#goodmother

[araminakilla]

You know? Someone should recopilate all the on-screen deaths in the Shrek Franchise (counting the spin-offs) and call the video "Every scene where Death was there (but also wasn't)" since it's now canon that the Grim Reaper is present when someone dies.

This makes his "been following you for a long time" line to Puss even better, since he was there along with the cat when Humpty Dumpty, the Fairy Goodmother, her son Charming, King Harold and Gingy (in the alternative universe) died.

Think about it. Wolf's everywhere.

[songbookff]

Dipping my toes back in. House of the Dragon. Show canon, not book canon.

To the Black Queen and the Queen Who Never Was, a small, sad interlude.

Rhaenyra had stood on the beach for hours. Not the same beach that she had searched desperately for her son, but the same water that claimed his soul. She didn't know how to mourn this loss, not properly. Visenya’s demise was a dagger to the heart…but Luc’s? It was a thousand swords.

“He rests with his father now.”

It took Rhaenyra a few seconds to register the words and to notice she was no longer standing alone on the shore. Her posture stiffened at the woman who had joined her, although Rhaenys was keeping a respectable distance.

He rests with his father now.

But that wasn't true, she wanted to scream. And since when had Rhaenys considered her boys to be Laenor’s sons? She knew what her goodmother thought of her and her children. It was no secret. Rhaenyra still didn't know why Rhaenys had sided with them in the manner of Driftmark’s succession.

And she didn't know why she was on the beach with her now.

But when Rhaenyra finally turned to look the elder woman in the eyes, she was not met with the unyielding gaze of the queen who never was. Instead, she saw a mother who still carried the grief of the loss of her children with her. There was no judgement in Rhaenys’ expression; just compassion. A mother's face, one ready to hear Rhaenyra’s confession.

“He was a child,” she rasped, her throat still sore from crying. She blinked away unbidden tears and Rhaenys stepped closer, reaching to pull Rhaenyra’s hands into her own.

“There are no words I could offer that comfort you in this moment,” Rhaenys murmured. “But know that my lord husband and I mourn this loss beside you.”

“It is my fault.” The words fell from her tongue before she could stop them. She hasn't even had the nerve to say the same to Daemon. “He was a child and I sent him on his own, for my own benefit-”

Rhaenys shook her head, white braids dancing in the breeze from the ocean. “Do you think Luc would have been safe if you had bent the knee? Jace or Joffrey? Your sons with Daemon? Rhaenyra, as soon as the Hightowers’ placed the crown upon Aegon’s, this was inevitable.”

“But you…”

The Queen who never was.

The words hung in the air between them. As did the implication of what Rhaenyra didn't say. Rhaenys had been the rightful heir, with a dragon and the Velaryon fleet at her disposal. But she had stepped down when the Council made their decision.

“A different time. And a different situation,” murmured Rhaenys. She released Rhaenyra's hands and turned to face the sea, watching as the waves rolled endlessly in.

They stood silently for a few minutes, each lost in a different sort of grief. It was Rhaenys who spoke first and her words were barely audible above the wind.

“My mother would have had me marry Viserys.”

The statement took Rhaenyra by surprise. Her childhood had been filled with stories of her parents courtship and how they were destined for each other. And of course how the Princess Rhaenys had made a match for herself with Corlys, riding to her wedding on dragon back. It has never occurred to her that the more advantageous match would have been between the two presumptive heirs.

Rhaenys continued to speak, but didn't turn back in Rhaenyra's direction, so the Queen had to step in to hear the Princess’s words.

“Of course, we didn't know that my father would befall an early death. Nor that your grandsire would pass before the King. My mother had proposed the match early, but it had been dismissed by all. They kept saying she would be blessed with a son. And then they all swore loyalty to my own claim. Not that anyone would have been able to separate your father and mother…”

“They loved each other.” The words felt bitter as she said them, but in her heart, Rhaenyra knew they were true.

“And goodness, could you imagine your father dealing with me day in and day out?” There was humor in Rhaenys' voice now, something Rhaenyra hadn't heard in such a long time. At least, not in front of her. “I knew my match when I saw him. My lord husband may be under the impression that he negotiated his family tree into the Targaryen's, but I had already told my father of my intentions to marry.”

“And he listened…” murmured Rhaenyra.

Now Rhaenys turned to face her. “Would the world be different now, if I had married Viserys and we had sat upon the Iron Throne as one? Would it be different if you had married Daemon all those years ago instead of my son?”

Rhaenyra flinched at the underlying insinuation but Rhaenys didn't seem to notice, continuing on, “But in those worlds, Luc would never have been at all. At least in this one, you held him for a time. And now you carry his memory.”

The truth hit her like a stone wall. Rhaenyra closed her eyes and sucked in her breath. Her memory drifted to the first time she held the screaming babe in her arms. He was hers. And Harwin’s. And Laenor's.

She remembered the way he would crawl after Jace and reach out for his dragon when they visited the youngling. Luc was always more tender hearted than his brothers, but eager to please. And she remembered how proud he was to ride out with the message to Storm’s End.

It was all her fault.

“Does it ever stop hurting?” she whispered. She didn't feel like a queen now; more like the small child who climbed in her mother's bed during a thunderstorm.

Opening her eyes again, she saw Rhaenys regarding her carefully, as if trying to find the right words. When she spoke, the word was thick with pain. “No.”

Rhaenys took one last glance out into the rolling waves that had claimed yet another member of her family. Then she offered Rhaenyra a small incline of her head and began to walk back to the rocky steps of Dragonstone.

Suddenly, a wave of fresh guilt washed over Rhaenyra. It clashed with the swell of grief in her heart. The love of her son and the love of her friend. Laenor should know of Luc’s death. And no mother should suffer a loss such as this for no reason.

“Princess!” she called into the wind. Rhaenys paused, turning to look over her shoulder. Rhaenyra took a deep breath.

There's something you should know.

[lya-dustin]

Queen

Idea @toms-cherry-trees suggested last year where Aemma says that line Mary Tudor tells Anne Boleyn on the Tudors (the I know no queen but my mother)

Takes place in the Someone will remember us universe.

Sorry Alicent/team green stans, in this universe the greens (sans Helaena and Daeron and Aemond post redemption arc) are all awful

There is a strange thrill of knowing her darling goodfamily cannot harm her.

Aemma may be a hostage, but rules and traditions dictate that as an honoured guest and kinswoman she must never come into harm by them.

Especially by those who claim to be obedient little slaves to the gods like her infernal goodmother.

Alicent has never liked her, always finding fault with her since she can remember. These acts of defiance irritate her more than the puppet rulers she installed into place.

Aemma chooses not to address Helaena as Queen nor does she curtsy as she passes by as etiquette dictates.

After all, Aemma has been named Princess of Dragonstone by her mother despite being Aemond’s wife and hostage to Alicent and outranks Helaena.

“You disrespect your queen at every turn, did your Septa not teach you better?” Alicent, really sets herself up for these, the princess inwardly smirks.

“My Septa taught me well, she taught me the will of a king cannot be broken even by his wife.” Aemma answered in a falsely sweet tone she knows grates her darling goodmother. “I know no queen save for my mother, Lady Alicent.”

If she didn’t love Aemond she would have never attached herself to this family no matter how good Aemma gets along with Helaena and little Daeron.

“Your impertinence will cost you, child.” The auburn haired widow schools her face into a serene mask as she comes to kneel at the feet of the Mother, made in the likeness of the Queen Aemma was named for.

This Aemma cannot see anything but the vindictive bitch who had her maids hold her down while she and the maester inspected her maidenhead.

She hates her like she’s never hated anyone before. Aemma will dance on her grave and cast her bones to the dogs when she finally dies.

“It gained me your favourite son, didn’t it?”

[librosamarillos]

passed down like folk songs

chapter 34: never take advice from someone who's falling apart

Maegor Targaryen x OC

Also on Ao3

chapter index

Tags: hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, angst, mature themes, targaryen incest, violence, Maegor is a red flag himself, characters are ooc probably, MINORS DNI

Ceryse had spent the whole day packing. It was a rushed decision to leave, but she couldn't take it anymore. She made sure Martyn had sent a raven to their father to tell him to expect her arrival soon, and then she made sure that every single thing she owned was in a case, in the carriage that would take her back to her home. The last strange and off-putting year of her life, all packed and ready to go.

She looked around the now empty room, trying to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything, when her Goodmother walked in. It caught her completely off guard, as they had both been avoiding each other ever since she had married into the family. Ceryse could never read Visenya’s expression, but at least she could tell she didn’t look upset. 

“You’re leaving.” she said plainly. Not at all a question, just a statement. Visenya looked at her, her face unreadable, but Ceryse didn’t shudder under her unnerving eyes. She couldn’t let her get the best of her. She refused to lose her patience, no matter how much she wanted to scream at her. 

“I am.” she nodded, mirroring her plain tone. “You must be pleased.” she added, seeing as Visenya seemed to be content with standing in complete silence. Gods, how did Rowan manage to be around her so much without losing her mind? Her goodmother did not seem offended by the comment.

“I am not, believe it or not. I do think it’ll be what’s best for the time being.” she shook her head slightly. She said it in such a matter-of-fact tone, like it should’ve been obvious to Ceryse that she wanted her to stay, even though she had made it so clearly obvious that she couldn’t stand her. She had made it so clear that she was not the bride she wanted for her son, so much so that she caused such a mess by performing a whole new wedding for him.

“The time being?” Ceryse asked, raising a brow. Did she expect this to be like a long vacation? A small, awkward pause followed. It seemed that she had expected Ceryse to read her mind or something.

