#lord merryweather

[chasingthedragons]

Events that went down in History during the Reign of Viserys I Targaryen 8/8

The Hand of the King gathers the nobles to receive their allegiance to King Aegon II

In the year 131 AC, days after "THE ROYAL AUDIENCE TO DECIDE DIRFTMARK´S SUCCESSION", the HAND OF THE KING [SER OTTO HIGHTOWER] gathered the members of the nobility living in the REDKEEP in the throne room to swear allegiance to PRINCE AEGON over PRINCESS RHAENYRA.

Those present assured that the instance was a mere formality and that the purpose was always for everyone to bend the knee without problems.

Unfortunately, the houses of those nobles who did not swear allegiance to PRINCE AEGON were reported missing, among them LORD ALLUN CASWELL, LORD MERRYWEATHER and LADY FELL…

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

[meril-tospen]

The real G’s :

Me :

[dreaming-for-an-escape]

Lord Merryweather is played by Paul Clayton. And just as in the book he refused to swear allegiance to Aegon II, keeping his oath to Rhaenyra.

Unfortunately we already know what happens afterwards to him even if they didn’t show it.

[houseofpendragons]

Dudes I was so proud if myself when I was watching Ring of Power bc I was like yay I'm finally hitting on one of the the good guys

Nope

bitch turned out to be fucking Sauron!!!

I should have knownnnn😭

[melrosing]

MBO Robert's Rebellion: Season 2 Episode 4

what the fuck is this: it's me drafting a fake robert's rebellion tv show through a series of bullet points. there will be two seasons of ten episodes each

SEASON ONE: Episode 1, Episode 2, Episode 3, Episode 4, Episode 5, Episode 6, Episode 7, Episode 8, Episode 9, Episode 10

SEASON TWO: Episode 1, Episode 2, Episode 3, Episode 4

prev: 2.03

next: tbc

so I did fully try to see if I could get that fishing boat scene out of here but in the end I decided I couldn’t and also now I’ve decided I’ve found meaning in it after all. I’ve found meaning in Ned’s fishing boat adventure

also I am finding the Rhaegar/Elia and Rhaegar/Lyanna the most difficult to try and suss out but I’m feeling a lot clearer on them now at least in terms of how I personally want to interpret them so…. yeah this has been fun for that

title for this one: who else completely forgot gulltown existed

A raven flies to the Eyrie; inside Jon Arryn’s solar, we see Jon, Ned and Robert all assembled, apparently having slept there waiting for this missive. Jon reads aloud for the three of them, and so they learn of what has become of Rickard and Brandon Stark. Ned is frozen in the sudden onslaught of grief. Robert asks what news of Lyanna. Ned tells him without needing to hear it: she wasn’t even there. The missive ends as Aerys demands Jon’s fealty, and the heads of his wards. Robert and Ned look to Jon, suddenly aware of their vulnerability here. Jon asks if they truly doubt him - they are as good as sons to him, he says, and better than any he might have had. They are each the heads of their houses now, and must lead them for Lyanna. He goes then to Ned and comforts him as he falls apart

Lyanna awakens beside the embers of a campfire, Rhaegar’s cloak wrapped about her. She has been dreaming again, and senses something terrible has happened - but can’t think what. Rhaegar returns from between the trees from watering the horses. Lyanna asks him if it is strange that she’s hardly thought of her father since she left his camp? How frightened he must be. Suddenly frantic, she tells Rhaegar she needs to go back, and tell her father she’s alright. She’s meant to be at Brandon’s wedding. It will be any day now.Rhaegar looks at her sadly, and Lyanna realises she remembers the dream she’s been pushing to the back of her mind. She looks to Rhaegar. ‘It’s true, isn’t it?’ Rhaegar looks back sadly. Lyanna collapses into his arms

Rip

Jaime walks into the throne room to relieve Lewyn Martell at the foot of Aerys’ throne. He looks up at the king with disgust and trepidation. Aerys sits at the top, gnawing at his fingernails - last night felt so good so right, yet now he’s more frightened than ever. He asks Merryweather if they’ve received word from Jon Arryn. Merryweather, uneasy, says there is still time

Maester at the Eyrie writes missives to the lords of the Vale, rallying them against the crown. The ravens fly out in different directions across the region

A call to arms lands in the hands of Lord Grafton, who reads it with a sullen look. His maester asks how he should like to reply. Grafton considers this a moment, before announcing that House Grafton remains loyal to the crown, and what the prince has done with some northern girl is no concern for men of the Vale

Lyanna riding through the woods, her eyes distant. Rain chucking it down. Rhaegar rides beside her in silence. After some time, he tells her that it wasn’t her fault what had happened to her father and brother. Lyanna wonders how it could be anyone’s fault but hers. Even now, she doesn’t know why she’s still running - she should’ve married Robert Baratheon as her father had wanted, and then perhaps Lord Rickard and Brandon would still be alive. Rhaegar reaches over to turn her face to his, and tells her that Robert Baratheon is not her fate. He never was. Lyanna, shocked at Rhaegar’s sudden intensity, asks again where it is that they are going

Lewyn Martell with Elia in Maegor’s Holdfast. Elia asks after the King; Lewyn says that the King is well. Elia says that’s not what she means. Lewyn pauses, then says he wouldn’t let anything happen to his sister’s daughter; it was the last thing he promised Loreza. Elia says that in life Loreza had thought marrying her to the Prince would be the best thing she could do for her daughter - though spiting Tywin Lannister was no small part of it. But this isn’t a safe place, and she isn’t happy; no-one laughs here, and her children have no idea where their father is. Neither does she, for that matter. Hesitating, Elia says she supposes the Prince is a friend of Lewyn’s, and asks his forgiveness for speaking ill. Lewyn says that he doesn’t think the Prince had friends, not even Arthur for all the time he spent by his side. Elia ponders that, then reveals that for the first year she’d thought she loved Rhaegar - he was hard to know but he said he’d seen her in his dreams. How could she not love that? Only now, she thinks perhaps he’d dreamt wrong. He thinks this northern girl is - she doesn’t know what he thinks she is. But she finds herself despising Lyanna - isn’t that foolish? That she hates this child, and yet still some part of her clings to Rhaegar. Lewyn says he doesn’t think it is foolish to have loved the Prince; many women have. Elia agrees, and says she knows now that she was just another

In Jon Arryn’s solar with Ned and Robert (are they ever getting out of there? stay tuned). Jon Arryn tells the boys he’s received messages of solidarity from many of his vassals - but not all. Lord Grafton has written back declaring his fealty to the crown, and though he has always esteemed Jon’s intelligence, he suspects it falters here. He recommends Jon send Aerys his wards’ heads before the King claims his. Robert says it’s a given then - they must march on Gulltown, and see who gets to keep their head. A rare smirk from Jon Arryn; they have enough men to take on Gulltown, but this will be only the first of their battles. He turns to Ned. He is Lord Stark now; what does he wish to do? Ned says he wants Lyanna back. Jon nods; then they’ll have need of his northmen - how fast can he rally them?

Robert and Ned say goodbye as Ned prepares to traverse the Mountains of the Moon; Robert will march to Gulltown with Jon in the meantime, gathering men as they go. Robert says that if they’re Jon’s sons, then Ned is his brother, and when they get Lyanna back they will make it law. Ned nods, slightly tearful, and the two go their separate ways

Rhaegar and Lyanna approach Summerhall. Lyanna’s eyes shine at the sight of the ruin: it is sad, beautiful, and altogether ethereal. She dismounts her horse, and wanders towards it on foot. There are flowers growing in between the wreckage, and amongst them her favourite, winter roses. Lyanna is confused, telling Rhaegar that she has only known them to grow in the North. Rhaegar tells her he’s come to these ruins since he was a boy; here, the music comes to him, and he sees things in waking dreams. For some time now, he reveals, he has seen her. That’s really it for Lyanna; they kiss

One week later. Robert marching through the Stormlands, Gulltown on the horizon. Bit of tooting from the war trumpets idk. Jon Arryn tells Robert that cannot hope to have caught Grafton unawares; Robert says he certainly hopes not

Ned meanwhile, wearing a Daemon hood: he’s about to cross the Bite. He boards a fisherman’s boat, paying handsomely for the man’s silence. The fisherman warns that there is a storm coming, and Ned pays him more - they have to depart now

Grafton’s men emerge from the walls of Gulltown. Jon reminds Robert that this is real war now, not a melee. Robert like ‘depends how you look at it’ and leads the charge, bellowing

From the fishing boat, Ned looks up at the rapidly darkening skies. The waves grow taller, and Ned tells the fisherman he’s sorry for ever forcing him to ride such a storm. Fisherman reveals he knows who Ned is, and he knows where he’s going. He himself used to be a Duskendale man, till Aerys did for good lord Denys, so fuck the king etc he’ll get Ned across the Bite if it’s the last thing he does. Anyway it literally is bc two seconds later he’s been thrown overboard and Ned’s knocked out as he collides with the side of the boat. I’m sparing my imaginary production crew the trouble of filming this basically

Robert amidst the chaos of battle at Gulltown. He spies Marq Grafton and charges at him. As Robert makes his first strike at Grafton…

We cut abruptly to Ned, waking up on the beached fisherman’s boat. The fisherman’s daughter is clearing the detritus from the deck. Ned asks where her father is, but the girl won’t look at him. She tells him she has gotten him to the Three Sisters, like they promised they would; if it’s to be worth her father’s life, he’d best do what he came to do

Aerys at his supper table alongside Rhaella; Varys leans in to whisper news of Gulltown. We don’t hear it ourselves, but we can tell what the news is as we slowly zoom on Aerys’ face, terror on Rhaella’s in the periphery

Robert at the seat of House Grafton, accepting the surrender of his opposition, and the fealty of one Lyn Corbray. He looks delighted with himself. Jon Arryn praises him quietly but reminds him that this battle was only the first - and the first of many, he fears. Robert like, so be it. He wants his bride back

Rhaegar and Lyanna stand beneath a heart tree. All about them are the charred remains of trees burnt decades ago, but this one survived. Rhaegar ties cloth about their hands himself as they look deep into each other’s eyes. Together they say the words, and it is done

