#city of staunton

[chaoticdesertdweller]

Staunton, Virginia

E. Beverley St in December of 1912 vs December of 2023.

[rabbitcruiser]

Benches/Chairs (No. 70)

Pontiac, IL

Staunton, IL (two pics)

St. Louis, MO

Cuba, MO

Oklahoma City, OK

Santa Fe, NM

Catoosa, OK

Palo Duro Canyon, TX

[kastsol]

"Are you familiar with Noah's Ark? Two of every xevun variant, chosen to continue the species. A system built on the back of equality - it's a very touching, empowering story. Naturally, back then, we weren't so... Detached to the concept of God. We had chosen free will by that point, but like a parent with its infants, our Lord was omnipresent as we stumbled and fell, with His hand outstretched to pick us up when our gait was less than ideal. But we cannot watch our children for too long, not with the murmur of freedom on the tips of tongues, and so He let go of the reins when our time was due. Now, the Rapture is coming, I can see the signs, the only question is when. And I can safely say, based on the world we have constructed for ourselves, who survives will not be based on a fair system. I am only playing the game to survive, child. I suggest you do the same"

Father Percival Staunton

[thecrownnet]

The Crown Season 6 will film in Hull in October. Extras wanted!

Netflix's The Crown film schedule in Hull revealed ahead of final season

The sixth and final season of Netflix's flagship series The Crown is filming in Hull

From Hull Daily Mail Sept 22, 2022

Netflix are once again heading up the M62 to Hull to film for their sixth and final season of The Crown in October, with three dates confirmed for filming in the city centre.

Earlier this month, Netflix put out a casting call to residents of Hull for 300 people for their flagship royal family drama series. Potential extras were being offered a daily rate of £150-250.

It is thought the scenes, some filming until 3am, could be set on VE Day in 1945 in a flashback scene, with the extras being asked to come with 1940's appropriate hairstyles and a clean shaven look. That would reflect a previous movie filmed in Hull featuring the young Princess Elizabeth and Princess Margaret.

A Royal Night Out (2015) filming underway at Queen Victoria Square. The movie featured a young Princess Elizabeth and sister Princess Margaret in a plot which could feature in Netflix planned filming in Hull in October (Image: Hull Live)

The rest of the season is set around the turn of the last century, with the yet to be released season five set in 1990's Britain in the lead up to the death of Diana, Princess of Wales.

The Crown is to film episodes in Hull, which could include a flashback on scenes involving the Queen, (Claire Foy) and her sister Princess Margaret (Vanessa Kirby), right. (Image: Netflix)

October 24th, 25th and 26th are all going to be used to film in Hull, with Alfred Gelder Street and Queen Victoria Square shooting locations for what has proved one of Netflix's most popular shows.

The Crown filming schedule in Hull is:

October 24 - Hull city centre, Alfred Gelder Street - 3.45pm - 11pm

October 25 - Hull city centre, Alfred Gelder Street - 5pm - 3am

October 26 - Hull city centre, Queen Victoria Square - 4pm - 11pm

Following the Queen's passing, which paused production on the series, viewing numbers for The Crown have shot up 800% ahead of the fifth season's release in November.

This won't be the first time Hull was used as a royal movie set, with 2015's A Royal Night out been filmed largely in the city. The film followed the story of the then Princess Elizabeth and Margaret on VE Day.

“We chose Hull for a number of reasons – its architecture and history – and the city council was very accommodating in helping us arrange filming locations,“ assistant director Neil Wallace said at the time. With shooting locations involving City Hall and Queen Victoria Square, and The George Pub, which used the actual landlady Fiona George as the fictitious landlady in the film.

While the seasons of the Crown are set in chronological order, season six's plot information is thin on the ground. It is speculated that it follows the growing relationship of Prince William and Kate Middleton from teens to university students, with two actors being cast as the grieving Prince. Rufus Kamba will play him as a 15 year old, with Ed McVey embodying his young adult phase as reported by Deadline. With each of the prior seasons spanning their respective decade, we can expect to see the the possible backdrop of 9/11, the Iraq invasion and Tony Blair's new Labour leadership, the memories will be relatively fresh in the mind of viewers.

Other confirmed cast for season five and six include the Imelda Staunton as Queen Elizabeth II, Trainspotting's Johnny Lee Miller as PM John Major, Elizabeth Debicki as Diana, opposite Dominic West as Prince Charles.

Back in 2021, showrunner and The Crown creator Peter Morgan has said that he follows a self imposed "20-year rule", preventing him from exploring events in that time frame. But with the rising popularity and the upheaval endured at Buckingham Palace in much more recent memory, the big wigs at Netflix may want this exploring.

Imelda Staunton is confirmed to be playing Queen Elizabeth II in The Crowns fifth and sixth season (Image: Twitter)

The Crown has been a major hit since it's first airing back in 2016 for both audiences and critics alike. The many faces representing the royals have swept numerous awards over the years and seasons with seven Emmy wins in that time. In 2021, Olivia Colman, Tobias Menzies and Gillian Anderson all swept home best actor Emmys for their roles as Queen Elizabeth II, Prince Philip and Margaret Thatcher respectively.

While season five will air sometime in November 2022, production is still underway for the sixth and final season, and is expected sometime later into 2023.

[mabith]

Mistake #1: Not sleeping last night as an attempt to reset my schedule

Mistake #2: Watching the PBS show Craft in America and now I miss my mom so desperately it's hard to express.

[calendae-creations]

I thought I hadn't gotten into the art gellery thing/pop-up gift shop situation I'd applied to, since the posted deadline to hear back about acceptance was last friday. But I just a bit ago got an email saying I'm in! I'm incredibly excited to have my work shown/sold in a brick and mortar gallery location in November and December! And in my home town, at that!

[thesunfyre4446]

It's really that hard for them to say Rhaenyra was a coward? 😂

The Cope. pleaseeee. are they sure they want to go down that rode?

yeah, he fought with everything he had. rhaenys died during that fight because she was sent there BY rhaenyra who didn't allow her sons to join. aegon could've just sent aemond with vhagar, but he chose to lead his army himself.

he was badly injured, was basically in coma for a year and was smuggled to dragonstone, managed to reunite with his heavily injured dragon because their bond slayed, managed to turn the people of dragonstone against rhaenyra, was ambushed by baela and her dragon and survive that fight as well - killing baela's dragon in the process, took dragonstone ambushed rhaenyra and killed her, got back to KL to fix the mess she made, was poisoned.

now let's talk about rhaenyra. didn't fight at all, managed to take KL because of the efforts of others, was betrayed by the random people she gave dragons to (wow def did not see that one coming) and tried to murder the few innocent dragonseeds who didn't betray her - resulting in her husband and hand abandoning her, ruled for half a year and it was a disaster, "the bastard tax", got a 2yo toddler killed, the entire city rebelled against her, the storming of the dragonpit because people were THAT done with her BS, fled to dragonstone after her dragon got randomly killed, was ambushed and died.

and let's not forget TB characters roasting rhaenyra :

"When word reached Dragonstone that Princess Rhaenys had fallen, angry words were exchanged between the queen and Lord Velaryon, who blamed her for his wife’s death. “It should have been you,” the Sea Snake shouted at Her Grace. “Staunton sent to you, yet you left it to my wife to answer and forbade your sons to join her.” For all the castle knew that the princes Jace and Joff had been eager to fly with Princess Rhaenys to Rook’s Rest with their own dragons."

aegon may have lost, but at least he never expected people to do his fighting for him.

[asumofwords]

Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: I feel so bad for the reader, no matter what she does, it seems like something is always waiting around the corner for her. Aemond is only going to get a lot worse...

Chapter 25: The Usurper

The Chamber of the Painted Table was lined with guards and knights, your mothers supporters and families all standing around its sides.

Candles were placed under the table in order to light the carvings, a glowing map of the realm outlining the many lands.

Winterfell sat at the north of the table, an engraved castle and triangles to signify the terrain. The rivers looked like long glowing veins, connecting all of the realm together. 

Rhaenyra was the last in the room to arrive.

You and your father stood proudly at the head of the table as she arrived. Your anger towards him singed your veins but now was not the time.

He had motioned for you to stand with him, noting that your brothers were off to the side and you had obeyed. You thought that Jacaerys should be where you stood, now that Rhaenyra had officially named him her successor.

Why had Daemon not brought him to his side?

“Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men. Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.” Daemon's voice rang loudly through the room, all bowed to show their respect.

All but Rhaenys, who you eyed warily.

“Your Grace.” Your father spoke once more, addressing Rhaenyra who stood tall with the crown seated upon her head. A large black cloak was held together by a clasp over her shoulders, with a deep red lining peeking through. 

Your mother stepped towards the table, and the Queens guards stepped forward with her. You watched as your mother looked uncomfortable by their movement before she motioned with her hand gently for them to stay put.

Rhaena stepped forth with a goblet, holding it out towards your mother with steady hands.

“Wine, My Queen.” She spoke gently, smiling upwards. Rhaenyra hesitated, before grasping the goblet.

“Thank you, Rhaena.” She paused, before nodding her head towards the table, “Come.''

Your mothers first deed as Queen was to bring women to the table.

But you were already waiting.

As they walked, she motioned to your cousin/sister Baela to join her to stand in front of the table, opposite you. Rhaenyra stared at her King Consort Daemon.

The air was still. The tension in the air was palpable and you felt unease spread through the Lords on the sides. You waited for her to address the room, but before she did that her eyes flicked to yours, lips slightly pursing before looking back at her husband. 

“What is our standing?” The Queen asked.

“We have 30 knights, a hundred crossbowmen, and 300 men-at-arms.” Your father listed off before continuing, “Dragonstone is relatively easy to defend, but as an instrument of conquest, our army leaves a lot to be desired. We have sent word to my loyal men in the City Watch. I’ll have some support there but I cannot speak to the numbers.”

Maester Gerardys leant forward to speak, “We already have declarations from Celtigar and Staunton, Massey, Darklyn, Bar Emmon.”

Your mother pointed to the map, slender finger stretched towards the Vale, “My Lady mother was an Arryn. The Vale will not turn cloak against their own kin.” 

Jacaerys stepped forward and began to place markers on the lands of our allies. His stern face concentrated on the task ahead. How he had changed so suddenly, the boy you knew was now a man.

Jacaerys could no longer be a boy, he was now next in line for the throne. The successor. The heir to the realm. 

“Riverrun was always a close friend to your father, Your Grace.” Spoke the Maester, “With Prince Daemons acquiescence, I’ve already sent ravens to Lord Grover.”

Your fathers eyes did not move from the table, and you felt the urge to speak.

“Lord Grover is fickle and easily swayed.” You argued, “He will need to be convinced of the strength of our position and that we will support him should it come to war.” 

Your mother watched you, eyes proud as you addressed the room, though something else was present.

“I’m going to treat with him myself.” Came the smooth timbre of your father, as he did not once look at you, instead eyed your mother.

There was an undeniable tension between the two. 

