#and that dragon devouring Rhaenyra where she stood.

[alicent-archive]

Rhaenyra and Alicent go to the Dragonpit to select a dragon egg for Aemma’s unborn baby. Up until that point, Rhaenyra had been the one selecting the eggs, but this time, she wants Alicent to pick one. Alicent selects a black egg, and the reason she picks it is because the colour reminds her of Rhaenyra’s riding clothes.

When Baelon dies, the egg is returned to the Dragonpit.

Once Alicent is heavily pregnant, Viserys mentions that an egg has to be chosen for the baby. Rhaenyra would’ve been the one choosing the egg, but Rhaenyra isn’t on talking terms with anyone.

Viserys chooses the egg instead, and when Alicent returns to her chambers, inside the fireplace is a black egg. Visery’s tells her that it was Baelon’s egg, and Alicent almost snaps and tells him that, yes, she knows it was Baelon’s egg. She had been the person to pick it.

She doesn’t snap. She smiles. And that’s that.

Alicent realises, looking at the egg, that Viserys didn’t choose an egg for her baby, he chose an egg for Aemma’s baby; for Baelon.

As if the prince was still alive, as if Baelon walked among them.

When the egg hatches, from inside squirms a golden, glimmering dragon.

It reminds Alicent of a certain yellow dragon she used to visit almost everyday.

When Aegon is old enough to say single words, he calls the dragon Sun.

When he’s old enough to understand sentences, he calls the dragon Sunfyre.

[fragileheartbeats]

— SUNFYRE ִ ۫ 𖥔 𓈒

𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐟𝐲𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐧, 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐧'𝐬 𝐆𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐲, 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧, 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐌𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧.

𝑭𝒐𝒓𝒎𝒊𝒅𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒇𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒆𝒓, 𝑰𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆, 𝑬𝒙𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒕𝒉, 𝑬𝒙𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝒅𝒖𝒓𝒂𝒃𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒚, 𝑫𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏, 𝑰𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆.

Sunfyre is a dragon characterized by his brilliant gold scales that glisten like beaten gold in the sunlight, along with pale pink wing membranes. His flames also share the same golden hue. Notably, Archmaester Gyldayn declares Sunfyre the most beautiful dragon ever witnessed in the known world.

Sunfyre is a young and fearless dragon. He is a formidable fighter. Despite enduring severe injuries in every battle—injuries he could never fully recover from—Sunfyre managed to triumph over every opponent he encountered. This includes Meleys, described as a splendid dragon. He also killed Moondancer, who left him very injured, and he further killed and devoured Grey Ghost. Sunfyre's last victim was Rhaenyra Targaryen, who attempted to usurp Aegon's crown.

Despite suffering severe injuries and a damaged wing, Sunfyre miraculously managed to fly back to Dragonstone. The reason for this return is considered to be that he sensed Aegon needed him. Sunfyre had a strong connection to his rider, Aegon II; their bond was one of the best, and Sunfyre never let him down. Aegon deeply cared about Sunfyre; he made his sigil a golden three-headed dragon breathing golden flames on black to honor him. This sigil also became the main symbol of the Greens. When Sunfyre died, Aegon wept.

— VHAGAR ִ ۫ 𖥔 𓈒

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐬.

𝑰𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆, 𝑰𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆, 𝑬𝒙𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒕𝒉, 𝑬𝒙𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝒅𝒖𝒓𝒂𝒃𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒚.

Vhagar was a she-dragon of House Targaryen. She was ridden by Queen Visenya Targaryen during Aegon's Conquest, alongside Aegon the Conqueror's Balerion and their sister Rhaenys's Meraxes. Other known riders of Vhagar are Prince Baelon Targaryen, Lady Laena Velaryon and Prince Aemond Targaryen.

By the time of the Dance of the Dragons, Vhagar was the hardened survivor of a hundred battles, had grown almost as large as Balerion, and was the oldest and largest of the dragons in Westeros. Her roar was so powerful that it could shake the very foundations of Storm's End. No living dragon could match her for size or ferocity.

Aemond would continue to fly Vhagar in battle during the civil war between King Aegon II and Queen Rhaenyra. During the battle at Rook's Rest, Vhagar and Aemond, and King Aegon and Sunfyre, ambushed the dragon Meleys and her rider Princess Rhaenys Targaryen. Meleys was an old and large dragon, and might have stood a chance against Vhagar alone, but died from the combined assault. Vhagar was the only dragon who left the battle reasonably unharmed.

— CARAXES ִ ۫ 𖥔 𓈒

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐖𝐲𝐫𝐦.

𝑭𝒐𝒓𝒎𝒊𝒅𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆, 𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆, 𝒆𝒙𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒅, 𝒄𝒖𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈.

Aemon's nephew, Prince Daemon Targaryen, had claimed Caraxes as his mount. Daemon took his paramour Mysaria with him on Caraxes when he retreated from King's Landing for Dragonstone.

Daemon used Caraxes during the War for the Stepstones. During those years, Daemon divided his time between the Stepstones and Dragonstone where he would often fly with his niece, Princess Rhaenyra, and her dragon Syrax. After Daemon remarried to Lady Laena Velaryon, the newly wed toured the Free Cities of Essos with their dragons Caraxes and Vhagar. Huge crowds came to see both dragons everywhere they went.

At the start of the Dance of the Dragons, Daemon landed Caraxes atop Kingspyre Tower during the assault on Harrenhal.

Atop Caraxes later in the civil war, Daemon challenged Aemond Targaryen and Vhagar at Harrenhal. All four were killed in the ensuing Battle Above the Gods Eye. At the end of the fight, Vhagar locked with Caraxes and they fell into the Gods Eye. While in freefall, even as Vhagar's claws opened up Caraxes's belly and used her teeth to tear off one of his wing-arms, Caraxes locked his teeth onto the larger dragon's throat and tore it out. Vhagar did not survive the force of the fall. Somehow, Caraxes managed to live long enough to pull himself out of the water and onto the shore, even though his entrails were falling out and one of his arms had been torn clean off. The dragon soon died in front of the walls of Harrenhal.

[valaenatargaryensdragon]

Hello!

Can you make a dark daemon targaryen x reader where he betrays rhaenyra and gives the throne to stepdaughter reader??

A/N: I hope you like it!

pairing: Dark!Daemon Targaryen x Stepdaughter!Reader

summary: Daemon betrays Rhaenyra and gives the throne to stepdaughter reader

Word count: 1,0K

Warnings: Angst, betrayal, fluff

Masterlist 1

Masterlist 2

You slid down from your dragon still feeling adrenaline pump through your body along with your blood. There was quite the mess but nothing that cannot be fixed soon and fast. Your uncles were finally gone and the throne empty for your mother.

You walked into the Keep alongside your younger brothers Aegon and Viserys, the only ones still alive. You still remembered those walls from when you lived here as a small child, you were born within those walls.

Aegon held your left hand and Viserys your left. You guided them along with the guards behind you towards the throne room. You had fought alongside your mother and stepfather to reclaim the throne but returned to dragonstone to bring your brothers yourself.

The doors opened in front of you showing you victory still being cleaned by the maids and servants. Blood was all around the room along with ashes. You killed Alicent Hightower yourself leaving Otto to your stepfather knowing the hatred there ran deep within him.

She did not beg for her life and you made it quick out of the kindness of your heart, she knew her children had all died and she had nothing to live for anymore, nothing to beg for anymore. You were merciful and made your dragon burn her a fast and quick death instead of being devoured.

"Tala" Daughter. Rhaenyra greeted from atop the throne wearing the magnificent golden crown on her head. Your eyes stuck to the crown imagining what it would look like on your own head, you were her heir being the eldest of the three remaining children.

"Mother, my queen" You curtsied while your brother bowed. Daemon was stood by her side. She stood up from the throne and stepped down with her arms wide open.

"Take them" You ordered one of the maids when your mother had hugged both of your brothers. The maid complied without hesitation. Your mother raised her eyebrow confused with you action.