[ladystoneboobs]

possibly incomplete list of asoiaf characters described as having red or even "ginger" hair (or red-gold as opposed to red-brown or ghiscari red-black), never auburn:

mycah, the butcher's boy*

beric dondarrion (red-gold hair)*

lharys, member of the three stooges men-at-arms (wild rust-colored hair)**

unnamed and unfortunate mother of robert baratheon's doomed youngest child, barra (light red-haired mother of black-haired baby)*

tomard aka "fat tom", stark guardsman (with his ginger whiskers)*

horas "horror" redwyne (orange hair)*

hobber "slobber" redwyne (orange hair)*

unnamed red-haired whore leaning out a window the day of ned's execution (presumably not the same as above since she was joking about the king's death)*

melisandre of asshai (deep burnished copper. red and terrible and red.)*

a man called jaqen h'ghar (red on one side, white on the other)*

pug-nosed dancy from chataya's brothel (described as red-haired by tyrion in acok but honey-blonde in asos, so presumably hair dye must have been involved between those book mentions.)**

addam marbrand (hair the same copper color as his horse's mane)*

"ginger-headed" maester frenken*

unnamed beardless ginger youth among theon's crew at winterfell*

ygritte, a spearwife "kissed-by-fire" (bright red)*

arryk aka "left" or "right", lady olenna's red-mustached guardsman*

erryk aka "left" or "right", lady olenna's other, identical, red-mustached guardsman*

lord paxter redwyne (tufts of orange hair)**

anguy the archer of the bwb*

a red-bearded karstark rapist dead in a crow cage at stoney sept*

tansy, innkeeper of the peach in stoney sept*

meryn trant (rust-red hair)*

"red" ronnet connington

mero, "the titan's bastard", former commander of the second sons (bushy red-gold beard)

a red-headed soldier who came with stannis to the wall

shadrich "the mad mouse" (bristly orange hair)*

lord rykker's red-mustached maester

marwyn belmore, lysa's former guard captain (ginger-headed)*

lord benedar belmore with a beard that was "a ginger-grey horror"*

lord orton merryweather (reddish-orange hair)

"the red oarsman", one of euron greyoy's followers (fiery red hair)

unnamed red-haired sailor arriving at port in braavos*

lord clement piper

and his son lewys "little lew" piper, who served as squire to jaime lannister in the riverlands

unnamed red-haired youth who first escaped northward with varamyr from the battle at the wall

one of illyrio's washerwomen (dull red hair)**

jon connington (once red hair gone to grey, still red at the roots and eyebrows even when the rest was dyed blue. also had a bright red beard as a younger man.)**

rolly "duck" duckfield (a shock of orange hair)**

a young man among the wildling refugees at mole's town whose red hair reminded jon of ygritte*

the "sunset kingdoms" girl raped by tyrion in the brothel where he was captured by jorah**

hagen's daughter, only other woman among asha greyjoy's crew

roggon rustbeard, one of asha's men

mully of the nw (greasy orange hair)*

bloodbeard, commander of the company of the cat (fiery red whiskers)

"ginger" jack, a toungeless sellsword of the windblown sent to dany, face nearly covered by his bristly, orange beard

gerrick kingsblood*

and his son*

and gerrick's daughter #1*

and gerrick's daughter #2*

and gerrick's daughter #3*

ronald storm, son of ronnet connington

one of the 7 "choicest" enslaved girls from the yunkish ship who were sacrificed by victarion (red-gold hair)

an enslaved redhead boy in line for a well, asking tyrion about dany**

nail, apprentice to hammer, the armorer for the second sons**

maester tybald, redhaired maester from the dreadfort serving arnolf karstark

valena toland, heiress to ghost hill (bright red hair)

teora toland, valena's younger sister with the same hair

uther shett, knight arriving for sweetrobin's tourney (ginger-haired and whiskered)*

*characters whose hair is described in the povs of starks (or jon snow) who only use the terms auburn or red-brown for catelyn, robb, sansa etc. and do not compare said characters to said tully-haired relations

**characters whose hair is described by tyrion lannister, who spent significant time with sansa and exclusively referred to her hair as auburn (without anyone else telling him her hair color as catelyn told brienne)

the only asoiaf characters ever described as having auburn hair:

catelyn tully stark

robb stark (red-brown/auburn tully hair "so like" his mother's, with a beard redder than his hair)

sansa stark (auburn hair lighter than her mother's, most reddish glowing in candlelight)

brandon "bran" stark (hair not bright red enough for him to distinguish himself from young benjen at first glance in a weirwood flashback)

rickon stark

brynden "the blackfish" tully (once auburn hair gone to grey)

edmure tully (auburn hair with a fiery beard, likely brighter than his hair like robb's)

lysa tully arryn baelish

known tully descendants never described as having auburn hair

arya stark (darker brown stark-colored hair)

hoster tully (hair and beard gone from brown to brown streaked with grey to white as snow)

robert "sweetrobin" arryn (fine brown hair, thought by sansa to be his best feature)

fun fact: the only other character that i can find to ever even be descibed as having red-brown hair in the main series is rowan, one of the spearwives who accompanied mance on his mission to winterfell. (described by theon, who had psychological reasons not to think of any hair-resemblance to robb and co.)

tl;dr i suppose my point here is that auburn hair in the real world may be a term thrown around wildly as a fancier way of saying red hair, but grrm and his westerosi creations seem to keep to a much more specific (true) definition. not just specific, almost entirely unique to a certain family, a weird mutation passing down their line somewhat inexplicably, like the magic platinum hair of the targaryens. (ned stark's 4 tully-haired kids being sorta like alicent hightower's 4 targ-haired kids where nobody can really explain why it was so dominant.) except it's actually more unique to the tullys than either black hair to the baratheons or silver hair to the targaryens, with the velaryons also having valyrian hair as well as some people in the essosi free cities too. which i guess makes rowan the wildling the equalivent of an unknown dragonseed or a lysene woman who could pass as a targ, and regular brown-haired hoster and sweetrobin the equivalent of regular blonde-haired alysanne and alyssa targaryen. so the next time someone calls the tullys lame or whatever, just remember that in-universe they're actually more special than the dragonriders, at least hairwise.

[milfjagger]

posting this on its own as well :) template and idea from @trollmaiden and full guide/sources under cut

"La Belle Dame sans Merci” by Henry Meynell Rheam

by Ayami Kojima 

“The Fairy Lovers” by Theodor Richard Edward von Holst 

Gnomes from the novel The Little Grey Men, written and illustrated by “BB” (Denys Watkins-Pitchford)

Nyform Norwegian troll

“Little Red Mischief” by Amy Brown

Faery from “The Hallow” dir. Corin Hardy, SFX by John Nolan

Ariel from Shakespeare’s The Tempest, illustrated by Jane Ray

The Beast from Over The Garden Wall, created by Patrick McHale

“Morgan Le Fay” by Clive Hicks-Jenkins

Unicorn foal sculpture by SovaeArt https://www.deviantart.com/indigo-ocean/gallery

Faery from Good Faeries, Bad Faeries by Brian Froud

“Dusk” by Stephanie Pui-Mun Law

Honeythorn Gump from “Legend” dir. Ridley Scott

Oona from “Legend” dir. Ridley Scott

Flora, Fauna and Merryweather from “Sleeping Beauty”, art direction by Eyvind Earle

Bilbo Baggins from a Dutch edition of JRR Tolkein’s The Hobbit, illustrated by Kees Kelfkens(?)

Selkie depicted on a Faroese stamp

Chortlebones from Bella Sara, illustrated by Lynn Hogan

Huldra from the game “Year Walk” 

The Sprite from Fantasia 2000, segment directed by Paul and Gaëtan Brizzi

and 23 Costume designs for Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream by Robert Courtneidge

As above

Tinker Bell from Peter Pan (2003) dir. PJ Hogan

Hoggle from Labyrinth, designed by Brian Froud and created by Jim Henson’s Creature Shop

Mr Tumnus from The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe dir. Andrew Adamson

Tom Bombadil from JRR Tolkein’s The Lord of the Rings, illustrated by Tim Hildebrandt

The Green Man (source unclear)

Illustration for Terry Pratchett’s The Wee Free Men by Robyn Haley

Truffle from Adventure Quest

 Littlest Pet Shop fairy

Woodland Furby made by me :) Please do not call him cursed

The Psammead from the BBC’s TV adaptation of E Nesbitt's Five Children and It, dir. Marilyn Fox

Thranduil, King of the Wood Elves from The Hobbit, dir. Arthur Rankin Jr. and Jules Bass

Nøkken by John Bauer

Gizmo from Gremlins dir. Joe Dante, creature design by Chris Walas

Gollum from JRR Tolkein’s The Hobbit, illustrated by Tove Jansson

Soot Sprite from Spirited Away dir. Hayao Miyazaki

Gonk

“The Junk Lady” from Labyrinth; concept art by Brian Froud

Domovoi by Vladimir Chernickov

Falkor from The Neverending Story dir. Wolfgang Petersen, creature design by Patrick Woodroffe

Cherry Fairy from Webkinz

Titania from Vertigo Comics, illustrated by Matt Dixon

Wind Drifter, My Little Pony G1

[duxbelisarius]

The Dance of the Dragons: A Military Analysis (Pt. 1)

I’ve been meaning to do this since I watched House of the Dragon and read Fire & Blood; after reading and re-reading F&B, I’ve concluded that the way that the Dance of the Dragons was fought by both factions is plain nonsensical. I will demonstrate this by analyzing the military as well as political aspects of George’s narrative, referring to F&B and other works in George’s ASOIAF legendarium and analysis I’ve seen from reddit and Tumblr. Part 1 covers Chapters 1 and 2 of The Dying of the Dragons, being The Blacks and the Greens and A Son for A Son, as well as The Red Dragon and the Gold where it concerns the alignment of the houses. 

Starting with Gyldan’s claim that the realm was ‘divided in two’ by the Dance, this is provably false even if one takes it as just a shorthand phrase and not a serious attempt at summarizing the Dance for his audience. Rhaenyra received the nigh uncontested support of four of the Seven Kingdoms during the war, the North, the Riverlands, the Iron Islands and the Vale, whereas Aegon II’s claim went uncontested only in the Westerlands and Stormlands. The Crownlands and Reach were divided from the outset, with the Tyrells remaining neutral until the end (arguably, but we’ll save that for later). Taking into account the Royal Fleet and Rhaenyra’s numerical advantage in Dragons, even though Rhaenyra’s allies were not all able to provide immediate support, the sheer number of her supporters presents a problem with George’s set-up.