Steffan Darklyn’s soft voice carried across the table, “What of Storms End and Winterfell?”

Another man who you believed to be Bartimos responded, “There has never lived a Stark who forgot an oath. And with House Stark, the North will follow.”

Queen Rhaenyras face twitched in thought, “Lord Borros Baratheon will need to be reminded of his fathers promises.”

A knight with short grey hair stepped forward to grasp at a different shaped marker. He placed the ace shaped metal roughly onto the seat of House Baratheon.

Jacaerys timidly stepped forward, softly placing a new marker over Rooks nest. Your mother turned to address Princess Rhaenys, who stood behind watching from afar.

“What news from Driftmark?”

“Lord Corlys sails for Dragonstone.”

“To declare for his Queen.” Came the petty reply of your father.

“The Velaryon fleet is in my husband's yoke. He decides where they sail.” Came Rhaenys' curt reply.

“We shall pray for both you and your husband's support. Just as we prayed nightly for the Sea Snakes return to good health.” The Queen spoke. Rhaenys bowed her head and smiled. “Theres no port on the Narrow Sea would dare to make an enemy of the Velaryon fleet.”

“And our enemies?” Your mother continued, turning to look at the table once more, awaiting for her council to respond. 

“We have no friends among the Lannisters.” Your father sneered.

You huffed a laugh continuing for your father, “Tyland has served the Hand too long to turn against him. And Otto Hightower needs the Lannister fleet.”

Your mother gave you another look, something she hadn’t given you before. It almost set you on edge.

“Without the Lannisters, we are not like to finding allies west of the Golden Tooth.” Rhaenyra replied.

An ace shaped marker was set above River Run on the table.

Daemon looked down at the table, hands fiddling in front of him subtly, “The Riverlands are essential, Your Grace.” 

An old man, with little to no white hair left on his head, robes of black and red stood forward, “Pray forgive my bluntness, Your Grace,” He bowed towards your father before turning to look at your mother, “But talk of men is moot. Your cause owns a power that has not been seen in this world since the days of Old Valyria. Dragons.”

Your mother liked across the table incredulously, “The Greens have dragons as well.”

Your father sharp voice interrupted your mother.

“They have three adults, by my count. We have Syndor, Syrax, Caraxes and Meleys.”

“Your sons have Vermax, Arrax, and Tyraxes. Baela has Moondancer.” He finished.

“Daemon, none of our dragons have been to war.” The Queen argued.

“There are also unclaimed dragons. Seasmoke still resides on Driftmark. Vermithor and Silverwing dwell on Dragonmont, still riderless.” Your father shot back.

Your hands tightened at your sides.

“They are riderless for a reason, father.” You snipped but he continued, “There are three wild dragons, all of whom nest here.”

“And who is to ride them?” Your mother asked, her tone mocking her husband.

“Dragonstone has 13 to their 4.” Your father started, but you cut him off once more.

“Yet only one has seen war, and that is the one-eyed cravens. Aemond rides the largest and one of the oldest dragons in the world. Vhagar has seen war and has won it. Do we not see this as a disadvantage?” You argued.

Your father ignored you, still looking at your mother, where Rhaena stood shyly beside her.

“I also have a score of eggs incubating in the Dragonmont.” Daemon roughly placed the Dark Sister blade against the table and walked around to the side beside Jacaerys.

“Now we need a place to gather, a toehold large enough to house a sizable host.” He roughly picked up and placed a metal marker on the table, the clunk echoing through the room, “Here, at Harrenhal. We cut off the west, surround Kings Landing with dragons.” He continued excitedly.

“And we could have every Green head mounted on spikes before the fucking moon turns.” His head turns to look at you, then back at your Queen, who stood still angrily staring at the Rogue Prince. 

Before your mother could respond, Ser Eryyk came walking from behind, “Your Grace, a ship has been sighted offshore: a lone galleon, flying a banner of a three-headed green dragon.”

Your heart raced in your chest and you rushed to walk to your mothers side, your father bellowing out a command to the room.

“Alert the watchtowers. Sight the skies.” He barked, racing back to the head of the table to grab the Dark Sister blade before leaving the chambers. 

You looked to your mother who stared impassively at the table. 

“My Queen,” You said gently, “Do you wish for me to mount Syndor?” You asked softly, Rhaena standing beside you waiting for commands from Rhaenyra. 

A beat passed before your mother turned her head to you, looking you up and down before responding, voice strong and decisive.

“No. Go with Daemon.” And with that she turned to leave the chambers, all those present bowing as she passed, before moving to their duties. 

Your feet carried you swiftly to catch up with your father, the sight of his silver hair moving with the breeze of his pace making you speed further. 

“Kepa.” You called, as you tried to catch up.

He did not turn.

“Kepa.” You called again. He did not stop nor did he falter. You stopped in your place.

You would not chase him.

“Daemon!” You yelled, and finally his steps came to a slow halt. The man turned his head, not to look at you, but to show you his profile indicating that he was listening. You walked to stand in front of him.

“Are you so impatient to start a war, that you wish to demean mother in front of her own council? Her own men?” You accused, breaths coming out roughly through your nose.

The Rogue Prince did not reply, instead looked at you with a blank face.

“Do you truly have nothing to say to me?” You asked, shaking your head in disbelief.

Silence.

You felt if there was any more silence after today you would go mad. 

“Answer me!” You shoved his broad chest, hands slapping roughly against him.

The Prince did not budge, though his eyes softened.

“We are wasting time.” He muttered, turning on his heel to start walking as you stood in shock.

Your father had a habit of being a cunt to people, but you were never on the receiving end of it.

“You are a coward.” You gritted through your teeth.

The King Consort stopped abruptly, turning around once more to march back up to you.

“I have lost more in one day than you could ever imagine.” He growled. “Move.” He flicked his head to the side and began to walk.

You sniffed, straightening yourself before walking beside him. The walls of the castle were lined in lit torches as the sun began to set. But a shadow had begun to fall over your family.

Knights and guards walked behind the two of you as you marched out the front of the large stone doors, before beginning down the winding path outside.

As you looked behind you in search of your mother, you saw the castle. It was lit with flames along its sides and in the pathways. The sun's final rays giving the large stone walls an ominous glow. 

You looked back at your father, who had slowed his steps for you to catch up. As you returned to his side he looked down at you, face stern yet his eyes soft.

“You know that I love you deeply, and I know that you wish to tear my head off. Though you must learn there is a time and a place, and now is not the time, nor the place.” 

You went to open your mouth to argue but he beat you to it, “You may scorn me later. For now, you must control your anger and your tongue.” 

You bit the insides of your cheeks, tasting the bitter tang of copper as your teeth cut through the soft flesh. Hands curled into tight fists before releasing them you took a large breath in, holding as you continued down the path before releasing it roughly though your nose.

A large circular space opened on the path, and you stood with your father waiting. Ahead of you, a large stone entrance to the castle. Large steel doors opened wide for the unwelcome guests with two large watch towers flanking each side. 

As you stood you watched the doorway, waiting for the sight of the Greens.

Anticipation prickled your skin, and you felt a wave of anxiety course through you as you looked to the skies. It was beginning to become overcast with large clouds forming above you. You wondered if you would hear ‘Dracarys’ called out from above by your younger uncle.

Though not much time had passed, the anticipation made it feel like an eternity. Daemon paced in front of you, his restlessness making you uneasy, though you schooled your nerves.

You walked forward to intercept your fathers next pace, holding his hand gently before nodding your head upwards.

There, at the gates came the figure of Otto Hightower, behind him half a dozen men. You could tell that your father was itching to use his sword, hand resting atop the hilt of it, fingers strumming loudly against the metal. 

“Gīda aōla, kepa.” (Calm yourself, father.) You gently spoke, hoping to put the man in front of you at ease.

By now, Otto and his men had reached the open space in the path before you. He stood in hideous green robes, a trim of fur around the collar, with the pin of the Hand sitting snuggly upon his breast.

His hair was fluffed back by the winds of his journey on the sea, and you thought he looked awfully uncomfortable, though smug. You noted one of the Maesters from Kings Landing stood behind him.

“I come at the behest of the Dowager Queen Alicent, mother of King Aegon, Second of His Name, Lord and Protector of the Seven Kingdoms.” Came the pompous drone of Otto Hightower.

The Rogue Princes hands were both on Dark Sister as you stood beside him watching. Your fathers head tilting to the side. You knew he was thinking of slaying Otto in the same manner he did the younger Valeryon Prince. 

“I’ve been directed to deliver her message only to Princess Rhaenyra. Where is the Princess?” He asked.

Your father simply nodded in agitation.

No words were spoken as you both stared at Otto Hightower and behind you, the large screech of Syrax resonated throughout the sky. Both you and your father watched calmly as Otto's eyes were drawn to the noise behind you.

The sounds of beating wings flowed above you, and a gust of wind moved your hair. 

Above you was your mother, crown strong upon her head as she rode Syrax. The great golden dragon let out a loud roar as it flew behind Otto and his men. Otto tensed, body rigid as he watched the dragon land behind them, trapping him and his men between Daemon and Syrax. 

The Rogue Prince smirked with pride as he watched Queen Rhaenyra’s dragon cause Ottos men to clutch their swords in fear, ducking as Syrax screeched loudly into the air. You let out a small huff of a laugh, your father eyeing you from the side as you could not contain the joy of witnessing their fear. 

Your mother sat proudly atop the dragon as it bellowed, lowering itself to let Rhaenyra dismount, before walking through the men to come stand beside you and your father. She did not pass a glance to Otto, and his face held shock as he witnessed King Viserys crown atop her head. 

“Princess Rhaenyra.”

“I’m Queen Rhaenyra now.” Your mother spoke, “And you all are traitors to the realm.”

“King Aegon Targaryen, Second of His Name, in his wisdom and desire for peace, is offering terms.” Hightower's eyes slid to your figure beside your father before looking back at the woman in front of him.

“Acknowledge Aegon as King and swear obeisance before the Iron Throne. In exchange, His Grace will confirm your possession of Dragonstone. It will pass to your true born son, Jacaerys, upon your death.”

You felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Dragonstone was yours to claim. Dragonstone was to be your holding, not Jacaerys'.

You sucked in an angry breath, fingers curling into your palm sharply. 

“Lucerys will be confirmed as the legitimate heir to Driftmark,” Otto continued. Your father shifted on his feet, both hands on two seperate swords now as he looked at you, then to your mother, watching for her word.

“And all the lands and holdings of House Velaryon. Your sons by Prince Daemon will also be given places of high honour at court:” 

Your father stiffened beside your mother. You watched him in your periphery as you knew that these ‘offers’ were to insult your family further, especially Daemon, who had a long standing history of hatred between himself and Otto.

The Hightower continued, “Aegon the Younger as the King's squire, Viserys as his cupbearer. Finally, the King, in his good grace, will pardon any Knight or Lord who conspired against his ascent.”

Your mind was reeling. Your name had not been mentioned.

Had Aegon forgot of your existence? Or were you, as a woman not important enough in the Greens eyes to be given any ‘grace’ from the King.