"They are tired from the ride here" You justified. Your eyes darted to Daemon who also stepped down standing beside you two.

"I am glad you are alright, tala, I was worried something had happened to you"Daughter. Rhaenyra placed her hand on your shoulder gently. You smiled lightly and pulled your mother closer to you for a hug. She squeaked surprised, she had not hugged you since you turned ten and two, when you got your maiden blood saying you were a woman grown now and no longer a child.

"I am happy to see you as well, muña" Mother. You spoked eyes looking at Daemon over her shoulder. He smirked stepped closer as well and wrapped his arms around her from behind.

"Daemon! What are you doing?" She squirmed in your arms confused. You held her tighter to your body, eyes never leaving those of your stepfathers. She let out a shocked gasp body jolted with shock. Daemon broke the eye contact to look at his work, his hand wrapped around a dagger handle plunged into your mother's side.

"Tala" Daughter. Her eyes filled with tears of betrayal. She cried out loud now as a second dagger lodged itself in her stomach with your own hand on the handle. You pulled away smirking, watching as tears streamed down her cheeks.

"Why?" She whispered. Her grip was growing weak. You pulled out the dagger along with Daemon and let her fall on the floor. The crown clang loudly as it hit the floor. Daemon leaned down and picked the piece of metal off the floor. Her eyes followed his movement as he moved closer to you and placed the crown on your own head of white-blonde hair, still you were a strong bastard, your brown eyes gave you away but that does not matter when you were queen.

"My queen" Daemon was about to kneel but you stopped him and instead pulled him in for a kiss. He snaked his arms around your waist pulling you closer to his body, he was not below you, he was your equal unlike how your mother viewed him and treated him. Now it was obvious to Rhaenyra what you had promised him in return for the crown.

"Guards" She tried to yell but her voice came out weak. You pulled away from your stepfather. You walked over to her while she attempted to crawl away from you smearing even more blood on the floors of the throne room. You held her in place and crawled to sit on her stomach with all you weight on her stab wound.

"Goodbye mother" Were your last words before your dagger slashed across her neck opening it for the blood to flow out.

"Come my queen, we have a coronation to attend" Daemon helped you off your dead mother. You smirked putting the dagger away and held his arm in one of your own while the other rested on your hidden bump where your and Daemon's child grew inside of you.

"And a wedding" You giggled letting him lead you out of the room for the servants to find your mother's corpse and declare you an official queen before the masses with the golden metal crown on your head and the conquerers' on Daemon's head.

You and Daemon ruled side by side not caring when people voiced their disgust over your relationship. He was much older, married thrice before you and one of his wives was your own mother but that did not matter he was your husband now and the father of your children.

You locked your brothers in their chambers until they were of age before sending them away to exile to bravos where they spent their remaining years attempting to kill you to avenge your mother but they never succeeded.

You birther three children for Daemon, first came a son name Valegon followed by twin sons, Rhaelarr and Vaelor. Valegon died along with his father fighting a rebellion against you and Rhaelarr succeeded you later on in life but what matter was that you took the throne and saved the smalkfolk from your mother and her greed for power. Daemon may have manipulated you as a child and you grew to see that as an adult but you were far too gone to back away now after all those years.

[liaa--qb]

A SWEET SIN

[Aemond x Helaena ]

Warning : Dark aemond, toxic, obsession, smut, angst, manipulation, dub- con, explicit, incest, blood, violence

SUMMARY : Aemond spending some quality time alone in throne room after battle of rook's rest which was disrupted by his favourite family member.

Part 1 , Part 2

ao3 link

Note : this is my first helaemond fic, next chapter might be bit dark so be clear of warning☠️. (likes, share and comments would be appreciated❤️ )

PART 1

The clouds thundered, creating a beautiful sight for Aemond. Since his childhood, he had grown accustomed to these dark, thundery nights that he enjoyed more than anyone else, more than any person in his life except his beautiful mother. She used to pour her heart out to him, but now she was unwilling to even see his face. Aemond, her only son, who had stood out for her when no one else did. Despite being maimed, he never showed a hint of pain to spare his mother from feeling alone without support in the presence of strong boys, his half sister, and what he now considered not his own family but Rhaenyra's family.

The night was silent, dark, and heavily rainy. Raindrops thudded loudly on the surface, resembling sharp stones of water sent by heaven to wound the Red Keep and fill the cool air with chills. This environment refreshed Aemond; he loved the cold, heavy breeze, and nothing seduced him more than the loud thundering voice.

Alone in the main hall, everyone else sound asleep, Aemond faced his loneliness, a constant companion. After killing Luke, he had no desire to talk to anyone. The volcano inside his mind consumed him. His gaze shifted to the Iron Throne, scanning from its starting point to its end, devouring it's harsh and harmful aura. Not many found the throne comfortable.

His brother Aegon, despite attempting to hide it in front of others, expressed his discomfort through pain shouts and oily back massages after every session on the iron seat. Aemond knew Aegon would never adore the throne as he did, nor would he ever desire it. Aegon wouldn't understand the fun and satisfaction of sitting on it with the blood of enemies surrounding the throne, as Aemond did.

He moved toward the throne, casting his gaze upon it with thoughts as dark as the night and his heart. The brutal sting of his childhood continued to haunt him, the most painful being inflicted by his father who believed he lacked the courage to tame any dragon. His own father did not stand up for him, even as his half sister enjoyed an entire room of support. Aemond's face lit up with a smile as he recalled how he silenced those old, foul individuals, especially his father and cousins. Even his elder brother Aegon adjusted his tone when speaking to him after that night, a stark contrast to a lifetime of mockery where Aemond felt that Jace was more his brother's blood than he was.

He relished this solitary moment within the dark night. Currently, it was exclusively his, with no one intruding between him and the throne. If anyone dared to come between him and his desires, he would remove them—anyone or anything. As in the end, he believed he deserved this, if not for a lifetime, at least for once. What he deserved, he should take, regardless of others' approval.

Seated on the throne, he let out a long, contented sigh. Only the gods knew how satisfying and relaxing it was for him; the unyielding, needle-like layer of iron provided warmth instead of wounds. It was meant to be rough, precious and heavy. He embraced these wounds, as they felt like nothing more than a slight feather pinch after the rigorous training with Criston since his childhood. Scars were like permanent companions on his skin.

Leaning back and resting his head, he extended his legs on the throne's arm. "Screw Aegon. That idiot doesn't even realize what he was getting and wasted it. All his life, he got everything… everything I wanted. Now, maybe I should claim what I want." Darker and uglier thoughts clouded his mind. Closing his eyes for a few seconds, he was alerted by the sound of footsteps. However, he remained undisturbed because the light, slow, and short footsteps unmistakably belonged to none other than Helaena, his beautiful and angelic sister.

Yet, he couldn't comprehend why a pure soul like her was there at this time. She should be in his chambers.

No not his chamber, in her shared chamber with Aegon. His expression betrayed a fidgety discomfort at the thought of Aegon and Helaena sharing one room. But he wouldn't mind her joining him in his chambers if that's what she desired. Oh, just how if she wanted that ! Aemond thought, recalling the times when his 10-year-old self used to fight and argue with his mother. He questioned why Helaena was marrying Aegon, ranting about a hundred degrading things about Aegon while carefully concealing his own secret desire for Helaena. Confessing such feelings in front of others was shameful, and his heart shattered again upon witnessing their marriage.

However, his desire for Helaena never diminished. Aegon never cared a bit about her; it was always Aemond fulfilling every duty a husband should, and it still pricked him that she couldn't see his love. Never did she express any desire to break free from her miserable marriage with Aegon. Aemond believed he could take better care of her, far better than anyone else ever could.

"Aemond, what are you doing here, sitting like this?" Helaena asked with a lightly sad voice, her teary eyes intensifying Aemond's guilt for not taking proper care of her.

