#i always think of that line about a targaryen being alone in the world

[backjustforberena]

EVE BEST as RHAENYS TARGARYEN in 1.08 “Lord of the Tides”  

[xoxotria]

inferno | y. jh

pairing: targaryen!jeonghan x targaryen!reader

themes: house of dragon!au, incest, arranged marriage, typical house of dragon themes

warnings: incest, unprotected sex, edging, oral sex, switch reader, mentions of reader having breasts and a vagina

summary: unable to make his two troublesome children settle down the king takes matters into his own hands and decides to wed them.

“you and i are made of fire. we have always been meant to burn together.”

i.

another daughter of the lord baratheon storms out of the prince’s chambers a scowl on her face as she passes by the targaryen princess. curious she walks towards her brother’s room to see what all that was about.

“chased off another one dear brother?” she teases as she peaks into her older brother’s chambers.

jeonghan sits at the edge of his bed a cup of wine in hand as he rolls his eyes at her.

“it’s not my fault she’s too tame for my taste.” he smirks.

jeonghan targaryen, the second heir to the throne after their other brother seungcheol, was a menace always getting into trouble with his dragon. he was an untamable soul—one that even the king, his father, cannot control.

“emā se ānogar hen zaldrīzes flowing rȳ ao. they’re sepār zūgagon naejot zālagon.” you have the blood of the dragon flowing through you. they’re just scared to burn. she smiles taking a seat on the set of chairs in the middle of his chambers.

“hae gaomagon ao jorrāelagon mandia, skore dīnagon īlva isse keskydoso situation.” as do you dearest sister, which puts us in the same situation.

he was right, she wasn’t very different from him. despite the god-like appearances they carry, she was a targaryen. according to her grandfather king jaehaerys ii, every time a targaryen is born the gods toss a coin in the air and the world holds its breath to see how it will land. as much as targaryens are prone to greatness, they are also prone to madness.

the targaryen princess was vastly known to be like her ancestor queen visenya targaryen. a passionate, stern and unforgiving woman who feared nothing and no one but she was also loving to her two brothers. she trusted no one other than them—she was their little flame. she was immensely stubborn and headstrong, challenging her bethroned to keep up with her which always ends up with them break off their engagement unable to diminish her inferno.

she knew what she wanted and she wasn’t going to let anyone get in the way of what she wanted—what she deserved.

“father will have our heads for breaking off another engagement he worked so hard to arrange for us.” she watches as jeonghan stands up to refill his cup downing it as he shrugs.

“his anger has always been temporary, ñuha perzys. it will only be a matter of time before he finds us another engagement to break.” he winks. my flame, the term of endearment he gave her as soon as she was born into this world.

“let us hope that is the case, there are only a few noble houses to choose from left—for me anyways, baratheon, tully, stark and hightower to name the few. are we as the rumors say we are?” she whispers softly as she peers up at him.

he puts his cup down as he encircles his arms around her, engulfing her into a tight hug. he knew of her worries—he’s heard the whispers in the king’s landing regarding both of their tendencies to be unreasonable and extremely picky when it comes to their betrothed or the rumors about them being together alone in each others chambers in the middle of the night.

“we know fully well who we are, who cares what they say? you and i ride the biggest dragons to ever live, we do not need the approval or the validation ñuha perzys.”

“i suppose your right.”

“please, ñuha perzys. i am always right.” he boasts as she shoves him off of her with a smile on her face.

to many of the people in the palace, the bond they shared seemed to dance the lines between siblings and something more. with personalities that matched each other’s, the similarities in their ways of thinking, and the way they presented themselves to the court and to the people of the kingdom. they mirrored each other so well.

jeonghan would hear the rumors as he loitered the streets of the city on days sleep would not find him, he thought about it. targaryen’s often marry siblings, it was a normal occurence in their family. their ancestor king aegon i even took both of his sisters to marry. it plagued his thoughts whenever he found himself staring across the hall at the sight of his little flame listening to her betrothed talk endlessly about something that did not intrigue her one bit as she toyed with the necklace he gifted her on her nineteenth name day.

unknowingly to the male, the female targaryen also harbored similar thoughts about her brother as she watched him and his betrothed acquaint themselves with each other in the gardens she often read. she would feel a pinch of jealousy as his betrothed made advances on him causing her to storm off to the dragonpit to go ride on vermithor.

“except when it comes to the women you choose.” she laughs as his face morphs to a shocked one.

“you did not! i don’t even pick them!”

“yes, i did! you always had a choice on the matter brother.”

lunging at her, jeonghan pushes her unto his bed as he tickled her sides causing her to erupt in laughter.

“take it back, ñuha perzys.” he smirked as he pinned both her arms above her head as he continued to tickle her sides.

“never.” she whispered realising how close their faces were to each other.

“i’ll give you one last chance. take it back.”

lilac colored eyes stared into light blue eyes, faces centimeters apart as the tension between them rises. his eyes glancing down to her lips briefly as he watched her bite her bottom lip.

kiss me. her eyes begged, breath hitching as he leaned down closer their noses touching.

“say it.” he whispered. say you want me to kiss you ñuha perzys and i will.

they stared at each other, hearts pounding against their chests, their bodies flushed against one another. they knew they had no right to touch each other, crave them like air—but they did. somehow they knew that the fire that burned in them was only meant to burn together.

“i—”

“jeonghan! father is summoning you.” seungcheol’s voice booms behind the wooden doors as he slams his fists against it.

snapping out of their thoughts jeonghan pulled away and offered his hand to help her up from the bed as she muttered a small ‘thank you’. she had made her way back to the seat she was in just in time before the doors slammed open with her other brother walking in.

“i never said you could enter, brother.” jeonghan muttered as seungcheol sat down on the other seat across from the princess.

“ñuha perzys, i didn’t know you were in here.” seungcheol greeted as she smiled at him.

“i had the honor of seeing another lady storm out of his chambers.” she replied as seungcheol laughs looking over at his younger brother.

“again? for fucks sake, jeonghan! what’s wrong with her now?”

she isn’t her. he thought bitterly as his eyes met hers quickly before looking back at seungcheol and shrugging at their brother.

“too ‘tame’ is what he told me.” she pipes up as seungcheol’s brow raises at him.

“at this point, i do not even know who father would set you up with anymore.” he snatched the cup of wine from the table before turning to the princess. “you as well.”

“what is that supposed to mean?”

“please, ñuha perzys. i know everything that goes on in the keep. i heard about the lord crying and storming off after you took him out on a ride with vermithor.”

she once took the young lord on a afternoon ride with vermithor not knowing how the boy was terrified of both heights and the strong personality she had. the lord was a pussy anyways hurling at the stories the princess told about various poisons and tricks to kill someone without the evidence pointing back at you. it didn’t shock her he’d already fled back home with his tail between his legs.

“not my fault the boy hasn’t grown a dick yet.” she shrugged earning a chuckle from jeonghan.

“well father is not going to be please with both of you either way so i suggest running along and heading to meet with him and at the small council meeting room immediately.” seungcheol stands as he makes his way out jeonghan’s chambers.

the two shared a look before heading out as well, a look they shared a lot recently, a look that meant they were fucked.

ii.

“i am at my wits end with the both of you! you scared off the last lord in close vicinity interested in you and you—” the king points slams his hand on the table as the princess and prince look on bored as ever. “—you have yet to marry a lady i set up for you! time is running out for both of you troublesome children of mine.”

“father i will not be tied down to a boy who can not handle a woman such as myself. i know what i want and what i deserve. jeonghan feels the same way. do not expect me to marry a boy who only wants me for my cunt and dragon.” she reasons her voice stern as jeonghan nods in agreement beside her.

the king was livid. he could not understand why his children was being this difficult with finding spouses! he did not know what to do with them anymore. he hadn’t cause his father this type of problems when it came to his marriage.

“i may be your father but i am also your king! my word is absolutely final. what am i to do with you?” he glares at his children, a headache starting.

does he try one more time with the lords of houses valaryeon or stark? or the ladies of house lannister or strong? the king was stuck on what to do until an idea popped up inside his head.

“seeing as your engagements to other houses have yet to be successful you have left me no choice but to wed you both to each other seeing as only the both of you tolerate and understand one another. i should have done this from the start and saved myself time.”

the two royals glanced at each other as they silently cheered in their heads. this was it. their chance to finally be themselves unapologetically without thinking about how their betrothed would act or what the people would say but doubts of how she would react still plagued jeonghan’s thoughts.

would she like that? he thought as he glanced over at the princess beside him.

“father…” he glanced over at the king as the princess stayed silent beside him. “i will only do so if she accepts to as well.”

she stared at the marble table in front of her as she takes jeonghan’s words in. he was giving her a choice in their marriage. was he not interested in the idea at all? was he hesitating to marry her because he loved someone else? she had to play her cards right, if she declined she would probably shipped off to dragonstone and wait to be married to some lord she’d have no choice but to marry for political reasons or does she take the chance with the one person who she truly feels something for? she briefly glances at her brother who sat quietly staring at her before glancing over to her father.

“i’ll do it. i’ll marry jeonghan father.”

“then it is settled! you will marry in two moons time.” the king announces clapping his hands as he stands to congratulate his children. “i can die happy knowing my children are settled well into this world. it is the only thing a father wants for his children.”

“thank you father.” she replied a small smile on her lips as jeonghan intertwines their hands together.

“i will fulfill my duty towards you and the crown, father. you have my word.” he declares as he plants a kiss on the back of her hand.

duty. she was only his duty. she thought bitterly as she exchanged a tight-lipped smile with him, her father cheering and talking with the hand gleefully in the background.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

the princess grew distant with jeonghan, something everyone in the palace took notice of. preparations for the royal wedding were well underway as they only had a limited amount of time and everything needed to be perfect.

“you look absolutely stunning ñuha perzys.” seungcheol complimented as she stood on a pedestal being fitted into her wedding gown.

“do you not think it is too much?” she asked gesturing to the silks that clung to her body.

“nonsense, ñuha perzys. it’s perfect.” he cooed at his baby sister. “is something wrong?” he asked he noticed the change in her posture.

“nothing is wrong.”

“something is bothering you. everyone leave us.” he commanded as the seamstress and the ladies exited the room.

“tell me what is wrong and i will do something about it.” he demanded softly as he took her hands in his.

“you and i both know i can do far worse than you brother.” she chuckled.

“do not change the subject ñuha perzys. i’ve noticed the distance of you and jeonghan as of late and i’m not the only one. what’s on your mind?”

seungcheol had noticed the subtle changes between the two. he did not want to pry into the changes in the ‘relationship’ his siblings had but as their older brother it felt like he needed to especially when the pair had been ignoring each other for the past few days after the announcement of their engagement. he noticed how jeonghan was distracted during lessons and small council meetings, spacing out more than usual. he planned on cornering him but it was harder to see him alone with all the planning he had been doing for the wedding so when he found out about his sister’s dress fitting he took the chance to talk to her and get to the bottom of things.

“i know marriage is more often than not only for political reasons and that targaryen marriages are often something the crown does to strengthen claims to the throne and blood purity. that’s all it us right? a duty—to the people, to the king, to the crown. i get that marriage is mostly a duty! a stupid fucking duty.” she chuckled darkly. “i don’t want to be someone’s duty, seungcheol. i deserve more than that. i’m a targaryen princess. i ride vermithor, one of the biggest dragons from old valaria. i am more than just a fucking duty! so why am i just a duty to the crown for him when he’s so much more to me? am i not worthy to be wed just because he loves me?”

jeonghan’s words had affected her more than she let herself too. she hated knowing she was just a duty to him—a fucking duty. she was going to be his wife for the rest of his life and he viewed her as a duty? she was livid. after the meeting with their father she had made her way to the dragon pit and took vermithor out on a ride returning in early hours of the day before the sun came out completely avoiding the blonde prince who waited for her to return but eventually fell asleep doing so.

she had avoided being in the same room as jeonghan since that day which confused him. had he done something to upset her? did she not want to get married to him? he had been hurt when he knocked on her chambers to spend time together like they always did before bed but she shooed him away as soon as he had knocked on her door. he tried several times to corner her alone after that waiting by the library to see the end of her lessons with the septa or at the dragon pit waiting for her to come down from her flight with vermithor but with their wedding fast approaching it was impossible to do so. he gave up after the fifth day deciding to sulk about it instead or make it everyone’s problem that he wasn’t in the best mood because she had been avoiding it.

“he said that? for fucks sake! don’t you see that he is absolutely obssessed with you?” he asks taking her by surprise.

“he does not, seungcheol. you should’ve heard it come out from his own stupid mouth that i was just a duty to the crown for him!”

“ñuha perzys you are stupid to think he does not love you.”

“prove it then.” she interjected stubbornly.

“gods are you blind? have you really not noticed anything?” he asked as she shook her head ‘no’.

“do you ever wonder why father never reprimands you for things you do out of line? well, it’s because jeonghan always takes the blame for you even if father knows it was you who did it. all those fucking lords that would dare talk ill about you or sexualize you with him in the same room—the one’s who’d disappear all of a sudden? they’ve all been murdered by jeonghan. gods i would know—i was there as he tortured them before feeding them to vhagar once. he fears no consequences that will come to him if it meant you would be safe and taken cared for. that man has done things that would traumatise any other normal human being but he did it for you. if that doesn’t show his love and dedication to you i do not know who will ñuha perzys.”

“then why did he just not ask father from the start to marry me if he felt that way?”

“do you honestly think he will risk his relationship with you not knowing how you felt for him in return? he endured seeing you with lords not even worthy of you.”

she felt confused. had he really viewed her the way she did secretly? had she really missed all of that?

“fuck.” she cursed as realization of his actions, his words— him had set in her mind. “what do i do seungcheol? he most probably thinks i hate him for having to marry him.”

a smirk makes it way across seungcheol as he looked at her.

“leave that part to me, ñuha perzys.”

iii.

after days of trying to get him alone, the prince jeonghan was finally away from the chaos of preparing for their wedding. he had been practicing on a wooden dummy in the training yard, swiftly jabbing his sword as it delivered calculated and fluid movements that would make any enemy falter and die in a span of minutes. he was always skilled with a sword as he never wanted to not be prepared in case the threat of battle was present. he did not like his life being in the hands of his guards. she had approached him silently as he delivered one last swing at the dummy chopping it’s head off clean.

“ñuha dārilaros skoros ēza se dummy gaomagon naejot jiōragon such wrath hen ao?” my prince what has the dummy done to receive such wrath from you?

his head snapped at the sound of her voice as he sheathes his sword by his hip. he was mildly surprised to see and hear her infront of him after he had been unsuccessful at being granted a private audience with his betrothed for days.

“ñuha perzys, skoros grants nyke se rigle hen emare ñuha betrothed isse ñuha presence tolī tubissa hen issare denied hen such?” my flame, what grants me the honor of having my betrothed in my presence after days of being denied of such? his eyebrow raised teasing her but there was a hint of bitterness in his tone that wasn’t looked past by the princess.

“may i invite you to take a walk with me, my prince?” she asked politely as he nodded falling into step beside her as they walked through the gardens.

a tense silence blanketed the two royals as they walked in step with each other, hands so close to brushing each other with how close they were. months ago, they would watch each other walk the same paths in the garden with each other’s betrothed with spite as they watched their betrothed try to swoon them over with flattery that would take them nowhere—nothing would swoon them over. no amount of riches, fame and flattery could. they just weren’t who plagued their thoughts.

“will you ever tell me why you’ve been actively avoiding me or shall i tickle it out of you?” jeonghan piped up as he stared down at her.

“i have not been avoiding you. i’m just busy with wedding preparations—”

“bullshit! i have been busy with my own share of wedding preparations but will always have time to spend with you. what have i done ñuha perzys?” he demanded standing infront of her as she peered up at him.

“for someone as smart as you are, you are quite dense.”

“ivestragon nyke kostilus, nyke daor gūrogon se lyka treatment hen ao mirre longer ñuha perzys.” tell me please, i cannot take the silent treatment from you any longer my flame. he begged as he grasps her hand in his own.

“a duty.” she whispered watching his face morph into a confused expression.

“you called me and our betrothal a fucking duty to the crown.” she glared at him as realization passes him.

“ñuha perzys, you are a duty i would gladly fulfill until my last breath but you are not only that to me. however, i would rather tell you that in a more private setting rather than the gardens where someone could easily eavesdrop into our conversation.” he explained as he kissed the back of her hand.

“sepār ȳdragon isse Valyrīha, mērī īlon drējī shifang se udrir isse īlva lentor se se people kesīr.” just speak in valyrian, only we truly understand the language in our family and the people here. she uttered pulling her hand away creating some distance from him.

he sighed pressing his lips together but nodded. he gathered his thoughts as she stared at him, jaw clenching as she absentmindedly bit on her lip.

“fuck—don’t do that.” he whispered.

“speak or i’ll leave.”

“i will—just. fuck.”

jeonghan was never this bothered by any woman. he was used to women fawning and lusting over him usually throwing the bodies against his hoping to receive a reaction from him (they don’t) before he pushes them away in disgust. so how was it that by simply biting with her lips, he could feel his self restraint thinning fast.

“i’m serious. i will leave.”

“don’t.” he pleaded.

she narrowed her eyes at her betrothed as she stared at his tense form. she could faintly make out the built of his body from the way his sweat made his clothes stick to his body. she gulped trying to rid of the unholy thoughts running through her head.

“nyke gōntan daor mazōregon emare naejot dīnagon ao sepār kesrio syt nyke viewed ao hae such. iksan daor mēre qilōni kessa dīnagon syt political reasons iā mirros tolie than se fact se ābra nyke dīnagon iksis se ābra nyke jorrāelagon. nyke gōntan daor chase qrīdrughagon mirre lī ābrar, ossēnagon mirre lī lords, gūrogon multiple blames syt anyone. ao gīmigon se type hen issaros iksan ñuha perzys.” i did not accept having to marry you just because i viewed you as such. i am not one who will marry for political reasons or anything other than the fact the woman i marry is the woman i love. i did not chase away all those women, murder all those lords, take multiple blames for anyone. you know the type of person i am my flame.

he thought about the lords he’d torture and feed vhagar after hearing such disgusting and crude marks about her—people who viewed and lusted her as just some royal whore made his blood boil. he swore that as long as he lived, he would kill such disgusting animals without any mercy.

“eman dedicated ñuha ābrar naejot ao. nyke promised nykēla bona hae bōsa hae ao sagon biare kesan gaomagon everything isse ñuha power bona ziry stays bona ñuhoso. bona daor ōdrikagon kessa mirre māzigon naejot ao. kostan daor sagon se sȳrje rȳ expressing ñuha emotions rȳ udra yn nyke hope bona hēnkirī kesan sagon able naejot. jaelan īlva naejot sagon isse iā biare dīnilūks ñuha perzys. mērī ao se eman keskydoso inferno bona burns deep iemnȳ īlva. īlon we’re va moriot meant naejot zālagon brighter hēnkirī. lo nyke could urnēptre ao skorkydoso olvie nyke jorrāelatan ao nyke would” i have dedicated my life to you. i promised myself that as long as you're happy i will do everything in my power that it stays that way. that no harm will ever come to you. i may not be the best at expressing my emotions through words but i hope that together i will be able to. i want us to be in a happy marriage my flame. only you and i have the same inferno that burns deep within us. we we’re always meant to burn brighter together. if i could show you how much i loved you i would.

he watched her for any reactions from him basically professing his love and dedication to her. he was practically calling her his already.