“Yes. Perhaps it’s best for you to be with your family until things settle down.” she finally explained further. Ceryse supposed this could’ve come from a good place, a place of worry for her safety, but it only unnerved her more. Did she expect something dangerous to happen to the half-built palace? The dowager Queen looked around the room, before furrowing her brows. “You’ve packed everything?” she asked, her tone disapproving, implying that she shouldn't take everything with her.

“I don’t think I’ll ever return.” Ceryse answered honestly, seeing no reason to lie to the unnerving woman before her. All the Targaryens had an unnerving aura around them, but the two that had the strongest ones were Visenya and Maegor. Aenys was the one that acted more like a normal person. Visenya shook her head again, as if what Ceryse had told her was just a suggestion.

“You will. In the future. To a much calmer palace.” she replied. There was something ominous in her tone, something that made Ceryse worry. She couldn’t foresee Aenys taking charge and fixing all the uprisings and problems that kept appearing, so was she planning to take control instead? Should that worry her, since she had ruled for years in the past? Visenya sighed, before speaking up again.

“Things were not ideal for you, and I’ve played a part in that. One day we’ll make up for that.” she said, her tone much more human and sincere this time. It caught Ceryse even more by surprise, as this was probably the first time in the year that she knew her, that she saw Visenya act as anything other than a harsh Queen. She could almost be mistaken as apologetic. “Goodbye, Ceryse.” she said, and left her alone in her room to finish packing.

The conversation kept repeating over and over in her mind, as the carriage kept going. It was by far the most ominous goodbye she had ever received. Lana and Rowan gave her a tearful goodbye, Rowan especially sad to see her go. Ceryse made her promise to visit, as she couldn’t think of a better escape from the absolute insanity going on in that family. As she had mentioned it to her brothers, it came to light that she wasn’t the only Hightower to invite Rowan to Oldtown.

“And you just invited her like that?” Ceryse asked, jokingly kicking her younger brother on the knee. She didn’t want to dwell on her goodmother on the long way home, she’d have time to worry about it from the comfort of her room. For now, she could at least laugh at her youngest brother and his attempts at flirting.

“What do you mean?” Morgan asked, almost offended at the implication, crossing his arms right away. In so many ways, he still acted like he used to when they were young and she’d tease him. 

“Awkwardly, in a hallway while your sister is upset in the room right behind you?” Martyn stated, raising a brow in amusement. Gods be good, Ceryse could almost picture the surprise on Rowan’s face. Now she was wishing she hadn’t left in such a rush, because she would’ve loved to make fun of her brother with her best friend. 

“How romantic, Morgan!” she exclaimed, giving him a pat on the shoulder. His face even managed to make Martyn laugh, despite his anger. All three siblings were angry at what had happened, but seeing her eldest brother crack a smile was certainly a soothing thing. 

“It wasn’t awkward!” Morgan defended himself, but seemed to realise that anything else he said would be used against him to be teased relentlessly, so he just kept pouting, promising his siblings that he’d rather continue the journey on horseback than to be stuck with them teasing him.

“Of course it wasn’t.” Ceryse said, shaking her head. It wouldn’t be a bad thing to have Rowan visit with her father. Their own father had been a bit ill and seeing an old friend again would make him feel much better for sure. And perhaps they’d conclude their reunification with a proposal, a match between her brother and Rowan. It would be a nice occasion to have a wedding that Ceryse would look forward to. And the fact that her closest friend would remain close to her. 

It was something that just hung up in the air with uncertainty, what would happen when her husband would return from exile. Would she be expected to return by his side and pretend it’s all well and good? In what world would his actions be somehow accepted after some time passed? No, she wouldn’t return at all. She couldn’t stand the thought of his stupid fucking face. He’d have to come drag her out of the hightower with Balerion himself if he cared so much to do so.

Returning back home to Oldtown filled her lungs with air again. She finally felt like she could breathe. She was home, where everything was just as she remembered it being. Her father even had the rare show of pure relief to see her and embrace her again. She tried not to dwell on any feeling of failure, the thought that if she had given Maegor an heir, then none of this would’ve happened. But no one blamed her, no one looked at her with any contempt, instead they all welcomed her back home warmly. 

Their father had invited them to speak, to try and make sense of what to do in the future, when a young squire ran in the room, bringing a letter with the unmistakable Targaryen seal. Their father took the letter from the boy’s hands and dismissed him. All three of his children looked at him with curious eyes, a silent question waiting to be answered. 

“What does the letter say, father?” Martyn spoke up, his arms crossed. Ceryse herself was alarmed. She had just been able to breathe and relax in her own home, would the King have demanded she return? No, surely not, it made no sense. The last time she saw Aenys, he only gave her an ashamed, but apologetic look. He wouldn’t demand her presence.

“It’s not just a letter.” her father’s voice caught her attention again. “It’s an invitation.” he added, reading it again and again, which worried his three children even more. It was as if he couldn’t believe what he was reading and wanted to make sure of it before he spoke it out loud. Now she was confused, they all were. 

“An invitation? To what?” she asked. He certainly wouldn’t be throwing a feast for no reason. There weren’t any holidays coming up, and there were certainly more important things for the King to address before he threw a big feast to celebrate. 

“To a wedding.” their father responded, his eyes still scanning the letter over and over again. That was certainly not what anyone was expecting. A wedding? 

“A royal wedding?” she asked. “But all the King’s children are still so young.” she added. Rhaena was the eldest one, had he found her a match already? He had never mentioned to Ceryse that he’d even been searching for a match, but she supposed it was only normal for him to want to find his daughter a good match. She was his only daughter and his firstborn, it was expected that he’d be more attached to her. But still, a wedding? At her young age, Rhaena should only be betrothed, nothing more. Was he trying to marry her off to avoid some scandal? But Princess Rhaena was always in line, never one to care about boys.

“The King believes that it is ‘the perfect time’ for Rhaena and Aegon to marry. Each other.” their father finally said, after leaving them in silence for a moment. 

Silence filled the room, like they all didn’t want to believe what they just heard. Did she hear that right? Was the King somehow planning to marry his two young children to each other? Disgust was clear on everyone’s faces. There had been this unspoken understanding that the Targaryens would adapt the Westerosi culture, as Aegon and his sisters accepted the faith of the seven. It was clear that incest was a huge sin, absolutely no cause for celebration. All the disgust aside, Princess Rhaena couldn’t have been bleeding for longer than a year, and Prince Aegon had just now started using a real sword in his training.

Ceryse knew Aegon better than his sister. He was a quiet boy, but not too shy, who followed all his lessons dutifully. He was always polite to her and they would sometimes chat, and she had promised to teach him Cyvasse one day, if he did well in his lessons. He did have a more mischievous side to him, as he loved playing pranks with Rhaena. 

Rhaena, she didn’t see much, as she would spend all of her free time flying with Dreamfyre. During feasts and gatherings, she was more introverted and shy, and Ceryse always got the impression that being around people would tire the young Princess. She was not one to socialise, much to Queen Alyssa’s dismay. 

That’s how Ceryse viewed them as; children. To ever imagine that the two would be soon bound by marriage, it was wrong, so very wrong. She could not imagine being forced to marry one of her brothers, it was unnatural and a disgrace to even think about. 

“Who would even perform such a ceremony?” Martyn finally broke the silence in the room, turning to their father, who offered him the letter to inspect as well. He read it, and offered it to her as well, as he crossed his arms. Ceryse scanned it, hoping to discover that this was a misunderstanding of some sort, but no. It was indeed a formal invitation, in the writing of the King himself, which meant he specifically wrote to them to invite them. 

“No septon would ever perform such a sin.” Morgan frowned, shaking his head in pure disbelief. Did Aenys realise what he had just done? Part of her hoped that he had only written to them, that they could burn this letter and pretend it never happened, for the consequences would be severe.

“Murmison. He would do it.” she finally said, finding her voice again. That man had been whispering in the King’s ear, she was certain that he had a role to play in this. He should’ve prevented the King from doing this, but Ceryse knew that he was encouraging it all. Was it out of foolishness, or was he that eager to have war declared on her goodbrother?

“Uncle will be furious once he hears of this.” Martyn said. He was right. Their uncle would certainly not be silent, not when he had been waiting for the dragonlords to step out of line. Had Aenys written to him? Invited him to perform the ceremony himself?

“Does he really expect us to go? To support this?” Morgan asked, looking at her directly. Ceryse frowned deeply. She couldn’t for the life of her understand how Aenys was thinking. And Alyssa? Where was she in all of this? How could she be okay with this? Then again, she was a Velaryon, she would be used to these customs.

“I don’t know what he expects to happen. I don’t even think he understands this is like a declaration for war.” she sighed, handing the letter to Morgan, so he’d get a turn in reading it too. Gods, she had only been gone half a fortnight, and now this was happening.

“The poor kids.” Morgan sighed, disgust clear on his face. “They’re stuck in this.” he said, returning the letter to the hands of their father. Morgan had only seen the Princess and Prince a few times, but he certainly did not think they were ready to be wed, let alone to be following this disgusting custom.

“Gods be good. What has he done?” Manfred Hightower pinched the bridge of his nose, wishing he never let his only daughter get involved with the Targaryens at all.

Rowan quietly watched as the Queen helped her daughter adjust the intricate headpiece, which she was not used to wearing. It was strange and sad to watch this little girl about to enter a woman’s role when she was barely fifteen years of age. Could Rhaena even comprehend why everyone seemed so uneasy, so disgusted with the match? How could she? She was just a child, brought up with the idea that it was her duty and honour as a Targaryen, how could she speak against her match?