What is that problem? By George’s premises that he established in his work, Rhaenyra’s support should not exist or at least not without the lack of qualification he provides. The chapter Heirs of the Dragon - A Question of Succession states that the Council of 101 AC chose Viserys over Rhaenys’ son Laenor by a wide margin, possibly as much as 20-to-1. Though she was passed over as Jaehaerys’ heir in 92 AC for her uncle Baelon, Rhaenys’ claim for her son was superior to that of Viserys, as she was the eldest child of the first son of the King while Viserys was the second son’s eldest. Yet George would have us believe that after passing over Rhaenys’ superior claim under Andal Law, the lords of the realm would support Rhaenyra in droves despite her objectively inferior claim? The oaths sworn to Rhaenyra as Viserys’ heir were made when Daemon was removed from the line of succession, and because Viserys had no children save for Rhaenyra. By Viserys’ death he has three sons and his eldest, Aegon, was in a similar situation to Rhaenys and Laenor. Under Andal Law, a sister cannot inherit before a brother; but just like in 101 AC, the wishes of the King that the legal heir not inherit were given preference over the law. There should be plenty of lords and ladies from either side of the 101 AC debates that would support Aegon on the basis of his sex or his legal status, but save for House Baratheon it seems that none of the houses that supported Rhaenys received offers of alliance from Otto and the Green Council until after Blood and Cheese, if at all.

George does not help his case by giving us so few good reasons as to why certain houses supported Rhaenyra or Aegon; @lemonhemlock has an entire tag devoted to this issue, and I recommend starting with this thread. Despite Aegon II’s ties to the Reach via the Hightowers and the potential for this to increase the Reach’s influence over the realm, the number of houses listed as joining the Blacks far outnumbers the Greens. House Beesbury, Merryweather and Caswell may be explained by Aegon executing members of those families for supporting Rhaenyra, but we get no reasoning for the Tarlys, Mullendores, Grimms, Rowans, Oakhearts, Footlys or Costaynes. On the opposite end of the spectrum are the Westerlands and Stormlands, which supported Aegon II without any mention of internal opposition by Gyldan. This is especially bizarre for the Stormlands given that Otto Hightower expected House Tarth to support Rhaenyra, while Lady Fell and Lord Buckler were among those executed by Aegon II early in the war. This trend of inexplicable unanimity continues with the Riverlands, whose lords are called a ‘notoriously quarrelsome lot’ but support Rhaenyra completely with the exception of the Brackens and the Vances of Atranta. The only real basis for this support that we get from the narrative rests upon the oaths made to Rhaenyra in 106 AC and a single visit she made to Riverrun in 112 AC, decades before the war began.

The unanimity of Northern support for Rhaenyra is even more questionable based on information which George provides within Fire & Blood and elsewhere. Despite Rickon Stark’s death in 121 AC, his son Cregan Stark only became Lord of Winterfell in 126 AC after imprisoning his uncle Bennard Stark and his sons for being slow to relinquish their authority as regents. Despite the approach of winter and the conflict with his uncle, we hear nothing of any misgivings or opposition to Cregan’s pact with Jacaerys. The pact itself is remarkably generous to Rhaenyra, guaranteeing the North’s support in exchange for the marriage of Cregan’s son to a future daughter of the still unwed Jacaerys Velaryon (contrast this with Hoster Tully’s demanding that Ned Stark wed & bed Catelyn during Robert’s Rebellion). In the case of Jeyne Arryn’s support for Rhaenyra, her supporters in House Royce have every reason to oppose this given that Rhaenyra’s consort is Daemon Targaryen, the man who allegedly had Rhea Royce murdered and tried to claim Runestone. Yet they seem not to oppose Lady Arryn’s decision, and Ser Willam Royce is among Rhaenyra’s supporters during the King’s Landing riots. When the war is over and Jeyne Arryn dies, House Royce promptly makes an about-face to support Arnold Arryn over Jeyne’s named heir Joffrey. Finally there’s the “Silent Five,” Corlys Velaryon’s nephews who lost their tongues for accusing Lucerys and his brothers of being bastards. We are told in Under the Regents - The Hooded Hand that the Five supported Aegon and that three died during the war, yet we do not hear of Velaryon forces of any kind supporting the Greens in the Dance’s narrative until after Rhaenyra imprisons Corlys. 

The Dance’s narrative makes even less sense when it comes to the Tyrells and Tullys, both of whom are neutral for most of the conflict. The Tyrells initially declare for Aegon but opt for neutrality when confronted with the large number of Black supporters in the Reach. The Tyrells remain neutral even after these Black houses are brought to heel by Ormund Hightower and Daeron Targaryen, but according to Maester Munkun they prevented the Hightowers from aiding Aegon II at the end by threatening the life of Garmund Hightower (fostering at Highgarden as a ward). The Tyrells were apparently unmoved by Aegon II’s rising fortunes, but were prepared to violate guest right and murder a child for the prospect of Aegon III becoming king. 

Meanwhile Elmo Tully keeps his house out of the war despite the protestations of his grandfather Grover, who is bed-ridden but wishes to support Aegon II. Elmo wished to avoid his house being assailed by either faction’s dragons, but he breaks neutrality and declares for Rhaenyra after being visited by Addam Velaryon with Seasmoke. While Elmo is claimed to have said “a dragon in one’s courtyard does wonders to resolve one’s doubts,” this quote makes House Tully’s prior neutrality even more mystifying. Daemon and Aemond were both present in the Riverlands and rode dragons far fiercer than Seasmoke, but we’re to believe that neither of them considered a show of force as a means of winning over House Tully? Elmo’s decision also makes little sense in light of the fact that Rhaenyra’s cause is in shambles at this point in the Dance, with Borros Baratheon and Ormund Hightower closing in from the south, the people of King’s Landing rioting against her, her Velaryon supporters abandoning her en masse due to the imprisonment of Lord Corlys, and rumors circulating that she had Queen Helaena and Dowager Queen Alicent gang-raped in a Flea Bottom whore-house. That George chose this moment for the Tullys to intervene on Rhaenyra’s behalf is bizarre, especially given the devastation wrought upon the Riverlands by the Dance.

I’ve doubtless left out other examples of inconsistencies and contradictions within the political alliances of George’s narrative, but in the interest of keeping things brief I’ve focused on what I found were the most obvious. If you’ve made it this far without drowning in walls of text, I commend you and thank you for your time (I definitely intend to add more images to spice things up). 

If you’ve got feedback for me, the replies and my inbox are open!

[oscartullyofriverrun]

Wanted Character Connection

Abigail Tully

Oscar Tully is searching for his sister Abigail Tully for @asongofgoldenfireandblackblood

The youngest child and only daughter of Lord Elmo and Lady Jenny Tully, Abigail is 16. She is known to be a talented poet and singer, charming, adept in her courtesies, and very fond of dogs, of which she has four; two mid-sized hounds named Monty and Jaunty, a pug, Thistle, and a long-bodied, rat-catcher dog called Bread. As she has recently come of age, she has been sent to accompany Ser Kyle to the capital and the upcoming coronation of the new Queen in hopes she may find a similarly high-stationed marriage match. Though sociable and good-natured, Abigail is known to have an overtly nervous nature, and prefers the company of her dogs and her mother to any peers her own age.

(Suggested faceclaim is Maria Merryweather in The Secret of Moon Acre)

Abigail is also wanted by @callmekyledamnit

To learn more about House Tully, click here!

We are a No-Dance!AU and politics, family, and court-drama focused RP. To join, check out our main site, DM us with any questions, then send us a raven app, and join our Discord!

Feel free to DM this blog or my main blog @goldaegontargaryen if you have any additional questions or if you want to talk about the RP!

Note: Character name, traits, and faceclaim are suggestions and can be reworked to a certain extent if discussed with the current members of the RP!

[nrilliree]

When I uploaded a map, Greens wrote "but there were more people living in the green territories, so it doesn't count!" So now I'll put it another way:

Team Black:

Velaryon

Celtigar

Staunton

Massey

Emmon

Darklyn

Bracken

Hayford

Harte

Crabb

Brune of Brownhollow

Brune of the Dyre Den

Stark

Dustin

Manderly

Cerwyn

Hornwood

Tully

Butterwell

Strong

Mooton

Darry

Frey

Blackwood

Charlton

Mallister

Piper

Vance

Smallwood

Deddings

Perryn

Chambers

Bigglestone

Penny

Grey

Wode

Beesbury

Caswell

Costayne,

Footly

Grimm

Merryweather

Mullendore

Oakheart

Rowan

Tarly

Buckler

Fell

Arryn,

Borrell

Corbray

Royce

Sunderland

Team Green:

Hightower

Lannister

Wylde

Peake,

Fossoway,

Ambrose

Rodden

Graceford,

Leygood

Butterwell

Rosby

Bourney

Mooton

Lefford

Swyft

Reyne

Redwyne

Baratheon

Swann

Tully

Vance

High Council of the Triarchy

Three unnamed lords and landed knights, slain during the Second Battle of Tumbleton

I guess we all know why Alicent and Otto preferred to take over the throne rather than calling a meeting of the great council?

[writingwenches]

the houses of Queen Alicent Hightower of House Florent

Ser Otto Hightower & Lady Alaerie Florent

we light the way featuring — Rhys Ifans and Christina Hendricks

Lord Emmet Florent & Lady Alarra Florent of House Merryweather

Descended from Garth Greenhand by his daughter Florys the Fox featuring — Joseph Fiennes and Bryce Dallas Howard

Lord Alester Merryweather & Lady Helicent Merryweather of House Caswell

behold our bounty featuring — Domhnall Gleeson and Kate Winslet

Lord Othael Hightower & Lady Clarice Hightower of House Bulwere

we light the way featuring — Daniel Day Lewis and Samantha Morton

Lord Herbert Belwere & Lady Alis Belwere of House Leygood

death before disgrace featuring — Cillian Murphy and Florence Pugh

[daenysthedreamer101]

Daughter of Steel and Bronze ~ HOTD

Ch 8 - Crossroads

HOTD x Targaryen!OC, eventual Targaryen!OC x Harwin Strong

Warnings: Daena does not like the Hightowers, Daemon complaining about Rhea, cursing

Corresponding episode: HOTD 1x2

HOTD masterlist

"Half a year later after the passing of Queen Aemma Arryn, His Grace decided to take a new wife. The chosen one was Lady Alicent Hightower. No one was more shocked by this decision than the King's daughter, Princess Rhaenyra. It is said she stormed out of the Small Council Chamber with tears in her eyes. 

Lord Corlys Velaryon, the Sea Snake, also poorly took the news. He had offered his own daughter, Lady Laena, as a candidate. He resigned as Master of Ships and went back to Driftmark, furious. 

The King's niece, Princess Daena, also disagreed with the choice. It is said she frowned the entire time and stared angrily at the Hand, Ser Otto Hightower. If anyone had any reservations about how the Princess felt about the Hightowers, their doubts were confirmed that day." 