“pār urnēptre me—prove naejot nyke bona ao aren’t verdagon bisa bē sepār naejot mazverdagon nyke rȳbagon skoros jaelan naejot rȳbagon.” then show me—prove to me that you aren’t making this up just to make me hear what i want to hear.

her eyes burned into his own, a look of need behind them. she needed him to prove whatever he said to be true. it was a harsh environment they lived in, they needed each other to get through it alive besides, two dragons are better than one right? his head was foggy as he made his decision but he knew this was the way he could prove his feelings towards her.

he kissed her. he heard her breath hitch as his lips crashed against hers.

“i’d do anything for you, ñuha perzys.” his hands gripping her waist as he whispered between kisses. “you just have to say it.”

his touch sent tingles through her entire body. he had touched her before but never this way, it felt addicting to touch her that way—in ways only he could.

“tell me what you want. i promise you i’ll give it to you, anything you want.”

“you.” she whispered as their lips brushed against each other.

“i want you jeonghan. i’ve waited long enough to have you this way ñuha jorrāelagon. i will not wait any longer.”

never had jeonghan imagined the day he would hear her speak such words towards him—all those years of pining and protecting her had taken him to this position. she was a magnificent sight to him. he had always seen her in such way despite knowing of the many personalities that she displays to certain people. she held herself in power and bravery without doubt with a fire behind her actions. she was always his flame.

“eman waited tolī bōsa naejot rȳbagon lī udra issare uttered hen aōha lips ñuha jorrāelagon.” i have waited too long to hear those words being uttered from your lips my love.

“i’m sorry for making you wait,” she had pulled him closer, wrapping her arms around his neck as he gripped her closer to him.

“i would wait a thousand years to be with you, ñuha jorrāelagon.”

“you do not need to wait any longer. i am here now.” she smiled as she pressed her lips against his.

they kissed each other as if they were starved, jeonghan’s tongue sliding into her mouth as she moaned at the feeling of his hands grabbing unto her ass. she moved forward slightly pressing herself harder against him as he groaned at the feeling of her breasts pressed against his chest.

he pulled away foreheads touching as they caught their breaths. he smiled kissing her softly before cupping her face in his hands.

“let me take you somewhere more private.” he whispered as she nodded.

letting herself laugh as he took her hand into his and dragged her into his chambers. what they would be doing was immoral but neither had cared at that point. they were getting married soon anyways what difference would it make?

jeonghan takes the sight of her in his chambers in. she had been in there before but it was different now. her visits once used to be of innocent banter and chatter but it succeeded that now.

a smile ghosts across his lips as he slowly brushes a stray lock of her hair away from her face as she leaned in towards his touch. he kissed along her neck smiling as he heard her breath hitch tangling her fingers in his long locks.

he hummed as he nipped at her neck leaving bruises in his wake. his hands were running along the curve of her breasts to the curve of her back leaving her breathless.

“you have no idea how long i have been imagining seeing you in this light dearest sister. do you touch yourself at the thought of me?” he asked, pulling the fabric of her dress down to swirl his tongue on her nipple.

“always.” she breathed biting back a moan. “gods just touch me already.” the way his tongue swirled around her nipple and his featherlight touches had her arousal pooling between her legs.

“mmm…patience, little one.” he whispered against her skin, goosebumps rising.

her chest rose and fell, eyebrows furrowing at the pleasure she was getting from just his tongue. he’d tease her another time—he wanted her now.

jeonghan pulled his tunic off in a swift move, his trousers coming off just as quick. her eyes followed his movements, widening at the sight of him. was he going to fit in her? the thought sending shivers down her spine as he kissed her.

she had wrapped her legs on his hips, their cores brushing against each other earning moans from both of them. he was intoxicated with the way she coated his dick with her slick. he wanted more. he needed more.

he had kissed her with a ferocity he had held back all those years. he walked them towards the edge of his bed. gently he lowered her to his bed his lips peppering kisses on her chest down to her waist until he reacher her inner thighs.

“jeonghan.” she moaned out as his nose brushed her clit.

“relax, ñuha perzys.”

he licked her cunt, eyes watching as she wriggled in pleasure as he drank every drop of arousal he could get out of you. pleasure pooled in your lower regions as he stuck his tongue into you whilst his fingers played with your clit.

“seven fucking hells! yes just like that.” she cursed as she pushed his head deeper into her.

he chuckled as he continued his pace of pushing two fingers into her inserting another one to stretch her out futher, he could feel her getting close as her walls clenched around his fingers. the knot in her stomach painfully tight as her legs squished his head his tongue sending her over the edge.

he licked her arousal as she rode out her high. eyes fluttering shut as jeonghan pulled away to kiss her on the lips wanting to taste herself on his tongue.

he kissed her deeper as he aligned himself to her cunt, brushing his tip against her sensitive clit causing her to moan out once more.

“i need you inside me, please…” she pulled away from their kiss.

“it’s going to hurt for a bit ñuha perzys.” his eyes met hers as she nodded.

he rubbed circles into her hip as he coated his entire length with her arousal before sliding into her all the way to the hilt. she moaned feeling so full of him, falling back against the pillow. he kissed her as he allowed her to adjust to his size.

she could feel the pain subside before the immense pressure she felt. he moaned as he felt her clench around him.

“gods that feels so good.” she moaned out as she tapped his shoulder to make him start moving.

jeonghan peppered kisses along her neck and chest as he pulled out until the tip of his dick before bottoming out.

“seven fucking hells you fit me perfectly.” he growled into her ear as he rammed into her at a fast pace.

he reached around her to roll her nipple between his finger with her crying out in pleasure.

“you are my flame, princess. i crave your fire as i crave you.”

she had felt a sense of cockiness go through her as she heard those words fall from his lips. she had ripped herself away from him and pushed him to lay on the bed with a growl. she ran her fingers over the skin on his abdomen, lightly dragging her nails across his skin, making goosebumps appear. she had straddled his hips, aligning his dick against her core. with eyes locked on his, she slowly sank herself all the way down to his balls, mouth falling open as he stretched her.

“you’re fucking gorgeous, ñuha perzys,” jeonghan breathed as he gripped her hips, “fuck me. be my good girl and ride my dick.”

she did as he requested using his chest as leverage rolling her hips as she bounced on top of him. each time she came down his dick hit deep inside her hitting that one spot that made her see stars and clench around him.

she was losing herself with every new sensation she felt, every minute of her riding him pushing her closer to the edge of madness. jeonghan’s hands was busy pinching and tugging her nipple as the other reached between them to stroke the bundle of nerves.

“you’re doing so well,” he cooed. “just like that love…”

gods, he would be the cause of her undoing.

“jeonghan…i’m close…” she cried out as her head fell back.

and in one smooth motion, the prince had rolled them over, pinning her hands over her head. pounding into her at a brutal pace, jeonghan had latched his mouth to her breast, catching her nipple between his teeth and pushing her over the edge.

“jeonghan!” she screamed his name as her orgasm exploded through her, tearing through her and leaving her a panting mess beneath him.

“fuck…” he cursed out, pumping in and out of her chasing his own high before he finally came spilling himself inside her.

she had looked up at him, finding affection gracing his features. she had cupped his face bringing his face to her own to kiss him.

“does that prove how much i longed for you?” he asked as he pulled away from her breathless.

“it has, ñuha jorrāelagon.” she had smiled as he settled down beside her drapping the furs on their naked bodies.

“remember this,” he had run his fingers through her locks as she settled on the crook of his neck. “i would give the world to you if you asked me to. i will let the world burn if it meant you’d be mine for eternity. that is how much i love you.”

“i am yours as the sea belongs to the moon, the way dragons belong to the skies, and the way the embers in my heart only burn for you. you are the fire that i would conquer kingdoms for. my soul will forever be entangled into yours, as long as i shall live.”

jeonghan knew then that no matter what he would be the cause of the world’s demise if ever the god’s that reigned over them decide to play their ruthless games on her because she was what kept him away from the madness that always seemed to grab a hold of them.

they were from the same fire—always destined to burn together.

[lady-ashfade]

Do daemon finds out he has a bastard daughter who looks and acts a lot like him (into fighting, dragons and so on). When he's there somewhere in essos (or from somewhere you can write) the mother is dying and he decides to take his daughter with him. In comes yandere rhaenyra and she basically decides she's now her kid. Headcanons of this or any format you think this would be great in

Yandere parents Rhaenrya & Daemon targaryen x Bastard child.

Notes: This isn’t what I wanted but I hope you still like it! Yandere daemon is only a bit in this. Also you’re young in this and are Lukes age.

Readers appearance: White hair, your father is daemon so you’re a bit paler then your mothers. And your mothers appearance isn’t mentioned.

Warnings: Yandere tendency’s, sad themes, me kinda crying over the mom dying. Writings and spelling mistakes.

Daemon would be drunk one night, making his way from the tavern and trying to make his way back home to his wife. But when he saw a pretty girl outside in the night hanging up clothes on a line he had to go up to her.

She wasn’t a maiden by no means, but a handsome white haired prince was saying sweet things to her and made her feel wanted for a short time. She couldn’t refuse.

They spend the night together in her house and the morning she awake he was gone. The only thing left to reassure her was a coin purse filled to the brim. She felt like a whore but he gave her something far greater than anything she could ever hope for-

You. 

She was happy when she found out she was pregnant, of course she knew that people would look down on her for it but at the end of the day she wouldn’t be alone. She would have a child to take care of and be the light in her life. She thanked the gods for blessing her with such a wonder.

When you were born you had white little hairs sticking out of your little head, skin two shades paler then your mothers. A beautiful baby girl.

When you grew you couldn’t stay still for very long, always doing chores or practicing with a wooden sword. Your mother worked as a baker down the street and you’d help sell some of the products from time to time. But you liked to get your hands dirty with pickpocketing. You’re mother did scold you when she found out, but you had to make sure you could take care of her one day.

So you sold everything a day after you took it and kept the money under the floors of your bed. And sometimes you would take a coin or two and help out the beggars in the streets.

When you weren’t working you were sneaking around to watch the knights train. You watched for hours until you couldn’t and you took their movements and trained yourself.

You did have to wear a hood almost if not all the time to hide your white hair because they knew you were the prince bastard. So you liked to hide it because they always cursed you but you didn’t care much about it. Only caring when it messes with making money.

Then there was the kids that liked to pick on you until one day you punched each and every one of them. Even telling them you’d find them in their sleep and cut their hair, they now didn’t like to be around you. And the adults aren’t much better. The amount of times you had been brought to your mothers feet for punching/kicking from guys crouch was to much to count.

Your mother loved you like you were the air she breathed. But you being as hothead as your father was something she wished you didn’t inherit. 

Slowly your mother became sicker and weaker, she wasn’t able to get farther then her room or the bed. That’s when you took the role of household manger. Taking on small jobs you could find, helping out the bakery or stealing things you could. Her treatment was very expensive and you barely had enough to eat. Any food you got you gave to her always saying you had more for you, it was a lie but you didn’t care.

That’s when daemon returned. You mother not having much time left in this world. You were out working while daemon came to her house. He was curious to see her again. It’s been years since they shared that night together but he remembered her.

He walked into the house that was less alive then it was, most of the stuff was sold and almost empty. He heard coughing in the room down the hall and followed.

They reunited for small talk but that’s when she told him about you.

“We have a child, I know she is a bastard but she’s so much like you daemon. She’s my everything and I want her to be fine when I have to leave her in this world.” She grabbed his hands. “Please just look after her, she’s skilled like you. Just don’t let her be alone.”

Daemon didn’t know what to think. He already had two daughters and now step sons, then there was you? He was curious, yes. But he wasn’t as cold hearted to deny a mothers last wish on her deathbed.

He was waiting for you when you came home. You were startled by a man being in your house looking like a assassin with a clock on, so you pulled out the small blade on your waist.

The fire you looked at him with: The want to kill. His daughter. If looks could kill daemon was sure he would be dead. Your movements were fast but telling because you were small and blinded.

Daemon took the blade away from you when you tried to stab him and he threw it across the room and held you by your arms. “It is okay little one. I mean you or your mother no harm.” You watched as he took off his hood and showed the white hair just like yours.

“You-You’re..” you couldn’t even finish the sentence. “I am you’re father, my little dove.” You pulled away from him and held yourself, “And you’re here for what? We are fine without out you.”

He tried to talk to you but you didn’t care for a word he was saying, always coming back with a sarcastic reply. What he saw in you was just like him when he was a boy. The only one to convince you was your mother when you had alone time and daemon went to get dinner.

“I love you, so much. When you have children of your own I know you’ll feel just like I do.” You cling to her hand while sitting next to her. “I’m dying, my sweet. I feel like I have done my part in keeping you safe, you will go with daemon and live with him and his family. You’ll do wonderful things.”

You shook your head and cried. “But I don’t want his family. I want you, you’re my only family mother. I will not leave you here. I’ll work twice as hard and make sure you get the treatment-” she cut you off by pulling you into her chest.

“The stranger has come for me, I wouldn’t be here for you to stay. Go with daemon and live for me, I will never be more then a thought away.” Her eyes filled with tears as you sobbed in her chest begging for her not to leave you.

Daemon was sitting outside the whole time listening. Even he was a bit sad listening to you.

You left two days later after you had buried your mother. The night you had the talk was her last night with you, dying early in the morning. You looked dead and let the grief take control over you, you couldn’t even give daemon a sarcastic remark.

Daemon watched you with a sting in his heart. Someone so new in his life already had his heart. He made a promise to keep you safe so that’s what he’s going to do.

The first time he ever saw you smile was when he took you to meet Caraxes. The way your eyes light up in a spark he has never seen before, the tug on the ends of your lips. He felt happy.

You stared at the beast and it looked back at you, most people would coward away from the beast but not you. The little eyes stared right out at it while a small smile, not moving at all. You didn’t look afraid.

Daemon smiled and walked you over the the dragon that watched you. Before daemon could do anything Caraxes’s nose moved towards you and took a few sniffs.

You reached your small hand up to the dragon and let him smell it, you inched closer until you hit its skin. He nudged you to pet him and you did, he was already soft for you.

Daemon was more then pleased at the two of you getting along but you had to get back to his home. So you had your first, of many, dragonrides.

You got to to dragonstone around the time dinner was being had. Daemon could tell you were nervous and he knew you didn’t feel that often.

“No harm will come to you here.” He grabbed your hand kindly. You didn’t shove him away, you didn’t hit or yell at him. But you held onto it tighter and walked with him.

Soon you walked through the hallways the servants there would bow but give you a side eye of Curiosity. I mean you didn’t blame them for it, you- a white hair child with a dirty dress and looks like a mess. You would turn your head too.

Rhaenrya was waiting for you with the three boys, one was your age, then one older and there was a baby boy in her arms. When you walked into the room all eyes went onto you and you stared back.

Rhaenrya moved over to you with the boys trailing behind her like pups to their mother. They didn’t have white hair which made you a bit confused but you didn’t question it. The older woman gave you a kinda smile.

“Hello, sweetling. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” You watch as she placed a hand on your cheek and you stiffed and glanced at daemon for help.

“I um-…. Pleasure to meet you too, princess.” You did a poor job at a bow. She chuckled and shook her head, “No need for that, we are a family now. You’re just as Royal as the rest of us.”

Rhaenrya knew from the moment she saw you that you’d be her child. She felt the same way about you as seeing her other children for the first time after a birth. Her sweet girl. 

She claimed to you at first she meant no means to replace your old mom. But that was a lie. She did hope to become a mother that you believed to be, so she’ll just work her way into your heart.

She’d have tea with you each day and it didn’t matter if you would talk or not but it help. Sometimes you would ask questions and she would answer them to you if she could. But she knew the way into your heart was through fire.

She would watch you train with daemon and the children and cheered you on, she would bring you books and outfits of your choosing.

A year grew by and you finally let her into your heart, you came to her for the first time and asked to spend time with her.

Having rhaenrya as a yandere mom isn’t the worse.

She was over protective of you but knew you were just like your father and that you would never stop. So you become one of the most feared people on the planet, giving the best training.

Then you were given a dragons egg. That hacked and rhaenrya wouldn’t let anyone teach you but her. Even daemon had to stay away while she had time with you.

She did your hair and got you anything you wanted. She teaches you about the woman’s body and just about woman.

I think rhaenrya after a few years would forget you actually aren’t her daughter. And believe she was your only mother. and anyone that said anything different would get their tongues cut off.

She believed no one was good for you- Except your brothers. She secretly placed you and Luke together, of course you two were to grow to be betrothed.

She also got jealous of any maid helping you with anything, like helping you pick out pins or hair styles. Because that’s her job. 

Two years after being there she called herself your mother and you corrected her but she never stopped. 

You were always beside her, she didn’t like not knowing your whereabouts. So if you aren’t with daemon or the boys, she would send someone to find you.

So I think you’ll become her or the boys personal protecters, or even her own spy. She didn’t trust anyone like she did you, not even daemon.

You are going to be watched like a hawk all of the time.

Yan!Rhaenrya as a mother is possessive 

[thedovesaredying]

Flames of Green | CoD x GoT/HotD | Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader x John "Soap" MacTavish | Part 1.

Artwork by Elizabeth

You're the heir to the Iron Throne, the eldest child of the current king with the blood of the Targaryens flowing through your veins. Unfortunately, you're due to be married off to a mysterious Northern lord by the name of John MacTavish. At least your closest friend and member of your guard, Simon Riley, will be by your side throughout it all.

A/N: I'm back in my House of the Dragon era, so I'm mixing hyperfixations. The Cannibal doesn't get enough love, he's a nasty bastard and he deserves to cause some chaos. It will eventually be a Ghost x Reader x Soap relationship and likely a bit of a slowburn. Literally just for my own entertainment, but I hope y'all enjoy.

Warnings: None

Masterlist: CoD Masterlist

Next

It’s times like this that you mourn the loss of your youth. Forced to sit in silence while discussions are held by old men around a table, weighing up the advantages and disadvantages of your future marriage to every potential high lord in Westeros. Your opinion is never considered, let alone asked for by any of your father’s advisors, your compliance expected regardless.  

If you had been born a man you could have your pick of any woman in the kingdom to take as a wife, but instead, you’re forced to simply accept whatever man is placed in front of you. Such is the burden of being the princess and heir to House Targaryen. You will be made to give up the right to rule the kingdom to the high lord assigned to you, never to touch the ever-elusive Iron Throne that should have been yours by right.  

You had never really taken the prospect of marriage too seriously in your youth, always considering it a problem for the you of the future to deal with. You didn’t care to forge lasting alliances with other ladies and lords, too busy dragging your poor best friend, Simon, through the gardens and dirtying your extravagant dresses. 

But those days were over. 

Talk of wedding a powerful lord and bringing forth the next line of Targaryen children is all that fills your ears now. You’re forced to entertain every man, young and old, that wishes to gain your favour with a polite smile and feigned interest. You don’t even have your dear Simon to offer you his companionship and a break from the cruel realities of the world. No doubt he would have entertained you with his dry remarks about each man set before you.  