"It's my place, sister. I can do anything now," Aemond's eyes gazed at Helaena, who wore a sheer white dress, holding a cloth bundle in her hands.

"What's that, Helaena?" She was clearly angry with Aemond, evident in the rigid and questioning expression on her face, holding him accountable for everything that happened with her son. Nobody understood that the war had already begun when their miserable father died and Aegon was crowned. Helena turned and started replying lightly, "Nothing, Aemond. Just keeping this cursed precious thing where it should be," walking away from him.

"Wait sister!" At first, she didn't stop. Seeing this, Aemond's voice became sharp and dominant. "Stop! I said." He moved straight to Helena and grabbed her wrists tightly, revealing the crown under that cloth. He took it from her and held her waist and wrist. "It's mine, love. The only place it belongs is with me now"

Helaena's face showed fear, especially as she witnessed the darkness in Aemond's eyes. His sapphire eye, on the other hand, was even more intimidating. His grip on her waist and wrist tightened and toughened, making her certain that it was no longer her baby brother before her, but a devil filled with the desire for power. For the first time in her life, she was scared of him ,so much that she wished he would vanish or that she could run away from him as far as possible. It wasn't that she wasn't aware of this; she had sensed the same cruel and malevolent aura from him when he lost his eye at driftmark, saying, "I lost an eye but gained a dragon." At that moment, she felt the boy lost his innocence too, corruption growing within him. Today, it seemed like that devil feeding inside him, while growing up, had taken a complete form and was ready to burst out.

"Leave me, brother," she muttered while closing her eyes, hissing slowly with a voice filled with hesitation, "It's hurting. You are hurting me, Aemond." She didn't want to look at his face, but he wasn't backing off. Instead, his hold was growing tighter, pulling her closer.

"Open your eyes, Helaena. See me, my sweet beautiful sister" cooed Aemond with a taunt-filled attitude. She shook her head, pleading lightly, "Please leave me." "Why are you frightened, my sweet angel? Frightened of your little brother?" He grabbed her chin tightly, bringing her face closer to his. "Why, Helaena? Were you never frightened of Aegon? Then why now?" released her chin . "This crown is mine, this throne is mine, and… you, Helaena," he stopped, gazing at her trembling form, refraining from uttering his desire. She was so beautiful, like an angel sent from heaven itself. Even in this miserable state, she looked heavenly, her tears resembling little diamonds that only enhanced her allure.

"No more tears now, Helaena. Now you are my responsibility, and I will take care of you. Don't worry about Aegon, mother, or anything else." After a pause, his eyes darkened with desire. He gently embraced Helaena's cheeks, saying, "Just… be with me." Upon hearing this, Helaena shuddered, breaking free from his grasp with all her energy.

"Disgusting! You are disgusting. Do you know what you are saying?" said Helaena, astonishment and anger evident on her teary face. Aemond, with a sly smile, replied, "I know what I am saying, angel. I think you must understand and obey what I say." With that, he grabbed her wrists and brought her into his arms with full force. His hand grazed her soft silver hair locks, while the other held her tightly to his chest. He declared, "Yes, from now onwards, you are going to listen and obey only me. In fact, you all are going to obey me. I am the Prince Regent now and it's not only the crown or throne that I want Helaena."

Helaena's energy drained in his tight and rough arms as she feared the realization of what he was saying. She stammered, "No… no, Aemond. I am your sister, your queen. I am already married to Aegon, your brother, our brother. You are insane. It's a sin, and it's not going to happen. Now, leave me," while struggling against his grips with all the small energy that allowed her tiny frame to resist her brother, who was way taller than her.

He chuckled wickedly, "You are so sweet, Helaena, so pure. You know, the queen title you are throwing at me is only because of Aegon, and that Aegon is now nothing but a walking, living corpse. The maester said he doesn't even have a chance of proper recovery, cannot produce any heir. If he dies, then you would be nothing but his widow with no power... but you can maintain your power by standing with me, obeying me, and being mine. Marry me, Helaena!"

Helaena remained shocked, unable to comprehend her little protective brother's disturbing transformation. "Aemond, you are not in the right state of mind. Think clearly and, for the Gods' sake, fear at least. The sin you are talking about should never happen, and you will have a queen that will be Floris," she said, still struggling to free herself from his grasp.

Anger flooded Aemond's face, evident in his tone. "I think you are the one who needs to understand Hel that I desired you all these years, way before your marriage with our pathetic Aegon," he added, his eyes filled with rage and a slight hint of tears. "Everything I wanted, everything I deserved, was never given to me. Even if I earned it, it was forcefully taken from me , father's love, a dragon, friends, a mother who should be proud of me, this crown, this throne, and you. But now, I know very well how to claim whatever I need and desire, and I will take that. You should be with me, Helaena, not Aegon. He was never worthy of you. I will give you everything you want; name it, and I will place it at your feet, the same way I brought Meley's head for you. I will kill anyone for you. Just say it !" It sounded more like a mixture of a demand and a plea.

"Bring Jaehaerys back, can you? Bring all that peace back ? And can you bring Luke back? You cannot, right… You cannot claim nature itself, Aemond" Helaena hissed bitterly at him. He paused, and she realized that his rage was clouding him; his body itself was shivering.

His hold on her loosened up for a bit, but it only scared her more. To Helaena, Aemond's silence in anger was more dangerous. The moment she tried to move away from him, his hands grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her head quickly towards him. "Listen to me, Helaena. I love you a lot, and I do care for you always, but there is a limit to my patience. You know that really well, my sweet sister, don't you? I am not that little boy anymore," he whispered in her ear after briefly smelling her silver hair, as if it were the most enchanting scent. He added, "You want your son back, right? I want that too, Helaena. I feel your anger, but Aegon cannot provide you any child now." He tilted his head, looking at Helaena, who was just frightened. "I will give you your son, Helaena. I promise, our son," he declared, then kissed her cheek and earlobe.

"Say it. You love me, Helaena. Say you want me as your husband as well," he said with a velvety smooth voice and an irritated smile, but his grip on her became more hard and brutal.

Helaena shook her head, fear and anger in her eyes. "Don't do this, Aemond. I'm pleading you." "Say it, Helaena. Say that you love me as well," he ignored her pleas and tension as if nothing wrong were happening.

Helaena was terrified and tried her best to struggle and fight, attempting to free herself. "Aemond! I beg you, please leave me. Please brother, please," she cried. However, she knew it would not help her; instead, it was draining what little energy she had even more.

"Yes, I would very much love to see you beg, but not like this, Helaena. Now, say it," Aemond insisted.

Helaena stopped struggling and looked at him as if she were completely defeated. "Say it, Helaena. I am waiting, and it would only cause problems for you, my lovely sister."

She looked directly into his eyes. "You know, Aemond, you and Aegon have no difference. You are just like him. The truth is, you are much more dangerous than he ever was. In reality, Aegon just did those things without even realizing the consequences they could have been. He never took the lives and pain of others seriously and even himself. He was just a pawn dancing to all your thoughts. You were the main problem, Aemond. Always!" her tone becoming more confident " You were the one obsessed with bloodbath and killing anyone who came in your way. You tried to hide this a lot, but now everyone can see your inner evil self, brother. Even our mother can see it too. Now, I genuinely feel that Luke's death and Aegon's coronation were just excuses for you. You wanted to feed your inner animal that was hungry for revenge and power since childhood," she spat at his face, her mind fueled by the last remnants of determination.

Silence was all coming from Aemond and shock on his face from hearing her answer was visible. She continued, "Now what are you going to do, Aemond? Murder Aegon, definitely. Correct? I bet you were even thinking about this. Then you would kill our mother too if she opposes you, right?" Suddenly, a hard hit on her cheeks made her fall to the floor, her lips bruised and bleeding a little from his slap.