Daemon itched forward sneering, “I would rather feed my sons to the dragons than have them carry shields and cups for your drunken, usurper cunt of a King.”

Your lips twitched into a smirk as you watched the prideful mask of Otto Hightower slip at your fathers profanity. 

Though just as quick as the mask slipped, it was put back, “Aegon Targaryen sits the Iron Throne. He wears the Conquerors crown, wields the Conquerors sword,-”

“Does Aegon even know how to pick up a sword? Besides the little one he stuffs inside half of Flea Bottom?” You sneered. Your father huffed a laugh beside you.

Otto continued as though you were not there, “-Has the Conquerors name. He was anointed by a Septon of the Faith before the eyes of thousands. Every symbol of legitimacy belongs to him. And then there is Stark, Tully, Baratheon. Houses that have also received, and are at present, considering generous terms from their King.”

“Stark, Tully and Baratheon all swore to me when King Viserys named me his heir.” Queen Rhaenyra spoke.

“Stale oaths will not put you on the Iron Throne, Princess.”

Otto began to stalk forwards, the knights behind your mother clutching their swords, “The succession changed the day your father sired a son. I only regret that you and he were the last to see the truth of it.”

Your mother stormed forward, rushing Otto, his guards behind him reaching for their swords. Her hand grasped the pin of the Hand on his breast, ripping it off of him.

“You are no more Hand than Aegon is King.” She sneered, flinging the pin over the walkway into the depths below.

“Fucking traitor!” She hissed, close to his face.

You took two steps forward, as you watched the knights behind Otto become anxious, tipping back and forth on their feet waiting for a command. 

Queen Rhaenyra's shoulders moved with every harsh breath, anger rolling through her in waves. 

“Aegon is not fit to rule, anyone with two eyes could see that. Though I suppose with your one-eyed craven it may be hard to look past a man who falls asleep in his cup.” You growled, stepping closer to your mother.

Otto looked at you as if you were nothing, treated you as though you were nothing, holding your gaze as you heaved angry breaths. 

“Grand Maester.” Otto called, eyeing your mother again.

The Maester stepped forward, chains on his robes noisily clinking as he reached his hand into the arm of his robe. Your body twitched as he produced a sheet of paper, handing it to Otto silently.

“What the fuck is this?” The King Consort growled, as Otto handed an old torn piece of paper to your mother.

Rhaenyra faltered as she opened it, staring down at the worn page.

“Queen Alicent has not forgotten the love you once had for each other. No blood need be spilled, so the realm can carry on in peace.” He spoke quietly to your mother before starting again.

He turned to look at you, “And yours. The Queen wished to encourage you to accept Prince Aemond's offer in marriage.”

He looked back to your mother, your breath was caught in your chest.

You wanted to scream. 

“Princess Y/n would live out her days in the Red Keep with Prince Aemond, who is the second son of King Viserys. Third in line for the Iron Throne. The Princess would have access to all in Kings Landing and would be treated fairly and kindly by the Prince. Queen Alicent believes this is a way for us to further unify our families with the King's gracious offers. Queen Alicent eagerly awaits your answer.” He concluded. 

Your fathers voice cracked through the air, “She can have her answer now, stuffed in her fathers mouth along with his withering cock.” He threatened.

You lifted your head higher looking down at Otto as your mother shook her head softly, a tear falling down her cheek.

“Lets end this mummer's farce.” Your father barked, unsheathing Dark Sister from his side, his knights behind him following.

This set off a chain reaction, the knights behind Otto drew their swords, awaiting a command from the withered old man in front of them. 

You stood strong, unflinching in the space between your mother and father, unwavering from your spot. You wished to see Otto's blood spilled upon the ground at your feet. The viscous liquid could seep deeply into your pores and all would be well. 

“Ser Eryyk, bring me Lord Hightower so I may take the pleasure myself.” Your father commanded, Rhaenyra looking back at him as she stayed quiet.

Syrax roared behind Otto and his men, the dragon sensing your mothers unease. The large golden beast reared back, flapping its wings agitatedly. 

“No.” Came the strong voice of your mother, as she peered back at you and your father.

Prince Daemon sheathed his sword at her behest.

“Kings Landing will have my answer on the morrow.” Queen Rhaenyra concluded, before swiftly turning away from Otto and his men.

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

Tag List:

@izzicle @ej-shitchats @may-machin @alegria1580 @witchy-jadda @videovampire @inkdelicious @queteimporta39 @virtualsweetsqueen @fo-cus @auratiqs @feyres-fireheart @queenofshinigamis @asoiafwh8re @teasandcrumpets @shesjustanothergeek @grungegrrrl@queenofsarcazm @marihoneywk @curlszx88 @virgogaia @loser-keiji @asoiafwh8re @whore-of-many-hot-men @vipervixxen @theonewiththeimaginaryboyfriends @watercolorskyy @lavendervisions @mazmack666 @chokefrog @orangejump-suit @nik2blog @serrhaewinin

[lunarmoonanons]

Fire and Salt chp 14

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕

YN sits at her mother's council

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YN always enjoyed seeing the map table lit up. Watching the fire below light up the pieces and places like flowing fire enchanted the girl whenever she saw it. YN knew this wasn’t an occasion to enjoy the lit table, but she still admired it nonetheless. YN rested one hand on the table and looked up from it to see her mother walking into the room surrounded by her guards. YN smiled at her mother for a brief moment as her step father announced her to the room of people her mother would call her court. 

“Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men. Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm,” Daemon announced and everyone followed with a bow to the rightful Queen. “Your Grace.”

YN was in between her two brothers, one hand on the table and the other resting on Luke’s nervous back. She knew he would feel overwhelmed and inadequate at an official meeting of mother’s court so she offered her touch to comfort him. YN looked around the room and saw that her grandmother and Baela stood next to each other. 

Rhaena came up to Rhaenyra and held a cup out to her. “Wine, my queen.” 

Rhaenyra took the cup and thanked the girl, offering her to come up to the table with her, also signaling Baela to come with her to seat at the table. There was an air of silence in the room as everyone looked to Rhaenyra to do something. YN watched her mother with questioning eyes and wondered what she was to do first. YN wanted to call out for an attack on Kings Landing, they had the greater dragons, save for Vhagar, and the more support for the queen. YN knew what the common folk thought of her mother. What they thought of her. Many wanted YN to be heir instead of Jace but she stood firm in her decision to place Jace on the throne. 

“What is our standing?” Her mother started. 

“We have 30 knights, a hundred crossbowmen, and 300 men-at-arms,” Daemon explained. “Dragonstone is relatively easy to defend, but as an instrument of conquest our army leaves a lot to be desired. We have sent word to my loyal men in the City Watch. I’ll have some support there, but I cannot speak to the numbers.” 

“We already have declarations from Celtigar and Staunton, Massey, Darklyn, Bar Emmon,” The Maester spoke. 

“My lady mother was an Arryn,” Rhaenyra spoke up. “The Vale will not turn cloak against their own kin.”

“River run was always a close friend to your father, Your Grace. With Prince Daemon’s acquiescence, I’ve already sent ravens to Lord Grover.”

That did not seem to sate Rhaenyra, YN swallowed her tongue at what she wanted to say about their position and what she thought they should do. Knowing her anger and want to burn Kings Landing was mostly from her anger at Aemond’s betrayal of her once again. 

“Lord Grover is fickle and easily swayed. He will need to be convinced of the strength of our position and that we will support him should it come to war,” Rhaenyra said. 

“I’m going to treat with him myself.” Daemon explained. 

Steffon Darklyn spoke up next, “What of Storm’s End and Winterfell?” 

“There has never lived a Stark who forgot an oath. And as I hear it he has sent a betrothal request to Princess YN. If she accepts we have a stronger claim with them beyond us,” Bartimos spoke, looking at YN who stared at her mother. “And with House Stark the North will follow.”

“Lord Borros Baratheon will need to be reminded of his father’s promises,” Rhaenyra explained. Watching as one man placed a figure on the table then as YN handed Jace a figure for him to place on Duskendale. She then turned behind her to look at Rhaenys. “What news from Driftmark?” 

“Lord Corlys sails for Dragonstone,” Rhaenys spoke up for the first time. 

“To declare for his Queen.” Daemon loudly said. 

“The Velaryon fleet is in my husband’s yoke,” Rhaenys explained. “He decides where they sail.”

“We shall pray for both you and your husband’s support. Just as we prayed nightly for the Sea Snake’s return to good health. There’s no port on the Narrow Sea would dare to make an enemy of the Velaryon fleet,” Rhaenyra said before turning back to the table. “And our enemies?”

“We have no friends among the Lannisters. Thailand served the Hand too long to turn against him. And Otto Hightower needs the Lannister fleet.” YN watched her mother’s expression as she listened to Daemon . 

“Without the Lannisters, we are not like to find any allies west of the Golden Tooth,” Rhaenyra responded. 

“No,” Daemon paused for a moment. “The Riverlands are essential, Your Grace.”

There was a pause in the room, YN wanted to speak about the common folk, how she could rally them against the greens and take Kings Landing back. She knew many of the small folk looked to YN for many things and many would do anything for the Princess. But she held her tongue. There were not many on the court who thought of the small folk and did not see their value. But YN did and when she had the time she would tell her mother that she could rally them for her. 

“Pray forgiveness for my bluntness, Your Grace, but talk of men is moot. Your cause owns a power that has not been seen in this world since the days of Old Valyria. Dragons.” One spoke up making the room think of the power of the dragons. 

“The greens have Dragons,” Rhaenyra explained but she was cut off by Daemon. 

“They have three adults by my count. We have Syrax, Caraxes, and Meleys. Your sons and daughter have SeaSmoke, Vermax, and Tyraxes. Baela has Moondancer.” Daemon listed. 

“Daemmon, none of our dragons have been to war.” Rhaenyra countered. 

“There are also unclaimed dragons. Verminthos and Silverwing dwell on the Dragonmont, still riderless,” Daemon continued. “Then there are the three wild dragons, all of whom nest here.”

“And who is to ride them?” Rhaenyra asked. YN looked behind Rhaenyra and noticed someone coming in. She wondered what could be needed now. 

“Dragonstone has 13 to their 4. I also have a score of eggs incubating in the Dragonmont,” Daemon said, then walking around the table. “Now… we need a place to gather, a toehold large enough to house a sizable host. Here, at Harrenhal. We cut off the west, surround Kings Landing with the dragons. And we could have every green head mounted on spikes before the fucking moon turns.” 

YN never usually agreed with Daemon but she was pleased to hear what she wanted. She wanted to surround Kings Landing call the smallfolk to rally against the greens, have place each of their traitor heads on spikes. 

“Your Grace…” Ser Erryk came back in. “A ship has been sighted offshore: a lone galleon flying the banner of a three headed green dragon.”

“Alert the watchtowers. Sight the skies.” Daemon demanded and grabbed his sword. 