It has been years since you last saw Simon. He was taken from the Red Keep by his father and sent to squire for another lord in the hopes of teaching him the art of warfare. Lord Riley was a foul man, constantly berating his son for spending his time with the Princess rather than roughhousing with his fellow boys. He considered the boy too soft and squeamish at the sight of blood to make a good future lord of their keep.  

You disagreed, of course, Simon was perfect just the way he was; gentle and kind to all those around him. Your friend couldn’t hurt a fly, but he was still one of the bravest people you knew.  

You dread to think just how much he would have hated being drawn into battles, forced to kill other men with his own hands. The letters he occasionally wrote to you always steered clear of depicting the violence you were certain he must have been subjected to, but you’re far from naive enough to hope he has yet to participate in any bloodshed. As the years dragged on, word from him has grown scarce, however, to the point where you can hardly remember when you heard from him last.  

What you do know, is that he had been sent to offer assistance in maintaining peace throughout the Stepstones, killing raiders and pirates that would endanger trade routes to King’s Landing.  

But that was almost six months ago, and there has been little else to soothe your vexed nerves over his safety. He had made a promise to you the day he left, that once his training was done he would return to your side, this time as a knight who would offer himself to your Queen’s Guard once the time was right. Never again would he leave you, more than happy to forfeit the ruling of his own homeland if it meant he could keep you safe.  

You had clung to that promise every day for years after his departure, but with each passing moment it become harder to hold out hope of seeing him again. After all, what is one promise between children in the grand scheme of things?  

It’s a blessing when you’re finally relieved from the meeting, escaping from the suffocating air within the council chambers and fleeing to the safety of your room. You don’t even pause to ensure one of your guards is following you, getting straight to stripping from your dress and replacing it with your riding gear.  

As the carriage carries you away from the city and toward the Dragon Pit your nerves begin to settle. The constant odour of sweat and excrement quickly gives way to fresh air the further away you get. It’s a beautiful day, with hardly a cloud in the sky and wildflowers blooming all along the road. It’s a genuine shame that your day has started so poorly, otherwise you’d have loved to wander the palace gardens and enjoy the midday sun.  

The ground is rocky outside of the dragon pit, and you’re jostled around a bit until the carriage comes to a stop. Although this is your destination, the dragon you seek is not here. Your dragon is far too large to be housed within the Pit.  

Unlike your younger sister, you were not blessed by the Gods to have your dragon egg hatch while you were in the cradle. All throughout your childhood you sat next to it and prayed for the hatchling to come forth, promising you would care for the creature and love it more than anything. But the baby dragon never arrived.  

Many said that it was a sign from the Gods, that you were unfit to be the heir if even your own dragon refused to hatch for you. It was a heavy sentence hanging around your neck, weighing you down and making you feel as though you are worthless, despite the fact you have more power than most of the people laughing at your situation.  

None of them are laughing now.  

You see your dragon stretched out atop one of the nearby ridges. He’s so large that his wings and tail drape over the edge of the rocks, entirely unconcerned by the humans fearfully gathered beneath him as he snoozes away in the warmth of the sun. His scales are like coal, absorbing every ray of sunshine that he can.  

The Cannibal may not be as large as Vhagar, but he’s far older and, as many would argue, far meaner than the old girl. Where most dragons have vibrant, golden eyes, you’re greeted by a pair of sinister green the moment you draw near. His go-to reaction to most things is aggression, and you’ve seen many people meet their end in a blast of emerald flame for merely disturbing him.  

It’s for that precise reason you’re stunned to see someone standing beside the grumpy old beast. There’s only one person other than yourself who could get anywhere near the Cannibal without immediately being swallowed whole. The man pauses his rubbing of your dragon’s scales the moment he sees you, only to earn a displeased whack from the Cannibal’s snout. You bite your lip to force down the grin that’s threatening to spread across your face when the man drops down to one knee, his head bowed respectfully.  

“Lord Riley,” you nod, “I do believe that’s my dragon you’re touching.” That earns a groan from the Cannibal, his massive head twisting away from you both, as though already bored of the conversation.  

“A thousand apologies, princess,” Simon grins, his eyes sparkling with mirth, “your dragon was growing impatient.” The dragon in question huffs, his tail twitching like an agitated cat.  

Simon looks so different from the last time you saw him. He’s both taller and broader, completely filled out with muscles. When he stands again, you’re face to face with the rather intimidating bone mask adorning his face. You’re not certain if it’s real bone, but at that moment you could have cared less, throwing yourself at the large man.  

He catches you easily, holding you tightly against his larger body. It’s entirely improper and if anyone other than your guards witnessed such an interaction there would no doubt be whispers abound. Perhaps it’s a good thing Simon decided to meet you somewhere so private.  

“When did you get back?” you ask, leaning back just long enough to look him in the eye.  

“We docked late last night,” he answers, and you can feel the way his chest rumbles with each word. His deep voice soothes something within you, your stress dissipating like mist at dawn. “We received word that the King’s Guard now has an open position,” he continues, and then much to your shock adds, “I’m here to fill that position.”  

You pull away from him almost completely, only your hands still gently curled around his gauntlets, “but I heard that your father was recently taken ill, don’t you need to return home?”  

While the mask hides the majority of Simon’s face, you can still see the way the skin around his eyes crinkles slightly, “I made a promise to serve my future Queen,” he takes your hand from his arm and presses the back of your palm to where his lips are beneath his mask, “if you’ll have me, princess.”  

You can feel your face burning with the intensity with which Simon stares at you. “I’m certain my father will be delighted to have such a well-regarded warrior in his service,” you smile, gently pulling your hands away from the knight, despite the urge to keep holding onto him.  

Before you can continue the conversation, the Cannibal turns his head back to your again, nudging at you with an irritated huff. His breath is scalding against your skin, yet it doesn’t burn you, thankfully. You place your hand against the beast’s snout, feeling the thick scales shift under your leather gloves. “Gīda,” you coo to the dragon, waiting until he lowers his wing to the floor to provide you with a way to climb onto his back. He’s far too large for you to mount the same way you would a younger dragon.  

Once settling into the Cannibal’s saddle, you grin down at your friend, “I look forward to seeing you in the keep, my lord.” You only have the time to see Simon’s quick nod, before your dragon is leaping from the edge of the ridge, forcing an end to your conversation. You can feel his clear exasperation through your bond and ensure to give the old dragon a scratch to the neck.  

[cassowariess]

I think what's so frustrating about the ending of Game of Thrones, even 4 years later, is that I could see those disappointing character endings actually working if they had been written properly.

Jaime could have gone back to Cersei in a way that made sense, if we'd had multiple scenes where he struggles to convince himself that he can be a good person and fails because of his trauma and codependency. He hates himself so much he can't possibly believe that he deserves someone as good as Brienne. Instead we have him say "oops, I'm a bad person all along!" after 5 seconds of introspection and ride off on a horse.

I'd also take out the "I never cared about innocents" line unless there was a way to make it really clear he didn't mean it and was saying it out of bitterness. Otherwise it's non sensical and erases his most pivotal scene where he confesses to Brienne how and why he killed the Mad King.

Daenerys could have had a mental breakdown in a way that makes sense if we'd seen her unravelling more. All we got was her staring off into the distance and looking slightly dishevelled while Tyrion told her Varys had betrayed her. I wanted to see her pacing while she was alone and looking devastated. Cold, icy looks don't tell us anything about her state of mind, because she always had a ruthless side, but was in complete control of her mental faculties. Hiding her emotions for a shock and awe "twist" doesn't make it a good twist because there were hardly any breadcrumbs, even subtle ones. It could have worked (if it was well written) because the freedom fighter to tyrant pipeline is something that has happened historically in the real world. A good twist is Jon Snow being revealed to be Lyanna and Rheagar's son, because there were chekovs and groundwork to follow. Dany's "twist" was just bad writing.

Bran could have become king in a way that made sense if they'd stuck more to the Bloodraven storyline in the books. i.e. that Bloodraven (A Targaryen bastard that went missing beyond the wall and became the Three Eyed Crow decades before Bran shows up) is secretly trying to install himself on the Iron Throne, and yes there's peace in the realm but it still feels sinister because there's a Targaryen on the iron throne in the end after all, but in a Stark's body. Instead we got a half hearted speech about stories and Tyrion calling him "Bran the Broken" which I personally would have smacked him for. (Also still think it was a mistake to leave out Commander Mormont's Raven in the show. I loved the creepy things the bird occassionally said and I'm fully on board with the theory that Bloodraven is speaking through the bird.)

”King,” croaked the raven. The bird flapped across the solar to land on Mormont’s shoulder. “King,” it said again, strutting back and forth. “He likes that word,” Jon said, smiling. “An easy word to say. An easy word to like.” “King,” the bird said again. “He rose and dressed in darkness, as Mormont’s raven muttered across the room. “Corn,” the bird said, and, “King,” and, “Snow, Jon Snow, Jon Snow.” That was queer. The bird had never said his full name before, as best Jon could recall.“

So much character development was avoided because of the time devoted to cartoonish battles you could barely see. Battles which will likely be only a few pages in the future books, as all the others are in the currently published ones.

[dulcewrites]

Laenora is us, A Targaryen/Velaryon who was just a guy that followed the flow then her siblings are death and her parents did NOTHING about it

First straw

Her nieces are ignored by their splendid father who prefers Nyra's children(If I were her, I would hate him with all my heart, Because of him, Laena is death and ignores her children..)

Second straw

Driftmark goes to Nyra's children

Third straw

Then she is sent as a spy and boom she grows fond of greens(especially of Helaena, she deserves all the love in the world)

I believe with the greens and if Alicent is alive, she would have felt like home you know...

The greens are deeply troubled yet they don't seem truly connected to their Targaryen's heritage and they treat Laenora normally, Aemond will be like: are you a spy???

Helaena will be like(who knows stuff): my brother likes red dresses☺ and older women, like you

Alicent is there for her because hello???Laenora has lost her siblings and for the rest of her life, she must watch Daemon and Nyra living her happy ending:I believe she would grow resentful of them but she keeps quiet about it-then that resentment grows also onto her parents, whom sell her off as a broadmare, but her husband dies and she becomes rich💅🏽💅🏽

Sorry to bother you! Just my thoughts, you are free to take inspiration from it🤣

Laenora to Alicent: my queen I...never felt so alone you know..I never felt a Targaryen, just Laenora and everyday my family always reminds me of it...I was just Laenora, the key for potential allies,Laena was the rider of Vhagar, Laenor the heir of Driftmark.

I'm not so important.

Alicent: well Lady Laenora..you are very important to me and my children, Helaena loves you, Aemond enjoys being around you, the twins always asks me of you and Aegon less drunk since you arrived...

Now I will leave with thissss

I’m imagining after laena and laenor aren’t around, rhaenys saying the line should pass through laenora. Which ofc gets shot down by corlys bc that disenfranchises Rhaenyra’s claim (and the strong boys by relation). By that point, she (Nora) gets married off. Hears through grapevine about Rhaenyra and daemon having egg 3.

Originally she thinks, maybe I can make a family of my own since mine is kind of on the rocks. But her husband is useless and kind of sucks so she drinks moontea to stop it. Their ofc rumors around his death but since there are no kids, people assume it was all above board.

She goes to court for a fresh start, and assuming through this she can reconnect and be wanted by a family she’s been distant with. It all sort of spirals the more time she spends away. In a way she sort of pawn, and she has to figure out her own footing and frankly pick a side that suits her best interest

[sweetestpopcorn]

Daemyra haters like to use the reason that Daemon was a grown man when he was “seducing” Rhaenyra but they don’t voice out that Harwin String was also a grown man when he was screwing Rhaenyra. Sorry but Harwin isn’t some innocent character. Sure he was a supportive of Rhaenyra but he actually was quite useless. He couldn’t do anything to support her in court and frankly him fathering her velaryon boys just made things worse for Rhaenyra imo. Sure, Rhaenyra isn’t innocent in having children with him but I’m more understanding to her because she was put in a precarious position by her idiotic father.

Hi there!

This is a problem that I think comes with the fact that most people dislike history, so they never actually bothered much with it and they don't realise our rules and standards did not apply let's say 100 years ago, so much less would they apply in an alternative world modelled after Medieval Europe (for the most part).

In Westeros most girls were wed at 15-16 years of age, some younger. In Fire and Blood alone we have Aemma and Helaena being bedded at 13. While Helaena and Aegon II barely had 2 years between them which makes it less bad and we can brush it off as they were two teenagers, Viserys was 18 when he took 13 year old Aemma to bed. The maesters said she was a bit young yes, but they acknowledge this because sh:t got complicated for her in the child bearing department. For Helaena it didn't, so no one mentioned anything regarding her very young age. They don't really care, this is the bottom line. If we were to analyse the situation with Viserys and Aemma by our world's standards I don't think most people would be ok with an 18 year old banging a 13 year old. Does the fandom complain here? No, of course not. They don't give half a f_ck about either of them.

We have another great example not only of someone not legal in our world but being courted and wed to a man MUCH OLDER than she was in Rhaenys Targaryen. Rhaenys was 16 when she married Corlys who was 37. Need some help here? Those are twenty one - I repeat TWENTY ONE - years between them. This was a marriage that left everyone delighted. Was Aemon horrified and disgusted that Corlys courted his 16 year old daughter? No. Was anyone? No. Yet I always hear absolute radio silence when it comes to this couple and huge age differences and a woman not being of legal age (in our world).

Let's now get to Rhaenyra and Daemon. Rhaenyra was 14 when Daemon returned in 111 AC, soon to be 15 since Septon Eustace claims she "rode Daemon's dragon" and became a "dragonrider" 😏 sometime before her 16th birthday. Daemon was around 31. While us in the modern world would describe - and well - Daemon's actions as gr🐻🐻ming and ab_s€ and say and well that Rhaenyra could not consent, guess what? The same would be true for Rhaenys and Corlys, it would also be considered gr🐻🐻ming + ab_s€ + ch:ld marriage. But Westeros is not our world is it? In Westeros, Rhaenyra was seduced by Daemon. His actions towards her - gifts, poems, wining and dining, going out to hunt, sail, hawk, etc - would be seen as any man would court an available woman. This is how you would "date" someone. And indeed both of them seemed to have this idea in mind when they entered their relationship. According to both Eustace and Mushroom, Daemon wanted to marry Rhaenyra, so this wasn't simply to debauch her, he had marriage in mind. This was very much seduction + courtship. Also apologies in advance to the RuMoUrS and LiEs crowd, but all the time the two spent together alone during the course of six months and Daemon's gifts are presented as facts/court documented things not as this person said X the other one Y. When it comes to Rhaenyra, Septon Eustace says she asked Viserys for leave to marry Daemon. Mushroom says otherwise -> that she wanted Criston and he rejected her, not that he gave in and felt very guilty afterwards in case anyone is wondering; no one says this. No one. However, given what we know happened later, and how Rhaenyra felt about Daemon, which of the two is the most likely?

I will let people decide.

So between Rhaenyra and Daemon, again this is courting. C-O-U-R-T-I-N-G.

Now back to Harwin. We don't know Harwin's age. We do know his sisters - Harwina and Harwinette - were close in age to Rhaenyra, but they did not have the same mother, and neither did he and Larys had the same mother. We do have estimates of how old he was because he was already a knight in 105 AC, so he couldn't have been younger than 15 at this time. Bear minimum, Harwin was 7 years older than Rhaenyra though the age difference could be higher. I don't think it was that much more than 7-10 years and I will tell you all why. Because Harwin was still unmarried by 120 AC. Someone like him was a major catch. He was the son of the second most powerful man in the Seven Kingdoms since 110 AC - since the time Rhaenyra was 13 - and was heir to Harrenhal. He would absolutely be someone many fathers would want to marry their daughters to, and in fact, we know he courted Rhaenyra and was a potential candidate for her hand. If he was Daemon's age it was absolutely not likely he would be still single and not a widow at the very least.

I can see the appeal of Harwin because he was much closer to Rhaenyra's age than someone like Daemon - 16 years; who she loved, had an affair that got to 3rd of 4th base and later married - or Criston - 15 years; who she took a childish fancy to and later rejected his advances or got rejected twice. Regardless, at the very least Harwin was 23 when he took 17 year old Rhaenyra to b🛏d and got her pregnant. This is more of a grey line in our world than any of the other situations I have introduced, so I can see why this is a situation that leaves people less uncomfortable and they can deal with it better. Still, Rhaenyra was still 17 and he was from a seggsual standpoint still much more experienced than she was (we know he wh0red like almost every man in Westeros) since in both versions Rhaenyra was someone who's entire seggsual experience was clouded in ab_s€ according to our standards, and that by both accounts had only been with one man who again was much more powerful than she was. So the dynamic is still not the best. Furthermore, according to Mushroom it was actually Harwin who took Rhaenyra for her first "ride" after he came back from a night of drinking and maybe more... so it's not exactly a very romantic setting. I personally have no issues these are characters not real people and this is a different universe, besides, Rhaenyra clearly liked what he was packing 😏 I personally still believe Eustace on this one as I cannot envision Daemon not going all the way with her, but my 1% of doubt does rest in the fact that she didn't get pregnant.

Bottom line is, it's impossible to pretend Harwin and Rhaenyra were not problematic from our standards. Less problematic than her and Daemon definitely, but there are still significant issues. I can understand people preffering them and having less problems but don't come to me and pretend they were the perfect couple if you are using our standards to judge them because no they were not.

Also small note, Harwin did potentially have the capacity to be quite useful to Rhaenyra. As I have noted, he was the son of the King's Hand. His own brother Larys was Master of Whisperers. But he seemed more busy doing push-ups and crushing bones XD which is why since the longest time he has been baptised as Ser Beefcakes and referred to as Rhaenyra's himbo. Which is one of the best things this fandom has ever said XD and a general agreement.

Harwin's routine be like:

And I need to refer people to this amazing f:cking art of Rhaenyra and Harwin by @riotatttherite which remains my favourite of them of ALL TIME. IT'S. SO. GOOD!!!!!!

NOW THIS is what got Ser Incel into a blind fury XD and made him break the arm (ok it was elbow) that touched Rhaenyra and collarbone next to which Rhaenyra laid her head. And also kill Joffrey because... f_ck him I guess.

Joffrey Lonmouth:

Harwin:

Criston:

Also Criston: Ser Harwin and his... brutish ways!

Criston: And Rhaenyra and her...

Us:

Criston: WaNtOn WaYs

Us:

And on this note, nowadays I don't search the tags, both because of redacted 🤢🤮 and because even before redacted some things written were already vomit inducing. The funny thing to me always was that the same people who got SO ANGRY (takes deep breaths) that DAEMON HAD SEDUCED RHAENYRA AND WAS A P🐻 AND A POS AND A MONSTER AND

Was the same crowd who then shipped him with Laena and painted Corlys and Rhaenys as the perfect wholesome couple.

Like yes please, tell us more about how monstrous you find Daemon, so much you then ship him with Laena. Tell us more of how age differences make you uncomfortable especially when the woman was a teenager.

Like... just own your sh:t. Everyone ships what they want. But don't hide between your fake wall of morality because according to your own words you are shipping Laena with a p🐻

Note: All the things said in this post only apply to the soiaf canon and have little to no validity in the context of g*t canon. Thank you.

[cappymightwrite]

What draws you to incest ?