The only positive Rowan saw in this was that the young Prince and Princess got along very well and already spent a lot of time together. Princess Rhaena would not be stuck with a harsh and impossible husband, but rather someone she knew well and got along with. The thought of that gave her some semblance of peace, if she looked past the massive catastrophe this match would bring along with it. 

The dowager Queen had left the room where Alyssa was preparing her daughter for the announcement of the betrothal, taking Rowan with her. She never spent any time with her grandchildren, well, they weren’t really. She herself had never called them that. Rowan was glad to be out of the room though, as it only filled her with dread for what was to come. Helping Visenya prepare for court was a much more familiar and calming act.

“Does this disgust you greatly?” Visenya asked as Rowan brushed through her long silver locks. While she never brought it up to her before, she was sure her face betrayed her feelings. She wasn’t disgusted by the children, of course not, but the whole practice was…

“It’s… unusual. I thought this tradition would end after you all converted to the faith of the seven.” she answered, beginning to braid her hair in the updo she preferred. She never lied to her, never feared telling her how she felt about anything, she saw no reason to start now. Visenya gave her an understanding look.

“No, my girl. This tradition is an important one. Do you not remember what I taught you of Old Valyria? You were the most diligent of students.” she asked again. Rowan loved to learn, still did, but she loved it when the former Queen would teach her, when she’d recite stories and tell her of the history. Of course she remembered.

“I understand that it was to ensure the family fortune would remain within the family. But the crown would still belong to the Targaryens regardless of who Aegon marries.” she replied, but still had her doubts. It wasn’t like they’d be losing out on fortune, if anything the practice stopped them from getting more resources. 

“It’s much more than that, you know this.” Visenya said, handing her a golden clip to pin the braid she had just finished. Rowan paused for a moment, knowing exactly what she was alluding to. She nodded.

“Rhaena has a dragon. That’s what must remain within the family.” she said, continuing with her brushing and braiding. Keeping the dragons within the family, that would be the wisest thing to do. It’s what set the Targaryens apart, what granted them the power, giving away would be foolish. But then it only brought up more questions for Rowan. If Rhaena had no dragon, would she be free of the practice? Was every Targaryen woman bound to the practice if she wanted to have a dragon of her own? 

“There you go.” she smiled, nodding. Rowan wanted to ask more, so much more, but there wasn’t much time, and their relationship was still healing. She wondered often if Visenya had ever questioned it, or ever felt like rejecting the practice altogether. Had she always known she was to marry her own brother, or had she been made aware when she was older? Rowan knew that she always loved Aegon, but was there ever a time when it all felt wrong?

“Still… you know nobody will accept this. There will be repercussions.” she added, trying to focus more on the task at hand. She worried about riots, about something more serious happening. Riots had been happening here and there, but once the news of this broke out, Rowan couldn’t imagine what that could bring up. Visenya seemed eerily calm.

“I do not doubt it. Perhaps my nephew will finally grow a spine, who knows?” she asked lightheartedly. Rowan had given up trying to get Visenya to care a bit more about Aenys. She understood that there was simply too much there, but she had hoped she’d at least be on his side a little bit more.

“It’s just difficult to accept, I suppose.” she sighed, taking another golden clip from Visenya’s hand, making sure the braid had a perfect place. Even when she was young, she found the marriage between the three conquerors disturbing and wrong, before she knew all that lay beneath the surface. Now that she was a woman grown, everything just appeared more disturbing, especially when it came to the young Princess and Prince. Visenya gave her a sympathetic smile.

“My dear girl… you know that, had you married Maegor, the children you two had together would follow this practice, do you not?” she asked. Rowan’s movements stopped entirely. She looked at her through the mirror with shock. Rowan absolutely had dreams of having a family with Maegor, she had loved him so much, for so long, but none of those dreams involved… this. She wanted to raise her children in the faith, to find them all happy matches for their futures, she never thought the incestious tradition would carry on. Visenya immediately looked apologetic.

“I’m sorry… It’s easier when you don’t think too much about it. Think of them as cousins, if it helps.” she said, quickly changing the subject. She supposed if she pretended they were cousins, while still disturbing, it would be easier. 

“Are there… news?” Rowan asked after a moment of silence. “From Pentos?” she added, looking away from the former Queen’s gaze in the mirror, continuing to braid her hair. Rowan knew she shouldn’t ask, she knew it would be easier on her shattered heart to not hear from him at all, to ignore his very existence, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t pretend he wasn’t on her mind at all times. The dowager Queen shook her head lightly, as to not disturb her from working on her hair.

“Nothing groundbreaking. He offered to send me some exotic herbs he found at the markets.” Visenya sighed with a small smile forming on her lips. Rowan heard lots of things about the markets of Pentos, especially the ones near the port. Any city near or on a port was to have prosperous markets, but Pentos had a lot of interesting things. She almost smiled at the sweet gesture of him sending his mother something he knew she loved. “He was very pleased to hear of your project.” she added. Rowan blushed, shaking her head.

“It’s hardly my project. I only offered to help support the septon get the approval from his grace.” she answered quickly. She never wanted to give out the impression that she was somehow in charge of this. It made her blush when she thought of him being happy to hear about her news, and if she ignored everything else that happened, she would even smile with joy. But she couldn’t forget what he did. 

“And help them plan it, and finance most of it?” Visenya asked with a raised brow and a smile. Rowan met her gaze through the mirror, suddenly feeling very shy. The septon asked for her help because she and her father were constant presences in that space, and have helped a lot since the city had formed. He also knew that she had some wealthy friends that would help if needed, and indeed with Ceryse’s help, the contributions to the expansion grew greatly. It wasn’t like Rowan was the one laying the bricks.

“I only offered to help where I could…” she trailed, feeling somehow embarrassed. Visenya’s smile did not falter, however. 

“He wanted you to know he was proud of you. As am I.” she said warmly, as Rowan placed the last braid in its place. She felt like she hadn’t done so much to earn their pride, as kind as it was for them to say. 

“I…”

“Do not deflect my pride now. I know you are one of the most capable people in this city, and certainly the one I trust the most.” Visenya countered her doubts before she could even speak them out loud. Rowan looked down for a moment. Why were they proud of her? What had she done to earn pride? She shook her head lightly.

“You flatter me too much.” she said, taking the brush from the vanity. For a moment, the air between them felt light again. 

“I do not spare flattery.” the dowager Queen countered once more, this time more firmly. She could already hear the sentences she wanted to add about not being too humble and that she was capable of doing great things. Rowan wasn’t sure if she wanted to hear it at the moment. “I did hear someone, a certain knight, has invited you to Oldtown?” she asked, changing the subject completely.

“Ser Morgan. Yes, he invited both my father and I.” she answered, a bit surprised that anyone had told her. She’d have to ask one day, maybe she’d reveal how she got to know everything that happened within the palace walls. 

“For tea and a chat?” Visenya asked, her tone clearly urging her to say more.

“For a few moons.” Rowan replied, reaching for the hair oil on the vanity, to finish and perfect her hair. She wasn’t sure how she’d even approach this. 

“Rowan, I know the past year has been hard on you, on your heart, but have you not given any thought to a suitor? I understand Tybolt Lannister was not your ideal choice, but this time, this one seems more serious.” she said, turning to now face her. Her eyes were sympathetic, apologetic too, as she seemed to understand how much this still affected her so deeply. Rowan let out a small sigh.

“I know. Ser Morgan is a lovely man. He would make a fine match, but… I only feel guilty.” she confessed, looking to the floor in shame. Morgan, in truth, was a dream match in every sense. It would unite their houses once more and strengthen their bond, not to mention they got along very well, and she’d get to live in Oldtown, which she had always wanted, plus she’d be Ceryse’s family. How many women would be this lucky to have a potential match be this good and compatible? And yet…

“Because he has taken a liking to you?” she asked, a look of disbelief on her features. 

“Because it would be unfair. I cannot dedicate my heart to him…” she replied. Rowan felt so spoiled and ungrateful at that moment. Well, truly, during the whole time Morgan was showing interest. He was absolutely lovely, a man difficult to come by, a man that her father would be so happy to marry her off to. And yet she still loved Maegor with all her heart. It was so unfair, so cruel. Visenya grabbed her hand softly, getting her attention once more.

“You need not devote your heart. Most do not. You know how marriages are planned, you’ve known since you were young. I’m sure that with time, it will be easier.” she stated softly. It was true, it wasn’t even unheard of for a couple to meet at the altar for the very first time, then slowly start to care for each other. Love could grow where people nurtured it, yes, but Rowan felt like she’d be lying to him, that she was betraying him before a betrothal was even suggested out loud.

“I don’t know…” she sighed again. In truth, she wasn’t even sure when she’d visit. Her father was travelling to sell their house’s wood and honey to their usual buyers, great houses all over the kingdoms. And Rowan wanted to stay here, as much as she yearned for home and for Oldtown, she felt like she had to stay by the King’s side, as well as Visenya’s.  “You’d be alright with me living in Oldtown?” she asked, this time more lightheartedly.

“Certainly not. I’d have him stationed here, to keep you close to me. Who better to keep you safe than Vhagar?” Visenya smiled again, shaking her head. The air felt light again. Rowan smiled at the mention of the dragon, shaking her head as well.

“I don’t think we’ll need to bother her with my protection, I doubt it’ll come to that.” she said. She couldn’t imagine a situation where she’d need Vhagar to help. She stayed away from trouble, followed every rule, she hoped there was never anything that serious directed at her.

“You know she’s grown fond of you. How long must I push you to join me for a flight? Just a short one, over the city.” the dowager Queen asked. She loved to fly. In her own words, it was one of the only places she felt safe to be herself. It was safe to be up in the clouds where nothing could touch you, freeing even. It was an honour she even offered for Rowan to join her at all.