YN saw her mother leave the room with Daemon. She knew the greens were sending someone to demand her mother and them all bend the knee to Aegon. She would never, not for anyone. Lucerys turned to YN, but she never betrayed a look of worry. She merely brought a hand to his cheek and rubbed her thumb up and down. She knew her family would call to war and they needed all the allies they could get. So she made up her mind as she looked in Luke’s eyes that she would send a raven to Cregan Stark and accept his proposal. 

~~~

When her mother returned, YN had already sent the raven to Lord Stark. She now waited for the right time to tell her mother. Now she stood near her mother as they discussed the terms the greens had sent. Her mother declaring she would not rule over a kingdom of ash and bone. No matter how many times Daemon had said they had the greater number of dragons. 

“My father’s dead. And he chose me as his successor, to defend the realm not cast it headlong into war.” Rhaenyra said, countering Daemon’s claim. 

“Well, the enemy have declared war. What are you gonna do about it?” Daemon demanded. 

“Clear the room.” Her mother ordered. YN looked to her mother with questioning eyes. Rhaenyra gave her hand a squeeze before whispering for her to leave, that it would be alright. 

Rhaenys came up to her granddaughter and guided her out of the room. YN spared one last look at her mother before leaving. She knew her mother and Daemon would have this fight. Her mother was not as hot headed as Daemon, and not as blood hungry for war. 

YN did not want to seem blood hungry. She did not want the smallfolk to suffer a war caused by them. But she was so angry. She wanted revenge for this slight against her mother, for the betrayal of Aemond once again. Her friend, the one whom she still cared about no matter how angry she got with him betrayed her. He was planning on usurping the throne. And he had the nerve to pretend he wanted her. Maybe he did but she was not someone you crossed. YN spared a look to her grandmother before walking toward her brothers.

[bumblesimagines]

When Fire Meets Fate

Part 11

Request: Yes or No

Officially putting this series on hiatus!

~~~

While a war had yet to officially break out, everyone knew it was inevitable. Neither side would give up without a fight. Preparations were made and the Painted Table was lit for the first time in many years. Candles were lit and slipped under the table, the glow of the fire illuminating the carved map. (Y/N) gazed over the table as pieces were set across it, only looking away when his wife entered the room under her new title.

"Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm," Daemon announced as everyone bowed their heads to her, himself included. (Y/N) watched the uncertainty that passed over Rhaenyra briefly, her gaze drifting around the room. As a princess, she'd been given much attention, mostly lords and ladies attempting to get in the good graces of her father. But now, she was queen and everyone looked to her for guidance instead of mere approval. She stepped forward, pausing and looking back at the guards escorting her. Rhaenyra lifted her hand, motioning for them to stop, and turned back, stopping again when Rhaena offered her wine. 

"Thank you, Rhaena," Rhaenyra spoke softly, nodding for her to join her on her walk to the table. She nodded for Baela as well and set her cup down, looking over the map and inhaling deeply. She looked up at her husband and he stared back, quirking at brow at her silence. When she realized they were all waiting for her, she swallowed and glanced back at the map."What is our standing?"

"We have thirty knights, a hundred crossbowmen, and three hundred men-at-arms," Daemon answered, glancing at (Y/N) with a small frown. "Dragonstone is relatively easy to defend, but as an instrument of conquest, our army leaves much to be desired. We have sent word to my loyal men in the City Watch. I'll have some support there but I cannot speak to the numbers."

"We already have declarations from Celtigar and Staunton, Massey, Darklyn, and Bar Emmon." The maester listed off as the men present bowed their heads in turn. Jace retrieved the pieces and began setting them across the map to show their allies. Rhaenyra nodded and lifted her hand to point. 

"My lady mother was an Arryn. The Vale will not turn cloak against their own kin."

"Riverrun was always a close friend to your father, Your Grace. With Prince Daemon's permission, I've already sent ravens to Lord Grover." The maester piped in again and (Y/N) looked toward Daemon who avoided his eyes.

"Lord Grover is fickle and easily swayed. He will need to be convinced of the strength of our position and that we will support him should it come to war." Rhaenyra pointed out and Daemon nodded.

"I am going to treat with him myself."

"We should look toward Winterfell as well as Storm's End. Starks are known for their loyalty and rarely- if ever- do they break oaths. House Stark could prove to be a strong ally and if they're with us, so is the North. However, Lord Borros Baratheon did not bend the knee when Her Grace was declared heir, his father did. He is someone who will likely need to be convinced but it'll be worth doing if he becomes an ally." (Y/N) spoke up and a knight set a piece above Winterfell. Rhaenyra nodded to herself, growing confident in her new position. Her eyes lingered over one of the names and she turned toward Rhaenys.

"What news from Driftmark?"

"Lord Coryls sails for Dragonstone,"

"To declare for his Queen?" Daemon tilted his head, earning a frown from the older woman.

"The Velaryon fleet is in my husband's yoke. He decides where they sail." Rhaenys reminded the man and Rhaenyra nodded, sighing softly.

"We shall pray for you and your husband's support. Just as we prayed nightly for the Sea Snake's return to good health." Rhaenyra told her pointedly. "There's no port on the Narrow Sea that would dare make an enemy of the Velaryon fleet." Rhaenyra turned back to the table and cleared her throat. "And our enemies?"

"Without a doubt, not a single Hightower will support our cause, kin or not, and Tylan Lannister has stood by Otto Hightower for far too long to turn against him which means the Lannister Fleet is at his disposal. Without the Lannisters, we are sure to have no friends west of Golden Tooth." (Y/N) answered, gazing down at the map as enemies were marked.

"The Riverlands are essential, Your Grace," Daemon muttered.

"Pray forgive my bluntness, Your Grace, but talk of men is moot. Your cause owns a power that has not been seen in this world since the days of Old Valyria. Dragons!" One lord piped in and Rhaenyra glanced at him, gaze casting over those present.

"The Greens have dragons as well-"

"They have three adults, by my count. We have Syrax, Caraxes, and Meleys. Your sons have Vermax, Arrax, and Tyraxes. Baela has Moondancer." Daemon interrupted, drawing a glare from Rhaenyra. 

"None of our dragons have been to war."

"There are also unclaimed dragons. Seasmoke still resides on Driftmark. Vermithor and Silverwing dwell on the Dragonmont, still riderless. Then there are the four wild dragons, all of whom nest here." 

"And who is to ride them?"

"Dragonstone has thirteen to their four. I also have a score of eggs incubating in the Dragonmont." Daemon retrieved a piece and made his way around the table. "Now, we need a place to gather, a toehold large enough to house a sizeable host. Here, at Harrenhal. We cut off the west, and surround King's Landing with dragons. And we could have ever Green's head mounted on spikes before the fucking moon turns." He explained, placing the piece in hand on Harrenhal. The same castle that had seen Harwin's death. (Y/N) wrapped his fingers tightly around his wrist at the thought of going to such a place.

"Your Grace, a ship has been sighted offshore: a lone galleon flying a banner of a three-headed green dragon." The knight, Ser Erryk, revealed as he approached them. Rhaenyra turned to look at her husband as Daemon gave off instructions and walked away. (Y/N) moved around the table and stood beside his wife. 

"If I see my father, I fear I will not be able to hold my anger. You must go and show you will not back down. Otto will have your head, regardless if you do as he says or not. He is not afraid of having others get their hands dirty for him." (Y/N) spoke to her quietly and Rhaenyra nodded, placing her hand over his before stepping away to deal with the traitors.

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Gazing down at the table, Rhaenyra held a distant look in her eye. The page Alicent had sent her, a memory from their youth, had shaken Rhaenyra. One couldn't simply turn on someone they'd loved once so dearly. But she couldn't forget the betrayal of naming Aegon as king. (Y/N) watched his wife as planning and discussion continued.

"It's no easy thing for a man to be a dragonslayer. But dragons can kill dragons. And have. The simple truth is this: we have more dragons than Aegon." Daemon continued his idea, the plan he'd conjured without their input. His behavior toward them after the passing of King Viserys had considerably soured (Y/N) view of him.

"Viserys spoke often of the Valyrian histories. I know them well. When dragons flew to war... everything burned. I do not wish to rule over a kingdom of ash and bone." Rhaenyra asserted coldly, her growing irritation with her uncle beginning to spill over.

"Are you considering the Hightowers' terms, Your Grace?"

"As Queen, what is my true duty to the realm, Lord Bartimos? Ensuring peace and unity? Or that I sit the Iron Throne no matter the cost?" Rhaenyra questioned, earning a scoff from Daemon.

"That's your father talking."

"My father's dead. And he chose me as his successor... to defend the realm, not cast it headlong into war." 

"The enemy have declared war! What are you going to do about it?"

"Everybody out!" (Y/N) bellowed suddenly, slamming his palm into the table and even making Ser Erryk flinch slightly from his outburst. The lords and knights quietly shuffled out of the room, leaving the couple and Daemon alone. The silver-haired prince paced before the fireplace, glancing toward his friend every few steps. (Y/N) closed his eyes for a moment and turned to look at Daemon, taking slow steps toward the man. "You are mourning your brother, I know that. I've mourned a brother too long ago. But you are allowing your anger to guide your tongue-"

"I am not-"

"Do not interrupt me whilst I am speaking, Daemon!" (Y/N) shouted at him and the prince narrowed his eyes but fell silent regardless. Inhaling deeply and moving closer, (Y/N) continued, "I understand you wish to act as quickly as possible to avenge what happened to Viserys and to help your beloved niece take back what was stolen from her. But I refuse to stand by as you challenge us, unknowingly or not. I care for you, Daemon. Years ago prior to coming to Dragonstone, I wouldn't have given a damn if you passed away in battle. But now I do. You're my family and I know you care for me as well. It is why I've allowed you to speak out of turn, to speak down to us. You have more experience and knowledge of battles, I acknowledge that but Rhaenyra is your queen now and you will treat her as such. Because as much as I care for you, you are not the only man we know with experience who is willing to help us. Question Queen Rhaenyra publicly like that again... and you will be replaced. Have I made myself clear?" 

Staring into his (E/C) eyes, Daemon clenched his jaw, exhaling through his nose and nodding. "Very clear, My King." He muttered lowly and stepped away, walking away from the two and retrieving Dark Sister. He looked back at them over his shoulder before exiting the room. (Y/N) watched him leave, feeling Rhaenyra place a hand on his back. 

"You've done well by me, Husband. Not many can threaten my uncle and live." Rhaenyra murmured, hand slipping from his back to his cheek. She smiled softly at him and leaned forward, resting her forehead against his. "There is something I must tell you... it is one of the reasons I hesitate on war."

"What is it?"

"The Song of Ice and Fire," Rhaenyra whispered, glancing toward the door and sighing softly. "When my father named me heir, he told me a prophecy Aegon the Conqueror had. He claimed that the property foretold the coming of a winter so deadly it ended the world of men. He said to survive, all of Westeros needed to be united and a Targaryen needed to sit the Iron Throne. He had me swear an oath to keep this secret and I am sharing it with you now because I know you will not share it with anyone." 