*sighs* Ok, here we go. I'm a real card carrying Jonsa now aren't I?

Anon, listen. I know this is an anti question that gets bandied about a lot, aimed at provoking, etc, when we all know no Jonsa is out here being all you know what, it really is the incest, and the incest alone, that draws me in. I mean, come on now. Grow up.

If I was "drawn" to incest I'd be a fan of Cersei x Jaime, Lucrezia x Cesare, hell Oedipus x Jocasta etc... but I haven't displayed any interest in them now, have I? So, huh, it can't be that.

Frankly, it's a derivitive question that is really missing the mark. I'm not "drawn" to it, though yeah, it is an unavoidable element of Jonsa. The real question you should be asking though, is what draws GRRM to it? Because he obviously is drawn to it, specifically what is termed the "incest motif" in academic and literary scholarship. That is a far more worthwhile avenue of thinking and questioning, compared with asking me. Luckily for you though anon, I sort of anticipated getting this kind of question so had something in my drafts on standby...

You really don't have to look far, or that deeply, to be hit over the head by the connection between GRRM's literary influences and the incest motif. I mean, let's start with the big cheese himself, Tolkein:

Tolkein + Quenta Silmarillion

We know for definite that GRRM has been influenced by Tolkein, and in The Silmarillion you notably have a case of unintentional incest in Quenta Silmarillion, where Túrin Turambar, under the power of a curse, unwittingly murders his friend, as well as marries and impregnates his sister, Nienor Níniel, who herself had lost her memory due to an enchantment.

Mr Tolkein, "what draws you to incest?"

Old Norse + Völsunga saga

Tolkein, as a professor of Anglo-Saxon, was hugely influenced by Old English and Old Norse literature. The story of the ring Andvaranaut, told in Völsunga saga, is strongly thought to have been a key influence behind The Lord of the Rings. Also featured within this legendary saga is the relationship between the twins Signy and Sigmund — at one point in the saga, Signy tricks her brother into sleeping with her, which produces a son, Sinfjotli, of pure Völsung blood, raised with the singular purpose of enacting vengence.

Anonymous Norse saga writer, "what draws you to incest?"

Medieval Literature as a whole

A lot is made of how "true" to the storied past ASOIAF is, how reflective it is of medieval society (and earlier), its power structures, its ideals and martial values etc. ASOIAF, however, is not attempting historical accuracy, and should not be read as such. Yet it is clearly drawing from a version of the past, as depicted in medieval romances and pre-Christian mythology for instance, as well as dusty tomes on warfare strategy. As noted by Elizabeth Archibald in her article Incest in Medieval Literature and Society (1989):

Of course the Middle Ages inherited and retold a number of incest stories from the classical world. Through Statius they knew Oedipus, through Ovid they knew the stories of Canace, Byblis, Myrrha and Phaedra. All these stories end more or less tragically: the main characters either die or suffer metamorphosis. Medieval readers also knew the classical tradition of incest as a polemical accusation,* for instance the charges against Caligula and Nero. – p. 2

The word "polemic" is connected to controversy, to debate and dispute, therefore these classical texts were exploring the incest motif in order to create discussion on a controversial topic. In a way, your question of "what draws you to incest?" has a whiff of polemical accusation to it, but as I stated, you're missing the bigger question.

Moving back to the Middle Ages, however, it is interesting that we do see a trend of more incest stories appearing within new narratives between the 11th and 13th centuries, according to Archibald:

The texts I am thinking of include the legend of Judas, which makes him commit patricide and then incest before betraying Christ; the legend of Gregorius, product of sibling incest who marries his own mother, but after years of rigorous penance finally becomes a much respected pope; the legend of St Albanus, product of father-daughter incest, who marries his mother, does penance with both his parents but kills them when they relapse into sin, and after further penance dies a holy man; the exemplary stories about women who sleep with their sons, and bear children (whom they sometimes kill), but refuse to confess until the Virgin intervenes to save them; the legends of the incestuous begetting of Roland by Charlemagne and of Mordred by Arthur; and finally the Incestuous Father romances about calumniated wives, which resemble Chaucer's Man of Law's Tale except that the heroine's adventures begin when she runs away from home to escape her father's unwelcome advances. – p. 2

I mean... that last bit sounds eerily quite close to what we have going on with Petyr Baelish and Sansa Stark. But I digress. What I'm trying to say is that from a medieval and classical standpoint... GRRM is not unique in his exploration of the incest motif, far from it.

Sophocles, Ovid, Hartmann von Aue, Thomas Malory, etc., "what draws you to incest?"

Faulkner + The Sound and the Fury, and more!

Moving on to more modern influences though, when talking about the writing ethos at the heart of his work, GRRM has famously quoted William Faulker:

His mantra has always been William Faulkner’s comment in his Nobel prize acceptance speech, that only the “human heart in conflict with itself… is worth writing about”. [source]

I’ve never read any Faulker, so I did just a quick search on “Faulkner and incest” and I pulled up this article on JSTOR, called Faulkner and the Politics of Incest (1998). Apparently, Faulkner explores the incest motif in at least five novels, therefore it was enough of a distinctive theme in his work to warrant academic analysis. In this journal article, Karl F. Zender notes that:

[...] incest for Faulkner always remains tragic [...] – p. 746

Ah, we can see a bit of running theme here, can't we? But obviously, GRRM (one would hope) doesn’t just appreciate Faulkner’s writing for his extensive exploration of incest. This quote possibly sums up the potential artistic crossover between the two:

Beyond each level of achieved empathy in Faulkner's fiction stands a further level of exclusion and marginalization. – pp. 759–60

To me, the above parallels somewhat GRRM’s own interest in outcasts, in personal struggle (which incest also fits into):

I am attracted to bastards, cripples and broken things as is reflected in the book. Outcasts, second-class citizens for whatever reason. There’s more drama in characters like that, more to struggle with. [source]

Interestingly, however, this essay on Faulkner also connects his interest in the incest motif with the romantic poets, such as Percy Bysshe Shelley and Lord Byron:

As Peter Thorslev says in an important study of romantic representations of incest, " [p]arent-child incest is universally condemned in Romantic literature...; sibling incest, on the other hand, is invariably made sympathetic, is sometimes exonerated, and, in Byron's and Shelley's works, is definitely idealized.” – p. 741

Faulkner, "what draws you to incest?" ... I mean, that article gives some good explanations, actually.

Lord Byron, Manfred + The Bride of Abydos

Which brings us onto GRRM interest in the Romantics:

I was always intensely Romantic, even when I was too young to understand what that meant. But Romanticism has its dark side, as any Romantic soon discovers... which is where the melancholy comes in, I suppose. I don't know if this is a matter of artistic influences so much as it is of temperament. But there's always been something in a twilight that moves me, and a sunset speaks to me in a way that no sunrise ever has. [source]

I'm already in the process of writing a long meta about the influence of Lord Byron in ASOIAF, specifically examining this quote by GRRM:

The character I’m probably most like in real life is Samwell Tarly. Good old Sam. And the character I’d want to be? Well who wouldn’t want to be Jon Snow — the brooding, Byronic, romantic hero whom all the girls love. Theon [Greyjoy] is the one I’d fear becoming. Theon wants to be Jon Snow, but he can’t do it. He keeps making the wrong decisions. He keeps giving into his own selfish, worst impulses. [source]

Lord Byron, "what draws you to—", oh, um, right. Nevermind.

I'm not going to repeat myself here, but it's worth noting that there is a clear through line between GRRM and the Romantic writers, besides perhaps melancholic "temperament"... and it's incest.

But look, is choosing to explore the incest motif...well, a choice? Yeah, and an uncomfortable one at that, but it’s obvious that that is what GRRM is doing. I think it’s frankly a bit naive of some people to argue that GRRM would never do Jonsa because it’s pseudo-incest and therefore morally repugnant, no ifs, no buts. I’m sorry, as icky as it may be to our modern eyes, GRRM has set the president for it in his writing with the Targaryens and the Lannister twins.

The difference with them is that they knowingly commit incest, basing it in their own sense of exceptionalism, and there are/will be bad consequences — this arguably parallels the medieval narratives in which incest always ends badly, unless some kind of real penance is involved. For Jon and Sansa, however, the Jonsa argument is that they will choose not to commit incest, despite a confused attraction, and then will be rewarded in the narrative through the parentage reveal, a la Byron’s The Bride of Abydos. The Targaryens and Lannisters, in several ways excluding the incest (geez the amount of times I’ve written incest in this post), are foils for the Starks, and in particular, Jon and Sansa. Exploring the incest motif has been on the cards since the very beginning — just look at that infamous "original" outline — regardless of whether we personally consider that an interesting writing choice, or a morally inexcusable one.

Word of advice, or rather, warning... don't think you can catch me out with these kinds of questions. I have access to a university database, so if I feel like procrastinating my real academic work, I can and will pull out highly researched articles to school you, lmao.

But you know, thanks for the ask anyway, I guess.

[forever-rogue]

For the 390 prompts, how about #381 “You weren’t supposed to hear that.” with Catfish... My devil side want to make it angst but it's totaly up to you 😭 🌱

It’s angst hours, baby!

Pairing: Frankie x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: language

MASTERLIST

FRANKIE MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Hey,” Santi slipped into your abandoned stool at the bar next to Frankie. You were all at the bar for weekly get together, but Frankie had noticed you seemed down from the moment you walked in. He was attuned to you, very much so from years of being your closest friend, but it hadn’t taken much to see that you were upset. Your lips barely managed to curve into a smile, and your eyes had a heavy tiredness behind them, despite your best efforts to appear happy, “you heard about what happened, right? With Bee?”

“I...no? She hasn’t said anything to me,” his brows knitted together in confusion as he downed the rest of his beer. A sense of worry settled into his bones at your behavior; it was so strange and unlike you, “w-what happened?”

“Mark,” Santi dramatically rolled his eyes at Frankie before flagging the bartender over for another round of drinks; it seemed like you could all use it. Rage boiled in his blood at the sound of the name; he’d hated Mark from the day the two men had met. It wasn’t just because he was the man that had won over your affections, although that was definitely a large part of it, but because after a while it was clear that he was genuinely an asshole. He wasn’t good, or good to you, but for some reason you’d never seen that. You ended up putting up with so much shit that you’d normally never take from anyone else. Frankie’s grasp around his empty bottle was so tight it was a surprise it didn’t shatter into little pieces, “he cheated on her...she finally dumped him.”

“He cheated on her? That fucking asshole,” Frankie almost jumped out of his spot as every bad thing he wanted to do to the man that broke your heart bubbled up, “I will-”

“She found them together,” Santi put his hand on Frankie’s arm to calm him down, “and apparently he still tried to make it seem like her fault. She’s really upset, Fish. Don’t make things worse right now. I know - we all know - how you feel about her. Give her time and space.”

“I’m her best friend,” he huffed as he slid out of his spot, “I need to be there for her. I’ll just...I’ll make sure she’s okay. I don’t understand why she wouldn’t tell me...:”

“Why do you think, Fish?” Santi cocked a brow at his friend before letting out a long sigh, “she knows you’ve always hated him. She doesn’t want you to do anything stupid and get yourself into trouble. She loves you too, you know. Even if she doesn’t realize that.”

“How could you possibly know that?”

“Everyone knows it,” Santi was amused at how blind the both of you could be at times, “it’s so obvious to everyone...except perhaps the two of you. The way you look at each other, how you act...that shit ain’t just friends shit. You both know it.”

“Then why did she date Mark? For almost two years and waste that time on him?” Frankie grew frustrated as he slid off the stool and hit the dirty floor of the bar with a dull thud, “why wouldn’t she say anything to me?”

“Why haven’t you ever said anything to her?”

“I don’t want to lose Bee,” he pulled off his old, batted cap and hand a hand through his curls in frustration, before slapping it back on his head, “I’d rather keep her as my friend forever than face a life without her.”

“There’s your answer.”

“I’ve got to see her,” he insisted, brushing past Santi, “I have to let her know.”

“Don’t - give her time and space,” Santi grabbed his arm and insisted, “don’t push her just because he’s gone. She’s hurt and been through a lot. Be her friend and let things happen on their own.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Frankie snapped as he pulled out of Santi’s grasp and headed to the back of the bar, where he’d seen you step outside and disappear a little bit earlier.

»»————-　♡　————-««

You were pacing around with your phone pressed to your ear as you tried to keep it together and not break down into another fit of tears and sadness. The whole day had seemed like a blur, one painful, horrible nightmare and you just wanted it to be over. You just wanted to sleep and wake up and have no memory of anything. Perhaps not even the last two years.

“I can’t believe he did that to you,” your sister sounded as incredulous as you felt, “you’ve been so good to him, more than he deserves honestly, and for him to do that? Asshole. I am so, so sorry for what he did to you, babes.”

“Me too,” was all you could choke out as your lips trembled with effort not to cry. You looked at the inky black sky, dotted with glittering stars as you tried to ground yourself.

“At least you’ve got the guys with you. If he does or says anything, you know they’ve got your back,” she reminded you, causing you to experience a momentary pause of peace, “and now you can finally tell Frankie how you feel.”

“No,” you insisted firmly as Frankie stepped outside, quiet as a mouse as he tried not to interrupt. He hadn’t meant to be sneaky and listen in, truly, but now that he was there, he couldn’t stop himself, “I’m not telling him anything.”

“You love him! You’ve been in love with him for what? Almost six years?” she scoffed at the other end of line, “you have to tell him how you feel, now is the time. He’s not...he’s not to wait for you forever. If you love him, let him know.”

“I don’t,” you lied thickly, steeling your nerves as you bit back bile. It was hard to lie; especially when it came to Frankie. He was everything you were not: good, gentle, pure, loving. He didn’t deserve to have you dragging him down. He deserved the world - something you felt you could never give him. He would be so much better off without you, no matter how much you actually loved him. 

“You’re such a liar!” she insisted as you groaned, “the two of you are in love! You’re just blind fools, scared to get hurt.”

“No!” you shouldn't have called her, you should have just gone home and cried yourself to sleep like you had planned on, “I don’t love him! I don’t love Frankie. He’s nothing but a friend and he’ll never be anything else!”

Frankie’s breath hitched in his throat as he listened to your angry tirade. He must have heard wrong...surely you hadn’t meant it, right? Santi had said...everyone had told him….he loved you. But...you didn’t love him? He needed to get out of there and fast; he left like he was going to be sick. But as he turned on his heel, he almost slipped on a rock and made a small sound of surprise. 

You froze in fear at the sound, realizing for the first time that you weren’t alone at all. Your sister was still babbling away at you, calling you a liar as you turned around and found Frankie, frozen in fear as he tried to get back inside. You swallowed thickly, knowing exactly what had happened; he had heard your blatant denial of love. The lie you wish you’d never spewed. Ending the call without a word, you stepped closer to him as his own eyes appeared glossy with tears.

“Oh Frankie,” your voice cracked as more tears rolled down your cheeks. Could this day really have gotten that much worse? You wished the earth would open up and swallow you whole, “you weren’t supposed to hear that.”

“I wish I hadn’t,” he admitted quietly, “I came to look for you, to make sure you were okay. Santi told me what happened.”

“Frankie, it was a lie,” you might as well tell him the truth now. There was nothing left to lose at this point, and he deserved to know the truth finally, “I was talking to my sister and it was all a lie. I didn’t mean it. I-I do love you-”

“You don’t need to lie to me now to spare my feelings,” he stared at the ground before slowly opening the door to the bustling bar back open, “if that’s how you feel it’s how you feel. I just...I should have known better. I was the fool, not you.”

“Francisco, don’t go,” you darted towards him but he was already inside and weaving his way through the crowd, barely acknowledging your friends as he made to leave, “Frankie! Frankie! Don’t do - don’t walk away. It was a lie to get her off my back and because I….”

“Because what?” he turned around, and the look on his face was enough to break your heart then and there. His cheeks were already tear stained and his eyes were nothing but hurt, as you struggled to find the right words. After a few beats of tense silence, he shrugged, “I’ll see you around, Bee. Eventually...I just need some time to deal with my own feelings. I’m sorry I thought there could ever be more between us.”

“Francisco,” his name was a pitiful whimper as you watched him get into his truck and start, leaving without hesitation. Your hands flew to your face as you stood there in panic, “what have I done?”

“Bee?” Benny came up behind you, confused as he looked between you and the spot Frankie was previously parked in, “what happened? Is everything alright?”

“I think I just fucked everything up,” you admitted as you let him pull you into a hug, “I think I just lost the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“He’ll come around,” Benny promised, although it felt hollow, “it’s Fish. You know he will.”

“I hope so,” you cried, “I sure hope so.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[weirwoodking]

hey man i was just giving my point/seeing if you knew something i didn’t because yeah, to my knowledge so far it is heavily implied within the series the you need some blood to specifically RIDE A DRAGON (not be a hero, in general) im not saying tyrion won’t, i think so far it’s been set up with his interest in dragon lore that he’ll figure it out, but to hop on in the standard way it seems like necessity? if there are any metas about it id love to read them, but- (p1 sorry)

(p2) from what i’ve read the only ~maybe~ evidence that there isn’t some blood magic going on is nettles. and that’s a big maybe. Like, i swear im not coming at this from an ablistic/valaryan supremacy standpoint but those sheep farmers clearly did SOMETHING, that they decided was hard enough to pull off again they’d rather marry their siblings. and the other similar magic system we’ve seen in the books- skinchanging/warging- has also been heavily connected with bloodlines and maybe past magic

I wrote this response before you sent part 2, and so I do see you’ve read about Nettles. I recommend this analysis by felonyofasshai about that.

A good line to take away from it is: if i were to say, "only people with blond hair can eat toffee", and then never let anyone without blond hair near toffee, obviously the result would be that only blond people ate toffee.

The Valyrian empire and the Targaryen dynasty relied on keeping the dragons in their control. They needed everyone to believe it could only be them.

There is also no guarantee that Valyrian blood makes someone a dragonrider. Quentyn is an example of this. His Valyrian blood did not protect him from the dragons.

And, neither did Dany’s. Let’s analyze the Daznak’s Pit scene.

“Drogon,” she screamed. “Drogon.”

His head turned. Smoke rose between his teeth. His blood was smoking too, where it dripped upon the ground. He beat his wings again, sending up a choking storm of scarlet sand. Dany stumbled into the hot red cloud, coughing. He snapped.

“No” was all that she had time to say. No, not me, don’t you know me? The black teeth closed inches from her face. He meant to tear my head off. The sand was in her eyes. She stumbled over the pitmaster’s corpse and fell on her backside.

Drogon roared. The sound filled the pit. A furnace wind engulfed her. The dragon’s long scaled neck stretched toward her. When his mouth opened, she could see bits of broken bone and charred flesh between his black teeth. His eyes were molten. I am looking into hell, but I dare not look away. She had never been so certain of anything. If I run from him, he will burn me and devour me.

[...]

Drogon roared full in her face, his breath hot enough to blister skin. Off to her right Dany heard Barristan Selmy shouting, “Me! Try me. Over here. Me!”

In the smoldering red pits of Drogon’s eyes, Dany saw her own reflection. How small she looked, how weak and frail and scared. I cannot let him see my fear. She scrabbled in the sand, pushing against the pitmaster’s corpse, and her fingers brushed against the handle of his whip. Touching it made her feel braver. The leather was warm, alive. Drogon roared again, the sound so loud that she almost dropped the whip. His teeth snapped at her.