Aemond bent down to her level and grabbed her chin more brutally, causing her lips to bleed even more. "What… what were you saying about me, that I would kill my mother? How dare you ?" Aemond's tone was angry and terrifying, and Helaena was nothing but a crying mess on the floor.

"Oh Helaena, I sure wanted to kill Aegon. If I genuinely wanted to murder him, I would have done it way before. I've murdered him countless times in my head, but I would never do it, even if he deserved it. That rascal is my brother, sadly my own blood. I love Daeron and always admired him more than Aegon. You know, even the gentle soul like him cursed to me that I should have killed Aegon way before, and the same with Criston. Criston always wanted me to hold the power, but still, I never did and never would," he declared. Thunders and lightning outside, shining through the hall window, falling on Aemond's face, made him even scarier, resembling a devil from the Seven Hells taking human form. Helaena braced herself for another possible physical harm and just closed her eyes, shivering and praying to all her gods.

"Gods are not going to come for you, my sweet. Gods were never there for you; only I was," his voice softened again to her surprise. He gently grabbed her cheeks, and something in his tone made Helaena tremble less, calming her breath. He continued, keeping his forehead against hers, brushing her lips gently with his and his nose against hers while whispering sweetly, "Even now, gods would not save you. Only I can save you now, my love. But you hurt me, Helaena. You hurt me by showing what you clearly think of me. You were the last person I was expecting this from. How can you be so cruel to your little brother "

She slowly opened her eyes, her breath becoming heavy under this close, gentle, intimate touch of Aemond. She had never experienced this type of touch from any man; Aegon never cared about her, and the last time Jace was gentle, but only in a friendly way, nothing more. So this gentle touch from her little brother always melted her heart, even if she wanted to deny that situation. Her breaths were becoming much calmer but more anticipatory now.

Looking at Helaena's lips for a brief second, Aemond had a softness in his eyes. "I didn't want to do that, Helaena. I would never… I am not guilty of wanting everything I love, but you are the only desire I am guilty of," he said gently while grazing her lips with his and then slowly licking the full trail of blood from her lips, falling to her chin.

"I always loved you, Hel. You don't even have any idea how much I want you," he murmured while kissing her lips and jawline, licking every trace of her blood. The way he was enjoying it looked like it was the most delicious thing he had ever tasted.

Helaena should run away from him right now or slap him, hurt him, take his other eye out, but her body was betraying her, as if it just wanted to stay with him, under his warmth. She looked at his face and his eye, filled with love. The sapphire in the other eye looked so beautiful. A sudden desire in her wanted to touch it and feel his pain. "Helaena, are you listening to me? Did you never feel any emotion towards me? Did you never like me or even for once realize how badly I was in love with you?" asked Aemond, his eyes filled with sadness and rage, as if he were on the verge of tears.

At that moment, she just remembered her little brother, the Aemond who was just a pretty angry little boy, always stuck to her mother's cloth, who always helped her, listened to her, and many times stood against Aegon when he made fun of her. Where was that boy gone? No matter how much shyness and obedience he showed, Aemond had always found ways to get the things he wanted since childhood. She remembered how, on her 14th nameday, a servant boy who was once close to Jace dropped hot drink on her dress. Aemond almost beat him to death until it became a huge problem for their mother. Then Aemond asked Criston for help to clear this matter, promising him triple times the training as punishment. Also, when he was 7, he wanted a toy sword that was a gift given to Aegon by their mother and the Hightower family. He used to do all his and both Aegon's work, clean up all their mess, never spreading a single bit of dirt like other kids to impress their mother. But he never ate anything, making himself ill for a week, which worried their mother. Later, he got one too, a sword even better than Aegon's.

She moved her fingers to the sapphire in his eye, gliding gently like feathers on that cold stone, and slowly traced her finger on his face, grazing his scar. At that moment, the tension to fight the inner desire was rising high between them. No one spoke a single word for a moment; there was only the sound of their breathings and nothing more. Helaena was lost in her own old thoughts while grazing his scar when Aemond grabbed her hand and kissed her fingers as if he would die if he didn't.

"Aemond," a sheer sigh escaped from her lips. Aemond grabbed her face with all his force, as if she were some precious thing that someone would immediately take away from him. "Please, Helaena, give me a chance. I would give you everything more than anyone else would ever give. Would you not give me a single chance?" Helaena couldn't decide whether he was begging or demanding her love; it was a rare occasion to see Aemond Targaryen pleading, begging, or crying.

"Say it, Helaena. You do love me, right?" He jumped, pleading like a little child who just wants a new piece of jewellery or some new toy. His eyes filled with plead and lust, trailing sharp kisses on her cheeks, nose, and eyes. "Say it."

Should she? Should she accept him? Thought Helaena, for a moment realizing where all her shame had gone. She was fighting with him just minutes before, now sitting still like his doll, letting him do or play with her however he wants. It was wrong of her, wrong of both of them to behave like this, especially when her husband was struggling to even breathe properly. Mother would never be proud; it went against her faith and her religion.

Or maybe… he is right. It would be so cruel of her to reject what his little brother wants. After all, he was there for her all these times. Can she not support him even for once? And he has suffered so much. "What would people say, Aemond? What would our family say? I am married to Aegon?" Helaena whimpered, melting under his warm frame. Aemond stopped and, meeting her eyes, smirked. "Don't need to worry about them. No one should lay a finger on you. They have to do what I say, and we are Targaryens, Helaena. Your marriage to Aegon was already a one-day poignant drama for me, nothing more. We are doing nothing wrong. I will take you in our Valyrian tradition, make you mine," he said looking at her intently, demanding an answer or any gesture of approval, never releasing the hold of her face.

In a sudden moment, he kissed her so hard, like the world was ending, not giving her a proper second to breathe, devouring her lips. His sudden painful bite made Helaena tremble with a lazy moan and, parted for a second to breathe, he whispered, "fuck it Hel, I am going to marry you right now." After a brief silence, Helaena gave a long tiring sigh resting her head on his shoulder "you are so stubborn Aemond" she said, looking at him with dizziness taking over

[mononijikayu]

patriarchal butchery against women: history and rhaenyra

‘some accounts say it was ser alfred broome who had hold of her arm, others name the two toms, tanglebeard the father and tangletongue the son. ser marston waters stood witness as well, clad in a white cloak, for king aegon had named him to his kingsguard for his valor. yet neither waters nor any of the other knights and lords present in the yard spoke a word of protest as king aegon ii delivered his half=sister to his dragon.

sunfyre, it is said, did not seem at first to take any interest in the offering, until broome pricked the queen’s breast with his dagger. the smell of blood roused the dragon, who sniffed at her grace, then bathed her in a blast of flame, so suddenly that ser alfred’s cloak caught fire as he leapt away. rhaenyra targaryen had time to raise her head toward the sky and shriek out one last curse upon her half-brother before sunfyre’s jaws closed round her, tearing off her arm and shoulder.'

