My brother is going to live,” he told Mormont. - Jon, AGoT

Or how he treated Tyrion differently to the rest of Westeros once he came to know him.  Asking him to carry messages to Bran and Rickon and requesting that they be friends.

Or how he basically told his stewards and builders to eff off when they complained about Satin being a whore .

What he was in Oldtown is none of our concern. He’s quick to learn and very clever. The other recruits started out despising him, but he won them over and made friends of them all. He’s fearless in a fight and can even read and write after a fashion. He should be capable of fetching me my meals and saddling my horse, don’t you think?” - Jon, ADwD

Or how he sees the spearwives as warriors instead of women and entrusts the defense of an entire castle to them,  against opposition from the men of the NW who now call Long Barrow as Whore’s Barrow.

Or seeing the value in Samwell Tarly despite people like Chett wanting to teach a fish to climb a tree, no matter if it even kills the fish in the attempt.

 “Leave him where he is,” Chett said. “The Wall is no place for the weak. Let him train until he is ready, no matter how many years that takes. Ser Alliser shall make a man of him or kill him, as the gods will.” - Jon, AGoT

And Jon explaining how every person has their own value.

 “A maester forges his chain with study, he told me. The different metals are each a different kind of learning, gold for the study of money and accounts, silver for healing, iron for warcraft. And he said there were other meanings as well. The collar is supposed to remind a maester of the realm he serves, isn’t that so? Lords are gold and knights steel, but two links can’t make a chain. You also need silver and iron and lead, tin and copper and bronze and all the rest, and those are farmers and smiths and merchants and the like. A chain needs all sorts of metals, and a land needs all sorts of people. The Night’s Watch needs all sorts too. Why else have rangers and stewards and builders? Lord Randyll couldn’t make Sam a warrior, and Ser Alliser won’t either. You can’t hammer tin into iron, no matter how hard you beat it, but that doesn’t mean tin is useless. Why shouldn’t Sam be a steward?”

Maester Aemon closed his eyes, and for a brief moment Jon was afraid that he had gone to sleep. Finally he said, “Maester Luwin taught you well, Jon Snow. Your mind is as deft as your blade, it would seem.” - Jon, AGoT

This is a character who has forged an uneasy truce to an 8000 year old feud and that’s no easy task. Of course, sometimes raw hate and bigotry often trumps common sense as we see in real life and while characters like Marsh and Yarwyck understand that the ice zombies are the real threat and know that the Freefolk will provide for an army of the dead, they are still unwilling to let past hatreds be bygones. They are still grumbling about the Freefolk eating their food unwilling to listen to reason, despite Jon explaining the situation to them - namely that they need men to rebuild, garrison and defend the nineteen castles spread out over 300 miles and currently only 3 castles are being used! And no one else in Westeros is ready to help the NW or offer more men. Jon is even demanding men from Alys Karstark at her wedding party! That’s how desperate he is.

So considering how hard it was to get the NW to back his calls for unity, I can imagine that doing the same for the whole of Westeros is going to be a hundred fold harder.

And that’s why this book quote embodies Jon as a character who can reach across cultural divides because he understands and is open to different perspectives, doesn’t judge a book by it’s cover and acknowledges that he ultimately does not know everything. 

So many stars, he thought as he trudged up the slope through pines and firs and ash. Maester Luwin had taught him his stars as a boy in Winterfell; he had learned the names of the twelve houses of heaven and the rulers of each; he could find the seven wanderers sacred to the Faith; he was old friends with the Ice Dragon, the Shadowcat, the Moonmaid, and the Sword of the Morning. All those he shared with Ygritte, but not some of the others. We look up at the same stars, and see such different things. The King’s Crown was the Cradle, to hear her tell it; the Stallion was the Horned Lord; the red wanderer that septons preached was sacred to their Smith up here was called the Thief. - Jon, ASoS

Which is why when Dany lands in Westeros with the ‘Mad Queen’ propaganda following her, Jon is going to base his opinions of her on his interaction with her, rather than on what Westeros or Essos judges her to be. 