Drogon does not recognize Dany, he does not stop from attacking her. Until....

Dany hit him. “No,” she screamed, swinging the lash with all the strength that she had in her. The dragon jerked his head back. “No,” she screamed again. “NO!” The barbs raked along his snout. Drogon rose, his wings covering her in shadow. Dany swung the lash at his scaled belly, back and forth until her arm began to ache. His long serpentine neck bent like an archer’s bow. With a hisssssss, he spat black fire down at her. Dany darted underneath the flames, swinging the whip and shouting, “No, no, no. Get DOWN!” His answering roar was full of fear and fury, full of pain. His wings beat once, twice…

...and folded. The dragon gave one last hiss and stretched out flat upon his belly.

It was not Dany’s Targaryen blood that tamed Drogon. It was her courage, it was her being brave even though she was afraid. If Dany had not stood up in that pit with the whip in her hand and hit Drogon with all the strength she had in her, no amount of Valyrian blood would have saved her.

Furthermore, Dany herself does not believe that the other riders have to be Targaryens.

The dragon has three heads. There are two men in the world who I can trust, if I can find them. I will not be alone then. We will be three against the world, like Aegon and his sisters. (Daenerys VI, ASOS)

As far as Dany knows, she is the last Targaryen alive. She also does not think “okay, I need to find some Velaryons or Celtigars or Lyseni men”. Dany does not seem to believe that Valyrian blood is needed for dragonriding.

Targaryen blood purity is a lie. It was always a lie. Whether the Targaryens truly believed you had to have Valyrian blood to ride a dragon or not, it was still a lie.

Now, you mentioned skinchanging/warging as a genetic thing. Skinchanging/warging is a gift given by the Old Gods. It seems to have been frequently given to House Stark. However, there is no implication that there is a blood purity competent. For example, there haven’t been any known/recorded Stark wargs in the recent centuries (although we can suspect that that used to be more common), but suddenly all six Stark kids ended up as wargs. So it doesn’t seem like anything that relies on a strong gene purity. While the Starks are known for their “wolf blood”, this is most likely a term passed down from the days when the Starks would more frequently receive the gift of warging. Perhaps they sacrificed to the Old Gods to increase their chances of receiving this gift. But again, blood purity is not what made the entire current Stark generation wargs.

[epiphany-of-a-madwoman]

The Last Dragon | The Witcher & Game of Thrones

Chapter 13 | Tearful Goodbyes 

Pairing: Geralt x Targaryen!OC

Summary: Visenya Targaryen is the eldest and only surviving child of Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell. When Robert Baratheon’s rebellion was won, instead of being slaughtered by the Mountain like her mother and siblings, she was saved by Ned Stark and taken as his ward. Years later, after the events of the Red Wedding, she wakes up outside Blaviken. Now she finds her destiny intertwined with the White Wolf on her quest to go back home.

Word Count: 5200

Note:  Click here to read the previous chapters ♡ Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future uploads! 

*Gasp* Could this be? Me posting another chapter after only two weeks?? Impossible! I promise this is the last chapter that is heavily filled with angst, at least for a while! I can't help it, Vis is a very sad bean who keeps all her feelings in a bottle, and then she'll die. I just-- I need the build-up man! The character development man! Anyway, I hope you all enjoy, let me know what you think, I love reading all your comments and theories! <3

The cool air of night is a stark contrast to the heat inside of Visenya, which grew hotter as the chaos during the banquet did. But now that peace is restored, standing under the night sky lit up by glittering stars, she feels that heat simmer down until it's a comforting warmth. The northern wind is biting, but she welcomes the feeling, the cold reminding her of the North - of home. The cold that would chill her to the bone, leaving her with chattering teeth and icy hands that always seemed miserable is something she longs for; a semblance of normalcy. She inhales and then exhales, watching with child-like wonder as her breath becomes visible in the cold temperatures. So enraptured by the weather, she nearly forgets she isn't alone, and that Geralt is a few steps ahead of her now, watching her with curious eyes. Yet it's Jaskier's voice that pulls her from her stupor.

"So this is it?"

Visenya turns around, gold eyes wide with her lips set in a thin line. Jaskier is standing at the entrance of the castle, the noblewoman previously with him nowhere to be seen. He's disheveled and so unlike the normally prim and proper Jaskier she's accustomed to, his floppy brown hair windblown and sticking up in random directions. His clothes are wrinkled in odd places, ripped here and there, but overall mostly intact. His eyes are wide, as they normally are, but they're glassier than she remembers them being, the stars betraying what seems to be held back tears.

"You don't have to leave, you know, just because the Countess de Stael has agreed to be my patron. I could still use my bodyguard," Jaskier says, smiling, but it's not carefree and easygoing, brimming with his usual mirth. Instead, it's tight and harsh, not quite reaching his eyes. His hands loosely rest in front of him, fingers nervously intertwining with each other.

Visenya smiles, mustering all her strength to appear every bit the soft and docile maiden from every fairytale, looking at him like she would've Bran and Rickon. She sighs, forming and reforming the words in her mind, trying to find the perfect thing to say. But each time she comes short, a harsh reminder she'll never be a good poet.

Instead, she opts to shrug her shoulders and move closer to the entrance, closing the distance between them. She's melancholic, feeling as if another chapter of her life is coming to an end. She and Jaskier traveled together for years, how could she not feel a hint of emotion when it seems like their travels are on hiatus - if not done entirely.

"Come on Jane, you in court, scaring away all the mean people who want to kill me, we'd make the best team!" Jaskier exclaims, trying - and failing - to have his usual enthusiasm behind the words. They fall flat, sounding more desperate and sad rather than upbeat and encouraging. Visenya sighs once more, the smile on her face requiring less concentration as Jaskier continues to ramble. Finally, she closes the distance between them. "I'll never leave you to your brooding when you want!"

"Whilst that does sound interesting, I'm afraid I wouldn't do well in court," Visenya says, reaching out and taking Jaskier's hand in her own.

"I disagree, My Lady," Jaskier says, pursing his lips and looking at the ground, pausing for a brief moment, allowing the wind to whistle between them. "But I understand."

"My place is out there, where I can stab things," Visenya says, raising her brows with a small smirk on her face.

"You could do that here you know? Not to sound like I'm trying to talk you out of your decision because I respect your choices and everything," Jaskier says, his enthusiasm gaining traction with each word. Visenya laughs, a small laugh that's nothing more than a whisper, but it's music to the ears of anyone who hears it.

"I could, but that would get me in trouble with the law," she responds, shaking her head, the smirk playing on her lips morphing back into a gentle smile.

"Right, I almost forgot about that," Jaskier mutters looking up towards the sky.

"Goodbye Jaskier. Though with my luck this isn't the end, I'll run into you sooner or later," Visenya says, a mischievous glint in her normally stoic gold eyes.

"Oh, I'm afraid you won't get rid of me so easily, my fair lady!" Jaskier exclaims, perking up slightly. "Goodbye, Jane. You and Geralt watch out for each other, alright! I won't have the two scariest people I know both dying, then who'll serve as my protection at high-class events!" Jaskier proclaims, some of his natural charisma returning, his blue eyes not nearly as glossy as moments prior.

"I'll do what I can." Visenya places her hand on Jaskier's shoulder, pulling his body towards her's, wrapping her other arm around his neck as she hugs him. Shocked, Jaskier is stiff for a moment, before melting like morning dew under the hot sun and wrapping his arms around her. He breathes in and then out, as Visenya does the same until their breathing is nearly perfectly synced up. She places her face in the crook of his neck, burning the moment in her mind, unwilling to ever forget this moment in case it's their last. She inhales his scent, committing it to memory; juniper and sage, sharp and warm and earthy all at once, with a hint of sweet wine and linseed oil.

"I'm sorry," she mutters, the words muffled against his neck, but Jaskier understands her none-the-less. "I'm sorry for earlier,"

Jaskier's hand moves from her back to the top of her head, soothingly rubbing it as Lady Catelyn used to when Visenya would run to her crying about one thing or another. It's comforting and familiar, nearly bringing Visenya to tears from the simple act.

"It's okay, you're complicated, I paid extra for my bodyguard to be dark and broody," Jaskier says, a slight sarcastic quirk in his tone at the end. "But promise me you won't isolate yourself any more than you already have. Talk to Geralt, he understands broody and dark."

"I'll keep it in mind," Visenya responds, slowly opening her eyes and unraveling from Jaskier. "Maybe I'll tell you all about how complicated I am next time we meet?" Visenya gives him one last smile, slowly stepping away, but not turning her gaze away from him.

"Oh, I'll hold you to that promise, missy!" Jaskier exclaims, wagging his finger at Visenya as if she is a child. Once again she laughs, louder this time, not as restrained as it normally is.

"I'm counting on it," Visenya replies, talking one last step, turning around to face Geralt, rushing towards him, eager to escape the emotions brimming inside her. Trying desperately to not think about how odd it is that she is walking away from Jaskier, the only constant in this crazy world since the day they met.

"Goodbye, you two! Now take care of each other, in every aspect, if you know what I mean!" Jaskier calls out, disappearing into the castle before either of them could retaliate.

She meets Geralt, who says nothing, he simply raises a brow at her, silently asking 'Are you sure?'

"My place isn't in court." Is all she says. Geralt grunts, nodding his head, a stoic expression on his face. "Let's go back to the inn, I need an ale and lots of sleep."

A smirk creeps onto Geralt's face, his eyes shining with amusement, illuminated by starlight. He quietly snorts, turning to face the gate leading out to the main portion of the city.

"I can agree with that." In nearly perfect unison they walk out of the castle grounds, Visenya easily keeping up with Geralt's long strides. They're quiet, the only sound is their feet pounding against the cobblestone road and the ambient noises of guards and nobles around them.

A particularly strong gust of wind blows through the courtyard causing a piece of Visenya's hair to blow in front of her eyes. She grabs a small chunk of hair, intently inspecting the grey-brown strands. With the silver light shining from the otherwise midnight sky, she can nearly see the silvery-golden hue hidden under cheap hair dye. Or maybe it's a trick of her eyes. She lets out a puff of hair, blowing the hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ears to secure it in place.

"So a child," Visenya says, no inflection in her words as she continues to stare straight ahead. Geralt's steps falter for a brief second before he quickly regains his footing. He sighs, heavily, somehow managing to put in all his frustration and annoyance in one simple noise.

"I don't want to talk about it Jane," he says. His tone is stern as if he's talking to an unruly child. It reminds her of when she, Jon, Robb, and Theon were the terrors of Winterfell, in the days before they grew up and the world became dark. She can't help the faint smile that appears on her face, her gold eyes lighting up like the sun, but not nearly as bright as the summer sun in the South. It's more like the North, where the heavy fog and thick clouds obscure most of the sunlight, muffling the harshest parts of the rays and bathing everything in dim light.

"I know, but not talking about isn't going to make this go away," she says, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. He's clenching his jaw, veins on his neck slightly popping out. His lips are set in a thin line with eyes like stone.

"There's nothing to run away from," he says. Visenya stops, turning to face Geralt, reaching her hand out and grabbing his shoulder, stopping him in his place and turning him to face her.

"Geralt," she says, her voice serious and stern. "This isn't a joke. This isn't making a bargain with someone in a seedy part of town and running away before they can collect their prize. This is serious."

"I didn't take you as one to think destiny is real." Geralt says, raising a single brow at Visenya.

"We all need something to cling to," she responds, not breaking from his gaze.

"And what do you believe?" Geralt asks.

"That...everything happens for a reason; that there's a purpose behind every tragedy and triumph that we experience - both great and insignificant," Visenya says, keeping her voice low enough that any nosy passers-by won't hear their exchange.

"This isn't some divine plan; this was just a princess using her magic to get her way, destiny has nothing to do with a girl who has no idea how to control her powers," Geralt says, standing firm on his stance. Strong and stubborn; he would've done well in Winterfell amongst the Northern lords.

"Oh cut the shit Geralt, do you honestly have to be so fucking pragmatic that you can't believe in something if you can't see it with your own eyes," Visenay says, keeping her voice low enough as to not attract any more attention towards them. Whilst the crowds are thinning with each moment that passes, even one person seeing their argument is too many.

"I thought you were more intelligent than this, clearly I was mistaken" Geralt responds, taking a step towards Visenya. His eyes glow bright yellow like the fire burning inside of her. Geralt's fire collides with Visenya's ice. He's egging it on, he wants a fight, she realizes. For her to get so angry she yells and screams at him. Why he is, she's not sure.

"Do you have to be such an asshole, Geralt of Rivia? You have no right to insult my intelligence by being so patronizing, I'm not a child, don't treat me as such," Visenya says, spitting the words like they are venom. She steps closer to him, close enough that she can feel his breath and hear his heartbeat.

"Well, it's either that, or you sustained a far worse injury in that fight than originally thought. How could you believe in this horseshit?" He won't stop, adding further fuel to the fire inside her; her pride rearing its ugly head and demanding she win the fight, no matter how petty and uncalled for it is.

Visenya narrows her eyes and clenches her jaw. Her hands form fists at the side of her body, her blood nearly starting to boil from her rage.

"How could I not, after everything that's happened," she says with a voice like ice, so cold that it burns. Her words are quiet, but they're sharp, stabbing into Geralt like sharpened icicles in a winter storm.

"What? What happened Jane? I'm supposed to believe in destiny just because you survived a rebellion?" Geralt asks, a mocking tone lacing his cruel and coarse words. He's not malicious in his intentions, it shines in his eyes, but the words are daggers to her heart none-the-less.

"Stop it," Visenya whispers, taking a step away from Geralt, but he just moves closer. "That's not fair and you know it."

"The gods don't care who lives or dies, why should they care about some child--" Geralt continues, but Visenya interrupts him, her quiet words silencing him.

"I died," she simply says. Geralt closes his mouth, his clenched jaw loosening. Visenya takes a sharp breath and then lets it out, watching as her breath dissipates into the cold air. Heart pounding with shaky hands, Visenya closes her eyes for a moment and then opens them before continuing.

"My family was betrayed and they killed us, butchered at a wedding like we were nothing but cattle. Next thing I know, I woke up outside of Blaviken with this-" Visenya says. Gold eyes dart around their surroundings, searching for any eavesdroppers. Luckily, the streets are nearly empty, the few people still scuttling around not paying them any mind. She holds out her hand, and focuses on...something, trying to recreate the feelings that would bubble under the surface before the fire made its presence known. Her eyes flutter shut, and within a second, a small flame flickers in the palm of her hand, the fire quickly dying out. But it's all she needs.

"Fire magic," Geralt says, breaking Visenya from her concentration. She closes her palm, hiding the arm behind her back as if to protect herself from harm. She looks up, meeting Geralt's wide gaze. "Blaviken burning... that was you,"

Visenya nods, thickly swallowing the lump in her throat, trying to push away the haunting memories of Blaviken burning.

"I lost control and just-- exploded, by the time I came to, everyone was already dead," Visenya says, shrugging her shoulders, her voice hardly above a whisper; soft, weak, and almost completely vulnerable. She purposely leaves out the part where she reveled in the destruction, feeling glee from their suffering. Geralt is silent - maddingly so, it leaves Visenya tense and uneasy. Every second passing feels like a lifetime as Geralt stands in silence and Visenya awaits his response.

But he says nothing, just simply nods his head.

"What now? Are you going to put me down like one of those monsters?" Visenya asks, and despite the self-deprecating words, her tone holds no humor to it.

"You're not a monster." Geralt says, his words like a knife cutting through the thoughts rushing through her mind. "What's done is done."

Visenya nods, taking another step away from Geralt and turning to face the road, eager now more than ever to return to the inn. The rushing wind cools her face and eases the tension in her body, not completely, but enough that she isn't afraid of exploding. Geralt's heavy footsteps pound behind her, his long legs swiftly catching up to Visenya. It's silent, but not the soothing one that leaves Visenya comfortable. Instead, it's tense and awkward, the words from their argument lingering in the air.

"I'm sorry," Geralt simply says, his tone not as firm as it normally is. Geralt is always sure of what he says - whether it's sarcasm or not, but this time he isn't. Witchers hunt monsters, not console maidens. The effort causes Visenya to smile, a small sad smile that doesn't fully reach her eyes.

"It's okay, we both have issues," she says.

"If you want to speak about it--" Geralt begins, the words sounding unsure as they leave his lips.

"I know where to find you," Visenya finishes his sentence, the smile on her face growing bigger. "But, if I did, I'd have to kill you," she responds. Geralt narrows his eyes for a moment, before a small smirk appears on his face, cracking the stone in his expression.

"Maybe you should tell Jaskier then, rid me of that bard," Geralt says, turning and continuing to walk towards the inn they're staying at for the night.

"Oh, he's not that bad. I might actually miss the guy," Visenya says, a small smile resting on her lips. "There's never a dull moment."

"That's what I'm hoping for, dull moments," Geralt says. Visenya looks at him, a teasing glint in her eyes.

"Well, I'm afraid you may not get that, not with me around at least." Visenya teases, cocking her head to the side as she raises her brows slightly. Geralt looks at her, scoffing quietly.

"I'm counting on it," he replies. Visenya laughs, the sound more similar to a scoff. They continue weaving through the citizens that remain on the streets. No one pays them much mind, too busy in their worlds, but the few that do take notice of Geralt say nothing. And Visenya is grateful, she's had enough excitement for one night.

o0o0o

The tavern on the level below them is particularly rowdy that night; horrible renditions of bawdy tavern jigs being sung by drunks, cackling men and women, and the thumping of feet banging on the floor and mugs on the tables. The wall shakes and the floor does as well, disturbing the small amount of peace Visenya has. She sits on the side of the bed, her bare feet hovering over the floor, only the very tips of her toes touching the cold wood. Except for the ambiance, the room is silent, but not unbearably so. It's comforting and entirely foreign to Visenya to be able to hear her thoughts.

Jaskier hated silence, needing to fill it with nonsensical rambles and filler thoughts to break the quiet. But Geralt revels in the silence, seeing it as a prized commodity he doesn't get blessed with often. The cool metal of her silver dagger cools the heat that's always under her skin. She balances it in her right hand while staring at the blank wall ahead of her. Jaskier always said she broods too much and is never much fun to be around when this way. Geralt is on the edge of the bed across from her, diligently cleaning his blade. Any dirt and residual blood from the feast have long since been cleaned off, Geralt continues to shine it. His ashen brows are furrowed and his lips set in a thin line. There's a small line that formed on his forehead, a dead giveaway that he's lost in thought.

Visenya sighs, placing the dagger back into its small sheath and sets that on the small table near her bed. The bed squeaks as she stands up, the floor creaking as she puts more weight onto it. Geralt pauses his sword cleaning for a split second but continues as if he never stopped.

One step.

Two steps.

Three steps.

The floor creaks with each movement and the distance separating her and Geralt quickly dwindles until it's almost nonexistent, her knees nearly touching him. Wordlessly, she sits beside him, reaching a hand up and beginning the arduous process of unweaving the intricate braids Jaskier put in them. A partially broken fingernail snags in her hair, getting knotted and tangled.