(Fire & Blood, Being a History of the Targaryen Kings of Westeros, by Archmaester Gyldayn)

~

112 AC, King's Landing

Six months have passed since the tragic death of Queen Aemma. Six months have passed since Prince Daemon was disinherited as heir to the Iron Throne and banished from the capital. Six months have passed since Daena last saw her father. 

She started this day differently - today she was to choose two ladies to be her ladies-in-waiting. She was now 14 years old. "Almost a woman grown", Septa Marlow kept nagging in her ear. 

"Two more years, and I won't have to listen to her annoying voice ever again." Daena thought as she walked to the weirwood garden where the get-together was being held. 

She went dragon riding in the morning, as she always did on the first day of the week. As soon as she returned to the castle she was immediately rushed to the gardens. She thought she would have more time to clean herself before meeting the ladies. Hopefully, no one would mind the smell. Dragons were not the most pleasant-smelling creatures, Daena learned. 

"Well, I suppose I'll just go like this." She thought as she entered the garden - just from one glance she could see at least two dozen young girls and women waiting for her. 

"Oh, Gods, help me!" She murmured as she stood frozen. All the ladies turned and stopped talking. She could see there was a long table and an empty seat at the head of it. "That's for me, surely."

She walked quickly to her designated seat. "My ladies. Please, sit." She said and gestured. They followed her words, and everyone sat and waited for her to speak. 

Daena cleared her throat. "Firstly, I want to thank you all for coming here in such high numbers. I'm honored that so many of you wish to be my ladies-in-waiting. Unfortunately, there are only two spots. Now, shall we begin?" 

For the next three hours, Daena conversed with all the ladies. She quickly dismissed certain girls - Lucinda Lannister was the first to comment on an unpleasant smell in the air. Once Daena explained that it was her, the little lioness blushed and apologized. 

Ultimately, she narrowed her choice down to four ladies - Leyla Merryweather, Violet Mooton, and the twins Joy and Hanna Strong. Leyla was a sweet girl, though a bit too young, she was only 13, even younger than the Princess. 

After further deliberation, Daena chose the two daughters of Lyonel Strong. In the years to come, this would prove a wise decision. 

~

Once she was finished choosing her future handmaids, Daena desperately wanted a bath. On the way to her chambers, she bumped into Rhaenyra who had a satisfied smile on her face. 

"Cousin!" Daena greeted as she hugged Nyra. 

Nyra sniffed her. "You went dragon riding without me?" She asked, pretending to be hurt.

"I did it this morning," Daena explained. 

"Yet you're still in your riding suit?" Nyra questioned.

Daena chuckled. "It's a long story. All you need to know is that I now have two handmaids."

"Oh? And who might they be?" Nyra asked with raised brows.

"Joy and Hanna Strong," Daena revealed.

"Lord Lyonel's twin daughters?"

Daena nodded. "I like them. They're so similar, yet so different. I knew I had to have them both."

"Interesting. Well, Lord Lyonel is a good man. I'm sure his daughters will be the same." Nyra commented.

"Yes...Anyways, your spirits seem particularly high today."

"I chose Ser Criston Cole to be the newest knight of the Kingsguard...and my sworn protector."

It was now Daena's turn to raise brows. "The cute Dornish knight? The one who bested my father?" She asked with a sly smirk.

Nyra smirked, rolling her eyes. Daena chuckled at Nyra's expression. "I'm just jesting, cousin. All in good fun."

"It was good seeing you, cousin, but I have to go now," Rhaenyra said. Daena tilted her head in confusion.

"Where are you going?" She asked. Nyra looked away, avoiding Daena's gaze. Daena could see she was playing with her rings - she always did that when she was nervous. 

"Rhaenyra?"

"...I'm going to the Sept...with Alicent."

"Oh...Well then, have fun, I suppose..." Daena mumbled awkwardly and walked away. Rhaenyra sighed in frustration.

~

After bathing herself and making herself presentable, she once again ventured into the gardens of the Red Keep. She arranged a meeting with the Strong sisters, so that she may further assess them and their personalities. 

Once she reached her destination she was greeted by the twins who curtsied slightly. "Please, my ladies." She took a good look at them - both girls were slender with small waists, long dark curls, and big brown eyes. They were comely girls of 17 summers. Any man would kill to have a bride like that, Daena thought. 

Joy wore a flowy, forest green gown and her hair was loose, with a couple of braids at the top. Hanna wore a more structured, dark burgundy dress and her hair was up in a complicated Southern style. 

"Forgive me, my ladies. I still don't know you well enough. You look so similar. How am I to differentiate between you two?" Daena asked politely. The girls, seemingly used to this question, took no offense.

"I have a mark beneath my left eye, Princess," Hanna said, her voice soft and airy. 

Daena looked a bit closer. "Oh! You really do! Well, that should make things easier."

"You'll learn, soon enough, that I and my sister are worlds apart. She's the sun and I'm the moon - complete opposites yet so similar." Hanna added. 

"My little sister is just being dramatic. You have to forgive her, she has a tendency towards melancholy. She's been reading too much poetry." Joy added in jest, her voice high and beautifully girlish. Hanna rolled her eyes. 

Daena chuckled. "It's all right, I enjoy reading as well. Tell me, why do you think you two would be the perfect handmaidens for me? Why should I choose you?"

"From the little time we've spent in your presence, Princess, I could tell you are someone who values honesty and loyalty. I can tell you right now you would be frustrated with the likes of Lucinda Lannister. What you need are friends, good and kind ones, who have your best interest at heart." Hanna elaborated.

"And how do I know you have my best interest at heart?" Daena inquired.

Joy and Hanna looked at each other. "Princess, we, like the rest of the Realm, wept when our beloved Queen Aemma died. We have heard how close you were to her. We also know that there's a...bit of a rift between yourself and Princess Rhaenyra." Joy stated. 

Daena furrowed her pale brows but remained silent. Joy continued. "We know that she's fond of the Hightower girl. Through our father, we also know that the Small Council is currently pushing His Grace to remarry." 

"What are you implying?"

"You're still young, my Princess, and it may have slipped your notice, but we have been hearing rumors - ones that include the Lady Alicent. Servant gossip, I thought at first. But over the past six months, we have heard from multiple servants, that Alicent Hightower has been visiting and spending time with His Grace. Alone." Hanna revealed, her voice hushed.

Daena took a deep breath. If what the Strong sisters were saying was true, it would mean that Otto Hightower has been scheming to make Alicent Queen ever since her dear aunt Aemma died. 

"We know it's a lot to take in. We're telling you this so that you may warn Princess Rhaenyra. Maybe she could somehow influence His Grace. Ser Otto is on the move and he is very close to victory. Without your father in the capital, there's no one to stand against him." Joy told the young Princess.

"We know Ser Otto is...less than fond of your father and by extension, yourself. Our father told us how worried Ser Otto was when you claimed Vermithor, saying that such a young child shouldn't be in control of such a beast. You must believe us Princess, we truly want what's best for you." Hanna stated, her voice full of honesty and compassion.

Daena nodded. "I do. I do believe you. Everything makes sense now. Ladies, you have truly proven yourselves. I'll see to your admission personally." 

She hugged each sister and bid them goodbye. She would have lots to talk about with Rhaenyra. 

The following day, Daena decided the best course of action would be to fly to Dragonstone. Her primary mission was to inform her father about Ser Otto's schemes. The second reason she wanted to go was to see her father. Ever since the death of Queen Aemma, she hasn't seen him and they've exchanged only a few letters in the following months.

She was dressed in her black riding suit with black leather boots on her feet. Her long silver hair was neatly braided into two plaits. She also wore dainty amethyst earrings on her ears and the heart-shaped pendant her father gifted her, though the latter was covered by her suit.

As she was walking through the halls of the Red Keep she saw Rhaenyra pacing toward her. She looked distressed. Nyra grabbed Daena's hand and dragged her into her bed chambers. 

"Nyra! Wait! What's happening?" Daena asked confused as Nyra closed the door of her room.

"Daemon stole my brother's egg! He sent a missive saying that one of his whores is pregnant and he will take her as a second wife! And now, Ser Otto is going to Dragonstone to retrieve the egg." Nyra revealed, her voice laced with anger and her eyes full of hurt.

Daena closed her eyes and sighed. Her father could truly be a menace. She knew this was all a farce. He stole the egg to provoke His Grace and get his attention. She didn't even know what to think of him taking a whore as his wife. She knew he disliked her mother and that they mutually despised each other. But this was simply too much. 

"I'm sorry," Daena said quietly. 

Nyra looked at her with furrowed brows. "Why are you apologizing for your father's provocations?"

Daena sighed again. "Because you don't deserve this. Neither does Uncle Viserys. My father can be... difficult to deal with. I know he is doing this purely for attention." 

Nyra took Daena's hand into hers. "It's alright, Daena. I don't blame you."

Rhaenyra looked into Daena's lilac eyes. They were full of emotions - frustration, guilt, and something else. Her face was scrunched up almost like she was on the verge of tears. 

"....Daena?"

She looked away and walked to the window in desperate need of fresh air. She put her hands on each side of the wall, trying to stabilize herself. 

"Daena, what's wrong?" Nyra asked, worried. 

Daena shook her head, her throat tight and her eyes welled up with tears. "I'm sorry, Nyra. I'm so sorry."

"What in the Seven Hells are you talking about?" 

Daena turned her eyes toward Nyra. Now or never, she thought. Then, she told Rhaenyra everything. 

~

Dragonstone

Daemon was looking out of the balcony of his room which gave him a clear view of the sea. He sipped on his wine when he heard the unmistakable roar of the Bronze Fury. Then, through the thick clouds and fog that surrounded Dragonstone, Vermithor emerged. 

"Who is that?" Mysaria asked, her Lysene accent thick. Instead of answering her, he put his wine down and walked outside to greet his daughter.

Mysaria followed him, her white gown flowing behind her. They walked to the front of the castle, where in front of the gates stood a young girl with long silver hair. "Is this that niece of his he's been talking about?" Mysaria thought.

The girl stared at Daemon and a wide smile appeared on her face. She ran to him and threw herself at him. He caught her, stumbling backward a bit, and smiled. He kissed the top of her head and held her face in his hands. "Little dragon, what are you doing here?" 

"I've missed you." The girl said, her voice full of emotion. There was something in Daemon's eyes that Mysaria couldn't quite understand. This wasn't his niece but his daughter, she concluded - the way he was talking to her and looking at her was too fatherly, too parental to make sense. 