– rhaenyra overthrown; fire and blood

the profound horror evoked by the tragic demise of rhaenyra targaryen defies comprehension, leaving a profound impact on my emotions. the series of events surrounding her death is almost unimaginable, a harrowing sequence that eludes full understanding. the manner in which she was forcibly restrained, her young son is subdued away from her, bespeaks a brutality beyond words. her trusted allies' betrayal, the seemingly noble and upright men remaining silent witnesses, and the heart-wrenching scene of rhaenyra's final moments, held before a dragon, paints a tableau of unfathomable cruelty.

even when the dragon hesitated to devour her entirely, the violence escalated to such an extent that her wounds bleed profusely, eventually piquing the dragon's interest. the collective gaze fixed on the gruesome sight as the dragon immolated and consumed her, her helpless son held in the grip of men, forced to bear witness to his mother's horrific end.

the entirety of this scene is an unsettling dissonance, a collage of terror that leads one to question whether such a grisly fate could have truly befallen women. the spectacle of violence inflicted with such vehemence seems almost inconceivable when directed towards women. that  all of it is a fraction of grrm’s own imagination. unfortunately, the veracity of this account cannot be denied. numerous women throughout both ancient and medieval epochs have been subjected to the barbaric act of execution for various motives.

upon delving into historical accounts, one is confronted with a cathartic realization that this violence appears to be a recurring toll exacted upon women who dared to seek autonomy and agency in their respective eras, regardless of the epoch in question. it is a recurring and undeniable theme, wherein women are invariably thrust into a vortex of unremitting violence, an undeniable and tragic consequence of their aspirations for a more empowered existence. a recurring theme which of course stems from the echoes of patriarchal control–which still continues to this day.

in my previous writings concerning patriarchy and its implications on women's agency, we delve into the prevailing belief held by men throughout history that asserts their innate and superior importance within the community. when viewed through this lens, a multitude of factors emerge to elucidate the systematic erosion of women's authority and agency.

within this context, the fragility inherent in men's perspectives becomes evident, not only in their perception of the external world but also in their self-concept. examining the methods they have historically employed to consolidate exclusive control over authority and agency across the diverse tapestry of human society reveals an underlying fear of losing their dominant position.

patriarchy, deeply ingrained in societal structures, has perpetuated a paradigm where men's inherent superiority has been upheld as an enduring truth. this belief has been reinforced over generations, giving rise to the marginalization and subjugation of women across various cultural and historical contexts. the tenacious grip of patriarchy on social norms and power dynamics has led to the disempowerment of women, often limiting their roles to subservient positions and stripping them of agency.

as we analyze history, we discern that men's efforts to maintain sole authority and agency have been driven by a sense of vulnerability, revealing the delicate nature of their perspectives. the fear of relinquishing control over societal institutions and structures creates a palpable tension that spurs them to employ various mechanisms to safeguard their position. this apprehension stems from the realization that a shift towards a more equitable distribution of authority might lead to a loss of the privileges they have historically enjoyed.

the historical trajectory of men's actions underscores the lengths to which they have gone to preserve their perceived dominance. the mechanisms include the suppression of women's voices, relegating them to roles that reinforce traditional gender norms, and employing socio-cultural constructs that serve to legitimize their position of power. these actions, while aimed at asserting authority, reflect a deep-seated anxiety about the potential consequences of a more inclusive and egalitarian society.

according to jacquelyne campbell in 'misogyny and homicide of women', the fear of women emerged during the primitive times, when the mystery of conception and birth remained an unexplained part of human experience. throughout time, they found a way to cope and that is by trying to establish religious and societal efforts to make that facet of womanhood be a basis for the depreciation of female importance—leading to the subjugation of the female sex.

this then became the foundation of early greek that linked intellectualism, nature and power as inherently traditionally male; a concept which has been spoken in my earlier writings about patriarchal origins. it is because of this established ‘tradition’ that we now then see how this touched men’s imagination, they quickly accepted this concept to authority. 

we find this in the explicit nature of both karl marx and friedrich engel’s theories that encompass the thoughts, "first oppressor–oppressed relation, the foundation of all other class and property relations'', which fundamentally means that the idea of an oppressor and the oppressed creates the effect social dynamics of those who have power and those who are deprived of it. the powerful controls and dominates the communities they dwell in terms of social hierarchies, class divisions, wealth, property and ownership patterns.

within the context we have, jacquelyne campbell means to explain that women are essentially being forced into these dynamics because of men’s insecurities driving them into laying the groundwork that prevents women from getting out of these social dynamics that were now designed to be occupied by men for men. as such, men would not have to fear their security being challenged by any sort of self-actualization of women and their own ambition.

just as much, the growth of machismo as a main theme of how men should behave and be in a patriarchal society becomes heavily cemented throughout time. machismo being ingrained in the system cements a way of life that is according to the text, ‘exalts strength and power, demands competition with and superiority over other men, glorifies violence, emphasizes virility, despises gentleness and expressing any emotion except anger and rage, and rigidly defines women as property, sexual objects, and subjects of male domination.’

and because of this growth of machismo and patriarchy side by side, misogyny becomes extremely violent and uncontrollable. because as we mentioned, men hate feeling deprived of authority and agency, even the mere feeling of losing it drives them crazy. or as one of the sources within the text surmises, ‘violence may be the most appropriate way to protect one’s honor, to show courage or conceal fear, especially fear of revealing weakness.’

female activists later coined the term ‘gynocide’ as part of the umbrella of systematic gender specific slaughter directed towards women. gyno is referring to women or females and cide to kill or cut. gynocide as defined by andrea dworkin is ‘the systematic crippling and/or killing of women by men.’ – meaning, that men have for generations created a system by which punishes or even slaughters women if they do not adhere to the status quo that is set by a patriarchal society that does not make room for women to have any sense of equity in the community or agency as a member of community.

this is exactly what happened to rhaenyra, to many other women in the narrative of power. they became victims of men’s uncontrollable fear of not having agency, because women were being given and taking their agency. women taking up space in a male dominated society and making something of their own felt like a threat to the order of things. hence, that anger and that fear that a woman deposes of that system as a whole in one full sweep. we have various women we can lay their own lives and tragedy akin to rhaenyra and her experience of such violence in the system. 

one example of gynocide during this era was witch-burning, echoing rhaenyra's fiery demise. this tragedy befell countless women across ancient and medieval societies. the european witch hunts, spanning the late middle ages to the early modern era (15th to 18th centuries), stand as stark evidence. myriad individuals, predominantly women, faced accusations of witchcraft, culminating in trials, incarceration, and execution.

though not all accused witches suffered immolation, burning became a prevailing method of administering punishment to those found guilty of practicing witchcraft. these accusations and trials often derived from superstitions, fear, religious dogma, and societal tensions, rather than tangible evidence of sorcery. much of this bias, which unjustly targeted women, aligns with the gender-based paradigms discussed earlier.

the victims of these trials were usually marginalized figures—widows, elderly women, the impoverished, and those straying from societal norms. pinpointing an exact count of women immolated as witches varies by locale and era. nonetheless, estimates indicate that tens of thousands, including a considerable number of women, lost their lives as a consequence of these witchcraft accusations.

consider margaret aitken, emblematic of the injustices faced. amid the great scottish witch hunt of 1597 during james vi's reign, a period notorious for his treatise against witches linking them with 'ungodliness and the devil,' margaret faced judgment as a witch. coerced by torture and fear, she implicated other women as witches. driven by the dread of retribution from men, margaret unwittingly endangered fellow innocent women, leading to their agonizing execution by immolation. subsequently, margaret herself met the same fate, her coerced words turned against her despite their origin in fear and violence at the hands of men.

a parallel to rhaenyra's mutilation and demise emerges in the suffering of olympias, mother of alexander the great. olympias wielded agency not only as a woman but also in safeguarding her son's rule. mirroring male tactics, she employed violence to secure her interests. as she comprehended her grandson's impending loss of crown and life, olympias took action. thwarted by cassander, once an ally of alexander, who wrested power and orchestrated her defeat.

the steadfast loyalty of alexander's soldiers spared her mutilation, prompting cassander to manipulate those with resentment towards olympias. this culminated in her brutal stoning to death, along with the denial of burial rights. cassander's power consolidation entailed not just olympias' demise, but also the deaths of alexander the great's wife and child—individuals olympias sought to protect.

similarly, hypatia of alexandria, a revered philosopher renowned for her intellect, encountered a parallel fate to rhaenyra. her demise bore shocking brutality. entrapped and stripped, hypatia endured a savage mutilation orchestrated by men threatened by her influence. her eyes gouged, her body dismembered, and her remains desecrated through public display and burning. this atrocity emerged from fears that hypatia's reasoning and wisdom posed a challenge to power structures. her ability to engage with influential figures frustrated those seeking to maintain control, construing her intellect as an obstruction.