"Fuck," she says quietly under her breath, bracing herself to rip the chunk of hair out. Mentally she counts down from three, pulling with all her force on one. Rubbing her fingers together, she looks at the snaggle she pulled from her hair.

"Here," Geralt says, sheathing his blade and setting it aside. His much larger and rough hand reaches up towards her head but hovers over his head. "Can I?"

"Sure, can't be any worse than me," Visenya says, turning around to give him access to the back of her head. Without another word, Geralt's hand tangled in her hand, but instead of the recklessness Visenya tackled her hair with, he's much gentler, managing to unweave the braids twice as fast as she would've.

"Can I ask you a question Geralt?" Visenya asks after a moment of silence. Instead of answering Geralt just grunts, focusing on a particularly difficult four-strand braid.

"Are there dragons? And are they real?" she asks, putting all her energy into keeping her inflection neutral. She remembers in the Main Hall when Princess Pavetta's scream knocked everyone to the ground and filled Visenya's head with visions of a great fire giving birth to a dragon. She remembers how the clearing smelt and the longing inside of her to run her fingers over the smooth golden scales of the baby dragon.

"Yes, they're real, though they're exceedingly rare." Geralt responds.

"Really? What kinds are there, or are they all the same?" she asks, trying to turn to face him, but his other hand cups her head, keeping her in place.

"There are five: green dragons, they're the most common; red dragons less so; and black dragons are the rarest," he answers. He finally managed to find the tie keeping the four-strand braid intact and began carefully unweaving it.

"What about gold?" Visenya asks, staring at the blank wall as she remembers that dream from the woods when she stood in the Throne Room, The Red Keep in shambles around her as a gold dragon flew above her.

"They're a myth," he says, combing his finger through the undone braid before moving onto the next.

"Oh," is all she says, unsure of what else to say. Disappointment fills her mind, and for the life of her she can't figure out why. They're only silly dreams after all, right? "You say they're rare, why is that?"

"Treasure Seekers, idiots eager to steal the dragon's hoard, all the better if they could slay it and bring back a trophy of their kill," Geralt says, carefully pulling apart a knot in her hair. He's much softer than Visenya would've thought.

"Why would anyone do that?" Visenya immediately says, her brows furrowing. A quiet ow leaves her mouth as Geralt finishes working on the snarl. He mutters a quiet sorry but moves onto the next knot.

"For sport. Slaying a beast of that caliber is seen as a high accomplishment to commoners and nobles alike," Geralt says. Visenya feels heat rush to her face, brows furrowing more, causing small lines to appear on her forehead.

"They're not beasts to me. No matter how terrifying they may be to everyone else, I envy them. To be able to go anywhere you wish and do anything you'd like. It's...nice, romantic in a childhood fairytale sort of what. I'd give anything to see one," Visenya says, her tone of voice similar to a wishful child dreaming of knights and kings, vying for a happily ever after with either.

"I never said I thought they were beasts. Though I can't say I share the same sentiment as you, I prefer to stay away from fire breathing creatures," Geralt says, glancing at Visenya from the corner of his eye.

"I guess it's just in my blood."

"Is that why you have a dragon on the hilt of your blade?" Geralt asks, throwing the last small leather strip from her hair across the room. Visenya's eyes watch it soar through the sky before smacking against the wall directly across from her.

"Something like that," she answers, absent-minded and lost in thought. "It was a gift from...an old friend," she continues, glassy gaze casting to the dusty floor. She clenches her jaw in a desperate attempt to keep it from trembling.

"Was it--?" Geralt asks, removing his hands from her hair, but Visenya stays in place. She fears if she looks at him she won't be able to control the tears building in her eyes, eager to be free.

"Yes, and his name was Robb. He wasn't my brother, not by blood, but the Starks were the closest thing I had to family. He had it commissioned for me when we went to war. It - and my cloak - are all I have left of them," Visenya says. Her voice breaks with every other syllable, the words barely heard over the jeering patrons from below. The fire in the far corner of the room cracks, the noise drawing Visenya's attention to the flames. They illuminate her eyes - even more than normal due to the unshed tears, bringing out the flecks of white and orange in them.

It's still fresh in her mind, a haunting vision that she can't escape no matter how much she'd like: the sea of dead bodies around her, only to find Robb's decapitated body when managed to free herself. His direwolf coat-of-arms the only thing left that could identify it as Robb Stark. It pulls apart the stitches she meticulously applied to each and every wound that she sustained in Westeros. Months upon months, maybe even years, of work, only for it to unravel within seconds. She wants to forget. To throw herself into something - anything - as long as it frees her from these memories that linger over her like a dark cloud.

She takes a deep breath, trying to erase her rapidly beating heart, slowly thickly to get rid of the small lump in her throat. Her eyes flutter closed, refusing to open until the building tears disappear. Eventually, they do.

"You're not from here, are you?" Geralt says. His sentence is a question, but she knows he already knows the answer. He always seems to know.

"No, I'm not," Visenya mutters, feeling drained as if she just ran a marathon on little to no sleep. She's tired, and she's tired of being tired all the time.

"But I don't want to speak about that," Visenya says, sitting up straighter and moving her gaze back to Geralt.

"What then?" Geralt asks, ashen brows furrowed and eyes gleaming with interest. Visenya leans up, her face mere centimeters away from Geralt's. But she doesn't draw any closer, instead, she stays perfectly still, feeling his breath fan across her face and listening to his steady heartbeat - the pace much slower than her own. Her eyes trace his face, focusing on a faint scar that rests on his right cheekbone. The healed injury nearly glows in the candlelit room. She places both of her hands on his shoulders, using him to steady herself. She feels light as air, getting drunk off of Geralt's scent, inhaling the smell of fresh herbs and leather oil as if it's a drug she's addicted to.

"Oh I'm sure you could figure it out," she replies, a smirk on her lips. A heartbeat later, Geralt surges forward, closing the dwindling distance between them. His lips press against hers, firmer than she remembers, but just as sweet - if not more so due to the sweeter Cintran ale. She leans into him, eager to be as close as physically possible, and even then it wouldn't be enough.

Visenya pulls back, deeply inhaling in an attempt to gain her lost breath. She stares into Geralt's eyes, seeing her reflection in them. They're memorizing and captivating, full of everything Geralt doesn't say with words. The longer she stares the steadier her breathing gets, but the heavy feeling from the feast doesn't lift, and the distraction of Geralt did nothing but provide simple fortification to an already lost cause.

"Oh my god," Visenya mutters, her somber tone a stark difference to the teasing one she used moments prior. "I died," she says, disbelief lacing each word like she can't believe them even as they fall from her own lips. "I was murdered at a wedding and I died," she repeats, the tears returning, only this time with more vigor and she's unable to contend with their will. They pour from her eyes like heavy rain, clouding her sight and judgment, until all she can think about is Walder Frey betraying them over and over again.

The memories she'd buried deep inside her resurfacing. Catelyn falling to the ground, crossbow bolts stuck in her body, and Robb's dead body - head severed and replaced with a direwolf head - being paraded around on a horse.

Geralt pulls her towards his chest, his expression softer than the usual stoic mask he wears, albeit confused at her confession. Of course, her timing could not have been worse.

It's the first time she ever admitted to what happened. That her death - along with Robb and Catelyn's were real.

This is all real.

Objectively, every injury she received; whenever she's thirsty or hungry; or every time she goes to sleep and wakes up should've been proof that she's alive and her surroundings are real. But she's never admitted it, not to anyone and certainly not herself. Westeros is a topic she specifically avoids, keeping it locked away to never be seen. Subconscious denial is safer when survival is a concern.

She sniffles once more and pulls back from Geralt. She rubs her hand across her eyes, drying the dampness. The tears eventually stopped, however, her eyes remained bloodshot and puffy. Geralt carefully watches her every move, removing his hands from around her. She stands from the bed to move back to her own, eager to leave this night behind her. But Geralt grabs onto her arm, keeping her from moving away.

She looks at him with glossy gold eyes but says nothing, and neither does he. Yet he's speaking more clearly to her than anyone ever has in her life. Silently, moves back onto the bed, Geralt moving with her. He pulls back the blankets, motioning for her to enter first. The bed is as uncomfortable and itchy as hers, yet when she finally stops moving and Geralt gets beside her, she's the most comfortable she's ever been.

They continue to say nothing for the rest of the night. Visenya closes her eyes, moving onto her side, facing Geralt who stays on his back. Each time she blinks her eyes grow heavier and heavier, each breath deeper until eventually, she closes her eyes and the world turns black.

o0o0o

[sailorshadzter]

a loyal lord.

She was not afraid to face Ramsay, nor even Joffrey, and so she is not afraid of the dragon queen. Not even Daenerys' dragons could frighten her, despite the flames that they belched and the shrieks that came as they streaked through the Northern skies. No, she was resilient as stone, like Winterfell, like her father; she was a Stark and so she could be brave. And yet... She was afraid. Not of Daenerys, not of her dragons, but of death itself. Of the army that would soon march towards Winterfell, towards her home and those she loves most. She is afraid, afraid to lose those she's only just gotten back.

"My lady?"

It's Lord Royce standing there in her doorway, head tilted as he takes a moment to observe her there behind the oak desk. If he notices the unusual paleness to her skin, or even the tired look upon her features, he mentions it not. Instead, he approaches the desk she sits behind and bows, as he would to a queen, as he thinks she's always should have been. "The men are prepared to keep the gates open until nightfall." It is the agreement she and the other lords have come to- keeping the gates open so late into the night could put they themselves into harm's way... But all she can think about those still coming to Winterfell for safety, closing the gates too soon could mean the death of innocent people. She knows she cannot save them all, though she wishes she could, but she is willing to do what it takes to save as many as she can.

"Thank you," she nods, unable to help but to let out a long, slow sigh. Relief rushes through her, warm and steady, and for a moment she can breathe easy. She locks eyes with her ever faithful lord and offers him a smile, which catches him off guard- but he finds himself smiling back. This was a young woman he would bend to, be loyal to, a young woman he knew would lead the North into a golden era, if only given the chance. "They say if not tonight, then surely by tomorrow," she speaks suddenly, her moment of relief fading as she's reminded yet again of what's to come.

"Aye, they do," Lord Royce replies, shifting back towards her. In that moment, she is not a lady, she is but a frightened young woman hoping that no one notices. "But all will be well," he goes on to say, offering her another smile, one he hopes she finds encouraging. "Fear not, my lady." As she stares up into the older man's eyes, Sansa has no choice but to believe him. His kind gaze is strong, steady, and it brings the once fleeting relief back.

Though she opens her mouth as if to reply, there comes a knock to the half open door, and Jon Snow is there, peeking through the crack. "Sorry to interrupt," he says as he slips inside, acknowledging Lord Royce with a nod. "But I thought I might have a word with the Lady of Winterfell," he casts those Stark eyes towards her and Lord Royce can't help but to notice the glimmer of a smile upon her face.

"My lady," he bows for her before he backs from the room, pausing only when he's stepped into the hall, just so he might look back one last time. By then, Jon has slid into place atop the desk, seated just to the right of where Sansa sits behind the desk. She's smiling as she looks up into his face, every trace of her fear gone as she basks in the glow of what one might call love. Lord Royce can only chuckle, shaking his head as he turns away, allowing the door to the solar to fully close, leaving the pair alone behind it.

He supposes it's wrong, the nature of the relationship between those two, but in a world such as theirs... One full of fear, of anger, of war... In a life that has been far too full of horror, of grief.... Of all people, Sansa Stark deserves any bit of happiness she can get. And so he walks away, content in knowing the lady he serves so willingly, can find a moment of joy in what could be their last, lingering hours in this life.

[ x x x ]

When the dawn breaks, they are alive.

Somehow, someway, they have survived. There was a cost, of course, lives had been lost and the horrors of war were not limited to a battlefield. Even now, hours later, he shudders at the memory of a white walker rising from it's icy grave, of the sound of tearing flesh, of piercing screams.

As night falls once again, they are raising their glasses in a toast to those who had died so they might live on. They, the survivors, feast and drink and celebrate, if only to avoid the empty feeling of loss, of guilt, of being the ones left behind. He watches, silently, from where he sits at a table with several others, as when they think nobody is watching, his lady and her half brother share the most tender of stares. Beside them, the cold but beautiful dragon queen seethes in silence, as if she too is aware of the warmth between siblings, as if she already knows she can never come between them.

The night goes on and when he rises up to finally head to bed himself, Lord Royce realizes his lady is no where to be seen. A quick scan of the room tells him that Jon Snow is also missing from the room, though his rowdy wildling companions still are raising their goblets in his honor. He slips from the room out the back door and the hall he steps into he finds to be empty aside from the great white wolf that lingers outside a door. The wolf does not cause him fear, he's grown used to him after all, for he never strays far from his lady.

Ghost raises those eerie red eyes to look upon him as he approaches, but does not raise his head from his paws, laying there on the floor in front of the door. The wolf is as used to him as he is with him, for which Lord Royce supposes he should be thankful. Pausing outside the door himself, it takes but a single moment for him to hear the voices, soft and somewhat muffled, passing through the thick wood. It's her of course, Sansa was there in that room with Jon Snow, who he can hear speaking lowly to her, words he's unable to make out. Now he understands, the wolf is their guardian. "Keep her safe," Lord Royce speaks softly, as not to alarm them inside the room, and leans down to pat the wolf upon his head. As if he understands, the wolf thumps his tail once against the stone floor, and closes his eyes again. Tonight, the wolf will keep watch.

And so he moves on his way, smiling to himself.

[ x x x ]

"My lady?"

Lord Royce finds her upon the battlements, staring forlornly out at the retreating back of Jon on horseback, leading an army away from Winterfell, away from her. She does not cast a glance his way as he approaches and it's only then that he realizes she's been crying. "He swears he will return," she whispers after a moment, voice breaking, her eyes closing as she sucks in a breath. In that moment, she is uncaring of what harm the truth might bring. In that moment, she is but a young woman full of heartbreak, full of anguish. A young woman who must, once again, watch the man she loves walk away from her.

"And so he will," Lord Royce replies without thinking, without hesitation. She turns to him then, widening eyes full of surprise, rosy lips falling open as if she means to speak, but cannot find the words. "If there is one thing that I know, my lady, it is that Jon Snow is a man of his word. If he says he will return, then return he will." She holds fast to his gaze and a moment later, her features soften, and to his surprise she's smiling.

"You're right," she says, feeling far more clear than she has in days. "You're right," she repeats, turning away again, only to see that Jon has finally disappeared from her line of sight. "Thank you, Lord Royce," she says after a few moments of silence, shifting slightly so she might face him again. "It seems as if you always know just what to say."

When she's gone, Lord Royce offers a silent prayer to any of the gods that might have been listening... A prayer to return Jon Snow to Winterfell, back to his lady, just so she might be happy once again. But until then, he would keep watch over her.

[ x x x ]

It's late when he hears the call at the gate.

He's already shrugging on his cloak when the knock on his door sounds; a man in Stark livery stands there to tell him Jon Snow has come through the gate, with Arya Stark and the others that went South, though just as rumors said, Daenerys Targaryen did not return with them. She was, as it was said, dead, her one remaining dragon gone off towards Essos, perhaps never to bother Westeros again. Perhaps, but not certainly.

"Do not tell our lady," he commands as he exits the room, the man on his heels.

As they descend down to the main hall, Lord Royce can see that the torches have already been relit, casting Winterfell into a hazy light. Tugging his cloak a bit closer, he steps out into the night and sure enough, already sliding down from his horse in the courtyard is Jon Snow. Others come through, such as the redheaded wildling Tormund, though young Arya Stark is nowhere to be seen. "Jon Snow," he greets as he approaches, uncertain if he's to bow to the man that surely is to be proclaimed King of the Seven Kingdoms. Though, Jon certainly seems not to care, for his eyes are wildly searching for one face and one face alone. "She is in her rooms," he says, knowing, understanding. Jon blinks, grinning, before he reaches out to clasp the older man on the arm before he darts away, through the freshly falling snow and up the stairs, disappearing through the main doors.

By the time he reaches her rooms, Lord Royce can hear their voices from within.

He pauses, only for a moment, so he might crack the door and peek inside. In the center of the room they stand, arms around one another, holding onto the other as if their lives depended upon it. Lord Royce smiles and lets the door close once again. He returns down the hall, shooing away the maids that approach, thinking they might bring food and ale for the newly returned King.

Stopping at the end of the hall, he sinks onto the guards bench, intent on ensuring they remain undisturbed. It takes only a few minutes for the white wolf to appear, settling himself at Lord Royce's feet, his intentions the very same. Reaching down, he pats the wolf's head and then sits back, knowing that his watch had begun again.

[justadram]

Fic: In Fallow Fields

Part 3 of 3; Parts 1 and 2

Jon/Sansa, post-series; complete

A warm morning following on the heels of a cool night coats the blades of thin, bright grass with glittering dew. It darkens the hem of her wedding gown, creeping up the hem with every steady step she takes. Until it soaks through the layers beneath, penetrating to the flesh. Standing beneath the spreading limbs that make up what’s left of the godswood, Sansa feels the dampness in the cling of the embroidered stockings she rolled up her calves, when she woke and dressed without aid of a serving girl on her wedding day.

A moon or two ago, wet stockings and dew laden skirts in the chill of the morning air would have raised the delicate hairs on her arms and up the back of her neck. But it is warm. Blissfully so. Blue skies herald the day and the spring sunshine is a bright white that pierces the soil as certainly as it does the eyes, forcing her to blink against each chink of light that breaks the canopy as she approaches. The season has shifted.

With the sun shining in through the trees, the only thing that sends a thrill up her spine is Jon’s hand taking hers and pulling her in close with his eyes fixed upon her lips.

...

Sansa dislikes the taste of sour wine and ale, but Tormund’s fermented potatoes yield a practically flavorless drink. The warm burn it sets up in her belly is the same as if it was a chore to force down, but she manages to sip it without a grimace.

There are no frowns today, not even from her stony faced little brother or Arya, who has made it plain she wants none of the details of their arrangement, save that she might teach any forthcoming children to wield a sword, believing her technique superior to Jon’s. However skilled her sister is--and her skill is considerable--Sansa can’t bring herself to agree with the assessment entirely. Arya might be the only one alive to have watched Jon fight the undead on behalf of Westeros and scoff at his form. Even Tormund, for all his teasing, does not fault Jon on that point.

Tormund is plenty fond of teasing though, and today’s proceedings have unleashed a torrent of jests. She smiles over her cup at Jon--her lord husband--as Tormund claps him on the back hard enough to slosh some of the clear liquid over the rim of Jon’s cup onto his black jerkin. The broad-chested wildling urges Jon to drink. Filling his cup back up even as Jon protests. Again. For a second time and a third. It’s as merry as any of them have been, since they returned to Winterfell. It is their wedding that has made it so, even more so than the drink.

For a wedding toast--that’s how Tormund convinced Jon to grant him some of the harvest. It was not a bad crop, despite their collective lack of skill, and with the threat of starvation put aside, Jon allowed his friend the indulgence. Just so long as it was done in the name of pleasing Sansa.