[wweskywalker]

✨🔥 King Daeron “The Young Dragon” I Targaryen & his cousin, Prince Aemon “The Dragon Knight” Targaryen 🔥✨

-

Yes, that’s right. They’re looking at you. This is my first attempt of a POV lookin’ whatever 🌝 also, the description i took is from AWOIAF wiki, so Aemon’s longer (lmao i did not intend THAT), PROVE THAT MY BOI DAERON DESERVE MORE LOVE 😤💖✊🏻

-

Imagine waking up in the world of ASOIAF. You’ll get killed, probably in a second, a week, or a decade. But death is certain, and it won’t be painless. This is Westeros. Or Essos. Or Sothoryos, still Game Of Thrones world? You’ll die horribly. HOWEVER,

You wake up in Dorne, still garb in your current outfit (i’m saying that bcz i’m wearing a Targaryen t-shirt 😛), and found PRINCE AEMON THE DRAGON KNIGHT, tending to you and smiling as you lift your eyes from slumber (?). Thus, he present you to his cousin, the 16 year old (his hair hasn’t grown so he’s 16), KING DAERON THE YOUNG DRAGON. What would you do? 😳 (Non-ASOIAF readers are VERY welcome to react bcz even tho u guys don’t know them, they’re fine. VERY FINE LADS 🌝)

[bookjonsa]

"Of Sansa brushing out Lady's coat and singing to herself. You know nothing Jon Snow" seems straight out of a cheesy romance novel lol. Lets be honest here.

Yeah, that's our Jon, a romantic at heart:

Calling his half sister Sansa “radiant”:

Sansa looked radiant as she walked beside him, but Jon did not like Joffrey's pouty lips or the bored, disdainful way he looked at Winterfell's Great Hall. 

—A Game of Thrones - Jon I

Dreaming about his mother:

Not my mother, Jon thought stubbornly. He knew nothing of his mother; Eddard Stark would not talk of her. Yet he dreamed of her at times, so often that he could almost see her face. In his dreams, she was beautiful, and highborn, and her eyes were kind.

—A Game of Thrones - Jon III

Playing the hero: 

Every morning they had trained together, since they were big enough to walk; Snow and Stark, spinning and slashing about the wards of Winterfell, shouting and laughing, sometimes crying when there was no one else to see. They were not little boys when they fought, but knights and mighty heroes. "I'm Prince Aemon the Dragonknight,*" Jon would call out, and Robb would shout back, "Well, I'm Florian the Fool." Or Robb would say, "I'm the Young Dragon," and Jon would reply, "I'm Ser Ryam Redwyne.**"

—A Storm of Swords - Jon XII

*Ser Aemon the Dragonknight, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, he crowned Queen Naerys his Queen of Love and Beauty.

**Ser Ryan Redwyne, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, he crowned Queen Alysanne his Queen of Love and Beauty.

Giving courtesies:

"I don't even know your name."

"Gilly, he called me. For the gillyflower."

"That's pretty." He remembered Sansa telling him once that he should say that whenever a lady told him her name. He could not help the girl, but perhaps the courtesy would please her. 

—A Clash of Kings - Jon III

Playing the honorable knight:

After that he had taken to using Ghost to keep her away. Old Nan used to tell stories about knights and their ladies who would sleep in a single bed with a blade between them for honor's sake, but he thought this must be the first time where a direwolf took the place of the sword. 

—A Storm of Swords - Jon II

Straight out the book of courtly love...

Wooing a girl:

If I could show her Winterfell . . . give her a flower from the glass gardens, feast her in the Great Hall, and show her the stone kings on their thrones. We could bathe in the hot pools, and love beneath the heart tree while the old gods watched over us.

—A Storm of Swords - Jon V

Wishing for a domestic life:

I would need to steal her if I wanted her love, but she might give me children. I might someday hold a son of my own blood in my arms. A son was something Jon Snow had never dared dream of, since he decided to live his life on the Wall. I could name him Robb. Val would want to keep her sister's son, but we could foster him at Winterfell, and Gilly's boy as well. Sam would never need to tell his lie. We'd find a place for Gilly too, and Sam could come visit her once a year or so. Mance's son and Craster's would grow up brothers, as I once did with Robb.

He wanted it, Jon knew then. He wanted it as much as he had ever wanted anything. I have always wanted it, he thought, guiltily. May the gods forgive me. 

—A Storm of Swords - Jon XII

Calling his mare “sweet lady”:

The mare whickered softly as Jon Snow tightened the cinch. “Easy, sweet lady,” he said in a soft voice, quieting her with a touch. Wind whispered through the stable, a cold dead breath on his face, but Jon paid it no mind. He strapped his roll to the saddle, his scarred fingers stiff and clumsy. “Ghost,” he called softly, “to me.” And the wolf was there, eyes like embers.