The girl kissed Daemon on the cheek and turned her face toward Mysaria. Her round, lilac eyes were identical to Daemon's, and her skin was as white as ivory, Mysaria observed. The girl looked her up and down, judging her. 

"Who is this?" The girl asked, her voice laced with contempt. Daemon put his arm around the girl's shoulder and started petting her head, almost like he was pacifying her. 

"This is Mysaria. My lover." Daemon explained. The girl's brows furrowed slightly and her plump pink lips pouted, making her look even younger. She hummed in acknowledgment but made no effort to greet Mysaria.

"Mysaria, this is my daughter Daena." Daemon introduced Daena and Mysaria bowed her head slightly. 

"Father, I wish to speak with you. Alone." Daena said, emphasizing the last word.

Daemon glanced at Mysaria who took the hint and left the two Targaryens. 

~

Daena followed her father to his room where they could speak freely. 

Daemon sat down and once again started sipping his wine. Daena stood on the opposite side of the table, the sunlight illuminating her silver hair. 

"What are you doing?" She asked.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"We both know what I am talking about. You stole Baelon's egg from the Dragonpit and you plan to marry...her. My mother is very much alive unless you've forgotten." She bit back, her frustration with her father growing by the second. 

He sighed and lifted his legs on the table. He is acting like a child, she thought. "I don't like your mother. I'm sure you're aware of that."

"She doesn't like you either." 

Daemon chuckled at his daughter's words. "You truly are my daughter." Daena rolled her eyes and walked closer to the table. 

"I'm not here to argue with you. I have more important information that I feel you should know."

"Yes?" 

"The Small Council is currently pushing Uncle Viserys to remarry. Recently, I've found out that ever since Aunt Aemma died, Alicent Hightower has been visiting His Grace, alone." 

Daemon's eyebrows rose in surprise. 

"I know, I was shocked as well. I told Rhaenyra before flying here. She was furious, to say the least."

"Where did you get this information from?" He asked. 

Daena smirked. "I have my sources."

~

The royal ship has docked on the shore of Dragonstone. Daena followed her father down to the bridge. He was in the front, she to his right, and on his left was Mysaria. Behind them were the Goldcloaks.

Once they made their way to the middle of the bridge, Daena could see Ser Otto on the other side. With him came many people - Ser Harrold, Ser Criston, the Grandmaester for some reason, and knights and dragon keepers.

"Welcome to Dragonstone, Otto." Her father greeted her after many seconds of silence.

Ser Otto told Daemon to leave Dragonstone, give back the egg, disband his army, and banish Mysaria.

"Ser Crispin, wasn't it?"

"Ser Criston Cole, my Prince."

"Ah, yes, apologies. I couldn't recall."

"Perhaps my Prince recalls when I knocked him off his horse."

Daena hated to admit it, but that was funny. It seems her father shared her sentiment because he chuckled at the knight's words.

"This is a truly pathetic show, Daemon. Are you so desperate for the King's attention that you've resorted to skulking about like a common cutpurse?"

"I'm simply keeping with the traditions of my House, the same as my brother did for his heir." Her father responded.

"Those traditions are for the trueborn children of royalty, not for bastards fathered on a common whore."

"Lady Mysaria is to be my wife." 

"You already have a living wife. And she gave you a child. You can't just replace her."

"I wish I could." Her father responded and she had to control herself to not say anything. It seemed that Ser Otto noticed that.

"And you, Princess? What are you doing here?" Ser Otto asked her.

Daena didn't think anyone would talk to her. "Simply visiting my father. I don't believe that's a crime." 

After exchanging more harsh words, swords were pulled out. A whistle could be heard in the air. Daena knew who it was instantly. From behind a wall of stone and rock, Caraxes appeared and sat on top of the bridge.

He screeched, and Daena couldn't help but smirk at Ser Criston's bewildered face. Ser Otto told his men to sheathe their swords. 

Then, from beneath the thick fog, Syrax appeared, and on top of her was Rhaenyra. Everyone, save for Daena, seemed to be shocked by Rhaenyra showing up.

"Take care not to startle Syrax, my lords. She's rather protective of me." Nyra said and walked toward Daemon.

Rhaenyra and Daemon exchanged words in High Valyrian.

"You already have a wife." Nyra pointed out.

"Not one of my choosing." Daena could only roll her eyes at her father once again bashing her mother and saying how he didn't choose her. Nyra questioned how that had anything to do with him stealing the egg. 

"You shared your cradle with a dragon when you were born. I want the same for my child."

"You already have a child. I suggest paying more attention to her instead of provoking my father." Nyra bit back. Daemon seemed taken aback by her words and glanced at Daena.

Daena gave her father a pointed look and decided she had enough. She turned away from all of them and walked away, ignoring her father's calls. She walked and walked until she saw the big bronze beast lying on one of the cliffs near the castle.

She walked up to him and started caressing his scaly face. He opened his big amber eyes and looked at her. He could sense she was upset so he pushed her lightly with his big snout. It was his way of comforting her.

"Jaelan naejot sōvegon. Jaelan naejot nārhēdegon se ōdres isse ñuha prūmia. Gūrogon nyke qrīdrughagon, kostilus." (I want to fly. I want to forget the pain in my heart. Take me away, please.) She whispered, her voice cracking. 

He grumbled in response and shook his head, almost like he nodded to show he agreed with her words. She climbed up and chained herself to the saddle. "Soves, Vermithor." (Fly, Vermithor)

He screeched, ran to the end of the cliff, spread his massive tan wings, and dived down. The cold sea wind hit Daena in the face and ruffled her hair. She wasn't sure if the tears in her eyes were from the salty air or the ache in her chest.

King Viserys was in the Small Council chamber, having a private conversation with Lord Lyonel.  They talked about Viserys taking a new wife and how Lady Laena was the best choice. Then, the door opened.

Ser Steffon Darklyn walked in. "Your Grace. Princess Rhaenyra and Princess Daena have returned from Dragonstone." 

"Dragonstone?" Viserys said, confused.

~

The following morning, a meeting was held in the Small Council chamber. Rhaenyra reluctantly went, seeing as she was the Cupbearer. To her surprise, Daena was also invited. The two girls were currently making their way to the chamber. 

Rhaenyra wore a pretty, golden-colored dress, in honor of her dragon Syrax. Daena wore a short-sleeved, copper-colored dress with scale-like embellishments made of thin bronze strings going across the chest and shoulders. The front of her hair was pulled back in a braid, while the rest flowed freely like a river of silver. 

They walked into the chamber and His Grace and Ser Otto were already there. What surprised Daena was that Alicent was also there, standing next to her father. This only cemented the fact that what the Strong sisters told her was correct. 

Daena's mind swirled with thoughts but was pulled out of them by Rhaenyra's voice. "Daena, come here." 

She walked over to Nyra who was standing on the side, in front of the serving table which was covered with bowls of fruit, goblets, and wine. The doors opened and the rest of the Small Council walked in.

"Good morrow, my lords." His Grace greeted the people present and walked closer to the table. "I have decided to take a new wife." 

Daena noticed how Lord Corlys perched up in his seat at those words and a smirk appeared on his face. If what Daena thought was correct, the Sea Snake was about to experience a massive disappointment. She prayed to all the gods above that she was wrong. "Please choose Laena, please!" She screamed internally. 

His Grace looked at Rhaenyra who gave him an encouraging smile. Daena knew the smile was fake and that Nyra was seething inside. After hearing the rumors, Nyra was rightfully shocked and in denial.

Nyra denied it at first, saying that Alicent would never lie to her like that. Daena pointed out to her that this was a calculated move by the Hand to put his blood on the Throne and make House Hightower more powerful.

"I intend to marry...the Lady Alicent Hightower, before spring's end." His Grace revealed. 

Daena couldn't help but sigh softly and close her eyes in disappointment. She shook her head, both her mind and body disapproving of the choice. She looked up at Rhaenyra whose entire face fell - her violet eyes were full of hurt and betrayal. Alicent looked mortified and started picking at her nails and a look of guilt washed over her face. 

On the contrary, Ser Otto never looked happier. Daena couldn't help but wonder what would happen if she jumped across the table and started choking him with those stupid chains around his neck. She wished her father was here, he would easily chop that snake's head off with Dark Sister. 

"This is an absurdity. My House is Valyrian, the greatest power in the realm." Lord Corlys stated, his voice filled with anger. He stormed out of the chamber in a fury. 

Nyra's lip trembled and her eyes welled up with tears. "Rhaenyra." His Grace called out to her but she didn't respond. She quickly walked out of the chamber.

"Daena." His Grace called to his niece. She didn't realize that this whole time she was staring angrily at Alicent and Otto. Her uncle's voice pulled her back to reality. She gave him a look of disappointment and shook her head.

For a moment, Alicent thought Daena would truly spit fire upon her with how intense she was looking at them. 

At that moment she looked like the human embodiment of the Bronze Fury - her lilac eyes were filled with the fire of injustice and betrayal, and her copper dress flowed behind her like wings as she stormed out of the room. 

***

We finally meet the Strong sisters! They are going to be important characters and will become close allies of Daena/Rhaenyra. As we can see Daena is pissed about Uncle Vizzy choosing Alicent.

The next chapter will introduce our favorite man, Breakbones, can't wait for him to finally be in the story, it only took me 9 chapters lol

[ericsfanfictions]

New Demigod Cabin: The Charites (Graces)

The Charites (Roman Gratiae-Graces) are a trio of goddesses of beauty, fun, happiness, and festivities. The elder Charites are daughters of Zeus and the Oceanid Eurynome, and are part of Aphrodite's retinue. The leader, Aglaia (glory, radiance), is also known as Charis (grace) and Cale/Calleis (beauty) and is the second wife of Hephaestus. She sometimes acts as Aphrodite's messenger. Her sisters are Thalia (abundance, banquets) and Euphrosyne (joy, cheer).

The Charites' demigod children have spread beauty and joy in the world throughout history, either through their own actions or by serving as inspiration for others. They are attractive and tend to have great artistic qualities. These qualities make them frequent companions of demigod children of the Muses, as well as Apollo and Aphrodite.