A soft breath escaped his lips and he reached up to touch Rhaenyra's cheek. "And you believe this prophecy?."

"I know it sounds like nonsense but the way my father spoke about it... I believe that sooner or later, this winter will descend upon Westeros. I cannot allow myself to plunge the kingdoms into war and leave a broken mess for Jace and Luke to mend whilst battling a deadly winter." Rhaenyra told him softly, resting her hand over her husband's and releasing a soft sigh. "The future children of our sons deserve a peaceful future, regardless of whether this prophecy is true or not."

"I understand, Nyra. Whatever you decide, you will have my support."

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Standing beside his wife's chair, he listened to what felt like endless arguing between lords. Rhaenyra leaned back in her chair, absentmindedly listening to them, mind filled with worries and plans. The couple still needed to decide on what to do; risking war or accepting the terms. Both choices would have consequences. Dire consequences that could result in bloodshed regardless of what Otto claimed. His father's words couldn't be trusted, even if he said to be a messenger for Queen Alicent. 

"The Lord of the Tides!" Ser Erryk announced loudly, drawing the couple from their thoughts and toward the doors as the man entered, cane in hand. The sight of him brought Rhaenyra to her feet, a soft gasp leaving her. "Lord Corlys Velaryon... and his wife, Princess Rhaenys Targaryen." 

Lord Corlys entered the room with a limp, his neck heavily bandaged but his strength could not be doubted. Rhaenys stood beside him proudly and their granddaughters followed behind them, both looking equally relieved and pleased to see their grandsire back on his feet. "My lords." He greeted them hoarsely.

"Lord Corlys... It brings much relief to see you hale and healthy again." Rhaenyra spoke softly, smiling at the man. Lord Corlys studied her for a moment, gaze briefly shifting onto (Y/N).

"I'm very sorry about your father, Princess. He was a good man." Rhaenyra's gaze turned down when he regarded her with her old title but Lord Corlys' attention had turned toward his granddaughters as they took their places beside Jace and Luke. Glancing at his wife, he limped toward the table and swept his gaze over the room. "And where is Daemon? I am aware he's quite close to you both."

"Prince Daemon is attending to other matters at the moment." (Y/N) answered and Lord Corlys hummed, moved around the table, and studied the map, taking note of allies and enemies.

"Your declared allies?"

"Yes."

"Too few to win a war for the throne." He pointed out, lifting his eyes toward the couple.

Rhaenyra stepped forward, clearing her throat. "Well, we would also hope to have the support of Houses Arryn, Baratheon, and Stark."

"Hope... is the fool's ally," Lord Corlys said bluntly and Rhaenyra glanced back at the map, pursing her lips slightly. 

"Both Arryn and Baratheon share blood with my house. But all of them swore oaths to me." 

"As did House Hightower, if I remember correctly." His gaze flickered toward (Y/N).

"As did you, Lord Corlys." Rhaenyra's reminder made the man fall silent, his eyes meeting his wife's before he turned and gazed upon his granddaughters and their stance beside the two Velaryon boys. He nodded lightly and looked back at Rhaenyra.

"Your father's realm... was one of justice and honor. Our houses are bound by common blood and common cause. This Hightower treason cannot stand." Lord Corlys voiced. Rhaenyra's brows furrowed at his wording, glancing back to her husband. "You have the full support of our fleet and house, Your Grace." 

"You honor me, Lord Corlys." Rhaenyra breathed and when Lord Corlys looked toward his wife, they knew Princess Rhaenys had much to do with his decision. Turning to look at the woman, Rhaenyra nodded with a thankful smile. Inhaling, Rhaenyra gazed over the map with a more relaxed figure. "But, as I said, to my bannermen, I made a promise to my father to hold the realm strong and united. If war's first stroke is to fall, it will not be by my hand."

"You do not mean to act?"

"Taking caution does not mean standing fast. I wish to know who my allies are before I send them to war." Rhaenyra responded, watching him step closer. Lord Corlys nodded along to her words, looking back down at the Painted Table.

"The consequence to my... near-demise in the Stepstones is that we now control them. I took care to fully garrison the territory this time. A total blockade of the shipping lanes will be in place in days, if not already. The Triacrhy have been routed. The Narrow Sea is ours." Lord Corlys revealed. Rhaenyra's eyes widened and she glanced around at her supporters, releasing a breath of relief. "If we... further seal the Gullet, we can cut off all seaborne travel and trade to King's Landing."

"I shall take Meleys and patrol the Gullet myself." Princess Rhaenys said, coming to a stop beside Rhaenyra and nodding to her in support. 

"When we drain the Narrow Sea, we can surround King's Landing, lay siege to the Red Keep, and force the Greens to surrender." Lord Bartimos offered his plan but (Y/N) stepped forward, gazing down at the table.

"While that plan may work, we first need enough men to surround King's Landing and those men can be provided to us through Winterfell, the Eyrie, and Storm's End." (Y/N) chimed in, turning his eyes onto the maester who bowed his head in turn.

"I'll prepare the ravens."

"We should bear those messages," Jace spoke up, pulling his parents' attention away from the table and toward him. "Dragons can fly faster than ravens and they're more convincing. Send us." He explained, holding his mother's gaze. 

"The Prince is right, Your Grace." Lord Corlys agreed, turning to look at the two. 

Rhaenyra looked at her husband and met his eyes, brows, and lips twitching. Her eyes told him enough of her concerns but when he gently wrapped his fingers around her wrists and nodded, she inhaled deeply. "Very well. Prince Jacaerys will fly north. First to the Eyrie to see my mother's cousin, the Lady Jeyne Arryn, and then to Winterfell to treat with Lord Cregan Stark for the support of the North. Prince Lucerys will fly south to Storm's End and treat with Lord Borros Baratheon. We must remind these lords of the oaths they swore. And... the cost of breaking them." 

With that, the room dispersed and Rhaenyra headed up to one of the many balconies after writing the messages as their sons prepared for their departure. (Y/N) joined her on the balcony, placing his hand over hers and staring out at the sea. Their sons would be heading off into the world as man-grown, helping them on their quest. But (Y/N) couldn't shake the lingering feeling that something was wrong. 

"I believe we'll garner the support of House Stark and House Arryn. House Baratheon worries me. Lord Borros is not exactly an easy man to sway and the fact he himself didn't swear oath... He'll use that as reasoning enough." (Y/N) muttered quietly, turning his head to look at his wife. Rhaenyra looked down at the letters in her hands and sighed.

"We must have faith." She whispered and (Y/N) sighed, looking back out at sea. Rhaenyra turned around as the boys approached them and she smiled softly. "It's been said that as Targaryens, we are closer to gods than to men. And the Iron Throne puts us a touch closer, perhaps. But, if we are to serve the Seven Kingdoms, we must answer to their gods. If you take this errand, you go as messengers... not as warriors. You must take no part in any fighting. Swear it to me now under the eyes of the Seven." Ser Eryyk stepped closer with the book, extending his arms forward.

"I swear it." Luke reached out first, resting his hand on the book as he spoke. (Y/N) turned around to look at them, swallowing down the worry bubbling up in his chest.

"I swear it." Jace followed after a moment of hesitance, resting his hand on the book as well. 

"Thank you." Rhaenyra nodded to Ser Erryk and stepped forward, looking down at the letters. "Cregan Stark is... closer to your age than he is mine. I hope that as men you can find some common interests." 

"Yes, Your Grace." Jace took the letters from his mother, safely tucking them away.

Turning her attention away from her eldest and onto Luke, Rhaenyra took in the worried look on his face. "Storm's End is a short flight from here. Lord Borros is an eternally proud man. He will be honored to host a prince of the realm and his dragon. I expect you will receive a very warm welcome." Rhaenyra assured, placing the letter in Luke's hand and smiling fondly. 

"Yes, Mother- Y-Your Grace." Luke stammered, ears turning a soft pink.

"Do not freight if they prove to be stubborn. Your safety is much more important to us than their support." (Y/N) said, stepping forward and reaching out to touch Jace's arm before looking down at Luke. "Come home safely. That is all I ask for."

"We will," Jace assured and placed a hand on Luke's shoulder, smiling widely at his brother. Luke returned the smile and nodded to his father before Rhaenyra dismissed them, watching them walk away. As they walked, Jace spoke to his brother, lightly shaking his shoulder and smiling down at him. They could only assume it was an attempt at easing Luke's anxiety regarding his flight. It'd be his first time traveling alone without his brother or parents to guide or protect him. Jace had been born with the ferocity and confidence of his mother. A headstrong, stubborn young man. But Luke... Luke reminded (Y/N) so much of his sister. Kind, soft-hearted. A sweet boy in a cruel world. 

"They will be... They will be alright." Rhaenyra whispered to herself, tilting her head toward the sky and blinking away the tears forming in her eyes. Breathing out through her mouth, she nodded to herself and stepped toward the stone railing, resting her palms against it. (Y/N) inhaled and stood beside his wife, pleading with the Mother to bring his boys back home safely. He closed his eyes and made one last silent plea to the gods above before opening them and watching Arrax and Vermax take to the skies alongside Meleys. (Y/N) watched Arrax take a turn, breaking off from the trio first and disappearing into dark storm clouds. The two waited until Vermax and Meleys disappeared from view before stepping away from the balcony, reaching for each other's hands as they returned inside.

Only a day or two had passed with no word from either of their sons. The feeling in (Y/N)'s chest had intensified, leaving him unable to find much sleep at night as he stayed up, gazing toward the balcony in hopes of seeing the outline of dragons approaching. Rhaenyra had similar issues although she'd been able to get at least a few more hours of sleep than him before they forced themselves out of bed and to the Painted Table for more planning.

The Hightower could only stare blankly at the table, offering input when asked and dismissing the worries of his wife. His gaze lifted from the soft glow of the table when Rhaenyra placed a hand on his shoulder, attention directed toward her uncle who walked toward them with a glum look on his face. (Y/N) straightened up, holding Daemon's gaze as the men stopped before them. The silver-haired prince glanced at the other lords, reaching out a hand to touch (Y/N)'s arm and leading them toward the fireplace to speak privately. 

"I have received..." Daemon began but found himself unable to continue whilst looking at them. He turned away and faced the flames of the fireplace, taking in a deep breath before continuing. "I have received word from Storm's End that... that parts of Arrax have washed up onshore. Lord Borros states a dispute had occurred between Prince Aemond and Prince Lucerys before both princes' departed. It is to be believed Prince Aemond killed Prince Lucerys." 

(Y/N) felt his vision spin, feet staggering backward as he took in Daemon's words. The prince quickly steadied the man, muttering his apologies to the couple. Rhaenyra stumbled forward, lifting a hand toward Daemon when he attempted to reach toward her. Her lips parted, watery eyes staring into the flames, and hands coming to rest on her abdomen. She nearly doubled over, sobs beginning to shake her shoulders violently. (Y/N) could hardly breathe, feeling as if his lungs were being squeezed for every last drop of air. He leaned forward, resting his hand on the stone wall and taking in breaths, holding a clenched fist to his chest as the tears fell from his eyes.