“You know dragons frighten me! I can be around her, but that’s about it.” Rowan shook her head again. Maegor and Visenya had gotten her to touch her scales a few times, once even getting her to pet her snout, all while clinging onto Maegor for dear life, of course. But flying? No, Rowan couldn’t find it in herself to entertain the idea. Her cousin, Erin, always made fun of her about it, calling it a huge missed opportunity. Perhaps Rowan could invite her to join the former Queen. The thought made her smile.

“Mark my words, my girl, one day I’ll get you to join me. Let it be before I’m too old to climb on the saddle.” Visenya smiled lightly again. 

“I cannot promise that to you.” Rowan countered, a more playful tone in her voice now. Visenya smiled, seeming glad. She got up, checking her hair in the mirror before giving Rowan a look of approval and thanking her.

“Now come. Let us go, the King awaits.” she said, leading her to the throne room, where the lords and ladies of the court awaited. 

The announcement was not met with any joy, as Aenys had been certain of, but disapproval and awkwardness and disgust. Silent judgement from the lords and ladies who still wished to be on the King’s good graces, as well as fake smiles, but some even responded with outright animosity. It was heartbreaking to watch the young Princess and Prince’s smiles drop at the reaction, and the confusion in their eyes as they looked toward their mother and father for answers. Rowan also worried for the Queen. Her pregnancy had been giving her a hard time this time around, and the maesters had strongly suggested a calm and relaxing environment.

Aenys was devastated, his hopes crushed. But the worst was yet to come. A raven from Oldtown, from the HIgh Septon himself, declaring the match an abomination, an act against the gods, and threatening heavy repercussions should the betrothal not be broken right away. 

Rowan had been helping Visenya with her correspondence when Aenys rushed through the doors, the distress clear on his face, the letter in his trembling hand. Before Rowan could even react, Visenya spoke up.

“Nephew.” she greeted him firmly, the way she always did. She seemed so calm, like she was expecting things to play out this very way.

“Your grace.” Rowan greeted, far more formally and with worry in her eyes at his state. Aenys only nodded in acknowledgement, trying to catch his breath from rushing here.

“I… I do not know what to do.” he said, his voice betraying confusion and even fear. Rowan had already gotten up from the desk where she was writing the dowager Queen’s letters, and felt so bad she wanted to give him a hug. But she remained in her spot.

“With what?” Visenya asked, despite knowing exactly why, as it was so clear and obvious. Rowan looked at her with pleading eyes, silently begging her to be kind to him, especially with how clearly distressed he was. These were his children that were affected, and therefore he was more stressed than ever before.

“With this.” he said, handing his aunt the letter with his shaking hand. As Visenya read, Rowan wondered if he was angry. He seemed worried, even fearful, but was he not at least a little bit angry at the reactions he had received? Visenya finished reading, and handed the letter to Rowan. She read quickly, worried to see what had happened.

“It’s quite simple, nephew. Either you break the betrothal and find new matches for your daughter and son, or take your dragon to Oldtown and have the High Septon answer to him.” she replied bluntly. Rowan visibly stiffened at the suggestion of violence, as did Aenys, but Visenya was unflinching, almost challenging him, sizing him up to see if he’d do it. 

“I do not wish for my reign to be one of war.” he finally spoke up, but it wasn’t a firm statement of a King. It was like a plea, a prayer of sorts, perhaps even to the gods if he believed in them instead of just claiming them in name, the way Visenya and Maegor did. The former Queen scoffed at him like he was an annoying child.

“You are a blind fool if you think you can avoid this. How do you think we conquered Westeros? By asking everyone nicely by raven?” she asked, crossing her arms. The tension between the two grew quickly, as Aenys straightened his back and his mouth thinned. 

An awkward silence followed, before Aenys turned his lilac eyes to Rowan.

“What do you think?” he asked, catching her off-guard. She was not used to giving opinions on matters as important, and quite frankly scary, as this one. If anything, she’d be looking to Visenya and her father for answers, but she understood that the King did not have that luxury.

“Me?” Rowan asked, completely surprised. Visenya seemed curious to what approach she’d advise him to take as well. “I… I do not know if you can reach a compromise with the faith on this subject, not so suddenly. Marrying a cousin, that’s not unheard of, but a sibling? A marriage of this kind would be the first performed in this realm.” she said gently. Aenys looked at her in a way she did not think was possible. His eyes widened and he looked betrayed and hurt, making Rowan almost gasp.

“You agree with him, with the HIgh Septon. You think we are abominations.” he said, his tone not accusatory, but hurt. Rowan was quick to shake her head, to walk closer to him.

“No, no, Aenys, I do not think that of you, of any of you. Although I admit that the practice is very strange and foreign, it does not sway my loyalty to you.” she said, trying to assure him, as he looked to be in huge distress. He studied her face for a moment, his expression not changing, before Visenya sighed and spoke up.

“If she thought us disgusting, she would not voluntarily remain in our presence and service, nephew, let alone offer us her help. She speaks the truth. You cannot negotiate with the High Septon. Either you stand your ground, or you break the betrothal.” she repeated her stance, looking at him expectantly. But Aenys gave no answer. He turned around and left. Rowan assumed it would be to go discuss this with Alyssa, even with Rhaena and Aegon as well.

After that day, Rowan awaited nervously for a decision. Visenya would pat her gently on the shoulder when she saw her pick at her fingertips, a small comfort. When the King’s decision was made, one thing was certain. War. 

In the sept of Remembrance, the sept built on the Hill of Rhaenys in her memory. That’s where the wedding would taka place. For once, the King stood his ground and made a firm decision. Unfortunately, this decision would only mean war. The very people of King’s Landing were turning against him, when just one year ago, those same people cheered for him and his ascension to the throne. 

Rowan had never seen a reaction so huge, so negative and extreme, this against the crown, and so unanimous. Even with Visenya assuring her safety, Rowan still drowned in worry, for her family, her father, her friends, for the people, for Aenys, for everyone and everything.

She wished Maegor was here.

taglist:@heartstalked@stupidocupido@discowizard88@slytherisstuff

[cmweller]

Challenge #04165-K147: Faerie Goodmother

"This spell will make you human."

I refuse.

"But as a Hellkin you're mistreated."

I don't care.

"I don't understand."

You never did. I am who I am.

"But......"

Come, meet my TRUE family. -- Anon Guest

Once upon a time, a Hellkin did a Faerie a favour. He had no knowledge of the act, nor expected a reward. He had simply wandered unknowing into Nanogh, helped a living creature in need, and wandered back out again.

The Faekindred do not forget a favour. Especially when its a favour from a creature who was originally made to destroy them.

The Hellkin was allowed to return to his world unscathed, with no time passing between wandering in and wandering out again. That was clearly not enough. That was merely base mercy for a being who accidentally tripped into Nanogh. No, what this young lad needed was... a guardian. A Faerie Goodmother.

Sufficience found out about it when he was taking his foraging prizes towards his home. The dragonfly following him shone with its own light and casually transformed into the shape of a human with dragonfly wings. "Congratulations," they chirped. "I am going to help you."

[Check the source for the rest of the story]

[staretes]

just watched the miraculous emo special and (spoilers? below)

1) badbug's design is wonderful fantastic the black lipstick and the red hair and the spacebuns ARGH marry me would you

2) when they took away badbug's to lessen the emo i felt incredibly salty. like seeing another ladybug 2.0 😒

3) badnoir's design was starting to grow on me before they took away the green hair

4) couldn't goodmoth have come and told ladybug "btw im gabriel agreste" and helped ladybug and chat noir hunt down monarch 🤨🤨 the plot armor in this show is insane

all in all the writing is trash but it's miraculous i don't watch it for the writing 🥹🥹

[dead-dolphins]

When I saw Prince Lucery’s illustration at the end of the chapter, I thought I could just squish him, but I believe his parents will forbid me to do so 😭

hahahahaha omggg xd i think we, aunties, and grandmothers and goodmothers will be able to love that baby, trust me!

[lilhawkeye3]

The Mark of Garth

Willas, Garlan, Loras & Margaery Tyrell 🌹

Rating: G || Word Count: ~2k ||| ASOIAF & more

Summary: "Garth Greenhand, we call him… Some stories say he had green hands, green hair, or green skin overall. (A few even give him antlers, like a stag.)" - House Tyrell does not expect the consequences of their rise to power at Highgarden. Or at least, Alerie Tyrell does not.

"There is disagreement even on his name. Garth Greenhand, we call him, but in the oldest tales he is named Garth Greenhair, or simply Garth the Green. Some stories say he had green hands, green hair, or green skin overall. (A few even give him antlers, like a stag.) Others tell us that he dressed in green from head to foot, and certainly this is how he is most commonly depicted in paintings, tapestries, and sculptures. More likely, his sobriquet derived from his gifts as a gardener and a tiller of the soil– the one trait on which all the tales agree. “Garth made the corn ripen, the trees fruit, and the flowers bloom,” the singers tell us.

"A few of the oldest tales of Garth Greenhand present us with a considerably darker deity, one who demanded blood sacrifice from his worshippers to ensure a bountiful harvest. In some stories the green god dies every autumn when the trees lose their leaves, only to be reborn with the coming of spring. This version of Garth is largely forgotten.:"

-Maester Yandel, "A World of Ice and Fire"

——————

The Gardeners held power over the Reach for longer than living memory. As long as there had been men in Westeros, there had been Garth Greenhand. As long as there had been stories of Garth Greenhand, there had been the tribe and later House of Gardener, borne of those who claimed to be his most direct descendants.