such stories, both historical and fictional, resonate with rhaenyra's tragic narrative, illustrating the pervasive patterns of violence and suppression that women have endured throughout history. much like rhaenyra's plight, these stories emerged from the grip of patriarchy that tightly held societies, coercing them to conform or face dire consequences. women often bore the brunt of this challenge, defying norms and striving for a chance at a life beyond being a mere historical footnote. their struggles were driven by the desire to seize agency, to transcend the constraints of their time.

these brave women dared to challenge a system that sought to confine them. they yearned for lives that extended beyond the shadows, desiring recognition and power that was so often denied to them. tragically, their aspirations were often met with brutal resistance, as men, threatened by the perceived erosion of their authority, resorted to oppressive tactics to maintain their control. this underpins the somber essence of women's enduring struggles – a tale that finds its origins in the disheartening attempts to curtail their rights.

these narratives, spanning diverse eras and cultures, intertwine with rhaenyra's story, reinforcing the unfortunate reality that the echoes of history often reverberate in similar patterns. while rhaenyra's narrative is a work of fiction, it continues to encapsulates the essence of the broader theme that resonates through the ages: the fight for agency, equality, and freedom, against the backdrop of entrenched gender biases. the memory lingers of the patriarchal butchery against women and we are still as many before us have, remember the harmony and the tune and proceed to remember and to fight against it.

[hotdideasneverending]

Poessive Gods

I had this idea from the Au I am doing on Ao3, it’s called Do You wish for This?, under Anon but it’s a Aemond/Lucerys fic. But it involves the gods of old Valyria being fucking creeps and...well...

Chapter 1? 

The air was tense, so tense that a knife could cut through it and show the air beneath it.

And in an instant it shifted.

Queen Alicent had grabbed Ageon’s dagger from her husband and turned, intent on taking Lucerys Velaryon’s eyes before all the witnesses before them and the boy screamed.

But instead of his mother coming to stop her, someone else did.

A man dressed in robes of gleaming white and gold, hair purer than snow and eyes of burning amber locked arms with the queen. His fang teeth bared in warning as his clawed hands gripped her wrists.

“Do not…hurt him,” he hissed, everyone stepped back as the man had magically appeared.

“My queen!” Cole had called out, rushing to her aid before a similar man with forest green hair and bright red eyes stopped him, snarling right at him as a woman appeared, hair a fiery red and eyes a bright orange as she looked around before standing in front of Rhaenyra.

Protecting them.

“W…Who are you,’ Alicent demanded, gasping as she was pushed back into Ser Harrold’s grip and she finally got a good look at him.

His eyes were that akin to a Dragons and his skin was littered with patches of pearlescent white scales.

“...I am Arrax,” he grinned, Viserys making a choking noise but he ignored him, turning to look at Rhaenyra who stiffened under his gaze before it moved to her left.

To Lucerys.

And Arrax smiled.

“....My boy,” he breathed, striding forward and kneeling down as the green haired one released Cole and turned to the Blacks, looking for someone as well. “My Lucerys,” he cupped his face, smiling as the boy looked to his mother confused. “Finally for you to see me….”

“Jacaerys,” the other male smiled, kneeling down with a grin and arms open. “My boy! It is I! Vermax!”

“....L…Lord Vermax…” Rhaenyra was near the point of passing out as more appeared from the shadows, all adored with patches of scales and one with hair as dark as night coming to her father.

“...Sit. You need rest Viserys,” his voice was soft, deep, commanding and Viserys knew who it was in an instant.

“....Balerion…” he breathed in awe as those of Valyrian descent shifted away in fear from the god of death.

He seemed to not notice, offering a kind smile to the king who felt at ease around him.

“...Aye,” he nodded, pulling up a chair for the ill king who fell upon it in shock.

“....To what do we owe a visit from the gods of Valyria,’ Daemon asked, looking round with apprehension as he held Dark Sister in a tight grip.

“Down boy, nothing is to happen to you,” a man with flowing auburn locks snorted, coming beside him. “...But it’s what I like about you.”

“...Caraxes.”

“...In the flesh,” he smirked. “Vhagar! Get out here and see your bonded child,” he quipped, turning to the hidden alcove by the fireplace where a man was standing in the shadows.

He was sullen, eyes sunken in and his face was that of annoyance as he looked up to Caraxes with pure hatred before it went to Aemond.

“....No,” he rasped, looking away from the boy as Caraxes snorted.

“He has claimed the dragon Vhagar. Technically he is the boy you are to be bound to for the rest of his natural life-”

“I DON’T WANT HIM!”

Vhagar boomed, coming out with rage emanating from him as he stood next to a cowering Aemond.

“I don’t want him! Tesarion doesn’t want them, Gaelithox and Shrykos don’t want them. I wanted Rheana,’ he screamed, Arrax turning to him with a narrowed eye before snorting.

‘Then you should have devoured the fool when he tried,” he deadpanned, standing up with Luke in his grip, smiling as Vhagar sneered, stepping closer to the Blacks and ignoring Aemond.

“...Hmmm,” he huffed, coming to stand behind them all and keep an eye on the proceedings. “....Leana will always be better,” he grumbled, Daemon turning to him as he nodded, and looked away.

‘As to why we are here,'' Arrax began, handing Lucerys over to a woman with light pink hair and Targaryen eyes. “...I came to make balance,” he smiled, hands clasped behind him. “And with that…I must kill some of you.”

“....I see,” Viserys nodded, the gods shifting as Arrax nodded to Balerion who snapped his head to Cristion Cole, rounding on him in seconds and lifting him up by the throat.

“Cole,” Alicent screamed, the man choking as the god of death beheld him and sneered.

“...I’ve always hated you. Always bad mouthing. Calling the child of my bonded Targaryen a whore, loose woman…I will take great pleasure in this,” he whispered, squeezing his hand as Cole began to choke.

‘I beg of you please! Spare my sworn shield-”

``You are no Targaryen, you have born no Targaryen children, you have no say in this matter,” he snarled, Cole’s neck snapping in an instant and dropping him cold and dead on the floor before turning on her. “You have no say in any of what is going to happen tonight.”

“...I am a Targaryen,” Aemond spoke up, Balerion and Arrax turning to him with looks of displeasure on their faces.

“...Just because you have the looks, you claimed a dragon and are the son of the king…does not make you a Targaryen,” Balerion informed him, moving to Viserys who was scared, confused and unsure of what to do.

“The second who must die this night….I will do this myself,” Arrax nodded, the children quivering as he smiled at them before stalking right to Otto Hightower.

“Wh-NO,” Alicent screamed as Arrax grabbed the man’s shoulder and shoved his hand right through his chest, holding his heart as he whispered in his ear.

“Your treasonous actions cost me, Vermax and Tyraxes our children…but that ends tonight,” he murmured, ripping his arm back as Otto fell to the ground dead and Arrax turned around with a bright grin. In his hand was Otto’s heart that he held out to Rhaenyra, looking at her expectantly with a raised brow before she opened her mouth and took a bite.

Arrax smiled, nodding as he cupped her cheek and murmured that she did well; then moved one.

Arrax moved around to all of them; one by one: Daemon, Rhaenys, Jacaerys, Lucerys, Joffrey and Viserys before he turned to the Hightower children.

He took a single stepforward before Helaena took a step forward herself to the God and took a bite, Arrax nodding as a woman with a veil grabbed her and moved her to the side of the blacks.

He turned to Daeron who grabbed his hand, seeing a way out of Old Town and took a bite, a man with singed clothes coming to hold his shoulder as he pushed him by Joffrey who had blood all over his mouth.

Aegon and Aemond remained, Arrax turning to Aegon who shifted and looked at Arrax like he handed him the world.

“...Eat this and become a dragon,” Arrax commanded them, devoured heart outstretched like an offering. “Don’t…and forget about being protected by us.”

“...” Aegon wasted little time as he downed a goblet of wine and took out a chunk of heart with a groan before a woman ushered him to Daemon’s side.