—A Game of Thrones - Jon IX

Being friends with soft boys:

Whatever pride his lord father might have felt at Samwell’s birth vanished as the boy grew up plump, soft, and awkward. Sam loved to listen to music and make his own songs, to wear soft velvets, to play in the castle kitchen beside the cooks, drinking in the rich smells as he snitched lemon cakes and blueberry tarts. His passions were books and kittens and dancing, clumsy as he was.

—A Game of Thrones - Jon IV

Sam remembered the last time he’d sung the song with his mother, to lull baby Dickon to sleep. His father had heard their voices and come barging in, angry. “I will have no more of that,” Lord Randyll told his wife harshly. “You ruined one boy with those soft septon’s songs, do you mean to do the same to this babe?” Then he looked at Sam and said, “Go sing to your sisters, if you must sing. I don’t want you near my son.”

—A Storm of Swords - Samwell III

The boy claimed to be eighteen, older than Jon, but he was green as summer grass for all that. Satin, they called him, even in the wool and mail and boiled leather of the Night’s Watch; the name he’d gotten in the brothel where he’d been born and raised. He was pretty as a girl with his dark eyes, soft skin, and raven’s ringlets.

—A Storm of Swords - Jon VII

“Night gathers, and now my watch begins,” they said, as thousands had said before them. Satin’s voice was sweet as song, Horse’s hoarse and halting, Arron’s a nervous squeak. “It shall not end until my death.”

(…)

He could smell Horse’s unwashed breeches, the sweet scent Satin combed into his beard, the rank sharp smell of fear, the giant’s overpowering musk. He could hear the beating of his own heart. ”

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon VII

Satin was all grace, dancing with three serving girls in turn but never presuming to approach a highborn lady. Jon judged that wise. He did not like the way some of the queen’s knights were looking at the steward, particularly Ser Patrek of King’s Mountain. That one wants to shed a bit of blood, he thought. He is looking for some provocation.

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon X

Imagining his half sister Sansa calling the lands beyond the wall “an enchantment”:

The pale pink light of dawn sparkled on branch and leaf and stone. Every blade of grass was carved from emerald, every drip of water turned to diamond. Flowers and mushrooms alike wore coats of glass. Even the mud puddles had a bright brown sheen. Through the shimmering greenery, the black tents of his brothers were encased in a fine glaze of ice.

So there is magic beyond the Wall after all. He found himself thinking of his sisters, perhaps because he’d dreamed of them last night. Sansa would call this an enchantment, and tears would fill her eyes at the wonder of it, but Arya would run out laughing and shouting, wanting to touch it all.

—A Clash of Kings - Jon III

Giving up his deepest desire and by that, refusing to despoil his half sister Sansa of her rights:

“How can I lose men I do not have? I had hoped to bestow Winterfell on a northman, you may recall. A son of Eddard Stark. He threw my offer in my face.” Stannis Baratheon with a grievance was like a mastiff with a bone; he gnawed it down to splinters.

“By right Winterfell should go to my sister Sansa.”

“Lady Lannister, you mean? Are you so eager to see the Imp perched on your father’s seat? I promise you, that will not happen whilst I live, Lord Snow.”

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon I

Jon said, “Winterfell belongs to my sister Sansa.”

“I have heard all I need to hear of Lady Lannister and her claim.” The king set the cup aside. “You could bring the north to me. Your father’s bannermen would rally to the son of Eddard Stark. Even Lord Too-Fat-to-Sit-a-Horse. White Harbor would give me a ready source of supply and a secure base to which I could retreat at need. It is not too late to amend your folly, Snow. Take a knee and swear that bastard sword to me, and rise as Jon Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North.”

How many times will he make me say it? “My sword is sworn to the Night’s Watch.”

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon IV

And of course, as if he sensed he was going to die, informing us that his fondest memory of his half sister Sansa is the following:

He thought of Robb, with snowflakes melting in his hair. Kill the boy and let the man be born. He thought of Bran, clambering up a tower wall, agile as a monkey. Of Rickon’s breathless laughter. Of Sansa, brushing out Lady’s coat and singing to herself. You know nothing, Jon Snow. He thought of Arya, her hair as tangled as a bird’s nest. I made him a warm cloak from the skins of the six whores who came with him to Winterfell … I want my bride back … I want my bride back … I want my bride back …

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon XIII

He's so fluffy!  I'm gonna die!

Thanks for your message.

Good night.