The ancient house waned and waxed through the generations, as did the stories of their primogenitor. The final blow came on the Field of Fire, when the folly of Mern IX led to his entire house and many vassals burned alive under the might of Balerion the Black Dread’s fire.

When Aegon I arrived at the gate of Highgarden, it was the stewards of House Gardener, the Tyrells, who opened the gates and bent the knee to spare the castle, lands, and her people from the dragon’s ire. Tyrell bent the knee, and Targaryen made them Lord Paramounts of the Reach.

There were many things that the foreign dragon did not understand about the lands he was conquering, even if he had visited before in his youth. Just so, there were consequences that House Tyrell did not anticipate to come alongside its ascension.

———

Willas Tyrell is born with green tufts of hair sprouting from his head.

His mother faints at the sight and does not even hold her firstborne until days afterwards, when her goodmother forces the boy into her arms. Olenna Redwyne is not about to let her son’s wife lose status by rejecting her healthy heir.

“Hair can be dyed, you foolish child!” She snaps.

Alerie Hightower looks between her husband and the fierce Redwyne and does as she is bade.

“The roots that Garth Greenhand planted grow deep within the walls of Highgarden,” Mace murmurs, doing his best to be reassuring. “Not just in the gardens outside, but the oldest foundations of the castle are… of root and mud and clay. Some magic from the Age of Heroes, likely.” His voice grows hesitant the moment he speaks of magic, but its existence in the past cannot be denied. Dragons themselves have only vanished less than two hundred years before. Only a fool would say it had never existed at all.

It is when Olenna’s words turn to the present that Alerie blanches.

“Yes, built with magic, retained with magic. It was not just pride and ambition that had the Tyrells claim Highgarden’s seat after House Gardener’s destruction. The magic that Garth Greenhand imbued would fade and die without those of its blood to rule within its walls, and what Garth planted reaches much farther than just this keep. All of the Reach—and some beyond—was once Garth’s.” Her piercing blue eyes do not let her gooddaughter turn away from the horrible truth she is speaking.

“But- but magic has gone from this continent. Dragons died, grew smaller, and eventually all—”

Olenna snorts. “My son has married an empty-headed fool if you believe dragons are the only evidences of magic. By all accounts it thrives in Essos.”

“And darling,” Mace interrupts to redirect his mother’s attention. “Forget the dragons, which only came in recent Westerosi history. What of the Wall? 500 feet tall and made of solid ice… Bran the Builder could not have created such a thing with men alone.”

Her husband is practically a stranger to her in this moment. “Mace, I have never heard you speak like this.”

“I did tell my son to warn you of the possibility before the birth,” Olenna grumps, “but what’s done is done. Willas is marked with the green hair of Garth himself. This is a good sign.”

“Mother?”

“Your closest bannermen must see this—including Old Leyton, I want to see the look on his face—because this once more cements House Tyrell’s position as Lord Paramonts of the Reach. Most old families in this kingdom can claim ancestry and thus power through descent from Garth Greenhand. This will cement our status for generations to come.

“But you must be careful. The Reach is also the seat of the Faith of the Seven, those corrupt harpies. If they hear word of magic presenting in your heir, no one will be able to stop the mob of Faith that will come for him and kill him.”

Alerie fainted at the first sight of her baby boy, but now she clutches him impossibly close to her chest. “I will not let them hurt my son!”

Olenna Tyrell’s eyes sparkle with what might be approval. “There you are, Lady Tyrell.”

——

The Reach’s earliest memory of Willas Tyrell is his formal presentation in the forgotten godswood of Highgarden as Tyrell Heir to its loyal vassals. His green hair is on display to all, and when its color does not run when water is poured over his head, the lords fall to their knees and acknowledge his inheritance.

Willas Tyrell’s earliest memory within the Reach is being taught how to dye his hair brown.

——

When Garlan Tyrell begins to grow antlers at age three, his mother screams.

They are unmistakable, especially to the lady of such a fertile land, who has seen many a young fawn in the gardens. The growing antlers had been hidden until then by Garlan’s wavy caramel hair, but now the fuzzy protrusions peek out into the open.

Mace cannot hide his shock this time, and Olenna Redwyne sighs. Even she does not deny the truth. “Once, this would have been fortuitous. But now… they would burn this child alive.”

The fury within Alerie at the thought of her boys coming to harm because of a cruel curse passed onto their house has only grown over the years. “If they touch my child, I will raze their lands.”

——

Garlan’s agonized wails and cries echo through the halls of Highgarden the first time he is restrained to have his antlers clipped and shaven down flush with his skull.

Every time he looks in the mirror afterwards, his hands rise and grip fruitlessly in the air at where the bone rack might have been, had it been allowed to grow.

——

Loras presents as completely normal when he is born. He has light hair and vibrant green eyes, but no other physical traits that appear emerald or… inhuman. Green eyes are a Tyrell trait, and before that, the mark of a Gardener. Both of her elder boys’ eyes are Hightower hazel, but this is something that Loras can wield in public to show his lineage.

Loras becomes the favorite child by no fault of his own.

——

He runs through the walled grounds, as all the children have done. He trips over unsteady feet, as all toddlers do. He scrapes his knee and cries, as is normal.

What is not normal is the way plants begin to sprout from the ground only moments after Loras’ blood waters it.

Loras brings his parents the most fear by no fault of his own.

——

When Margaery is born, Alerie weeps in relief that this time, magic has only cursed her daughter’s fingertips green.

This is something that can be easily hidden with gloves, not a curse that she must painfully remove evidence of every few months. Gloves are accepted in feminine fashions, and none need ever see little Margaery without them. If need be, it can be explained away due to delicate skin.

Margaery’s eyes open to reveal a bright spring green, and Alerie’s relief only grows. At least her beauty will have her wanted by all in the kingdoms.

——

The first time Margaery toddles out into the garden by herself, she leaves trails of blooming flowers and ripened fruit along every plant her fingers touch.

She is not allowed alone in the gardens again for years.

——

Willas’ leg is crushed in his first tourney tilt when his horse falls upon his leg tangled within the reins.

Alerie’s first thought is to thank the gods that it was not Loras, for they would not be able to explain away the garden that would have grown from his pooled blood.

Her second thought is to wonder if this accident is the price to be paid for hiding Willas’ green hair, his mark of Garth, from the rest of the world.

Her third thought is that it will be far safer to blame the Red Viper of Dorne for the incident. It is what will be expected of House Tyrell, and it is what will keep her children safe. They are of the utmost importance, and she can live with making an enemy of Dorne and their prince if that is the new price.

——

Garlan earns his knighthood in tourney but insists that he will not be a true knight until he rides amongst the Reach and other southern kingdoms, being the shield of the innocent.

It is hardly two moons past before rumors begin amongst the smallfolk of an old god returned to the earth to protect its lands. A man in the barest of armors, but with a face covered by green cloth and antlers sprouting from his head. They say he gains a point on them for each unbeliever that he vanquishes.

Mace is torn between pride for his son, the first to fulfill his dream to raise warriors, and anger that Garlan ignores his commands to return home.

Alerie begins to pray in the ancient godswood for his safety.

Olenna harumphs and comments that while the boy is foolish, at least these stories and love from the smallfolk may come in use later.

——

Loras brushes off his family’s fears and trains harder than any other. If he becomes the best knight, if he becomes untouchable, then none will know of what gifts his lifeblood brings.

If it causes his father to look at him with something other than guarded caution, if he now becomes the perfect knight Mace Tyrell wished for from his heir, that is only an added benefit.

——

Margaery is taken under Olenna’s wing. The garden always blooms grander after their secret walks, where Alerie knows her daughter is being crafted into the perfect political weapon. There is no way to deny Olenna Redwyne what she wants—that she is the functional head of house is evidence enough—and as long as Margaery’s talents are kept hidden from all others, Lady Tyrell resigns herself to let them do as they will.

If she comes to this decision after Margaery gifts her an embroidered shawl of peonies and white mums, well, the only ones that will ever know are the three ladies of House Tyrell.

——

And then Loras falls in love with a stag.

How fitting for one marked by the antlered god, whose spilled blood leads to new life.

[tbtgtr-incorrectquotes]

Daughter of Rhaena:

Rhaena probably gave Boremund quite the shovel talk.

Rhaena: If you act anything like Borros as a husband, I will know and I will end you!

Boremund: Wouldn't ever dream of harming or dishonoring Naerys, goodmother, I give you my word.

Rhaena: Good, it seems you have plenty of our mother in you after all.

Naerys & Bormund are a battle couple vibing with each other and agreeing on politics.

Aegon for Storm’s End, Caerea for the Stepstones and Daeron gets that nice slice of Kingswood in the Stormlands which is conveniently close so he can play politics in the Red Keep for them.

They’re not…In Love but they’re in love for their children which is arguably more important in Westeros.

[unohanabbygirl]

Saw the phrase dark timeline in one ask and then saw your tease for FMBH and my mind was like OOOO give me au where Luke pulls a Daemon and Aemond ends up with the same fate as Rhea Royce. Especially thinking this after rereading how sad Luke was at the end of chapter 2. After dealing with Alicent I’m surprised Luke didn’t snap after the first 2 years of marriage. Fingers crossed 40yo Aemond goes through a midlife crisis after learning how terrible his mother is lol

A fun fact about FMBH is that Daemon actually suggested the divorce rock to Luke when comforting him the day after the betrothal was announced.

Luke of course thought his stepdad was just trying to be funny as a means of cheering him up but Daemon has never been more serious about anything ever. But alas, he allowed Luke to think it was a joke because if murder isn’t on his mind now then it might be at a later where his suggestion will be taken seriously. Sadly Lucy never admitted to wanting Aemond dead and ended up falling in love years later but Daemon still has the rock ready just in case.