Historical Demigods/Legacies

Aglaia: Edith Tolkien, Queen Elisabeth I, Gloria Swanson

Euphrosyne: Beethoven, George W. Joy, Élisabeth Vigée Le Brun

Thalia: King Ludwig I of Bavaria, Lord Mayor Henry Picard, Clara Peeters Cabin Members: Gloria Marvel, Phil and Tre Goodman, Joy Gladstone, Letitia Merryweather, Isaac Shiraishi Head Counselor: Carissa Dolce

[melrosing]

MBO Robert's Rebellion: Season 2 Episode 1

what the fuck is this: it's me drafting a fake robert's rebellion tv show through a series of bullet points. there will be two seasons of ten episodes each when done

finally worked out how all the events of the rebellion break down into ten episodes you better believe im so serious about finishing this

anyway we're onto season 2 and rhaegar's about to get silly

SEASON ONE: Episode 1, Episode 2, Episode 3, Episode 4, Episode 5, Episode 6, Episode 7, Episode 8, Episode 9, Episode 10

title for this one: the most i've ever thought about petyr baelish

Open to a woman’s screams. The chaos of the birthing room as Elia gives birth to Aegon with great difficulty. Rhaegar stands watching on, anxious, as the baby emerges silent - it takes several frightening moments before the boy cries out. Elia collapses once she hears him, and there’s a great rush to recover her. Meanwhile, Rhaegar is presented with the child. The maester says he is glad that Elia has been delivered of a son, as he fears she will not be able to bear another. Rhaegar, looking at his son, murmurs that this must be Aegon. But, he says, there must be a third. There cannot be a third, says the maester

Opening creds. if this were an anime we’d have changed the song by now so we’re going from caramelldansen to the lucky star opening

Jaime Lannister training in the yard of the Red Keep with two other members of the Kingsguard, Lewyn Martell and Oswell Whent. The king has kept him at arm’s length since Harrenhal, so Jaime has been able to forget the circumstances of his joining the KG for a bit and enjoy training with these elite knights - he seems to have built some rapport with Lewyn and Oswell already. Lewyn suggests the approaching Barristan Selmy try Jaime; Barristan, who is still dubious of a teenager’s place in the KG, declines and says he has come to convey a message instead - Aerys has requested Jaime’s presence in the throne room. Jaime, surprised, goes alone

Aerys, accompanied by Arthur Dayne, is receiving congratulations from lords and ladies of the court on the birth of his grandson, his Hand Lord Merryweather proposing a great tourney. Aerys dismisses all but Arthur upon Jaime’s arrival, and bids him closer - we get the sense that Aerys has harboured some residual fears about Jaime, but attempts to push those aside now. He has Jaime stop before him at the top of the steps to the throne, and looks at him directly. Quivering, then almost fond, Aerys tells Jaime he has his mother’s face. Then, his voice hardening: ‘but you’re your father’s child, I know.’ Arthur, from the foot of the throne, calls Jaime down ‘with his grace’s permission’, which Aerys allows. Jaime gratefully acquiesces, and follows Arthur to the exit. Arthur tells him to relieve Jonothor Darry in Maegor’s Holdfast, and watches Jaime leave with a hard, searching look

SUDDENLY!!! Big clash of swords. We’re at a melée at the Eyrie. Robert makes short work of various opponents one after the other. Faced suddenly with Ned, he grins apologetically before tossing him comfortably to the side, finally duking it out with Lyn Corbray (yes i remember him) and winning to great ardour

With Ned and Robert afterwards striding back towards the castle. Robert suggests Ned puts his back into it next time, he knows he was letting him win. Ned replies that he doesn’t get as much out of this southern sport as Robert. Nonetheless, he notes that Robert fought with fire today, and Robert replies that he was imagining each of his opponents as Rhaegar Targaryen. His marriage to Lyanna will be brought forward in light of the Prince’s odd behaviour at Harrenhal - whether Rhaegar was drunk or mad as his father, Robert will not share his betrothed. Anyway why don’t they go unwind at a brothel later lol

At camp with Lyanna and Rickard, who are travelling through the Riverlands for Brandon’s wedding - they’re camped near Harrenhal, awaiting his arrival before they travel back to Riverrun with him. Lyanna and Rickard aren’t on the best terms: Rickard has recently pulled forward her marriage to Robert in an attempt to defend her honour following events concerning the Prince last year. Lyanna appeals to Rickard once again to postpone the wedding; Rickard says he believes Lyanna will learn the appeal of marriage when she sees Brandon married to Catelyn. Lyanna bitterly wonders if Catelyn would be so happy if she knew that Brandon had loved before. Rickard, angry to hear his daughter talking of THAT kind of thing cough, says a man can love before, to better know his wife when he meets her. Lyanna asks why it’s a different rule for women? Rickard scolds her, reminds her he’s made her a fine match and that the wedding is being brought forward for her benefit - she’s been the cause of enough trouble already. Lyanna storms off into the woods, Rickard calling her back angrily

At Riverrun with the Tullys - big ole feast. Hoster raises a toast to Catelyn’s engagement to Brandon, as Catelyn smiles shyly at his side. Petyr, on the sidelines, looks ready to combust. The feast turns to a dance: Catelyn takes her first turn with Brandon (he's a very showy dancer, and makes her laugh with big spins and flourishes). Then she dances w Hoster and Brynden, whilst Petyr dances with Lysa, constantly craning his neck to look over at Cat. Eventually Petyr manages to break away from Lysa and ask Cat for a dance. Cat, in high spirits, giggles and jokes with him, and Petyr, already a few drinks down, tries to kiss her. Catelyn pushes him away laughing, and Brandon, having seen it all, jokingly scolds Petyr for trying. That something so serious to him is a joke to the pair of them stings terribly. Petyr skulks away to his room 

Rhaegar with Elia. Rhaenys is playing in his lap, but both her parents are distracted. Eventually Elia looks to Rhaegar, and Rhaegar, realising they’re about to talk, asks a maid to take Rhaenys away to play with Viserys. When they're gone, Rhaegar remains silent - but Elia reads his mind. With some strain, she tells him she’s given him all she can now: they may have no love for another (Rhaegar does not jump to quarrel this, and Elia’s heart visibly sinks despite itself) - again, they may have no love for one another, but she still means to do her duty. These children are both of theirs, and they must protect them. Rhaegar nods, but his mind appears to be elsewhere

Brandon is due to part ways with the Tullys for now as he goes to meet Rickard near Harrenhal. Catelyn whispers her thanks in Hoster’s ear for the fine match just as soon as Brandon’s out of earshot - but Petyr overhears. His face twisting, he immediately steps forward to challenge Brandon (who is already mounting his horse) for Catelyn’s hand. Catelyn in utter shock, Hoster Tully looking fairly murderous like 'you do this on the day of my daughter's engagement'. Brandon is first stunned, then amused, then stunned again when he realises Petyr is serious. He tries to put the boy off, saying he’ll meet a lady of his own one day, but the condescension only turns Petyr’s eyes darker - Brandon sees that. Fed up trying with the kid, he says he’ll humour him, if it only helps Petyr come to his senses

Rhaegar deep in the library at the Red Keep with Arthur Dayne. Surrounded by books and scrolls, he mutters, uncomprehending, what Elia has told him - that there will be no more children, no third head of the dragon. Once all his dreams had told him to choose Elia, and he had followed them to her without a care for his own wants or desires. But now his dreams show something different: they show what he fears his heart wants - so how can he trust whether it’s truly the visions he follows, and not his heart? Arthur like idk that sounds rough man

Petyr arrives before Brandon shoddily armed, and Brandon (in full armour) declares that this would be a poor fight indeed. The Tullys watch on, Hoster still raging, Cat and Lysa in a panic. Brandon offers Petyr opportunity to yield, but Petyr strikes his breastplate pathetically with his sword. Brandon offers him the chance to yield again, and still Petyr seeks to provoke him. Finally, Petyr lands a blow that comes a little too close to blood for Brandon’s liking. Finally enraged, he sends Petyr flying with a fist, never drawing his sword. Petyr attempts to rise again, but Brandon stamps down on his chest (Lysa begins shrieking), and Petyr chokes. Catelyn screams, and begs Brandon to leave the boy - she’d never marry him anyhow, but he was dear to her once. Brandon raises his eyebrows, and wipes his foot on the grass. Washing his hands of the business, he kisses Catelyn’s hand before departing, whilst Petyr coughs up blood into the dirt, watching Brandon ride away with pure hatred in his eyes

Ned helps a drunken Robert back up the spiral stairs to his room once again. They pass Jon Arryn’s solar, and he smiles with a touch of conspiracy to suggest their secrets are their own. Ned grimaces - he has no secrets

Don’t ask me where the nearest brothel is to the eyrie i hate to think. I don’t know how they got back with ned half carrying a drunk robert they just did

Petyr lies barely conscious in a dour back room of Riverrun - all that Hoster is willing to afford him now. The door creaks open, and a figure steps through the door, candle in hand. Petyr says: ‘Cat.' The figure answers: ‘It’s me.’ Petyr, eyes barely open behind the bruising, grins a bloody grin. The figure tells him tearfully that Hoster means to send him back to the Fingers as soon as he’s healed, that it’s all monstrously unfair, that Brandon is a brute, that she hates to see Petyr suffer so. Petting his face, the figure says that no-one knows she’s here, so for tonight at least they can do what they like. Petyr grins wider as Lysa leans in to kiss him

In KL: Jaime, patrolling the courtyard, sees green light flashing in the windows of the throne room. He frowns, uncomprehending, and walks carefully towards a side door to investigate. Opening it, he hears muffled screams coming from the throne room beyond the next door, and approaches with great trepidation, one arm outstretched. SUDDENLY!!! Arthur Dayne emerges from the throne room, and we have the faintest glimpse of a bright green light: a terrible scream rings out. Just as quickly, the door is closed again. Arthur studies Jaime a moment, then suggests he goes to bed: his duties are done for the night

Rhaegar having an absolute Willy Wonka’s tunnel of visions. Blood seeping into a fast-running river, dancing green flames, guts spattered across stone floors. And a blue rose again. Rhaegar opens his eyes at once, suddenly resolute

Lyanna, sat alone in the dark woods, turning a dried flower crown about in her hands

next: episode 2.02

[thevelaryons]

Something so interesting about Daenaera is the opposing symbolism of summer/winter in her parents' death:

Daenaera Velaryon was an orphan. Her mother had been carried off by the Winter Fever; her father had died in the Stepstones when his True Heart went down.

— Fire & Blood, Under the Regents

These three cities surround the large, fertile “heel” of Essos, the promontory that divides the Summer Sea from the narrow sea and was once part of the land bridge that joined that continent to Westeros.

— The World of Ice & Fire, The Free Cities

Her mother's death is associated with winter (an illness that leaves the victim with a violent cold) and her father's death with summer (the sea by the Stepstones).