Leaning in, Daemon whispered to the grieving man, "An eye for an eye, a son for a son. Lucerys shall be avenged."

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Midnight Blades {18}

Aemond Targaryen x princess!reader (Dark!themes) Summary: Aemond falls at the battle for Rook's Rest but not all is as it seems. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, murder and violence WC: 2548

Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four || Part Five || Part Six || Part Seven || Part Eight || Part Nine || Part Ten || Part Eleven || Part Twelve || Part Thirteen || Part Fourteen || Part Fifteen || Part Sixteen || Part Seventeen || Part Eighteen || Part Nineteen || Part Twenty ||

Rook’s Rest (north of King’s Landing), Westeros - House Staunton

Lord Staunton had declared his support for Rhaenyra. That was enough of an insult to King Aegon that he was sending his Lord Commander Ser Criston Cole to march on the castle. There had not been the progress expected as the people barricaded themselves within the castle walls and no matter how many soldiers Ser Criston had, they could not defeat an enemy that refused to come out.

Ser Criston had ordered the dry fields to be razed, burning the city’s food supplies and grain as they prepared to wait out the siege. They had not noticed the ravens taking to the smoky skies, especially the one heading east to Dragonstone begging assistance. 

Aemond had prepared to meet Meleys and her rider across the Stepstones that they patrolled but he was alone in the sky. He quickly came to understand why the small islands had been forgotten as he reached the coast where Rook’s Rest stood. The fields surrounding the city burned as far as the eye could see and beyond the flames two armies collided. 

It was not the fire or the battle on the ground that had him urge Vhagar to fly faster, but golden Sunfyre and bloodred Meleys warring above the city. 

“Sōvegon, arghugon, ossēnagon! Dohaerās.” [High Valyrian: Fly, hunt, kill! Obey.]

Teeth, talons and fire ripped through the air as the two dragons tangled but Meleys was far larger than Sunfyre and the golden dragon was already badly injured. Aemond could see the older dragon circling back to take the kill but then Vhagar was there with a roar that shook the heavens.

Meleys’ talons ripped Vhagar’s wing as he intercepted the beast from killing Sunfyre and Aegon. Aemond felt her struggle to remain airborne as the mammoth weight began to sink beneath the smoke clouds. Circling back for another attack, Aemond rose on his saddle, unsheathing DragonBane. His last thought as he raced along the spiked spine towards Vhagar’s tail was an apology, he was sorry he lied. To save his brother, he would give his life. Aemond was not coming home.

Aemond leapt from the clubbed tail, narrowly missing the open maw that gnashed for him before he slammed into Meleys’ neck and buried the sword deep into the scaly skin. A great roar deafened his ears as blood began to rain down on the soldiers below and he gritted his teeth as he climbed the dying beast. 

“Meleys!” Rhaenys screamed for her dragon but there was nothing to be done to save it as she bled out. 

Aemond looked to the sky, seeing his own dragon’s shadow and felt his chest ache as he cupped his hands around his mouth to give his final order, “Jikagon lenton, dohaerās! Dohaerās” [High Valyrian: Go home, obey! Obey!]

The ground was quickly rising to meet Meleys, her descent losing control with each drop of blood that flowed from her body, and Rhaenys sat despondent on the saddle. “Was it worth it?”

There was no need to lie when he was facing certain death. “No.”

She seemed to appreciate the honesty as she looked to the skies fading as the smoke thickened closer to the ground. “One day Westeros will welcome a true queen, but it is not ready to accept such a thing as yet.”

“You should have told Rhaenyra that.” 

“She was willing to cede the Iron Throne for the peace of her nation.” Rhaenys pinned him with a glare. “It is not the throne she fights for, but her son. Every death in this war is your fault.” Aemond had heard enough and lunged for the saddle with his dagger in hand. “Blood on your hands…”

Rhaenys died with a smile on her face as Meleys crashed to the ground, throwing Aemond from the beast and the world went black.

–

Aemond woke to a kick in the ribs, the bruises from the crash landing aching under the crunch of his bones breaking. He screamed at the white hot pain that erupted and his breathing laboured as he realised his mouth was covered with cloth and his captive was watching with a disgusted sneer from above. 

“We should slit his throat and dump his body on the Red Keep,” Jacaerys said as he stood beside his mother, Rhaenyra. “It’s no more than he deserves after what he did to Daemon.”

“No, death is too simple for a monster like him,” Rhaenyra disagreed as she knelt before Aemond and looked at her half brother. “There’s someone who cares for him more than those at Red Keep. We will send a message to his wife, the Scythian will appreciate it far more.”

Aemond struggled against the chains that held him sat up against the dungeon wall but the movement only brought him more pain. 

“True torture, you will come to find, brother, is surviving while the people you love are taken from you. Take his ring, take his sapphire eye.” Rhaenyra turned and left Jacaerys to follow her orders and his nephew pulled his dagger out with a chilling look that was nothing like the boy Aemond had grown up with. 

“This is for Lucerys, uncle,” Jacaerys stated as he took Aemond’s hand and pressed it to the stone floor. “For my little brother who would never have hurt anyone, but you still butchered him.”

Jacaerys stabbed his dagger down and severed Aemond’s ring finger off. The cloth did little to muffle the scream that left Aemond’s throat raw and he nearly blacked out as his blood pooled on the floor where Jace took the ring and tossed away the rest. 

“Now for the eye that started this,” Jace pressed his dagger to the edge of the sapphire and blood ran down his cheek as he dug around, finally freeing it and leaving the gaping hole of his eye socket behind. “There, a face only a mother could love.”

Aemond’s head hung heavy as darkness swum in his vision, closing in until he collapsed into the embrace of unconsciousness once again. 

Six Weeks Later - Scythe

Your body had healed but your heart still ached. Each time you looked at Aedira you were slammed with the image of Aemond and it was bittersweet. 

Your thumb nervously turned his ring on your forefinger and you looked at the dragon crest as though you had not memorised every detail of it. You had placed the ring on your finger for safekeeping until Aedira was of age to wear it as a true-born Targaryen, but the warmth and weight of it had eased a little of the hurt. 

“You have a newborn babe!” your father growled as you stood before him in riding leathers and Dark Sister at your hip. “Your responsibility is to her and as Crown Princess it is to your people, not chasing vengeance”

“It is too late,” you said with a sigh. “Nessa will care for Aedira in my absence and I have placed her dragon’s egg in her crib so she will never be alone. If I fail to return,” you stumbled over the thought of never seeing your daughter grow, “then teach her to be the Crown Princess the people deserve.” You took the circlet from your head and placed it on your fathers lap. “Hold this with the hope of my return.”

He did not think he would have to farewell you twice in his life but you had already returned home once before so he held the delicate diadem and nodded. “I shall pray to the stars for you, my dear.”

You could not find the strength to see Aedira again before your departure, the pale blue of her eyes from her father had a gravitational pull that you knew would make a farewell even harder. For the first time in your life you would truly be alone, no prince, no guard, no army. Just you and Vhagar.

News had arrived in recent weeks that King’s Landing had fallen to Rhaenyra, shortly after Aemond had fallen behind enemy lines saving his brother only to be burned by the bitch who called herself queen and shipped to Scythe. The latest report had been that the people of King’s Landing and the remaining soldiers had rallied together and were making it impossible to keep control so they were returning to Dragonstone. 

That was where you would meet Rhaenyra and pay the blood oath, one way or another. 

The cold at your back went deeper than just the wind whipping past as you rode Vhagar, it was the absence of Aemond’s warmth where he would press behind you and hold the reins. There was no glee or laughter that usually came with the freedom of flying, not even the dragon danced - she kept her snout firmly to the west as she beat her wings to set a quick pace. 

Perhaps your luck was finally changing as a familiar golden dragon shimmered in the fading sunlight and when he spotted the great shadow of his brother’s dragon he turned and flew to meet you. Surprise flitted across his face and his eyes were sharp with sobriety, something you had yet to see in the months you resided in his Keep. 

“That dragon does not belong to you,” Aegon shouted over the wind. 

“Try to take her from me,” you dared and Vhagar echoed your sentiment with a growl at the king. “I am to take Dragonstone, will you flee or fight?”

Aegon looked to the island that was still small in the distance. He had lost all ability to plan when he had fled King’s Landing as it fell to Rhaenyra, his Hand, Ser Otto, had been killed. Helaena had been driven to madness in her grief after the murder of their eldest son and his youngest had been crushed in the melee of panic when trying to escape King’s Landing. He had nothing left to lose.

“For what my sister has wrought, I will fight with you.”

“Ivestragī īlva pōntoma zālaza,” you said with a dark smile that held no happiness. [High Valyrian: Let us burn them all.]

Vhagar did not need instruction as she tore ahead of Sunfyre and his smaller wings. The distance was quickly closed and you found the docks were full of ships arriving with their soldiers, and their screams of alarm reached you but it would do them no good as Vhagar opened her mouth wide and blasted them to ash with the fire raging in her belly.

You had no conscience for the innocents that died as the fires spread, there was no feeling at all except that anyone who resided on Dragonstone deserved to die. Aegon finally caught up and together you herded the masses like sheep, their screams a lullaby to your broken soul. 

“Syrax!”

You turned at Aegon’s warning and found the bitch queen and her dragon taking to the skies along with a smaller dragon, Vermax, that was ridden by her heir, Jacaerys. Finally a true smile spread on your lips as you felt your blood ignite with fury aimed solely at her.

“Rhaenyra’s mine,” you growled at Aegon before tugging the reins and gripping the saddle horns tight as Vhagar turned sharply. 

You ignored the long white hair that glowed in the setting sun, you ignored all similarities shared between your husband and his half sister entirely. You had killed Daemon and you would kill her too. 

The buckles that held you to the saddle left instant bruises as the dragons clashed with snapping teeth and sharp claws but you remained atop Vhagar and screamed your encouragement, fueling her bloodthirst. 

Even with her experience in fighting dragons, age and size was slowing Vhagar down and Syrax’s nimble wings had her avoiding the strikes that would have sent the dragon and rider crashing to the stones below. 

“Is there where you found your precious Daemon?” you taunted the Would Have Been Queen as you unsheathed Dark Sister and let her see the glint of the metal as you spoke, “I never got to thank him for this.”

An unintelligible scream erupted from her lips before she ordered Syrax to attack, not realising you understood the language. Turning Vhagar away, you let her dive in close and to think she had the kill shot but then Vhagar flung her wings wide, catching the air and coming to a sharp halt that sent Syrax passing by. Curling her wings in tight, Vhagar dropped her mammoth weight and Syrax could do nothing as Vhagar wrapped her giant talons around the dragon and ripped it apart. 

Beast and bitch tumbled to the rocks below and you found Sunfyre burying her sharp teeth into Vermax’s neck, shaking it wildly until head and neck separated from body. Both King and dragon were flailing as blood cascaded to the beach below, whatever damage Vermax had done was taking its toll. 