Aemond is blind (no pun intended) to the fact that his mother is an actual demon to anyone who isn’t her children or Cole so despite her not even trying to hide that she hates Luke’s guts, Aemond just can’t see how miserable she makes his husband. Once they finally start communicating that midlife crisis will be happening and Luke has a long list of receipts to back why Alicent is the mother in law from hell. Especially seeing all their conversations go like this.

Luke trying his very best : Hello goodmother, I know you like roast chicken so I’ve had the servants add it to the menu for dinner tonight ☺️

Alicent : Mhmm thats nice….and why aren’t you with child yet? I expected to have more grandchildren by now but I guess not everyone is capable.

Luke: 😐

[laststandx3]

I'm sorry because the animation, the style, even the music were all great but wish sucked. blandest diseny movie ever. no message whatsoever and just boring. they sang about revolution but wait not too much because at the end of the story that's still a kingdom. we do trust that leaving just one person with absolute power is the right thing. and the message isnt even not relying on magic, bc asha turns into the fairy goodmother a sorceress. Like corona had a high level of criminality and death penalty but nobody questioned the king, and he also made a big show once a year. in rosa everyone's happy but if the king has a mental breakdown you get depression. idk felt kinda flat. disappointing

[lya-dustin]

Delirium

de·​lir·​i·​um:an acute mental disturbance characterized by confused thinking and disrupted attention usually accompanied by disordered speech and hallucinations.

Or a small au for All is Bliss where Aemma misscarries and in her delirium beats the shit out of Alicent.

Inspired by that scene in Magnificent Century where a delirious Hürrem beats the shit out of Hatiçe who cursed her.

Tw: violence, misscarriage, madness and implied murdere

Aemma had known her misery would only go from bad to worse.

The Stranger is not done taking from her and the first week as Aegon’s Queen and Prisoner ends with blood just as it began.

She had felt the pains, seen the blood as the dawn began after another sleepless night.

Aemond holds her despite the bloody sheets, comforting her and himself for the death of their baby.

And yet, Aemma doesn’t grieve for it like he and the rest of the keep do.

She is burning on hatred, on rage, on grief for her mother, her grandmother and everyone who has died because of the war she never wanted.

She hates her. She hates Alicent now more than ever.

Alicent who no longer has the precious heir she wanted, Alicent who killed her mother and her baby sister, Alicent who ruined her life in the name of duty.

They give her milk of the poppy for the pain, for the sleepless nights and yet she roams the halls like a ghost because she cannot rest until Alicent and Aegon are dead.

The young queen sees her at the end of the hall, a green thing shrouded by a black web. A black spider web only she sees since they day they brought her back here in chains. Webs that emanate from Alys who sits in them like a green spider.

She’s told no one about those webs lest they think she has gone mad, but it all makes sense now.

Alicent had used Alys to kill her mother and take the throne.

“You should rest.” The auburn haired woman says with concern. As if she truly cared about her well-being.

Aemma only scoffed at her words. “I will rest when you are dead, your grace.”

“Aemma, you are grieving, you are in pain, you do not mean that.” The bitch of the Hightower continues speaking in a calm tone, almost motherly, as if she did not spend her entire adult life making others miserable.

Even worse, she comes and tries to touch her.

Aemma has always recoiled from her touch ever since she was child, there was always something about Alicent that made her feel sick to her stomach even then.

Now she knows why.

This time in her revulsion at feeling her clammy pale hands on her, the young queen reacts with violence.

She slaps the hand away and when her goodmother tries again, she hits harder and then the slaps turn to punches and before she knows it, Aemma is straddling her as she beats her to bloody pulp.

She is screaming, obscenities and cursing her the seventh hell for murdering her mother.

No one stops her, no one comes. Not Criston who’s too busy elsewhere, not her maids who fear her, not Alys who knows she will hang or burn or be split apart by carts because she won’t stop until she’s dead as well.

It is cathartic, primal and something she’s never been allowed to do. No wonder men are always in better moods after a spar or a melee or a hunt.

Sometimes what you need is violence. Sometimes what you need is to kill those who wronged you.

Aemma leaves the hall in the same daze she walked in with and wakes up with no recollection as to why her fists are raw and bloody.

She only knows it's been the first time in a week that she’s managed to sleep in peace.

[cocoalover1956]

Your Mother's Look

FF | AO3

Alicent nearly wept from the injustice to her sons and daughter. For Princess Rhaenyra's bastard - and she was certain Jacaerys was bastard, between his mother's loose virtue and her husband's unnatural inclinations - had been blessed with the silver-gold hair and amethyst eyes of the dragonlords, of which her own trueborn children had been denied.

Inspired by this post by @macrophawge

"The Princess Rhaenys, of Houses Targaryen and Velaryon," a midwife announced.

Rhaenyra looked toward the door, surprised by her goodmother's arrival but grateful for something to occupy her mind. "Goodmother, I am pleased that you have come."

"How could I not," Rhaenys greeted her with an affectionate clasp of the hand. "You will soon make me a grandmother."

Rhaenyra's answering smile was brittle. Her first child was due to be delivered within days, if that. As a girl, Rhaenyra watch her mother's belly swell and flatten over and over again, each time ending in blood and disappointment. Only a few short years ago, her mother died birthing her brother Baelon, who himself lived only hours; before her, Grandmother Daella and Grandmother Alyssa had perished in childbed. Rhaenyra felt that her line must be cursed, and that she too would met a similar end.

"It is unfortunate that your mother could not be here to share this moment with you," Rhaenys continued, "But if it pleases you, I would like to be there when the child comes."

Tears began to well in the crown princess's eyes. "Truly? It would please me, thank you."

"Birth is a difficult thing to endure alone," Rhaenys sat her down on a couch beneath the window. "My mother stood by me when Laena and Laenor were born, as I intend to be there for Laena when the time comes."

"I'm afraid," Rhaenyra blurted out.

"And you have every right to be," Rhaenys soothed her. "But what now from now is in the hands of the gods, and we must learn to accept that. Try to think of the good that motherhood can bring."

Though skeptical, Rhaenyra nodded.

Dusk soon fell, and hours later Rhaenyra awoke the breaking of her waters as she attempted to sleep. Two maidservants helped her to the birthing chamber, while a third alerted the grand maester, the king, Ser Laenor, and Princess Rhaenys. Rhaenyra labored and bled and wept for hours, clutching her goodmother's hand in agony as the sun crawled above the horizon. She was too addled by the pain to think of dying. After what felt like an eternity, the grand maester placed a tiny, pink body upon a breast and declared that she had been delivered of a son.

Rhaenyra could not take her eyes off her new babe. The little boy was large and hale, with a fine dusting of silver-gold hair on his scalp. He reminded her of her brother, Baelon, and it was all she could do not to weep.

"He's beautiful," Rhaenys cooed, already enamored with her first grandchild. "I believe he takes after you, gooddaughter."

When Rhaenyra's confinement ended seven days later, she and Laenor formally presented Jacaerys to the royal court. Corlys could not smiling once he saw his grandson, and Viserys proudly proclaimed, "One day, he shall sit upon the Iron Throne." The princess and her husband gracious received many words of congratulation from the courtiers, and all were edger to see the new princeling among them.

This joy did not extent to everyone at court. The birth of Prince Jacaerys had solidified the alliance between Rhaenyra and the Velaryons and strengthened her claim to the throne. Otto Hightower could not abide this new threat to his grandson's claim. For Ser Criston, it rankled him that the girl who had defiled herself and stolen his honor could marry, bear a child, and be celebrated as though she had done nothing wrong, her sins dismissed and unpunished.

Alicent nearly wept from the injustice to her sons and daughter. For Princess Rhaenyra's bastard - and she was certain Jacaerys was bastard, between his mother's loose virtue and her husband's unnatural inclinations - had been blessed with the silver-gold hair and amethyst eyes of the dragonlords, of which her own trueborn children had been denied. Rather, Aegon, Helaena, and Aemond had the common features of their mother's family, dark auburn hair and brown eyes.

Barely two months later, Alicent returned to the birthing bed for the fourth time, praying that she would see her husband's features in this child. By now the novelty of the queen giving birth had worn off, and her aunt did not see the necessity in traveling from Oldtown to attend her during the birth. Alicent told herself that she didn't need help, she was a woman grown and a mother three times over, and she could easily birth a child with just the grand maester and her midwives. Daeron came quickly and without much fuss, but once he was cleaned and placed into her arms, her face fell. He was as plain-featured as her other children, not a hint of Valyrian blood expressed in his appearance.

"You have done well," Otto praised. Though the king would not restore him to his position as Hand, Viserys had relented in permitted Otto to briefly visit his daughter and grandchildren. "It's a pity the king cannot see that. You've given him when all men crave, healthy trueborn sons, and yet he scorns you and your for his hoydenish daughter."

"Do not tell me you cannot see it, Father," Alicent said bitterly. "My children bear no resemblance to him, while Rhaenyra and her son are the very image of Targaryen royalty. That is why he treats us as though we are lesser."

Otto thought on the matter, "Has he expressed this to you?"

"No," Alicent admitted. "But I can tell. The way he glowed when he held Jacaerys for the first time..." Despite her best efforts, tears leaked from her eyes. "He was never so generous with affection toward our children. He always had this...this sadness about him, except when he held his grandchild. What makes Rhaenyra's son worthier than mine? Nothing, save his appearance."

"If you were to try again..."

"He cannot," Alicent blushed. "His illness has grown to severe for...that."

Otto signed in disappointment. "Regardless, Aegon is the king's eldest trueborn son, and his coloring does not change that. We will ensure the rightful succession is followed, and no matter how many blond heirs the princess pops out."