She could have done without. Though weddings before were celebrated with feasting and drinking and song, Sansa doesn’t think anything missing from their day. Although, she wouldn’t have turned her nose up at a hind of venison in lemon gravy or a towering fruit cake iced in marzipan with candied lemons--anything with lemons, which she sometimes thinks she’ll never taste again, isolated in a North cut off from what feels like the rest of the world. A dress that she didn’t have to mend by the light of the fire might have been welcome too. But the strong burn of this drink will probably serve the bride and bridegroom better.

There were times past, when she drank to drown her sorrows on a wedding night. This isn’t like that. There are nerves, but she doesn’t dread the moment they will be alone. She doesn’t fear Jon’s lips on hers or his hands at her waist.

She has awakened from dreams of a full stream and arching backs on the banks with hair twined around fingers that pull. In that place between sleep and waking, she remembered it, no shadowed figures but clear enough to be a memory, not a figment. Jon’s dark hair, his beard rough on her skin, and his hands sure and eager. It felt familiar and welcome, as if it had always been him.

But there are ghosts. Hers and his. And though not all are malicious--her lord father and lady mother, for one--they haunt them all the same.  And so she sips, welcoming the burn, and watches him with cheeks that hurt from smiling, as Tormund claps him one more time.

...

“I’ve had too much,” Jon says, sinking his head into his hands, as she lowers herself beside him on the bed.

Pulling his hands through his hair brings it back. It’s like lightning briefly illuminating a distant corner of her mind--hands in her hair, hot mouth on her neck, and twitching muscles under her questing touch. A moment from a dream as real as if it were out of time, akin to Bran's own warped vision of the world. He’s left her panting in an empty passageway, from his kisses, but they’ve never touched like that.

She swallows thickly and moves to touch his leg, grounding herself in what’s real. Looking down at her pale fingers against the dark of his breeches, as his comforting warmth seeps through the coarse fabric.

The icicles are gone. Melted by the sun and sent crashing down to the ground, where the mud became so thick, it could suck you in with its viscous pull as much as from its earthy fecund smell.

But she still hears it, in the silence of the room, the awakening water, tip-tapping to the beat of her heart.

“You needn’t keep your wits about you. It’s only me.”

It’s a trick, getting the words out, as an unfamiliar desire urges her to test the firmness of his thigh higher, following the rise of muscle.

“Only you?” he says with an awkward smile, the one she’s loved too much for too long.

Over tables shared, whether talking of the past, worrying about the future, or dining on meager fare, she’s looked on it and felt an answering flutter. Sometimes a pleasant sensation and other times a shock of terror, since everything she has ever loved has been ripped from her grasping hands.

Surely he wore it when they were children, though she struggles to summon images of them as children, running through the halls of this shell of a great caste. But she knows she felt no great fondness for it. Not then. Not like Bran’s smile delighted her, the one he no longer can summon.

“You are my weakness.”

The low gravel of the confession and his gaze raking over her, swells her chest in anticipation of something so close. Her cheeks, growing warm, betray the pleasure his words awaken in her. She ought not to want it, but she longs to be more than a convenient match, something that might bring them both a small measure of happiness.

He reaches up and tucks her hair behind her ear, his rough fingers following the curve of her ear with impossible care. “Weakness or strength. I’m not certain which.”

“Either way,” she says, fingernail toying with the weave of his breechcloth, “you overstate my importance.”

A wedding night pronouncement perhaps. Made to assuage whatever jealousies she might wickedly harbor. It isn’t necessary. He is more than enough, his being hers is plenty. She will never cease being grateful for what remains.

His dark brows climb high, as his fingertips tease at her hairline. “I couldn’t even put up a good show of refusing, when Arya came for me.”

Her head tilts, as she takes in the long slope of his nose, the rise of his cheeks, his dark eyes. No one is as formed for this place than Jon--the spitting image of their father, of a long line of Starks.

“These walls call us home.”

“No, it’s the people in them,” he says, the curve of his finger lazily tracing her flesh, up and down. “I turned down Winterfell before, when it was offered. You I could not refuse. I’d tried. I left, I went south because of you.”

Sansa would have never sent him South. She begged him not to go to an early grave like their father, uncle, and grandfather before him. “Not for me.”

She can’t make herself say Daenerys’ name aloud but Jon’s eyes cut sharply to hers all the same, the unsaid plain.

He might have mourned her and loved her once and her dragons may have played a role in the fight for the dawn, but Daenerys was a threat to everything Sansa wanted from the moment the Dragon Queen stepped foot on Westeros’ soil. She is a apparition better unnamed.

“When I left for Dragonstone...” With his fingers lingering at the bend of her neck where her gown ends, his throat rolls above his collar. She wishes they’d go farther, sink into the thick of her scalp. She’s ready to lean into his touch, rub against him like a mewling kitten. “You are not a Lannister, but I may be.”

She blinks, as the words sink into her, clearing her fogged mind. It rearranges conversations and looks that passed between them into a slightly shifted reality, and she sits there, letting all the pieces settle.

Would the acknowledgement have unnerved her then? As he was taking his leave? She felt so desperate to keep him close, so fearful of losing a piece of her family that felt as vital as a piece of herself, she can’t be sure.

However she might have felt, it doesn’t matter now. The past is just that and they have survived until now to face a future together.

She bumps his shoulder with hers, hoping to draw another hint of a smile from him. “Of the two of us, I am the only one who was--for a time--a Lannister. You are a Stark.”

“Targaryen then.”

“Yes, and in another world,” she says, letting her hand slide up as she imagined doing, the heavy fabric rasping under the brush of her hand, “where Father did not have to pretend you were something you were not, I might have always been yours. He might have wanted us to wed, and saved us both some trouble.”

“Trouble,” he repeats at the minimizing of their miseries. At that he finally does smile, something broader than his upside down twitch of a smile. “We still would have argued.”

“Oh, worse,” she agrees. “In the end, though, it’s all the same. I am yours.”

[demonicowgirl]

okay finished rule of wolves and i have THOUGHTS..... of which i have gathered..... like sheep i have herded them together. so no it's not coherent. spoilers under cut so abandon hope all ye who enter here

okay….. deadass…… i think my favorite point of view was from the darkling LIKE?!?!?! me before starting this book: HAHA THE DARKLING IS GOING TO DIE FOR THE SECOND TIME!!!!! GET REKT!!!!! me after: His first soldiers were dead now. Lovers, allies, countless kings and queens. Only he continued on. Eternity took practice, and he’d had plenty of it. The world had changed. War had changed. But he had not. but seriously he’s so dramatic and the shit is he says is like. unhinged. i had a blast

zoya deserves so much love and peace and i knew she’d end up queen but this was…. not how i expected it would be. but more thoughts on that down the list

how is jesper going to show up for approximately 14 pages and manage to be the funniest character in the entire book. like he’s got probably 50 lines and each one fucking hits HOW DOES HE DO IT

mayu’s chapters felt very unnecessary and i would’ve preferred to just not know how tamar’s mission in shu han is going until the khergud show up for their ride of rohirrim/knights of the vale moment. maybe leigh wrote it that originally and it just didn’t work? because i can definitely see how insane it would read like all we know about khergud is that they hunt grisha and then all of sudden they’re…. helping ravka?!?!? like it would be really hard to pull off but idk i think all of mayu’s chapters were just. kind of sloggy and the surprise would’ve been fun during the battle

sorry but i still don’t know what the fuck an airship looks like. or what the fjerdan naval base was supposed to look like. the tech in this universe is truly mind boggling

kaz brekker is so in love with inej ghafa. god they make me SICK

okay nina’s storyline…… this is my biggie……………… sigh. okay. nina’s storyline was my favorite part of king of scars and so i was really looking forward to seeing what would happen here. and for the most part i was having a great time!! i love her and hanne (more than i ever got into her and matthias) and i was so excited for jarl brum to finally fucking die. but then the last few chapters. i’m so……….. okay talking about hanne being a trans character (i’ll be using they/them pronouns because it doesn’t feel like a settled issue especially since they talk about not wanting to *be* rasmus, just his body). it makes so much sense for their character and i had HUUUUGE vibes all the way back in kos and i could see it coming here in row. but the way leigh handled their “transition” (???) is not good. like hanne had to kill a cis man and take on his identity to transition and that is such a bad handling i think??? who approved this. but also from a narrative standpoint it GETS WORSE?!?! like how the fuck is hanne gonna pretend to be a PRINCE… what will they do about the king and queen?? and nina remaining mila…… it honestly makes me really angry. that nina would turn her back on her country and friends and family for a LOVE INTEREST…… like her storyline has centered SO MUCH about how much she misses ravka, and in this duology even ketterdam!! like we all realize that when nina focuses on missing waffles or blini *those are symbolic stand-ins for her friends and it’s easier for her to talk about missing food than missing her friends*. like we all know that. and then in the end she says you know what i can PRETEND TO BE SOMEONE ELSE FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE????? and not just a random fjerdan woman literally someone who will be QUEEN OF FJERDA ONE DAY. like an incredibly public position that will put mila under a ton of scrutiny… more than her identity was created for! and nina literally acknowledges that if they got the real mila jandersdat’s friends and neighbors to look at nina they’d know she was an impostor. so what is mila’s village gonna do when they hear mila jandersdat is apparently back from noyvi zem and now engaged to the prince???? i think leigh chose an ending that just doesn’t hold up narratively and logically. like i want nina to be happy and find love but why does it have to be…. not as nina.

my other big gripe is the politics and international implications of everything that’s going on like…… ravka is engaging in some CIA-backed-coups-in-latin-america levels of diplomacy. like fjerda is not just going to have a secret grisha impersonating their prince and eventual king one day, but their queen will ALSO be a secret grisha and RAVKAN SPY???? if nina was ever caught do you know the level of international scandal that would cause??? how the fuck could zoya even let her go off and do this??? it would absolutely be grounds for war and i thought zoya and everybody were TIRED of war. speaking of ravka’s government. guys we LITERALLY DO NOT HAVE TO HAVE A MONARCHY. like i was actually hoping zoya would become queen but like…. because she married nikolai. not because nikolai stepped down and she was appointed. like i was fine with the monarchy sticking around if they never even had a chance to contemplate alternatives but they literally say no………. we choose monarchy. besides the fact that the world is advancing and monarchies don’t last long in technologically advanced societies, zoya is going to have the most unstable reign because of the threat from the lantsovs. like nikolai’s parents are gonna go back to the southern colonies and just be like “our son ended our dynasty and put a grisha on our throne but that’s fine! we shouldn’t try to reinstate ourselves or anything.” demidov is fine with this??? he had a problem with nikolai being a lantsov pretender but zoya just starting her own monarchial dynasty gets no pushback??? like i know nobody wants to end the book/series on such a depressing note but like. a revolution and/or coup is staring zoya in the face. and yeah she’s the motherfucking dragon but um…… so was daenerys targaryen. and ultimately it really feels like the ending of game of thrones where a bunch of noblemen are gathered in one room and they’re like “we have the chance to change the course of our country forever so we will…….. START A NEW DYNASTY!” ….. HUH?!?!!? like when nikolai was like ravka will choose its leader! and the only people from ravka in the room are the landed gentry and peerage. like yeah ravka really got a say in this…. so no nikolai i actually don’t think the nazyalensky dynasty will last that long because with all the threats of being overthrown on LITERALLY ALL SIDES zoya may just decide to say fuck it and give the people democracy so it’s no longer her problem! or she just gets killed. so. anyways if the only known countries in this world are ruled by either 1. monarchies (fjerda, ravka, shu han) or 2. plutocracy (kerch) i can see why literally fucking everybody is moving to noyvi zem. like jesus i would too!

genya deserves so much better she has suffered so much and i know leigh needed to make the war have personal consequences BUT DOES SHE HAVE TO HURT GENYA IN THE PROCESS???? like she just doesn’t get a break. anyways i hope she retires from the triurmvirate and goes to live with alina and mal in keramzin because you know what. they were right. they were right to turn their back on literally everything to do with ravkan politics. genya go join them pls

zoya’s expression of grief and mourning… yeah. yeah that one hurt.

i know everybody’s talking about the potential of soc3 but actually i don’t want that! let the crows be in peace in ketterdam!!!! their biggest threats should be like. getting shanked in the barrel not whatever the fuck zoya will put them through. i hope kaz just ignores her letters and when the Queen of Ravka personally comes to his doorstep he reiterates that he’s RETIRED. and when zoya tries to pull the inej card she pops out from behind kaz and says “i’m on vacation with my boyfriend. we’re good!” LET THEM REST!!!!!!!

so yes these are my thoughts not all of them but many of them. i still really enjoyed it and think it was waaaay better than king of scars (not as good as soc & ck though <3). the problem is that the ending definitely colors your view of everything that's happened and if you don't like the ending... well. it's not even that i didn't like the entirety of the ending i mostly just hated nina's and the implications of zoya's. do not mistake me for a darkling fangirl!!!! anyways the writing in this was really good too and there were more moments that just HIT ME than in kos, which i think i just sort.... breezed through without getting hit in the face by a brick of a line. but this one has so many moments especially in zoya and the darkling's chapters that i'm just like OH!!!!! so that is why i leave you with this:

"Zoya, do you know why the Darkling lost the civil war? How Alina stopped him?" Zoya pinched the bridge of her nose. "No. I wish I did." "Because he always fought alone. He let his power isolate him. Alina had us. You have us. You push us away, keep us at arm's distance so that you won't mourn us. But you'll mourn us anyway. That's the way love works."

[what-do-1000-swords-look-like]

Hi, I recently came across your post talking about dark Daenerys always being the end game. I thought you did an excellent job showing the foreshadowing fans missed from the show. What surprised me on the show was JonxDany. I just couldn't wrap my head around the "romance". It felt out of character and illogical. As someone who loves Daenerys as a character and seems to really understand her, do you think they were in love? Is it tragic or political? I can't seem to reconcile it. Thank you!

Hi Nonnie! Thank you so much for the compliment, oh my goodness! And thank you for the ask!

Tbh with you, I never quite wrapped my head around the Jonerys romance either. I know a lot of people thought it was due to the lack of chemistry between Emilia and Kit on screen (I disagree, that dragon riding scene in 8x01 proved they did which makes me think their lack of romantic chemistry was intentional on the show’s part through the writing and editing), or that it was rushed (this part could be possible since they rushed her dark turn as well). But I honestly think it was meant to be tragic for both Jon and Daenerys, but more political on Jon’s side, at least in the beginning. 

I know a lot of people don’t agree with the pol!Jon theory and think it’s just that, a theory, but looking at the time from when Jon has met Dany through to the end, I find it hard to think anything else. Because that certainly would have explained away the receding of Jon’s POV/character after he and Dany met. It also would have went in line with what Kit had said before the beginning of season 7 about Jon being more political that season, possibly manipulating (I don’t think he used that exact word but I’m paraphrasing for him), but doing it kindly. Even though GoT blew up everyone’s arcs at the end of the last season, at the time, we knew there was a reason that Sansa said the line to him in 7x01 “You need to be smarter than Father. You need to be smarter than Robb” and we had seen Jon listening to Sansa by him deciding to leave the North (and organizing their defense for the upcoming battle) in her hands, asking Sansa what she thought when he got Tyrion’s scroll in 7x02, and what he says to Tyrion in 7x03. So, I personally think they were gearing up for Jon to do whatever it took to get Dany and her dragons up North for the battle (while probably not feeling all that comfortable about it but knowing it had to be done), which is why I think we see him and his band of men go on that quest in 7x06 & meet with Cersei and Co along with Dany in 7x07. 

There’s just too many questionable moments that happen from 7x03 to 8x06 that prove Jon was not as smitten as Dany was with him: 

The way he studies Dany reuniting with Jorah, the fact that he seems almost uncomfortable when Dany says in 7x05 “I’ve grown used to him” & his response “I wish you good fortune in the wars to come, Your Grace” and he doesn’t look back once as they push the boat out into the water (I think they purposely showed the contrast between Jorah saying goodbye to Dany vs Jon saying goodbye to Dany, there was definitely a reason they show Jorah looking back and not Jon but they play Jon and Dany’s love theme in the background - x)

Jon’s “what did I do face?” after he bends the knee figuratively in the boat cabin (3:23 - x) (though to be fair, the 7x06 script confirmed this is when Jon realizes he has feelings for her after seeing Dany mourning Viserion so this reaction of Jon’s could be that he basically just gave the North away)

Jon’s reaction and looking over at Varys and Missandei after Dany blows up on Tyrion in 7x04 and says “Your family, you mean? Perhaps you don’t want to hurt them after all” (1:11 - x) - which is really foreshadowing that Jon will have to make the same choice eventually, that Dany will give that ultimatum, me or your family, which she does in 8x04 and then inadvertently continues to in 8x05 and 8x06 - then Dany pushes him for advice, he gives it to her, and she doesn’t completely follow it to the letter, and then eventually she disregards it completely when she burns down KL in 8x05

Jon not showing any emotion when he receives word that Arya & Bran are alive & back home while in front of Dany though we see his reactions in 8x01 when he’s reunited with them (7x05) (8x01)

Jon’s reaction to the Northerners’ not so great reaction to Dany that was cut (0:43 - x)

Drogon watching Jon and Dany make out in 8x01 and Jon keeping his eyes open as he kisses Dany & keeping her in front of him (a very common trope, if that’s the right word, to indicate that something shifty is afoot or there is distrust - 4:11 x)

the infamous squint Jon has in response to Dany talking in response to Tyrion (x) which they definitely included for a reason and this for me solidified Kit as one of the Masters of Microexpressions

Jon’s reactions to Dany (that she can’t see) when she visits him in his room after the Feast in 8x04 (x)

Jon’s immediate whiplash worried turn to Dany when Tormund says proudly “or a King!” to check her reaction (x) plus the framing in this scene is not only meant to show the increasing isolation & paranoia Dany is feeling but for Jon to have his back to her (after they shared that warm smile no less which she realizes in 0:45 - x) I think it speaks very loudly that he is not as head over heels as people think he is but that he is placating her while also caring about her (she is family to him, the last of his real father’s family, & he’s also still attracted to her)

his glare to Sansa while planning the assault on KL to get her to shut up for lack of a better way to put it (2:36 x) which Tyrion later confirms in the same episode with his line to Sansa “why provoke her?” which leads to Sansa realizing Tyrion is afraid of Dany and then she also realizes Jon is too (Jon’s fear is not confirmed in dialogue in this moment but the ones seeing the writing on the wall for this whole thing, it wasn’t a large leap for them to make, knowing the characters they way they do) which then leads to her telling his secret

Jon giving himself up basically, to go South, I think he’s very aware he will not be coming North again once Dany wins and that is why he asks Tormund to take Ghost with him - you see him saying goodbye to Sam and Gilly, finding out about their child on the way, to Tormund, to Ghost (I know people were mad that Jon didn’t pet Ghost, I was too, but I think he honestly couldn’t handle it at that moment and I’ve seen brilliant metas circulate that talk about how Ghost is an extension of Jon and his injuries and look echo how Jon really feels - & if you see the sliced ear, it’s very possible that they are fully correct in that reading, Jon has stopped listening, he’s doing what he thinks is right, what he has to do, his duty, he’s not listening to Sam or Tormund or Sansa or even Arya) - this whole scene is meant as a goodbye to Jon Snow as a character (his Night’s Watch arc, his Wildling arc, even his bastard/Stark arc (and his wants that he has, his response to Gilly when she tells him they want tto name their child after him: “I hope it’s a girl” is just heartbreaking, Jon wanted a family someday (5:08 - x, notice how the Stark theme starts up subtly in the background) & he always wanted to be a Stark and in his mind, he is getting neither one nor does he think he deserve them at this point) and I think that’s why they don’t have any other Starks in that scene (& plus they had the Starks in that other scene in 8x04) (x) -- this whole scene really is the proof in the pudding for me regarding the whole duty vs love debate, coming down on the side of duty