Aemond remained.

“...” Arrax kneeled down, looking the boy right in the eye as he placed the last piece of heart down. They kept their eyes locked as Arrax reached a hand out and placed it over his wounded eye and all was silent.

Then Aemond screamed.

“NO! NO! NO! NO! VHAGAR! VHAGAR! LISTEN TO ME! LISTEN TO ME! NO, VHAGAR NO!” he screamed in pure agony before Arrax released him and stood up.

Aemond seized in his seat, gasping as Alicent rushed over from her father’s corpse to her son who turned to her in horror and smacked her hands away.

“...A…A good thing….even though you…you,” he panted, blinking as he tried to keep the future away from the present.

Arrax had moved on, letting Aemond go through his madness without help as he took Lucerys back with a croon of adornment, kissing his hair as he caressed his face and Rhaenyra got the sense something was very WRONG.

Her sons were being coddled as if they were the most precious things in the world by the Gods of Old Valyria.

But the adults were no different.

Caraxes had Daemon caged in his arms, head nestled in the junction between his head and shoulder as he spoke of the poor souls lost at sea. Anytime Daemon made a move to leave, his arms tightened around him and God gave him a warning snarl.

Meleys held Rhaenys close as she murmured to her sweetly about times long gone with Leanor and Laena, hands tightening as the Queen who Never Was tried to take her hands back. Her eyes flashed a bright pink in warning until she sat down with her Husband who knew naught what to say.

Viserys, her father, watched Aemond beside Balerion who held his shoulders with both his hands. Keeping him in his seat whenever he tried to move and eyeing him with a stern look when he went to argue. He began to massaged his shoulders to calm him down as Viserys relaxed into it, but kept his eyes trained on his daughter.

Rhaenyra herself felt the presence of Syrax, the god holding a goblet of wine in hand as he watched the proceedings beside her, smiling and grinning as he kept a hand around her waist and tightened his grip when she tried to move.

He gave her side eye every time, but cooed at the sight of Joffrey and Jacaerys.

“More hearts for budding Dragons like you,” he cheered, raising his goblet with a smile. “Perhaps that Cole fellow,” he grinned. ‘Eh, Tyraxes,” he asked eagerly, the goddess nodding as she bounced a scared Joffrey on her hip.

“Shall I get it?”

“...Oh look, he made his decision,” Syrax commented, Aemond stumbling over and looking right at Luke.

“...I-”

“Not a word,” Arrax commanded and all went silent. “...Now….shall I lay down the law,” he grinned, head cocking to the side.

And Rhaenyra felt as if everything was about to crumble all around them as Syrax held her tighter and shared a look with Caraxes.

Something very bad was about to happen.

[kat1473]

“We want our leaders to save the day. But we don’t get a say in what they trade away.”

A/N: I wrote this while watching this scene so this is what I think went through alicents mind during this scene.

Summary: Alicent tells Otto how viserys “claimed” to have told her, he wished for Aegon to be King.

Warnings: Mention of death, Violent thoughts, Manipulation, Angry Alicent, Religious ideals, Slut shaming, Abusive thoughts, Gruesome descriptions of violent death

Word Count: 912

————————

She pushed away any thoughts of the princess she once called friend. Focusing her thoughts on how that princess held no virtue or value to the iron throne. Shamelessly parading her bastard sons around court without a care or consequence of what that might say. She could feel her blood begin to boil with something akin to jealousy along with disgust. The knott in the pit of her stomach slowly twisting and turning around her grief, shaping her hatred clouding her mind. She waited in the quiet as her father Otto walked in and stood in front of her; waiting to hear what she had called him here to say.

A sharp breath broke the silence, her delayed brain barely recognizing her own voice, “I saw him last night…”

“Before he..” The words caught in her throat as flashes crossed her mind of what Rhaenyra might do to her children if she were to accend. Violent images of her three sons being burned and fed to dragons while her sweet daughter screams mixed with her own. The princess only leaving them alive long enough to suffer this loss before turning them to the flames. Tears welled up at just the thought. She could not begin to imagine want if would be to experience. The all too familiar monster of paranoia twisted around her throat and choking the life out of her. Time is running out. She needed to act fast if she was to prevent these dreams into becomimg reality. She closed her eyes and prayed to the smith for the strength needed to defy a kings word. Prayed to the warrior for the courage needed to protect her children. Prayed to the seven gods in which she devoured her life to.

A long pause the room filling with tension so thick one could slice it with the sharp of a blade.

She opened her eyes and faced the familiar face of a man she’s believed all her life. A man who she believed always wanted what was best for her. The man she called father was the very same man, who led her to her doom and to this path of destruction and war. The very same man whom she had no choice but to trust, she has no one left. No one by her side but the crow on her shoulder cawing and reminding her of her duty. Her duty to the realm and duty to her children. Not to someone she could no longer call friend or even acquaintance. Someone who from this day on could only ever be her enemy. She had to purify any other thought of Rhaenyra from her mind. Or it would leave her burning alive.

Quickly her lips moved faster than her mind could keep up, “He told me he wished for aegon to be king.”

Those words echoed in Alicents mind as they did the quiet room, in which her father sat moving forward in shock at what she’d said. These words. alicent did not know; would be the beginning of a dance, one filed with flame and fury. one which once started could not end until death.

“It is the truth.” Alicent looked down into her lap where her hand were, only now seeing the blood the stained them through the blurriness of her eyes filling with tears. She could hear the sharp breathing of her father as he leaned forward his eyes looking for her own. “Uttered with his own lips.” Black accusing eyes meeting brown ones filled with unshed tears, Alicent nearly broke then and there. Her fathers stare quickly turning her into the little helpless girl who could do not but what her father wanted; staying the dutiful daughter. Despite how far she’s risen.

She quickly raises her head and reminds herself that she has risen high enough to never be helpless again. She risen higher then even her father, the hand, as wife to the king.

A king who lay dead.

She faltered for a second as the taunting voice slithered in her mind in a menacing whisper. She spoke quickly before she lost her nerve.

“His last words to me and I was the only one to hear it.” Alicent knew her claims were far from believable. Even her father, she knew would not believe her. But it did not matter the reason. Those who believed Aegon to be the rightful heir will cling to these words spoken from her mouth. The green queen has grown used to beautifully twisting the truth into what she deluded herself into believing, so that she may move forward without guilt.

“And now he’s dead.” Her eyes turned sharp at those last words spoken as Otto stared in silence understanding that finally his daughter had come to see things as he intended. With the final nail in the coffin the green motioned their plan to enthrone the young prince.

-

“Alicent had taken advantage of her father, the hand’s, thirst for power. His need to control the crown, and fed him a story of and old dying king who declared to only her on his death bed that; Her first-born son Aegon should be king. During the small counsel called a day after the kings death the same story was told to a vat of power hungry lords who had no choice but to believe the doweger queen whether they thought she told the truth is of little matter, especially when she had brought to the counsels attention how; No one else was in the room where it happened.”

—

[sxmmander]

These Violent Acts CH 04 - House of the Dragon fic

THESE VIOLENT ACTS CHAPTER 04 |  THE MOVEMENTS OF DRAGONS

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They would bow. She would make them bow.

Naenya had been young and foolish when she first claimed her dragon. The egg that had been given to her as a babe had never hatched, leaving the eldest daughter of the King as much of a Targaryen as her mother was. Young Naenya had always been rather attentive, noticing the way people treated her baby sister, the soon-to-be dragon rider, in comparison to her, the dragonless babe. It was when the girl was a mere five years old that she realised what was occurring around her, and at the age of six, she decided to do something about it.

Her mother had taken the two girls to Dragonstone, where her uncle Daemon resided, while their father visited the Velaryons on important business about the stepstones. Aemma, pregnant with another child that was never to be born, was too tired to keep up with the energetic girls and so asked Daemon to look after them as she rested. Daemon, a man who only respected the power of the dragon, placed all his attention on the toddler Rhaenyra and the small dragon she had with her and left Naenya to herself.