"Jacaerys is no one's heir," Alicent spat. "He's a bastard, just as all her future spawn will be."

"I know," Otto agreed. "If we only had proof, I would not be so worried, but Laenor is happy to cuckolded if it means he doesn't have to touch her, his parents are too greedy for the throne to care, and the king is blinded by his love for Rhaenyra, however little she deserves it. I must return to Oldtown before the moon turns, so it falls to you to defend your children's rights."

That was easier said that done, for Rhaenyra continued to enjoy every symbol of legitimacy. Jacaerys had been given a dragon egg in the cradle, per tradition. To Rhaenyra's delight and Alicent's displeasure, the egg had hatched into a lively little dragon named Vermax. Two years later, Rhaenyra's second son Lucerys, just as blond and purple-eyed as her first, had been born and hatched a white dragon named Arrax. Only half of Alicent's children had managed the same, Aegon with Sunfyre and Daeron with Tessarion while Helaena and Aemond remained dragonless. It was a small comfort to Alicent to see the pain in Rhaenyra's face when Sunfyre hatched from the egg that had once been Baelon's.

"My son is no lesser than yours," Alicent thought, but did not say. "He is as Targaryen... no he is more Targaryen than your bastards, despite his looks, and he shall one day sit the throne."

For her part, Rhaenyra paid little mind to her half-siblings. Their presence was burdened with the grief of her mother's death and the disappointment of losing her friendship with Alicent. In the beginning, she could almost pretend that they were not her father's children, but solely Alicent's, however she could not lie to herself for long. Especially not once Aegon bonded with the dragon that might have her brother's, had he lived.

Instead, Rhaenyra spent all her time and attention on Jace and Luke, her dear boys. As a girl, she doubted she could enjoy motherhood, with only her own mother's experiences of sorrow and suffering as reference, but being a mother herself brought her unexpected happiness. The flush of pride when Jace learned to walk, the bubble of happiness whenever Luke smiled at her, the sweet contentment of watching them nap silently in the afternoons. She hadn't know she could love another person so much.

Laenor loved the boys as much as she did, and the uncertainty of their blood was of less concern to him than the mud on his boot. Rhaenyra and Laenor performed their marital duties as best they could, despite the discomfort to the both, but per their agreement they did not begrudge each other love from outside their marriage; Rhaenyra had Harwin, Laenor had Qarl, and they were better off for it. Because Rhaenyra shared a bed with both her husband and lover, she could not say from whose seed her sons had sprouted. She knew she ought to hope they were Laenor's, but in the deepest part of her heart, she wanted them to be Harwin's, born from love rather than duty even if it meant they were illegitimate.

With two sons, an heir for the Iron Thrones and an heir from Driftmark, Rhaenyra and Laenor decided they had no need to continue sleeping together. Years later, when Rhaenyra fell pregnant again, she had no doubt this time that the child was Harwin's. She had been nervous while carrying her two eldest, but now she genuinely feared what would happen if her third child was born with his father's brown hair and brown eyes. Whatever might have happened did not, for Joffrey Velaryon entered the world with his mother's look.

A scant few minutes passed since his birth when the queen ordered that the newborn babe be brought to him. Rhaenyra refused to be parted from her son, so she made the agonizing trek up to the queen's chambers, supported by her husband. She felt bittersweet satisfaction at the sour look on Alicent's face when she realized that the babe did not have a trace of Harwin Strong on him.

"I find it curious, Stepdaughter, that your sons do not much take after the Velaryon," Alicent remarked in a honeyed tone.

"I fear I do not understand you," Rhaenyra replied innocently. "How odd can it be that they look like Targaryens when they have three Targaryen grandparents? Are you merely confused because your children don't resemble their father either? Of course, they only have two Targaryen grandparents, and perhaps that makes the difference."

Alicent flushed red, but did not respond. Following a moment's heavy silence, Viserys entered the room and lavished praise upon his daughter and newest grandson. Unable to bear it, Alicent excused herself and fled the room.

Later, as she listened to Helaena ramble about her insects, the household guards brought Aemond to her. He had tried to claim Dreamfyre, former mount of the old king's sister Rhaena. The she-dragon had rejected him as a rider, leaving him shamefaced and covered in ash.

"After how many times you've been warned, must I have you confined to your chambers?" Alicent scolded.

"They made me do it!" Aemond cried.

"As if you needed encouragement. Your obsession with those beasts goes beyond understanding."

"They gave me a pig!"

"A what?"

"They said they found a dragon for me, but it was a pig."

Helaena was muttering something in the background, but Alicent only paid attention to her son. "You will have a dragon one day. I know it. "

"No, I won't," Aemond lamented, his eyes filling with tears. "Because I'm a bastard."

Alicent felt as though she had been stabbed. "Who told you that?! Name them and I will have their tongues."

"I...I overheard you speaking to Ser Criston, a few times, about how Rhaenyra's children must be bastards because they don't look like Ser Laenor...I don't look like and the king and...and my egg never hatched and I can't claim a dragon and that must mean I'm a bastard." He wept openly.

The queen sank to her knees in horror, for she had done the very thing she dreaded and made her own child feel inferior. For a moment she was too stunned to speak, she soon gathered herself to comfort her son. "No, my boy, you are not a bastard. I swear on my own life, you are the trueborn son of King Viserys, First of His Name. Do not ever doubt your place in the world."

"But, you said..."

"I know, but I was wrong, okay?" Alice impressed upon him, gently holding his teary face in her hands. "Forget what I told Ser Criston. I don't ever want to hear speak of yourself in such a manner, understand? You are so much worthier than you think."

Aemond wiped his tears and nodded shakily, "Yes Mother, I understand."

"Alright," Alicent sighed, "And let us never speak of it again. You are trueborn and you will have a dragon someday."

That evening as she supped with Larys Strong, Alicent vented to him about how she wished her father were to bent the council in her favor. A few weeks later, Lord Lyonel Strong and his heir Ser Harwin perished in a mysterious fire, leaving Larys as the new Lord of Harrenhal. Alicent was horrified, but she said not a word to anyone about what Larys had done for her sake. Necessity dictated that it be done to protect her children and their rights. Only, when Alicent went to her husband's chambers in homes of convincing him to reinstate her father, she found to her horror that he had already placed chain of office upon Rhaenyra's shoulders.

Once she became Hand of the King, Rhaenyra wasted no time making her will known. She removed Tyland Lannister and and Jasper Wylde from the small council, knowing they were Otto's creatures. She sent them off with gifts and praise for their hand work for the sake of appearances, but a dismissal was a dismissal, and she knew they left the capital with bitterness and resentment in their hearts. In their place, she give the position of Master of Ships back to her goodfather Corlys Velaryon and brought on Thaddeus Rower as Master of Laws. She retained Larys Strong as Master of Whispers. He was a quiet, unassuming man, and though Rhaenyra knew him little, she believed he might be of a similar disposition to his late father and brother.

Not long after Rhaenyra's ascension as Hand, Daemon returned from Pentos with his twin daughters and his wife's ashes. They held Lady Laena's funeral at Driftmark, an casket with her ashes launched into the sea so that what remained of her would rest beside her ancestors. Late into the night, when everyone thought he was asleep, Aemond slipped from the castle unnoticed and ran to the deceased woman's former mount, Vhagar, the oldest and largest dragon still living, the remaining being that had seen the Seven Kingdom before Aegon forged them into one realm. His mother had said he would have a dragon, and he would. The greatest dragon of them all.

When Vhagar accepted his command and took him into the sky, Aemond nearly went dizzy with joy. After all these years, the dragon blood in his veins had finally made itself known! He would remember this night all the rest of his days. When his first flight finally finally, he tried to sneak back into castle through the tunnels, giddy and triumphant. There he faced his nephews and cousins.

"It's him," Rhaena exclaimed.

"It's me."

"Vhagar is my mother's dragon," she proclaimed furiously.

"Your mother's dead," Aemond sneered. "And Vhagar has a new rider now."

"She was mine to claim."

"Then you should've claimed her! Maybe your cousins can find you a pig to ride," he glared at Jace and Luke for moment, before turning his hard gaze back to Rhaena. "It would suit you."

She launched herself at him in a blind rage, and he knocked her back. Before he realized it, Aemond found himself fighting furiously with the four other children. But he was older and stronger than them and the exhilaration of claiming Vhagar bolstered him. He beat the twin girls into the dust, and bloodied both his nephews. He had Luke by the neck and a rock in one hand, as Jace stared in fear. It felt good to be feared; better than being pitied.

"Come at me again and I'll feed you to my dragon!" Aemond threatened. He shoved Luke into Jace with enough force to knock them both down and began to walk out of the cave. He could have called them bastards then, and proclaimed himself the trueborn son of the King Viserys, proven by Queen Visenya's dragon. He wanted to, but he had promised his mother he would never speak of it again. Not long after he left Jace, Luke, Baela, and Rhaena bleeding in the tunnel, the Kingsguard came upon them.

Alicent fretted over her secondborn son. Rhaenyra and Daemon's children were clearly as savage as their parents, for they had left Aemond bruised all over, with blood coming out a split in his life and his brow dripping blood from a cut above his eyes.

"The wounds are minor, your Grace," the maester assured her. "Such scrapes between children are not uncommon."

"Where were you?" Alicent hissed to Aegon.

"Me?" He winced when his mother slapped him. "Ow! What was that for?"

"That was nothing compared to the abuse your brother suffered while you were drowning in your cups, you fool."