Jon’s “I love you” in the fireplace scene seems to be more an answer to not just reassure her but tamp down any growing fury after just witnessing Varys’ execution (1:11 x) immediately followed up by his usual line “you will always be my queen” and then when she asks “is that all I am to you? Your queen?” notice that he doesn’t answer but lets her kiss him which he then doesn’t return and she realizes (notice his loud breathing too, it’s not passion, it’s fear, fear of what it might mean that he is not returning her affection so to speak, sadly for Dany I think she realizes this too and that’s why she subtly shakes her head, steps back and says “alright, let it be fear”, the part of me that loves Dany truly felt horrible for her in this moment though she scared the crap out of me too lol, it’s harsh because she really does love Jon, not enough to give up the IT and her destiny, but enough that she wants their relationship to work, that she did go up North to fight for him, delaying the attack on KL, she lost Jorah and Viserion, her forces were depleted, idk I just have some sympathy for her here because I still love her, and this is before she went full on dark, and Jon’s “I love you” was said softly with some measure of warmth in his eyes I think but I don’t believe he meant it the way she wanted him to)

Kit had this to say right before season 7 aired which I find fascinating because yes while he can’t give away spoilers, he didn’t need to answer this so definitively. And while he didn’t know what was going to happen in season 8 yet, I think this lends creedence (is that the right word?) to the fact that Jon was not head over heels in love with Dany (not like he was with Ygritte)

But saying all of that, I think by the end, Jon definitely cared for her. I don’t think he wanted her to die or even go bad. I think he was ready to give himself up to be with her to protect his home, to placate her, but also so there would no longer be a Targaryen living alone in the world. I think he remembers Aemon’s words all too well. However, I don’t think he could reconcile himself to a full on romance (which I think incest did play a part into it, but I think had that not been a factor, he still wouldn’t have been head over heels for Dany, incest with cousins and uncles/aunts was common in the GoT universe, Starks in history married their cousins at times [look back at their family tree, they were no strangers to it], and we all know about the Targaryen inbreeding, but I really think it has more to do with who Dany ends up being in the end than anything, and that’s why we see some moments that could be misconstrued as romantic and some warm, I would almost say tender, like the waterfall scene in 8x01 before Drogon enters the frame so to speak). I think, like every other character in the show that came into her orbit, Jon had feelings for the same Dany that they all did, that Jorah was in love with, that Tyrion believed in and was also in love with, that Varys supported until he couldn’t: the breaker of chains, the girl who walked into a fire with three eggs and out of the same fire with three dragons, etc. But once the curtain was pulled back and the Wizard was revealed, after he was around her long enough, I think Jon knew who she really was becoming and I really believe that played a major part in the portrayal of their “romance”. I also think that when Jon left to go to KL in 8x04, a part of him planned to take up Jorah’s role in Dany’s life. Not to say that he could replace Jorah or become a full on advisor to her, but that he would join Tyrion, Varys, Grey Worm, and Missandei in helping to win Dany back her IT like he promised but also to keep her placated, maybe help steer her in the right direction. And be someone who genuinely cares about her, another Targaryen (though no one knowing he was one had Sansa not told Tyrion). Until she tired of him or decided to kill him to end the threat his birthright posed. He says as much in 8x06 to Tyrion “That’s her decision”. I don’t think he ever thought Dany would actually ask him to join her on the IT and it definitely wasn’t something he wanted.

I did mention tragic for Jon, too, and I think that’s where the tragedy comes in. He has now become the Targaryen alone in the world, he is now a queenslayer, a kinslayer, and he is exiled back to the Night’s Watch. He had to kill someone he cared about, he had to kill a woman (he couldn’t do it twice before, with Ygritte and Melisandre), he had to kill his last living Targaryen family. And he had to do it while deceiving her in that last moment (which is why I think they dialed back the whole pol!Jon thing if it was ever on the table, which I definitely believe it was at some point) and watch her die. It wasn’t something he wanted to do as we know, but he had to, and we see him questioning himself even after she’s gone. (x) So I feel it was more political (in the beginning), complex (middle), and tragic (in the end) for Jon but for different reasons than Dany.

As for Dany, I think from her end, it was meant to be more of a tragic romance. In the books, I believe, there is a prophecy that Dany will know three betrayals and love is one of them. I don’t know if they carried that into the show here exactly, but there is a common theme of betrayal among Dany’s arc as we all know. I think she truly loved Jon and hoped he would be what she could never find before, had never seen in Viserys (not that she considered him romantically but I mean since he was the only other Targaryen she knew about at the time, and she knew the Targaryen history of siblings marrying siblings), or Drogo, or Daario, or even Jorah. Regardless of her feelings for any of them, regardless of their feelings for her, I think she thought she found what she wanted, what she needed, in Jon. Though I think finding out about Jon being her long lost nephew (and rival claim to the IT) deterred it maybe for a moment (or make her at least second guess it), but she still loved him and felt just as strongly. Not enough to deter her from her goal and her destiny (after the Great War is over, I mean), but as much as she possibly can. I think she really thought Jon was it for her. I also think she expected betrayal from Jon as she states in 8x05 to Tyrion (x), and then the look she gives Jon after Tyrion is taken away to a cell in 8x06 (1:50, you can also see Jon’s shock here because he wasn’t expecting her to be watching him so closely & he realizes oh crap, don’t blink, while they play the love theme in the background, she’s waiting for him to “betray” her too and had he defended Tyrion then and there, I have no doubt she would have thrown him in a jail cell, too, waiting for judgement aka execution x) but when he doesn’t “betray” her and she’s attained her goal, she is ready to make plans to rule together and be with him completely. It is definitely tragic for her end because here she expected him to betray her (like everyone else has at some time or another except Missandei, GW & Daario) twice by then, and the one time she doesn’t expect it, he does (no matter how it might have been justified & Jon’s only option) and it means her end. I’m not justifying her actions at all but I can see where they attempted to portray this as a tragic romance for her but only for her. Dany’s POV ends up swallowing most of the show in season 8, to the point where her story line becomes basically the show’s story line. Her arc becomes the sun that all other arcs are orbiting around and this is because she’s the other Big Bad after the Night King. Plus, I also think they were planning something big with Jon and that’s why they removed most of his story (so to speak) and important moments with the Starks, etc, for the big reveal in the end (it’s common in other shows I’ve seen and they did everything the same way they did in those other shows until 8x06 when they abandoned it). I don’t know what changed in the end, but that’s what I truly believe was what they were going for when it came to Dany herself. Tragic romance. I don’t believe it was ever political for her, in any way, shape, or form. I think once she fell in love with Jon, that was it.

The love theme itself “Truth” if you listen to it on the S7 soundtrack (Ramin Djawdi is a master btw) has an epic feel to it but almost a tragic one (though tragedy takes a back seat to the epic). It’s more Targaryen theme in nature (I have no idea what specific instrument you would call it) and you can hear it coming from Dany’s side almost, if that makes sense. And I think that’s because not only does it refer to the scene where Bran reveals who Jon is, and the boat sex is happening, but also because I believe it was only meant for Dany to experience this great romance. It does start out Stark-y just a tiny bit but then turns into something more, swells, and you can hear a slight Targaryen tint coming to it. After the first swell of music, you can almost see the boat scene happening in your head, whether you’ve actually seen it or not, and there’s almost a trepidation in the beginning, a contemplation, and then it’s all in, both feet over the edge and all hands on deck, pardon the pun. (x) This music plays as we know during the bending the knee scene in another song “See You For What You Are” (x), more subtle, but it’s there. And I think not only is it because it’s the moment where Jon realizes he has feelings and this leads to opening the door for the boat bang, but also because it’s what Jon says (this song, to me, sounds even more Targaryen-y to me) to Dany after he bends the knee, “see you for what you are” not who. And I know I mentioned it above, but it also plays during certain moments in season 8 that really make you question that romance, like that scene in 8x06. I think it’s all very telling. 

I have to be very honest, I’m not pro-Jonerys at all. But it’s not because I hate Dany or Jon or hate the idea of them together or get squicked by the family angle, it’s because the relationship was not good for either of their characters in the show. 

I remember watching 7x06 for the first time and seeing her reaction (or lack thereof) for Viserion’s death. I think she was in shock when it happened but who does she stand on the wall waiting for after? Jon. And that bothered me so much because she was the mother of dragons and they were the only children she would ever have. (and I might be more slightly biased towards the animals on the show) Yes, she did cry for Viserion on the boat later, but it’s almost more muted I feel because it blurs with her concern for Jon in that moment. That bothered me tremendously. Little did I know this would become a recurring theme for the last season as well: Jon comes first to everything else except the IT. (and I personally can’t stand it when this happens, I’m sorry, I’m all for love, but when you lose who you are, when you sacrifice yourself, I just can’t get past that) We do see her pain in 8x01 when Bran tells her about Viserion, and her pain at Rhaegal’s death in 8x04, but this is a strong female character who has proven she doesn’t need a man to run things. She is not someone who would get so besotted with someone that she would push everything else to the back burner and allow whatever is happening with him to color her decisions (I know, we all fall in love and it can happen, especially if it’s a first love or something akin to what one can feel as true love, if they’re convinced it’s that, but damn). Daario made suggestions to her but in the end, she made her own decisions. Drogo told her how to be but in the end, she figured out a way to appeal to him to do as she wanted (as we see in that scene where she takes the women into her care). Jorah advised her, so did Tyrion, but in the end she made her own decisions. 

I hate it when they do this to strong female characters (which is why I despised the whole Sansa vs Dany thing, I get it story wise but here were two arguably incredibly strong women going head to head over a man most of the time or at least they tried to show being a factor in Dany’s fall and it just... ugh). So not only did Dany falling in love with Jon lead to her fall, her demise, but it wasn’t good for Jon, either. He had to keep who he was a secret, he had to placate her, give himself up and over to duty, the table was not tilted towards him really in their relationship, not in season 8 at least, the power dynamic was all screwy (as shown in that bedroom scene in 8x04 & the fireplace scene in 8x05). I just don’t think they made a good couple to be honest, not one that could have worked out long term I think, despite what happened in KL & Jon feeling uncomfortable. Personally, not that I’m the show or GRRM, but I think eventually, had Jon not married her and ruled with her, there would have been a Dance of Dragons 2.0 with Jon possibly losing in the end. It depends really on if anyone else found out about Jon’s parentage and how much of a threat ir would have become. And I love both characters too much to see either of them go that route. But then of course, that happened so... 

Anyhoo, I’m so sorry for the 100 page essay in response lol. I swear I didn’t mean to get so wordy. I guess I still have a lot of thoughts where this show is concerned. This was my first ask, thank you so much for being it and for such an amazing question! <3

[alicenttully]

Friends in Bravvos

I.

It might never have happened at all, if she hadn’t always felt a little lonely.

It wasn’t fair. It was not as though Helaena lacked for siblings, being the tenth-born. But by the time she is born Aegon and Daenerys are long dead, the would-be heir and the beloved first daughter; who did not live long enough to fall short in their parents’ eyes. The others- Aemon, Baelon, Alyssa, Maegelle, Vaegon, and Daella are men and women grown by the time Helaena is a maiden flowered at twelve. They led their own lives, and had as custom decreed married appropriately to preserve their Valyrian bloodline – Baelon to Alyssa and Aemon to their half-aunt, Jocelyn. Maegelle and Vaegon took vows too, but not to each other. Maegelle became a Septa, and Vaegon had chosen life at the Citadel. Little Daella, as Jaehaera had always thought of her, for her small stature and fragile but loving spirit, might have had a happy life as Lady of the Eyrie, but Daella is dead. The same as Alyssa and Viserra. The former had none of Daella’s timidness but in the end both sisters met their end in the birthing bed. Of her siblings, Helaena had been the closest in age to Viserra, but it still felt like there was a world between them. Helaena always felt a little imitated by Viserra. She was hardly the loving older sister in the way Maegelle or Daella or even Alyssa at times, but Helaena had trailed after her as a little girl, hoping to win her favour. Viserra could be as cruel-tongued as she was beautiful sometimes- but she had been her sister, and it was remembering the way Viserra would sometimes allow her to come into bed, or occasionally indulged her in a game, or told her a wicked joke, that Helaena wanted to remember.

Or it might not have happened if she hadn’t been always a bit careless. Forgetful, absentminded. She was always misplacing things. Perhaps if she had been better, she would have remembered to take the moon-tea. She had once misplaced a book of Vaegon’s, and he had stopped talking to her for a month. Her Maester had told her she needed to be more careful with her work- but honestly what was the point, when she is neither the heir or the oldest daughter? She is a princess, is a Targaryen. She might be the tenth-born, and not as brave as Alyssa or beautiful as Viserra or bright and diplomatic as Maegelle but she is the blood of the dragon. Targaryens were special. They weren’t like other men – because the gods had deemed only them fit to mount dragons. Such a power was the very reason Jaehaera was a princess – her great-grandfather Aegon the Conqueror hadn’t simply asked nicely to have control of the seven kingdoms; which back then truly was seven kingdoms before it was formed into one. It was part of the reason why she couldn’t understand at times why Maegelle wanted to be something as ordinary as a Septa.

Perhaps it was just always meant to happen.

II.

It was her maid who noticed the suspicious curve of her stomach as she prepared Helaena for her bath, and thus went to the queen. Alysanne comes to her, white-faced and grips Helaena by the arm. “Please, Helaena.” Her voice is tight, almost as if she is crunching on broken glass. “Please, tell me you have not laid with a man.”

Helaena wrenches free. “I have not laid with anyone.” She hates the tremor in her voice. But she is frightened. She remembers Viserra, and even Viserra hadn’t done what she had. Helaena wants her mother to take her into her arms and whisper that it will be all right. Had Viserra secretly hoped for the same thing, that their mother would tell her she did not except her to go through the match with Theomore Manderly anymore?

Alysanne shakes her head. “You and I both know that is not the truth.” “You did not ask for the truth. You wanted me to tell you that I am a maiden still. So, I did.” Viserra was always truthful about wanting to be a queen.

III.

Her father’s anger is a storm. “Helaena, do you realize what you’ve done? If this gets out- do you understand what it will mean for you, in terms of getting a match?”

King Jaehaerys is breathing heavily, his arms crossed. Even afraid, Helaena wants to laugh. “I’m the tenth-born. I’m so far down the succession line I might as well not be in it at all. What match were you going to get me, Father? Were you going to marry me to lords who already had children of their own like Viserra and Daella? At least Alyssa’s children would have been their own heirs.”

Her mother, who is standing beside him flinches at the vehemence in Helaena’s voice. Her father’s mouth remains a taunt line. “Your match was mine and your mother’s concern, girl.” He sighs. “There is only one thing to be done.” “You will be sent to a mother-house to have the child.” It is her mother who speaks, gentle and soft, as if they think it will be easier to hear from her. “Once you have given birth, if the child lives arrangements will be made for them. If you have a girl, she will be promised to the Faith. If a boy, he will be sent to the Citadel.”

“Will I be able to write to them? Visit them?” Helaena whispers. “It is my wish that you do so, but your father….” “It is better that you do not.” Jaehaerys interrupts.

“Why?” Helaena wails. “First you decide my child’s future- what if they don’t want to be a bloody Septa, or a Maester? But now I can’t – I can’t…” Helaena is crying, and she furiously wipes her tears away. She had promised herself she would not cry. “Your child is a bastard and will count themselves fortunate to have stability.” Jaehaerys snaps. Then, his voice softens. “If they do not take to the Faith or the Citadel, I promise that other arrangements will be made to make sure they are taken care of. As for you, you will be married to someone I deem appropriate.”

Appropriate. What they had thought appropriate for Viserra was an old Northern lord who had already lost four wives in childbed.

IV.

Of all the septas at the Mother-House in Old-town, only Septa Alerie was different. Septa Alerie was once Alerie of House Rosebud. She even looks rosy, with bright red cheeks and a rosebud mouth. When Helaena had first arrived, she had refused to speak to anyone. The other septas had said nothing, perhaps thinking that she needed to be alone in her thoughts. Septa Alerie is unperturbed and happily chatters away.

“I was promised to the Faith, like many other girls.” She says, while Helaena pretends not to listen. “You see, my older brother almost drowned as a boy- and it happened to be our Septa who saved him. My mother was so grateful she promised herself that she would give one of her children to the Seven when the time came. And well, because I was the third-born- it came down to me. Leo was the heir and it is easier to find matches for an elder daughter than a second-born.” If Alerie feels any sense of resentment over this, she does not show it. By all accounts, she seems happy enough. Maybe Helaena’s daughter will be the same- if she has a daughter. Perhaps Helaena is being stupid.

Over time, Alerie breaks down the wall Helaena has carefully built. “I don’t want to give away my baby.” She whispers tearfully to Alerie. Alerie bites her lip, and turns away. There is a sad, far-away look on her face; as if she remembering something, she wishes she didn’t. “It will be all right. You will have other children.” Alerie tries to assure her, but her voice is doubtful.

“I don’t want some stupid old lord’s children! I want the child I already have!” She is sobbing, now.

“I don’t want my child to not know who I am.”

V.

Her despair must have touched Alerie so deeply that when her sister visits them, she gives Helaena hope. “My sister was wed to wealthy lord, and she has a generous heart.” She tells the princess. “For the years I have been here, she has sent me some gold each month. I’ve been using it to help the Mother-House and our services for the small-folk. My sister and I have talked, and we have decided to give you some gold, and send you to some trusted friends in Bravvos.”

Helaena’s heart flutters, but she is still afraid. “But if my father finds out…”

“Acts worth doing sometimes mean there’ll be terrible consequences.” Alerie locks eyes with Helaena. “I do not make this decision lightly. And neither should you. You realize what this means, don’t you? If you go through with this, you cannot go back. Our friends will care for you, but not always- you will put your talent with a needle to good use and an apprenticeship will be found for you. It will not be easy, sweetling. I ask again, are you certain princess?”

She is right- if Helaena does go through with this, then she is entering a life when she will be a princess just in name. Her life will be filled with uncertainty, in an unfamiliar place, with unfamiliar people.

Viserra died because she wasn’t careful.

No, Helaena thinks furiously. Viserra died because she wasn’t given a choice. Helaena wants her choices, whatever they may be.

“I’m certain.”

Helaena will never be able to repay Alerie’s kindness, but Helaena promises herself as she sails away on a ship with gold and a guard (“I trust Byren with my life” Larissa tells Helaena, “So I trust him with yours”) towards Bravvos, that one day she would pass on the kindness that Alerie and her sister had shown her to someone else. Helaena feels ashamed for her feelings of superiority, for thinking she was better because she was born a Targaryen. Alerie’s actions is proof that she isn’t – proof that her father isn’t, in his unthinking cruelty. Neither is her mother, who makes promises that fall through.

Helaena loves her parents, still. She loves all her family; she does not want to leave them – but she wants her child more.