Even her grandfathers have opposing dichotomies when it comes to their death:

Lord Corlys also had half a dozen nephews, however, and the eldest of them, Ser Vaemond Velaryon, protested that the inheritance by rights should pass to him…on the grounds that Rhaenyra’s sons were bastards sired by Harwin Strong. The princess was not slow in answering this charge. She dispatched Prince Daemon to seize Ser Vaemond, had his head removed, and fed his carcass to her dragon, Syrax.

— Fire & Blood, Heirs of the Dragon

First to pay that price were the captive lords languishing in the dungeons under the Red Keep, men who had once sworn to defend the rights of Princess Rhaenyra and still stubbornly refused to bend the knee to King Aegon. One by one they were dragged out into the castle ward, where the King’s Justice awaited them with his axe. Each man was given one final chance to swear fealty to His Grace; only Lord Butterwell, Lord Stokeworth, and Lord Rosby chose to do so. Lord Hayford, Lord Merryweather, Lord Harte, Lord Buckler, Lord Caswell, and Lady Fell valued their sworn word more than their lives, and were beheaded each in turn, along with eight landed knights and twoscore servants and retainers. Their heads were mounted on spikes above the city’s gates.

— Fire & Blood, The Dying of the Dragons

Daenaera's paternal grandfather was killed by the Blacks and her maternal grandfather was killed by the Greens.

[softsan]

Eyes On Fire. (Pt. 3)

PAIRING: Aemond Targaryen & Fem!Reader

CHAPTERS: | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 |

WORD COUNT: 3551

GENRE: Alternatively Universes/Canon Divergence, Alternative Ending, The Greens Win, Loosely based on the books/show, Made up House,

DESCRIPTION: After the Greens win the Dance of The Dragons, you a left alone navigating the dangers and woes of Kings Landing. You were one of the last survivors of House Vermillion with the expectation to restore your House to its former glory. Pressured to find yourself a husband, you unintentionally catch the eye of the dangerously, one-eye kingslayer—how will you ever survive amidst those who kill, those who take, and those who wish to eat you alive? Can also be read on AO3 here.

WARNINGS: Bodily Injury, Death, Graphic violence, Suspicion, Attempted murder, Murder, Poisoning, Possessive themes, Aemond in general

OPTIONAL PLAYLIST: Astronomical by SVRCINA, Mercy by Hurts, Up in Flames by Ruelle

"A tournament!" Lady Jeyne Merryweather squealed, jumping letter in hand, unable to contain her artless excitement.

The widowed Clarice Osgrey, was non-the impressed, chastising Jeyne for her unmannerly response. Women according to Clarice Osgrey were to be refined creatures, always pleasantly smiling without issue, without boldness. You suppressed a snort, Lady Clarice Osgrey would despise your true self if it ever came to light.

Lady Clarice Osgrey was the widowed Aunt of Unwin Peake, Lord of Starpike, and hand of the king. Lord Unwin Peake had brought his kin to court and had inserted them all over the castle and king's guard. He had delegated Lady Clarice Osgrey the position of mistress of Queen Helena’s household which gave her the responsibility to oversee the house's maids, servants, and ladies-in-waiting.

"We are to set a good example," Clarice Osgrey continued, "Our actions reflect directly on the noble Targaryen House,"

Alyssa Royce's cool gaze arose from her book, her stern face cold and untelling, "Are we to participate in the celebrations?" She quietly closed her book, resting it beside her on the padded upholstered seat.

You could discern Alyssa Royce's prudent distaste for such, her heavy discomfort in the social eye. However, Lord Unwin Peake's daughter, Myrielle Peake perked in interest. The young girl, browned-haired and eyed, was dressed in the most decadent of garments, her gowns heavily woven and textiled with intricate designs. It mirrored her House's wealth, a great contrast from the plain, olive clothing you sported.

"We must!" Lady Jeyne Merryweather exclaimed her enthusiasm unmatched, "A Targaryen tourney and ball will be remembered for centuries to come," She lowered her voice, catching Lady Clarice Osgrey's sobering frown, "All the great nobles would certainly be in attendance."

"And shall will we," Lady Osgrey set aside her tambour frame, abandoning her tapestry to approach her Great Niece "But I expect you all to be on your utmost best behavior." She signaled Myrielle Peake to follow, "You are to accompany me," She said shortly before the two left the sunroom arm in arm. To no doubt visit Myrielle's father, you mused.

Within the last few weeks, you had kept a watchful eye on Myrielle Peake, carefully observing the soft-spoken and seemingly naive girl. The corner of your mouth twitched knowingly. In actuality, Myrielle was rather like you—cunningly disguising her paramount ambition, in a veil of innocence. Myrielle Peake along with her conspiring father Lord Unwin Peake longed to further their House's influence and stature. Lord Peake's intention to wed his only daughter into the Targaryen household was more or less apparent.

There were other Houses too, (House Baratheon coming particularly in mind) that rose from their humble abodes looking to snare themselves a slice of influence. In truth, you too were enthralled by the allure of power, to be respected, to be loved, to be feared—however, with your House's diminished reputation and loss of wealth you'd have no choice but to settle for less.

Jeyne Merryweather awaited for Myrielle Peake and her Great Aunt to leave the room before squeezing herself between you and Alyssa Royce, simultaneously sitting upon Royce's book. Alyssa's lips shriveled in annoyance but she said nothing.

"Care to know what is being revealed during the Targaryen tournament?" Jeyne leaned close, hapless against her nature for gossip.

"Prince Jaehaerys and Princess Jaehaera individual betrothals," You inferred, while you added touches to the golden hibiscus you’d embroidered onto a black cut of ribbon.

"Prince Daeron's betrothal too," Jeyne added.

You hummed. It appeared the Dowager Queen Alicent had been successful after all, appeasing the Lannisters after Aemond's stunt with Cerelle Lannister.

"Which sister was decided upon?"

"Cerelle," Jeyne dramatically sighed, her posture slumping, "Had I been but half as wealthy, I could have stood a chance to wed Prince Daeron myself."

"Improbable," Alyssa Royce muttered, displeased her book was still being sat upon.

"Perhaps in another life, the gods will bless you with a Prince," You encouraged Jeyne to stand, allowing Alyssa to swipe her book from underneath, "Woefully we must do with the cards we are dealt."

Jeyne's sulking was short-lived, another sensitive piece of information coming to mind, "I too, know whom the Prince and Princess are to be betrothed to."

"And how is it you came across such privileged information?" You were genuinely curious.

"From a handsome knight, one whose brother is a Lord on the small council." Jeyne gave her sources freely without hesitation, "Princess Jaehaera is to be paired to Rickon Stark eldest son and heir of Lord Cregan Stark. While Prince Jaehaerys is to be betrothed to Floris Baratheon, the prettiest of the Four Storm Sisters."

The Targaryens were spreading themselves thin in order to forge new treaties, you solved—their need for allies stronger than their need to keep their bloodline pure.

"Floris Baratheon?" You inquired, raising a brow.

"Surprising, isn't it?" Jeyne Merryweather played with the ends of her fiery braided hair, "I would have assumed since Lady Cassandra Baratheon, Lord Borros Baratheon's eldest was no longer promised to the Prince Aemond, that she'd now take the Prince Jaehaerys' as her betrothed,"

"And why didn't she?"

You’d safely presume the highborn Lady had broken her ties with Prince Aemond in order to bind herself to Prince Jaehaerys instead. A young boy, and King Aegon's heir. He’d be effortlessly easier to mold and manipulate, unlike Aemond.

"The Dowager Queen specifically requested Floris Baratheon, sighting the Lady Cassandra too old, and too headstrong for her grandson," Jeyne commented.

It was feasible that Dowager Queen had seen through Lady Cassandra's intentions. You carried on threading the needle, starting on the head of a dragon. How observant was the old queen truly? Could she see through your charade also?

"With hope, we'll find ourselves good-looking suitors, during the tournament." Jeyne Merryweather clasped her hands, her voice buoyant and filled with a new optimism.

You grimly smiled in response, finishing the last of the golden dragon's tail. The pressure was mounting from your Aunt to settle with an affluent, and moneyed Lord. You had but a few weeks to garner a proposal, or else your House's debts would consume what little you had left. Your lands would be seized, and your household would crumble to non-existence.

The first day of the tournament was blessed by the bright and brilliant sun, one which brought warmth and color, and lifted the early morning fog. The Targaryen tourney held back no expense, the ground immaculately decorated in reds and blacks, and a new jousting area was constructed to resemble the old, which had been burned down during the war. A green tent was hoisted for the guest in the stands, offering shade as they watched as the Lords and anointed knights of the realm joust for glory. Furthermore, musicians from all over Westeros were hired, the sound of their trumpets and horns being heard for miles.

Aemond was adorned in black-coated armor, twice as strong as bronze, with a gold dragon embossed into his metal chest plate. The leathers he wore underneath his chainmail were reinforced, to ensure the utmost protection was given to his limbs while his metal boots were specifically molded for his feet alone. He glanced himself over in the mirror, satisfied he was but missing his helmet which was strikingly welded into the shape of a dragon.

"Thank you, Lady Merryweather," Ser Julian Wormwood accepted her favor, pinning her silver broach against the little material that showed itself at the base of his neck.

Aemond continuously peered toward the tent's entrance, impatient for he was yet to set his sights upon you. To increase his chances of running into you, he had purposely chosen to prepare himself along with the knights, passing up on the opportunity for his own tent. Aemond reached for his helmet, grumbling under his breath. Too long had passed since the evening he'd stumbled into you in the kitchens. He could still vividly remember how your crimson eyes cast down, your phantom touch, how you'd mindlessly stroked down his reddened cheek where his mother had struck him so. Embarrassed, you had quickly excused yourself, escaping the kitchens with a sudden haste.

You followed after the high-born ladies Floris and Cassandra Baratheon, having spent the morning helping them iron their skirts and lace up their corsets. Cassandra Baratheon, the dark-haired and honeyed-eyed lady was scantily-dressed in comparison to her sister, her low plunging neckline turning heads and conjuring whispers. Cassandra wanted to cause a stir, she wanted to be noticed. She was infuriated for being forfeited, believing it ought to have been her betrothed to King Aegon's son and heir. You pitied the younger Floris, who was clearly hurt by her sister's disdain towards her.

Cassandra Baratheon walked in front, breaking off from the rest of the ladies. As she advanced, she deliberately shoved Jeyne Merryweather who'd been in the midst of conversing with Ser Julian Wormwood. Floris Baratheon made no attempt to head after her sister, preferring the company of a near stranger like yourself.

She tugged on the sleeve of your gown, peering up to you for direction, "What am I to do?"