The door opened, and Corlys, Rhaenys, and Rhaenyra run into the room one by one, coddling the other children and demanding to know what happened. All five of the children present were bruised and bloodied, and they argued loudly over each other when explaining what occurred in the tunnel.

"They attacked me!"

"He attacked Baela!"

"He broke Luke's nose!"

"He stole my mother's dragon!"

"He was gonna kill Jace!"

"I didn't do anything!"

"Enough!" Viserys roared with what little strength that remained to him, causing the room to fall silent. "You will each get a turn to speak, and I want no interruptions. From anyone."

Aemond, then Jace, Luke, Baela and Rhaena spoke in turn, their voices each filled with anger and hurt. During Rhaena's testimony, she broke down in tears when she accused Aemond of stealing her mother's dragon, and Rhaenyra noticed the look of smug satisfaction on Aemond's face as he watched her cry. It disturbed her that he could be so unfeeling to his own cousin, a little girl had never hurt him before.

When at least they were done speaking, Viserys decided, "This has been a regrettable misadventure. In truth, I find no one child at fault."

"Your son is injured!" Alicent hissed.

"They're all injured," Rhaenyra shot back. She went over to her niece and held her close. "Rhaena, sweetling, I have the utmost compassion for you. I remember the sharp pain of losing my own mother as though it were yesterday, so I understand why you behaved as you did." Rhaena wept into her dress as Rhaenyra smoothed her hair. In the corner of her eyes, she noticed Daemon watching them with an unreadable expression. "But Aemond has the right of it; dragons are not heirlooms to inherited, or lost, or stolen. Vhagar chose him as her rider, and we must respect that choice."

"But he-"

"I know dear girl," Rhaenyra assured her, before turning to her brother. "Aemond, though I defend your right to claim Vhagar, I am disappointed by your conduct. You showed no respect for the Velaryons in their time of grief and abused their hospitality. For that, you have shamed us."

Alicent approached Rhaenyra, glowing with hospitality. "You have no right to cast judgement my son after what you've done!"

"What have I done, Alicent?" Rhaenyra challenged. "Tell us, what have I done?"

"Alicent, Rhaenyra, that's enough." Viserys interrupted. "I don't understand how we could have fallen to such infighting, but we must work out of our differences. The house of the dragon cannot stand strong if we are constantly at each other's throats."

"You are right, Father." Rhaenyra yielded. "It would be good for the children for spend time together away from the pressures of royal court. If they are willing, I would propose that Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys foster them here on Driftmark, where they may learn to love each as brothers and sisters."

"Your Grace, I do not believe that is necessary," Alicent faltered.

"Perhaps it is. Lord Corlys, what say you?"

"We would honored, your Grace, to help heal this rift in the family. And I believe it would help us as well, to have Driftmark filled with children again."

"Daemon, are you amenable to this?" Viserys asked his brother. "Baela and Rhaena are your daughters, after all."

Rhaenyra watched his reaction closely. Earlier, they had made love on the beach. For her, it was the fulfilment of a decade of longing, but she wasn't sure what it meant for him. Alicent had nearly forgotten he was in the room, for he had remained in the back, watching silently as the scene unfolded.

"Who are I am to deny my girls their family?" he said simply.

"Then it's decided," Viserys proclaimed.

Alicent felt defeated. "Must Aegon and Helaena be punished though they had no part in it?"

"It's not a punishment," Rhaenyra insisted. "But if you so resistant to having all your children remain, perhaps Aegon can come back with us as my cupbearer."

The sound of his name shocked Aegon into alertness. "Me?"

"Certainly," Rhaenyra encouraged. "When I am queen, you will have a place a honor in my court, so it is prudent that you learn governance from me."

"Thank you," Aegon said, sounding both shocked and touched. Betrayed, Alicent glared at him.

"There, now we should all retire," Viserys said with finality. "The hour is late, and the children need to rest."

Alicent stormed off to her chambers, nearly in tears. All she had worked for was falling around her in tatters. Her chance to make her father Hand had failed miserably, and now Aemond and Helaena were to be taken from her, Harwin Strong's bastards were unpunished for their actions, and Aegon would be placed under the sway of his dissolute half-sister.

Lord Larys entered her chambered unannounced, "Your Grace, you seemed distressed. Have you need of me?"

Across the castle, Aegon stopped Rhaenyra from returning to her chambers and led her outside. "Did you mean it? That I would have a place in your court."

"Yes," Rhaenyra was surprised that he would even ask. "What else did you think I would do with you."

Aegon did not tell her, instead saying, "You never any interest in us before, me, Aemond, or Helaena."

Rhaenyra had the grace to look sheepish. "That is true, and it was unbecoming of me, as a sister, to have treated you all in that manner."

"Did you ever...did you doubt, we were really your father's children? Because we look like our mother?"

"I've known your mother since we were girls. The day she breaks a vow will be the day my goodfather gives up sailing."

"But some part of you must have wondered," Aegon insisted.

"No... did you?"

"Not since Sunfyre hatched for me." Aegon's voice wabbled. "I still remember how you looked at me, when you saw him perched on my shoulder. Like someone had slapped you. I thought perhaps, you had been hoping we weren't really your family and were disappointed to be proven wrong."

Rhaenyra closed her eyes, "That had nothing to do with you. Years earlier I chosen that egg for Baelon, our brother, and when he died I didn't expect it to hatch. I relived his death again in that moment, but it would hurt just as much if it had been one of my own children."

"It may not matter to you, then, but it matters to Father."

"You think Father will not make you heir merely because of your looks?"

"That, and because I'm a disappointment in every way."

"You're not a disappointment, Aegon, you're a child," Rhaenyra replied. "That too is more complicated than you know. Father will explain himself if you ask him. I will make him explain, if it pleases you."

"You would?"

"Yes. You have always been my brother, and now it's time for me to be your sister. Things will be different when I return home, I promise."

"I'll hold you to it," Aegon promised, before Rhaenyra sent him to bed.

Rhaenyra looked out to the oceans, her future weighing heavily on her. She knew Alicent and her Greens would not take kindly to her accumulation of power, but perhaps if she turned her half-siblings to her side, she could avert a disaster. For now though, she just wanted to rest.

[just-an-enby-lemon]

I have a lot of Oswald headcannons involving catholicism and he are some:

- He read the bible pretty young and he loved the old testament the most. He was fascinated with the tales of revenge and just retribution and really wanted god to send a bear or a plague against his bullers.

- He started to get disapointed with god at twelve after realizing god was not doing much to help his family even tho they were faithfull followers. He ploted his own revenge against his bullers (he pushed one of them down stairs and sucefully blamed the other) and promissed to not be tricked or subjegated by no one not even god. It was when his hate for all authorities except his mother started.

- He went to a catholic school and the opnion of the nuns on him were very divided some though he was a perfect little angel and others (specially the ones that saw he playing with animal corpses) though he was possed by the devil. Gertrude only heard the first ones.

- At first Gertrude wanted him to be a priest and considered his lack of romantic or sexual interest as a teenager as a sing of god that this was truly his path. A part of her still hopes he becames a priest one of this days but the other is glad she didn't lost him to the congregation.

- Sixteen year old Ozzy was very annoyed over the fact he had to knee in front of the bishop during his confirmation but he still did the ceremony because it would make his mother happy. He also growled at the bishop when he puted a hand in his shoulder to start the jurament.

- Deep down he is still afraid of his certain destiny in hell (If hell existis he is going there). He tries to bring up the subject with Edward but gives up because Ed would think his though funny and just say that hell isn't a thing.

- Since Falcone was not only raised catholic but was still religous even though he was a criminal Oswald though a lot about asking to him about hell but never felt confortable enough.

- He sometimes absent mind prays in hungarian when stressed.

- Depending on how young he started working for Fish I can imagine he asking her to be his goodmother for the confirmation since he doesn't really know people. (I can't decided if she accepted it or not)

- He always lied in his confessions because he was afraid the priest would tell the things he said to his mother. Except once they went to a church founded trip with school and since the priest was of a different congregation he felt free to confess. The priest was deeply disturbed and took sabatical days to reflect on life after it.

- He still has Gertrude cross and bibble and Mary statues preserved in a room in the masion. He actually made the room one day when he had forgotten she was dead and decided she would be happy if he made a prayer room to show he didn't gave up on religion even tho they weren't going to mass together anymore. When he realized she was dead and he just spend a hour doing a shrine for a god he doesn't really belive he was devastated.

- He used to lie to his mother about being the perfect catholic boy. He went to mass to her (not regurlaly - a thing she complained about) during important celebrations and was very polite with the passive agressive chuch ladies asking about his lack of mariage and the rumors of his criminal activities. (He did ruin their lifes later).

- He is afraid of elevators and part of it is because his fear of hell. The idea of it is enough to make him afraid of anything that goes down quickly.

[pulchramsolis]

[ @inmydrcams sent ]: “How long have you been having nightmares like this?” Queen Abby x King Aemond verse cause that's where my head is at and we love Worried Dad Criston

Embarrassed, the little Queen looked up from the steaming mug of tea in her hands to the Lord Commander, her goodmother's sworn shield. The man whom her husband considered more Father than his own sire. Her screams had torn through the holdfast, worrying the guards who had been tripled and alert since that horrible night. Celeste is in the nursery with her cousins - she's taken to calling poor Jaehaeris Gaemon, and all are at a loss as to what to do.

"Weeks, I think." she did not know what time was anymore. Not since Aemond had left to track down and bring back Daemon Targaryen. "Every time I close my eyes..." she trailed off and looked towards the flames, huddled deep in the thick blanket wrapped around her. "I am very sorry for disturbing everyone. I shall, um," she licked her lips in uncertainty. "Perhaps I should speak to the maester for a sleeping draught."