Vhagar coasted lazily on the breeze as you watched Sunfyre fall from the skies, wondering if you should have tried to save the king. Perhaps if he had treated you better you would have but you just sat there until his screams faded with the wind before finishing what you had started. 

When charred remains were all that was left of the soldiers, you landed Vhagar on the bridge to the ancient castle, drawing Dark Sister and preparing to lay waste to the last of the rebel force. Whatever staff had remained were nowhere to be found and you had no doubt that they would have been instructed to take the remaining offspring of Rhaenyra to hidden tunnels. 

You had no plans to kill the children even though they could grow vengeful as they matured, but as a new mother that was one line you found you could not cross. But, perhaps, if the children were taken from these lands then they could be raised in peace and the violent cycle would be broken with them. 

So down you trekked, into the bowels of Dragonstone and the damp, dark halls.

The torch in your hand failed to provide any real light but you were relying on your hearing and touch for the most part, feeling the cold stone walls for hidden doors and listening for the sounds of feet. You held your breath as you heard movement up ahead and you unsheathed Dark Sister, ready to face whoever it was hiding in the dark. Another sound reached you, the scrape of chains then a groan of pain you knew intimately. 

Abandoning all common sense, you rushed towards the sounds, jarring your arm as you rounded the dark corner and into a small chamber. 

A sob ruptured your chest as you found Aemond chained to the wall, his long hair hacked off and his left eye socket empty. You scanned his body but his tattered and torn clothes hid any other injuries until you saw his hand, the metallic tang in the air telling you the black stain spread over the stone was his blood. His finger that had held the ring you wore was gone. 

“Ah,” Aemond groaned as he blinked up at you with a pained smile. “Finally. Death is more painful than I imagined but at least it is beautiful.”

Click here for Part Nineteen.

Taglist: @hopebaker , @xcharlottemikaelsonx , @eddiemunson17 , @ninjabritches , @solacestyles , @hideing , @missusnora , @marrianena , @jonsncws , @dudfahsn , @queenofterrasen418 , @naeviahope , @averagethottie , @evilcherries , @delusionsofnostalgia , @le-who-zer-her , @readsalot73 , @thewew

[chaoticdesertdweller]

1970s postcard featuring the Staunton Military Academy, now the Mary Baldwin University. Staunton, Virginia.

[atopvisenyashill]

annoying to already see people discoursing about this “meleys the traitor” scene.

greens will say, pretending to care about the smallfolk, that they have a right to be mad about the attack on Aegon’s coronation because of the collateral damage to the smallfolk, which, fair enough, however stupid I may feel that scene was, it did do some unnecessary damage to the smallfolk of king’s landing.

HOWEVER.

if the scene is uncritically people buying into otto’s propoganda, it’s not only stupid it’s also an annoying departure from the books and a continuation of got writers (first d&d now condal and hess) treating the smallfolk as if they’re stupid which they are not. Look at the actual text of F&B:

Eight hundred knights and squires and common men lost their lives that day as well. Another hundred perished not long after, when Prince Aemond and Ser Criston Cole took Rook’s Rest and put its garrison to death. Lord Staunton’s head was carried back to King’s Landing and mounted above the Old Gate…but it was the head of the dragon Meleys, drawn through the city on a cart, that awed the crowds of smallfolk into silence. Septon Eustace tells us that thousands left King’s Landing afterward, until the Dowager Queen Alicent ordered the city gates closed and barred.

Yes, in both the books and the show, the Greens managing to kill Meleys the Red Queen and Rhaenys the Queen That Never Was is a big victory for them and of course Otto is going to turn it into a propaganda moment. It's even understandable that some of the smallfolk would turn on Rhaenys (in the show only) after her (stupidly written) stunt at the coronation. But those last two lines are crucial because it shows us what the smallfolk are really thinking as the Dance kicks off - "If the Greens are willing to disrespect even the nobility after their death, if they are willing to parade around the head of one of their great, terrifying, beloved, and respected dragons, treat Meleys the Red Queen like she's nothing but game hunted for sport...seven hells what are these people going to do to the rest of us nobodies?"

And that is why, if the show takes the route of erasing how terrified the smallfolk are after the Battle of the Rook's Rest, it's a complete disservice to the smallfolk just to have them buy Otto's propaganda hook line and sinker. They are not stupid, and when they realize very early on in the Dance just how awful and violet this conflict is going to get, they attempt to leave for safety and it's only Alicent locking them into King's Landing like lambs to the slaughter that stops the exodus from King's Landing.

Cutting that scene takes away not just the perceptiveness of the smallfolk of King's Landing to make the Greens look better, it also takes away one of the crucial moments that leads to the Storming of the Dragon Pit; after realizing that dragons can be killed by regular humans and not just dragonriders because they are forced to look at Meleys' severed head, then locked into a city that gets progressively more dangerous, with dragons that are getting increasingly more aggravated because of the continued violence of the Dance, the smallfolk take the only course of action they feel they have left to them and that's to rise up and massacre the dragons in the pit in a vain and violent attempt to protect themselves from the endless slaughter that the Greens forced them to live through.

[denimbex1986]

Pride is returning to cinemas for its 10th anniversary

'Comfortably one of the best British films of the 2010s is the wonderful Pride, an uproariously funny and really moving ensemble film set in the 1980s. Led by George MacKay, Andrew Scott, Ben Schnetzer, Faye Marsay, Dominic West, Imelda Staunton, a sex toy, Paddy Considine, Bill Nighy and Freddie Fox, it felt like a movie out of nowhere when it first arrived.

Telling the story of the miner’s strike in the UK in the 1980s, and the efforts of a bunch of lesbian and gay activists to support them, it still remains something of a one-off. Penned by Stephen Beresford and directed by Matthew Warchus, the modestly-budgeted film hardly set the box office alight on its initial release, but it’s earned a rich and deserved reputation since for a film that’s well, well worth seeking out.

With that in mind, for the tenth anniversary of the movie, the lovely people at Park Circus are offering an opportunity to see the film on the big screen again. It’s going to be re-releasing Pride in cinemas on 7th June across the UK. It’s currently listed as going to just over 25 screens, and as such is likely to gravitate towards big cities. But it’s worth having a word with your local independent cinema to see if it can play the film.

I’ve written before on this website about why I think Pride deserves a much bigger audience, and it’s really lovely to see the opportunity once again to catch it on the big screen. Very much looking forward to doing so...

Finally, that synopsis…

Pathé’s Pride is about the extraordinary true story of two very different communities who unite to defend the same cause. It’s Summer 1984, Margaret Thatcher is in power, and the National Union of Mineworkers are on strike! At the Gay Pride March in London, a group of gay and lesbian activists decides to raise money to support the families of the striking miners. But the only problem is the Union seems too embarrassed to receive their support. Not discouraged, the activists ignore the Union and go direct to the miners. They identify a small mining villiage in Wales to make their donations to the community in person. This journey begins a surprising partnership between two seemingly alien communties as they fight for the same cause.'

[homomenhommes]

THIS DAY IN GAY HISTORY

based on: The White Crane Institute's 'Gay Wisdom', Gay Birthdays, Gay For Today, Famous GLBT, glbt-Gay Encylopedia, Today in GGay History, Wikipedia, and more … January 2

1806 – Ohio repeals its common-law reception statute. Since it has no sodomy law, sodomy becomes legal and remains so for nearly eighty years.

1900 – (Charles William) Billy Haines (d.1973) was an American film actor and interior designer. He was a star of the silent era until the 1930s, when Haines' career was cut short by MGM Studios due to his refusal to deny his homosexuality. Haines never returned to film and instead started a successful interior design business with his life partner and was supported by friends in Hollywood.

Billy Haines was born in Staunton, Virginia. Haines ran away from home at the age of 14, accompanied by another unidentified young man whom Haines referred to as his "boyfriend". The pair went to Hopewell, which had a reputation for immorality. Haines and his boyfriend got jobs working at the local DuPont factory for $50 a week. To supplement their income, the couple opened a dance hall, which may have also served as a brothel. His parents, frantic over his disappearance, tracked him through the police to Hopewell. Haines did not return home with them, remaining instead in Hopewell and sending money back home to help support the family. The couple remained in Hopewell until most of the town was destroyed by fire in 1915. Haines moved to New York City settling into the burgeoning gay community of Greenwich Village. It is unclear whether his boyfriend accompanied him.

He worked a variety of jobs before becoming a model. Talent scout Bijou Fernandez discovered Haines as part of the Samuel Goldwyn Company's "New Faces of 1922" contest and the studio signed him to a $40 a week contract.

Haines's career began slowly, as he appeared in extra and bit parts, mostly uncredited. His first significant role was in Three Wise Fools (1923). However, he continued to play small, unimportant parts at Goldwyn. It was not until they loaned him to Fox in 1923 for The Desert Outlaw that he got the opportunity to play a significant role. In 1924, MGM lent Haines to Columbia Pictures for a five-picture deal. The first of these, The Midnight Express (1924), received excellent reviews and Columbia offered to buy his contract. The offer was refused and Haines continued in bit roles for Goldwyn.

On a trip to New York in 1926, Haines met James "Jimmie" Shields, probably as a pick-up on the street . Haines convinced Shields to move to Los Angeles, promising to get him work as an extra - some sources say Shields worked as Haines' "double' in his films. The pair were soon living together and viewed themselves as a committed couple.

In 1933, Haines was arrested in a YMCA with a sailor he had picked up in Los Angeles' Pershing Square. Louis B. Mayer, the studio head at MGM, delivered an ultimatum to Haines: choose between a sham marriage (also known as a "lavender marriage") or his relationship with Shields. Haines chose Shields and they remained together for almost 50 years. Mayer subsequently fired Haines and terminated his contract, quickly recasting Robert Montgomery in roles that had been planned for Haines. Haines did make a few minor films then retired from film.

Haines and Shields began a successful dual career as interior designers and antique dealers. Among their early clients were friends such as Joan Crawford, Gloria Swanson, Carole Lombard, Marion Davies and George Cukor. Their lives were disrupted in 1936 when members of the Ku Klux Klan dragged the two men from their home and beat them, because a neighbor had accused the two of propositioning his son. Crawford, along with other stars such as Claudette Colbert, George Burns, Gracie Allen, Kay Francis, and Charles Boyer urged the men to report this to the police. Marion Davies asked her lover William Randolph Hearst to use his influence to ensure the neighbors were prosecuted to the full extent of the law, but ultimately Haines and Shields chose not to report the incident.

Haines and Shields remained together for the rest of their lives. Joan Crawford described them as "the happiest married couple in Hollywood."

Haines died from lung cancer in Santa Monica, California at the age of 73, a week short of his 74th birthday, which was on the new year of 1974. Soon afterward, Shields, who suffered from what many believe to be Alzheimer's Disease, put on Haines' pajamas, took an overdose of pills, and crawled into their bed to die. They were interred side by side in Woodlawn Memorial Cemetery.