"It is customary that a lady offers her favor to one who participates in a joust," You explained to the girl, tearing the orange sash you'd pre-prepared, in half. You gave her the longer of the two pieces.

"Prince Jaehaerys is not here?" She nervously looked about for her betrothed.

He was not. Both the Dowager Queen Alicent and Queen Helena had agreed he was too young to take part and would sit up in the stands with the rest of the nobles.

"How about your Uncle Ser Boremund Baratheon then?" You suggested.

The young girl nodded, slowly releasing the sleeve of your dress, "Will you sit with me later during the joust?" Her mousy voice was painfully shy.

"I'm to sit alongside Princess Jaehaera but you are welcome to join us. I'm sure the Princess would appreciate a new friend."

As you watched Floris Baratheon go, you began to sense a heated gaze. Your body instinctively turned to your left, in the direction of Prince Aemond who was standing in front of a mirror tall enough to capture the entirety of his frame. Your stomach flipped. Aemond in his black-plated armor, his silver hair handsomely falling beside his shoulders. Your eyes lock with his in the mirror's reflection, an amused grin sitting upon his lips.

"My Lady Y/N Vermillion," An eager voice broke your stupor.

Ser Simon Strong, the nephew of Lord Lyonel Strong, approached, smiling. He was wearing silver shell armor, adjoined to steel chainmail, and a long draping white cape that was fastened around his neck.

He bowed, taking your hand in his and placing a chaste kiss on your knuckles. "We haven't the pleasure of being formally introduced,"

You politely curtsied, conscious of Aemond's piercing glare.  

"I fought aside your cousins in the war." Ser Simon Strong was yet, to release your hand, "They spoke so highly of you. I knew one day our paths must cross."

Your face softened at the mention of your cousins, you had been very fond of them. Their loss, shattering your Aunt's heart to pieces.

"It'd be my honor, to wear your favor today during the joust," Ser Simon Strong said noting the torn orange sash in your grasp.

You tentatively handed Ser Simon Strong the sash, brushing aside Aemond's darkening aura and the glint of rage which simmered behind his violet eye.

"I shall do Milady proud," He bobbed his head in thanks, "It is very nice to have finally met you,"

"Likewise," You replied, looking on as Ser Simon Strong left the tent.

"Likewise?" An irked voice echoed, tempest building behind his words.

You need not turn to know who loomed behind you. You could sense Aemond's ill-concealed anger, his hot breath lingering against your neck.

"Prince Aemond," You acknowledged, doing your best to bury the heat that bubbled in the bottom of your core.

You kept your expression neutral. The tent may have been near empty but there were still a few ladies such as Myrielle Peake and Cassandra Baratheon loitering around. Their prying eyes train themselves on you. There was no reason for Aemond to address you so, to take such a particular interest. If you were to express any sort of familiarity, it'd only cause talk and scandal amongst those at court.

"Ñuha darling rūklon, ao ōdrio nyke sīr" My Darling Flower, you wound me so. You loosely translated Aemond's Old Valyrian, his breath trickling up your ear. He placed his hands below your shoulders, forcing you to swivel around and face him.

You bit the inner of your cheek, his thumb gingerly brushing your chin forward. There was no way now, the other ladies wouldn’t be suspicious of your relationship.

"First you hide from me," He reverted back to the common tongue, lowering his head, and leveled it with yours, "Then you give your favor—" His teethed gritted, "to a Strong of all people."

The sudden intimacy had made your cheeks flush, “They’re watching us,” You mumbled, your eyes flickering to the side.

“Good,” Aemond murmured back, undeterred, “Let them spread the word,” He’d embrace the hearsay, the talk, for it would convey to others to stay away. That you were his, and his alone.

His other hand still grasped your shoulder tightly, his hold showing no sign of letting go.

Stumped, you closed your eyelids and exhaled sharply. No matter how you proceeded there’d be talk. Regardless, of whether you pushed Aemond away or engaged with him further.  

You slowly re-opened your eyes. “I have something for you,” You groaned inwardly having decided upon your next move.

You stared into the violet of his iris, boldly reaching for a strand of his silver hair.

“You ought not to joust with your hair loose, it’s dangerous and could get caught throughout.”

You observed Aemond’s wrath slowly melt, his scowling lips turning upward as he leaned only closer.

“Turn around,” You firmly instructed, urging him to face the mirror.

Aemond did so, intently watching as your delicate fingers began to comb through his hair. He reveled in the sensation, enjoying your ginger touch. You removed a black cut ribbon from the inside of your pocket. The same ribbon you’d been embroidering on the days prior. The golden thread contrasted with the black, and subtly glittered under the tent’s lowlight.

You gently gathered Aemond’s beautifully silver hair, inadvertently admiring how smooth and silk-like it was. After collecting it into a ponytail, you secured it with the black and gold ribbon. Aemond admired you from the mirror, his chest rumbling warm and content.

The sound of clashing lances, bluntly imploding as two riders on horseback charged, reverberated through the stands. The audience of nobles stood and cheered as a man flew off his mount, his legs caught in his saddle. His frightened horse dragged him across the stony gravel until it finished the length of the course.

Princess Jaehaera flinched, averting her eyes, and focusing on her restless hands instead. She picked at the delicate skin by her fingernails, timidly grimacing as she scored blood. It was a bad habit you noticed she had picked up from her Queen mother Helena. You softly took away the offending hand, advising the Princess the joust would soon be coming to an end.

“Your Uncle Prince Aemond is left, once it’s over we can return to the comforts of your chambers.”

Prince Aemond had not so delicately fought his way through the ranks, coming through to the finals. Admittedly, you were rather impressed by the distinctness of his technique. How relentlessly vicious he was with a sword, his skill in one-to-one combat utterly unmatched by any of the opponents he’d so far faced.

You couldn’t help but compare it to your own expertise—concluding he’d easily overshadowed you if fighting with a longsword. The only way you stood a chance, is with a shield and bow. The distance provided would prove advantageous to Aemond’s dominant and close-combative approach.

Despite, your preference and appreciation for half-swords and daggers. You were always the better archer than a swordsman. You thought back fondly, it’d been years since you were allowed to handle a bow and arrow.

“Prince Aemond Targaryen to battle Ser Amos Bracken!” It was announced, the crowd growing rowdy with anticipation.

You were right in your assumption that Ser Amos Bracken stood no chance against the fearsome Targaryen prince. The hastilude between the two ended quickly, Aemond’s lance hitting with a force that knocked Ser Amos Bracken off his white steed.

You were about to give your applause along with the other nobles when Ser Amos Bracken staggered off the ground, ripping off his helmet, and thrust his sword to point in Prince's direction.

“My lance was tampered with!” He spat, accusing Aemond of cheating.

A hush came over the stand; your mouth parting surprised at the older Lord’s foolishness. To allege someone of royalty was a fraud was a crime in itself but to allege Aemond of all people. You let out an absurd laugh, Ser Amos Bracken was signing his death sentence.

Aemond made a hostile cuss, lurching out of his saddle and landing swiftly on his feet. He unsheathed his Valyrian-steel sword, its unblemished metal gleaming under the rays of the sun. The two circled likes predators, their stances confident and unwavering.

It was Ser Amos Bracken that made the first move, yelling profanities as he struck down his sword. Unintimidated, Aemond skillfully took a step backward. He twirled and orbited around Ser Amos Bracken before defending against his second blow. The two retracted their swords, to strike again. To Ser Amos Bracken’s miscalculation, Aemond’s strength and force were greater than his own. Aemond steadily pushed Ser Amos Bracken's sword back toward his face, leaving Ser Amos Bracken’s only option to duck and lose his position as the aggressor.

You watched attentively, leaning at the edge of your seat. Aemond used his gloved hand to punch Ser Amos Bracken from below. The hit caused his nose to break, while blood pooled down his lips and chin. Aemond then threw another punch, then another.

“Close your eyes,” You hastily whispered to both Princess Jaehaera and Lady Floris Baratheon, unable to tear your own eyes away.

Aemond showed no sign of stopping, his punches growing all the more unconstrained.

“That is enough!” The Dowager Queen Alicent called out, the firmness of her voice demanding to be followed.

You stood with the crowd, leaning closer to the barrier that separated the jousting arena from the stand.

The other Lords and knights erected from the sidelines. Some were badly injured and needed assistance whereas the others that didn’t took out their swords and readied themselves to intervene at the Dowager Queen’s request.

“Step away from Ser Amos Bracken,” Ser Simon Strong of all people bespoke, “This joust is over. You’ve already won.”

Aemond frighteningly stilled suppressing his frenzy. A wolfish grin painted on his lips as he straightened out his legs. Your gaze followed his movements. He unexpectedly dropped his sword, his bloody hands swinging side to side, dripping crimson droplets onto the ground below.

“I look forward to bludgeoning that head of yours Strong.” His words were laced with venom.

Your chest pounded furiously, your palms sweating. Aemond wasn’t intending to brawl with the Lords and knights all at once, was he?

The other knights tensed with the exception of Ser Simon Strong, who looked delighted by the challenge.

“Aemond!” Queen Helena joined her mother, her forehead creasing, “Our mother’s right that’s enough.”

And yet, Aemond carried on, striding, swordless in Ser Simon Strong’s direction. As talented of a fighter Aemond was, he’d still be no match against all of the Lords and Knights, especially considering they were all armed and he was not.

Aemond’s fist raised. He came forth, closing the distance between him and them.

“AEMOND STOP!” Your mouth moved on its own, recognizing the mistake of your actions almost instantaneously.    

Aemond halted at once, his boots kicking the gravel as he dug in his heels. He dropped his balled fist, turning his head upward towards the stand.

Your eyes widened, astounded that Aemond had stopped just as you had asked. The masses that surrounded you silenced, staring at you as you had managed to do the impossible. You had somehow managed to restrain a dragon. The Dowager Queen Alicent frowned, cautiously studying you with her unsavory look.

Aemond couldn’t quite explain why he’d stopped… Perhaps it was the desperation of your tone or perhaps the worry that lingered behind his name. He eyed you, your hair fiercely whipping behind you as you stood clutching the wooden barrier. Your beauteous face was shocked, your pretty lips slightly ajar.

“I yield,” Aemond forfeited his pride, heading back to his horse to pick up his lance that lay idle beside it.

Once he’d retrieved his lance, he went to collect his prize— a crown of green mint julep roses. You swallowed, as he approached, hooping the crown of roses on the lance’s sharpest point. He angled it so it was within your reach.

“For my Lady Y/N Vermillion.” Aemond crowned you the Queen of Love and Beauty.

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