The young princess had wandered out of the castle and onto the moors of Dragonstone with a single guard's notice. After all, who would care about a Targaryen that didn't have a dragon? Her short, stubby legs had moved her toward the less travelled areas of Dragonstone. The areas that held the wild, untamable dragons. She had seen Grey Ghost first, giggling at its silver colouring. She had gotten close to it before the dragon noticed the young princess and promptly took flight to get as far from any human as possible.

The young princess had pouted, watching the dragon disappear among the clouds, much like the ghosts it was named after. Young Naenya was unwavering, though, continuing her search for more dragons to befriend.

After a while of walking, her bare feet becoming increasingly muddied after her decision to walk off the paths and search elsewhere, she came face-to-face with a new dragon.

Cannibal lay before her, fast asleep. The dragon was of magnificent size, but it was his colour that made the girl starry-eyed. He was black as coal, not a single mark of colour on him. Had Naenya walked the area at nighttime, she was sure she wouldn't have seen the large dragon. While Naenya had always been a girl who enjoyed bright and vibrant colours, she couldn't help but be amazed by the pure abyss of the dragon in front of her. She'd never seen such a dark colour before, never worn anything close to darkened versions of the vibrant colours she was so used to, yet this dragon wore them perfectly. As though nothing else would be able to suit him.

The girl, overcome with awe at the dragon, walked closer to the dragon. A single menacing green eye flew open as the girl placed her hand on one of the dragon's claws.

Cannibal was one of three wild dragons that found a home in Dragonstone. Had it not been for the Cannibal's preference for food, there may well have been many more dragons. Cannibal, having been around since Balerion the black dread himself, had never been claimed by a dragon rider. The world-eater had quickly devoured every Targaryen foolish enough to try.

Yet, here stood a girl of only six, completely unharmed. In the meantime, at least.

The devourer had watched the young girl with such intensity it could have burned through a lesser man. Naenya, however, simply stared back with a toothy smile. Perhaps it was her age that interested the dragon, no one of her age had ever come close to the dragon before. Perhaps it was mere shock that such a child would even try such a thing that saved Naenya in those beginning moments.

The young girl, completely unaware of the danger she had placed herself in, sat beside the dragon and let out a loud yawn, "Ēdrugon,"

As it turned to dawn the next morning, a group of guards accompanied by Aemma and the newly arrived Viserys Targaryen were out searching for the lost princess. Noticing the slumbering Cannibal, Aemma burst into tears, assuming the worst. Viserys, drawing his dragonglass dagger, shakily approached the mighty dragon. The dragon turned in its slumber, its wing moving to reveal the young princess curled beside it.

At that moment, Naenya had claimed her own dragon.

Still, Cannibal was as elusive as ever. Cannibal was unable to be coaxed into the dragon pit by the dragon keepers, and, despite choosing a rider for himself, he was still a wild dragon at heart. He would soar the sky, free as ever, and return to Dragonstone to find his food, only ever returning to Naenya when he knew she needed him. As Cannibal's dragon rider, the two held a close bond that allowed Cannibal to know when Naenya was calling for him. Naenya, the ever-understanding princess, hardly ever did so and instead allowed Cannibal the freedom he so loved - with many believing that if Naenya was not like this, Cannibal would likely have gotten bored and killed his own rider.

Naenyna hardly rode Cannibal, let alone let someone else join her for a ride. However, she needed her faithful companion to take her to her first stop on her journey. She was to begin her tour in the furthest region of Westeros. She would ride to the North and continue South until she returned home. And, since all the Lords and their trusted guards were leaving at the same time as her, she had offered Lord Stark a ride back to Winterfell with her. She had taken a very risky decision, considering Cannibal was still as interested as ever in eating humans and animals alike, but luckily Cannibal had listened to his rider and brought both the young woman and the older man to their desired location.

On dragonback, every journey is far shorter than it would've been otherwise. It was one of Naenya's favourite parts of having a dragon. Travelling by carriage for months did not do her good.

Naenya could feel Lord Rickon's hands tighten around her waist as they soared past the villages closest to Winterfell.

Their landing was rough, the mighty devourer letting out a roar as it lowered itself to the ground to let Naenya and Lord Rickon off his back. Naenya jumped first, offering her hand to Lord Rickon to help him down.

"Are you feeling alright, Lord Rickon?" Naenya asked as Cannibal shook his body free of the humans and took off into the sky.

"Flying may not be for me," Lord Rickon groaned, pausing to hold his stomach as he waited for a wave of nausea to leave him.

Naenya nodded, taking the time to look around the courtyard. The entire area was clothed in a soft layer of snow, though none of the inhabitants seemed to notice. Turning in a circle, she tried to take in the entirety of the formidable castle around her. It was nothing like Kings Landing. It was stripped bare of all the fanciful detailing that the Red Keep used to lure people in. Instead, Winterfell stood plain and strong, only there to allow in those that seek it.

"We are humbled that you would come all the way to the North to see us," Lord Stark's wife, Gilliane Glover, lowered her head, "I hope we can make you feel adequately at home,"

Gilliane Glover was only slightly younger than Lord Rickon, but her face made her look that much more youthful. It held creases that indicated she had lived a life of laughter and merriment, and the twinkle in her eyes gave the impression Gilliane was a Lady who was happy to share that life with others.

Lord Stark had found his way beside his wife, following her movements along with the maester, the master-of-arms among others that formed the lineup of people to greet her. Casting her gaze over the group, she noticed the lack of children.

"Thank you, Lady Stark. I am most excited to see Winterfell and learn what its inhabitants have to teach me," Naenya smiled, glancing around, "Would I be able to ask for a tour of your lovely home?"

—     —     —     —  

Naenya had found her way to the Godswood after the feast, where she was able to converse with many of the other houses of the North, wishing to use the time to think through her plans. Her handmaids and guards were to meet her at her next stop, the Vale, so she relied on Winterfell's resources for the time being. The choice to fly via dragonback had been one she made to prevent the time that she spent away from home from extending significantly longer due to travel, but it also prevented her from having her loyal companions with her to converse with in the beginning. She couldn't fit everyone she wanted on her dragon. Cannibal likely would've thrown them all into the ocean if she had tried that.

Naenya sighed, sitting on a flattened rock as she stared at the tree that wept before her. She knew she should have been grateful that she was only alone for her time in the North. It would be her easiest trip by far. There had never been a Stark alive that would dare to break an oath. As soon as Rickon Stark bent the knee, she had successfully gained the loyalty of the North. It was the only kingdom she was sure of when it came to undying loyalty.

Still, it was the first time she had ever been without her family, and it truly scared her.

"I have to say, the weirwood tree in the Red Keep left much to be desired," Lord Rickon spoke from the shadows, walking towards her, "I much prefer ours,"

"It is awfully mighty," Naenya gave a polite smile, shifting slightly to allow Rickon a seat.

"You did well in the feast. Your father ought to be proud," Rickon said, never one to let things go over his head, "But you needn't worry when it comes to the North. We will back our Targaryen Queen until our death. We made a promise to you, a promise we will keep,"

Naenya nodded, an actual smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Perhaps she did have someone to confide in.

"Thank you, your words mean a great deal to me. Truly," Naenya said, turning to see Rickon more clearly, "But it's only going to get harder from here. Do you have any advice you could give me? As an old man who's seen lots in his life?"

Rickon let out a fatherly laugh, slapping Naenya on the back. The blow caused her to jolt slightly, but she did her best to maintain her posture.

"The first thing I'd say is don't trust someone's words just cause they're an old man who's seen a lot. Old men like me get stuck in our ways sometimes. New blood is always needed," Rickon grinned, staring into the face of the weirwood tree, "But I'm sure an old man like me might have some useful tips,"