1905 – Over the twentieth century, Sir Michael Tippett, (d.1998) a most unlikely composer and musician, progressed from being the great enigma of British classical music to being one of its most respected and influential figures. His visionary, idealistic humanism, which, while firmly grounded in the traditional, embraced contemporary and popular forms as well. Tippett was, in the words of his partner Meirion Bowen, an "unabashed homosexual," and he defied the social taboos of his time by incorporating homoerotic themes in his operas.

Michael Kemp Tippett was born in London, and raised in Surrey, where he lived most of his life. Unlike many composers, he was not a child prodigy, and, aside from piano lessons, he had little early involvement with music. In his teens, however, he attended concert performances of Beethoven's symphonies, and as a result of this experience he realized his desire to become a composer.

Consequently, he persuaded his parents to support his studies at the Royal College of Music, from which he graduated in 1928. For several years, he taught French in a preparatory school and conducted local musical ensembles. In 1940, he was appointed Director of Music at Morley College in London, a post he retained until 1951.

Although Tippett's early compositions had their first public performance in 1930, the work that brought him widespread recognition came a decade later. The oratorio A Child of Our Time (1939-1941) was inspired by Tippett's concern for the oppressed and his outrage over Nazi persecution of the Jews. The work is dedicated to Hershel Grynzpan, a gay Jewish youth who, in 1937, assassinated a Nazi official in a Paris club frequented by homosexuals, an act that the Nazis used as a pretext for the acts of anti-Semitic terror known as Kristallnacht. Tippett also wrote the libretto for this oratorio, as he would subsequently do for all his vocal compositions.

Aside from A Child of Our Time, he is perhaps best known, for his operas. Tippett's first opera, The Midsummer Marriage (1955), was first staged at Covent Garden with a young Joan Sutherland, then beginning her stellar career, in the lead role. Although the opera has endured the test of time, the plot at first bewildered audiences used to more traditional opera fare.

King Priam (1962) retells the ancient story of the siege of Troy and, in one scene, presents the homoerotic attachment between Achilles and Patroclus. More daring is The Knot Garden (1970), an examination of the dynamics of contemporary relationships. Among the main characters are Mel and Dov, an unambiguously gay, mixed-race couple.

Tippett's final major work was the opera New Year (1989), written by the octogenarian composer as a sort of postscript to his long career. In keeping with Tippett's ongoing interest in contemporary currents in music and culture, this late piece is perhaps the first opera to include a "rap" vocal.

Tippett was a lifelong humanist and pacifist who stood by his beliefs, even when they were out of step with the rest of society. In 1943, he was incarcerated for three months in London's notorious Wormwood Scrubs prison for refusing to do the civil defense duty expected of conscientious objectors; he responded to his conditions by organizing and conducting the prison orchestra.

Tippett was, moreover, openly gay at a time when male homosexual acts were criminal in Britain. Yet despite his "outlaw" history, he was knighted by Queen Elizabeth II in 1966, made a Companion of Honour in 1979, and granted the Order of Merit in 1983. Tippett remained active through his eighties, and only declined at the very end of his life.

His autobiography, Those Twentieth Century Blues, was published in 1991. In November, 1997, while attending a retrospective celebration of his music in Stockholm, he was stricken with pneumonia. He died of the illness in his London home on January 8, 1998, days after his ninety-third birthday.

1918 – Clyde E. Martin (d.2014) was an American sexologist. He was an assistant to Alfred Kinsey on the Kinsey Reports and served as a co-author on Sexual Behavior in the Human Male and Sexual Behavior in the Human Female.

Martin commenced study in economics at Indiana University in 1937. Soon after in December 1938 Martin actively sought out Kinsey and gave Kinsey his sexual history. The pair formed a bond, and Kinsey offered the cash-strapped Martin work in his garden. From spring 1939, he was assisting Kinsey with tabulation of his sexual history surveys. In 1941 when funding for the project was received from the National Research Council, Martin became the first researcher hired by the project. In 1960 he resigned from the Institute for Sex Research to pursue his doctoral degree, receiving his Ph.D. (in social relations) from Johns Hopkins University in 1966. From 1966 until 1989, he conducted research, specializing in gerontology and sociology at the Francis Scott Key Medical Center in Baltimore, Maryland. He retired in 1989, and died on 5 December 2014, aged 96.

In May 1942, Martin married his girlfriend, Alice, in the garden of the Kinseys' house. Before marrying, he had a sexual relationship with Alfred Kinsey.

The 2003 musical Dr. Sex focuses on the relationship between Martin, Kinsey and his wife, with the character of Wally Matthews being based

1928 – Ray Kassar was president, and later CEO, of Atari Inc. from 1978 to 1983. He had previously been executive vice-president of Burlington Industries, the world's largest textile company at the time, and president of its Burlington House division. A member of the Board of Directors, Kassar had spent over thirty years at Burlington.

Ray Kassar was hired in February 1978 as president of Atari Inc.'s consumer division by Warner Communications, which at the time owned Atari. By this time, rifts had begun to develop between the original Atari Inc. staff (most of whom had engineering backgrounds) and the new hires brought in by Warner (who, like Kassar, mostly had business backgrounds).

In November 1978, when Atari Inc. co-founder Nolan Bushnell left the company after a dispute with Warner over the future of Atari Inc., Kassar became CEO. Under his leadership, sweeping changes were made at Atari and the laid-back atmosphere that had existed under Bushnell's leadership all but disappeared. Kassar's twenty-five years at Burlington Industries had given him a taste for order, organization, and efficiency and his efforts to revamp Atari along similar lines provoked substantial animosity. Kassar shifted the focus away from game development and more toward marketing and sales. Atari Inc. began to promote games all year around instead of just at the Christmas season. R&D also suffered deep cuts and the discipline and security at Atari Inc. became strict.

In a sense he also helped create the video game maker Activision. While Kassar was at Atari he angered a large number of the game developers by not crediting them in any way to the point where they walked out of Atari. He told them that they were no more important to the games then the people that worked on the assembly line. They started their own company and called it Activision.

Ray Kassar is the namesake the widely popular game “ Yar’s Revenge.” The creator of the game was a former employee at Atari “Yar” is Ray spelled backwards. The title is a deliberate jab at Kassar, mocking his dictator-like work ethic as well as his flamboyant manner. Ray Kassar was known by the employees at Atari to be an extremely flamboyant homosexual outside the work place. Employees didn't care what his sexual preferences were, but they were irked by his daily habit of being chauffeured to work in a limo and then proceeding to make grand entrances into the office.

Kassar built Atari into a video game giant that it was, before he was forced to resign because of allegations of insider trading in 1983. He sold all of his shares in Atari just hours before a report was published that Atari had suffered monetary loses in the millions.

1929  – Charles Beaumont (d.1967) is born Charles Leroy Nutt. He was an American author of speculative fiction, including short stories in the horror and science fiction subgenres. He is remembered as a writer of classic Twilight Zone episodes, such as "The Howling Man", "Miniature", "Printer's Devil", and "Number Twelve Looks Just Like You", but also penned the screenplays for several films, among them 7 Faces of Dr. Lao, The Intruder, and The Masque of the Red Death.

In 1954, Playboy magazine selected his story “Black Country.” Playboy has been loved by straight men for decades but it was this gay short story that built its reputation. Hugh Hefner was the only one to accept a science fiction story about heterosexuals being the minority against homosexuals. When letters poured in, he said: 'If it was wrong to persecute heterosexuals in a homosexual society, then the reverse was wrong too.'

1961 – Todd Haynes is an American independent film director and screenwriter. He is best known for his feature films Superstar: The Karen Carpenter Story, Poison, Velvet Goldmine, Safe, and the Academy Award-nominated Far from Heaven and I'm Not There.

In 1987, while an MFA student at Bard College, Haynes made a short, Superstar: The Karen Carpenter Story, which chronicles the life of American pop singer Karen Carpenter, using Barbie dolls as actors. The film presents Carpenter's struggle with anorexia and bulimia, featuring several close-ups of Ipecac (the prescription drug Carpenter was reputed to have used to make herself vomit during her illness). Carpenter's chronic weight loss was portrayed by using a "Karen" Barbie doll with the face and body whittled away with a knife, leaving the doll looking skeletonized. The film is also notable for staged dream sequences in which Karen, in a state of deteriorating mental health, imagines being spanked by her father.

Superstar featured extensive use of Carpenter songs, showcasing Haynes' love of popular music (which would be a recurring feature of later films). Haynes failed to obtain proper licensing to use the music, prompting a lawsuit from Karen's brother Richard Carpenter for copyright infringement. Carpenter was reportedly also offended by Haynes' unflattering portrayal of him as a narcissistic bully, along with several broadly dropped suggestions that he was gay and in the closet. Carpenter won his lawsuit, and Superstar was removed from public distribution; to date, it may not be viewed publicly. Bootlegged versions of the film are still circulated, and the film is sporadically made available on YouTube.

Haynes' 1991 feature film debut, Poison, garnered Haynes further acclaim and controversy. Drawing on the writings of "transgressive" gay writer Jean Genet, the film is a triptych of queer-themed narratives, each adopting a different cinematic genre: vox-pop documentary ("Hero"), 50s sci-fi horror ("Horror") and gay prisoner love story ("Homo"). The film explores traditional perceptions of homosexuality as an unnatural and deviant social force, and presents Genet's vision of sado-masochistic gay love as a subversion of heterosexual norms, culminating with a marriage ceremony between two gay male convicts. Poison marked Haynes' first collaboration with producer Christine Vachon, who has since produced all of Haynes' feature films.

Poison was partially funded with a grant from the National Endowment for the Arts. The film subsequently became the center of a public attack by Reverend Donald Wildmon, head of the American Family Association, who criticized the NEA for funding Poison and other works by gay and lesbian artists and filmmakers. Wildmon, who had not viewed the film before making his comments publicly, condemned the film's "explicit porno scenes of homosexuals involved in anal sex", despite no such scenes appearing in the film.

Poison went on to win the 1991 Sundance Film Festival's Grand Jury Prize, establishing Haynes as an emerging talent and the voice of a new transgressive generation. The film writer B. Ruby Rich cited Poison as one of the defining films of the emerging New Queer Cinema movement, with its focus on maverick sexuality as an anti-establishment social force.

Haynes achieved his greatest critical and commercial success to date with Far From Heaven (2002), a 1950s-set melodrama inspired by the films of Douglas Sirk about a Connecticut housewife Cathy Whittaker (Julianne Moore) who discovers that her husband (Dennis Quaid) is secretly gay, and subsequently falls in love with Raymond, her African-American gardener (Dennis Haysbert).

Haynes is openly gay. He currently lives in Portland, Oregon.

2005 – Bonnie Bleskachek became the first openly lesbian fire chief of a major city, Minneapolis. She was demoted two years later amid claims of harassment and discrimination, but return to the department as a staff captain. She co-founded the Minnesota Women Fire Fighters Association.

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Peter Falk as Lee Staunton, in his third appearance on the Naked City program, "A Very Cautious Boy" in 1961.