genz420 · 2 years ago
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Masterlist: Beauty of Scars & Flowers
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Prologue 
Chapter 1 
Chapter 2  
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9 (Coming Soon - Last update: 9/20/24)
Other:
Aesthetic
Taglist: If you wish to be added to the taglist, please just comment! 
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mouthlessmaiden · 5 months ago
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why would i ever make a modern au when i could make a 1960s westeros au
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uluthrek · 9 months ago
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making up wild asoiaf ships to see if i’m the first weirdo who thought of them 2: electric boogaloo
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thecountesstribe · 3 months ago
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HOTD Ep 2x7 Spoilers and review.
So this was one of my favorite episodes this season and also one of the coolest imo.
Seasmoke being protective of Addam and looking proud he terrorized Addam into being his rider was too funny. I love that dragon 😂. Come through Addam the Loyal, all Rhaenyra had to say was she's queen and he immediately acknowledged her and bent the knee, I loved that. He's really about to become my other favorite boy.
Corlys being shook and acting like he doesn't know Addam, like sir if you don't tell the truth already. He's never gonna beat the deadbeat allegations. Although when he told him “Well done” I did whoop a little. I would've kicked his ass had I been Addam though.
Oscar Tully! That's it. That's the fuckin post. He gagged Daemon and stood on business. I love to see young kids bullying arrogant adults, he reminded me of the OG lil boss Lyanna Mormont. That's my lil nephew now.
Daemon didn't take the crown. We saw him hallucinating again, this time with the sick version of Viserys and Viserys holding the crown which he didn't take. I mean anybody with a brain could summarize that he never wanted the crown, we didn't need to spend so much time in his delusions in Harrenhal to tell us that. We certainly didn't need a scene of him feasting on his mom to tell us that, yuck. For all his faults he really was about his family. He went about it the wrong way but that's Daemon for you. His stupid self destructive ass.
We had an unnecessary scene of Alicent running about the woods after leaving King's Landing. Chile anyways. Larys is totally protecting Aegon now and he's essentially crippled atp. I fear for Baela's storyline.
Rhaena is looking for Sheepstealer. Her and Jeyne are still tussling but they waited until the final 2 episodes to give her something, Baela had no lines besides looking pretty and staring at Jace. I fuckin hate it here. Could we bully HBO AND THE WRITERS SOME MORE. WTF!!
Vermithor and SilverWing looked so cool. What did that old bum feed Vermithor though? He's big asf. SilverWing just might be the coolest looking dragon. I can't rank them anymore cause I like them all 😭. Literally my favorite thing about the episode. Like the directors cooked. The dragons are funny asf 😂😭😭😭. There were a lot of parentage reveals, I don't believe for a second Saera sired that ugly man but anyways. RhaeRhae led those people to their deaths. Rhaenyra deadass gave this big ass pep talk, she reminded me of Erwin before he led the scouts out on what would be their suicide mission except she didn't stay to see the outcome or participate in it. Vermithor saw an opportunity for a buffet and took it, Hugh claimed him. Fuckin cinema. Still gonna hate his bitchass but I can't lie that was badass. SilverWing was bullying Ulf. Why do people I hate always win sometimes?! Ulf literally failed upwards. Can't be mad at it. I mean if I was a dragon I would've done the same shit. How dare mediocre specimens come before me who is essentially the next best thing after the Gods!
We got Rhaenyra speaking High Valyrian. She had her dragon squad quit on her though and gave her a warning (foreshadowing). Her also being able to calm Vermithor, that's the Dragon Queen of her era y'all. We saw a little movement with her and her protective spoiled cat Syrax too 😍.
Not people hating on Jace now. Listen that argument has been brewing since season 1. He just finally let it out of his brooding body. I don't think many people understand the implications that argument meant. He sounded classist and maybe he was, highly doubt he is but he's being realistic and in the future he was proven right (unless they scrap the book canon). Rhaenyra paralleled Viserys in that entire scene. She really is her father's child in some ways. She did to Jace what Viserys essentially did to her. The one thing that could've upheld his ascension to the throne was him having a dragon and she essentially gave a free pass to anybody to do the same, the same thing was done to Rhaenyra when Viserys decided to marry Alicent and sire more children when he knew damn well that if he had a son, her claim to the throne would've been compromised. Jace knows he's a “bastard”, a legitimate one but a “bastard” ntl (I'm not calling him a bastard in a derogatory sense either, he isn't. Laenor claimed them as his sons and that's the end of it to me) , it shouldn't matter considering the throne is not passing from his father's side but his mother's. Sure his last name would've changed the minute he was named heir and ascended as stated by Viserys but what weight does that hold now? They briefly touched on it when he spoke to Baela about his fathers but he had always been insecure about his parentage. No he didn't call his mother a whore, he's been fighting that battle all his life, she just made it worse. In the dire situation they're in, the sacrifice had to be made but I could understand why he's angry and hurt over it again. She literally just made him illegitimate in the eyes of the realm. His anger is valid. Was his tone harsh yes, try dealing with the whispers and the jeers and everything else for the past 16 years of your entire life and seeing the same proof of what everybody else sees everyday and tell me that you wouldn't hold some kind of resentment towards it. I liked how Rhaenyra was patient with him though, just wished it wasn't as rushed as the scene felt.
The last shot of the episode was fuckin brilliant. Aemond turning his bitchass around knowing he can't handle that kinda pressure. Also Vhagar and Aemond's bond may not be as strong as it should be. She clearly does not listen to him sometimes. He's still responsible for Lucerys death IDC what y'all got to say. The episode got a 4/5 stars from me just for the dragons. I'm here for Jace, Baela, Addam and the Dragons!
Until next week guys for the finale. We're going to see Tessarion and Sheepstealer next week. I'm so excited.
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huramuna · 11 months ago
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wine red, tears gold - chapter 2.
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king aegon II x baratheon ofc
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a 'what if aegon didn't get poisoned and the greens technically won the dance but at what cost' au. basically aegon, alicent, otto and jaehaera are the only greens alive. and larys i guess. someone get rid of this guy.
word count: 2.7k
aegon wasn't as badly injured from Rook's Rest like in canon in this AU, he has a few burn scars near his torso but wasn't crippled / bedridden.
content: smut (specifics below cut), canon typical misogyny, canon typical violence, angst, fluff, arranged marriage, touch-staved aegon, aegon isn't a r*pist in this au but he is still a bad person and has his vices, ofc and aegon need to go to therapy together, justice for jaehaera, awkward sex, kind of a slow burn, infidelity
who wants to live forever - sarah brightman • nothing's new - rio romeo
chapter specific warnings: non-descript smut, blood
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Sleep was easy to find that night for Lyanna– her body and mind were exhausted from the events of the day. She felt sore everywhere, especially between her legs. It ached like she had ridden a horse hard for days and she would most certainly need to be drawn a bath in the morn.
It was easy for her to fall into a state of unconsciousness, but it wasn’t a true sleep. It felt very much like being ill with a fever, flitting in and out of being awake, dreams and nightmares dancing behind her lids. Sweat skimmed her brow as she tossed and turned.
Squeak, squeak.
 The Red Keep was the noisiest, creakiest building she’d ever slept in– not even comparable to Storm’s End, which stood tall for generations against the most ferocious of storms, waves crashing against the weathered bricks.
Squeak, squeak.
Lyanna’s eyes fluttered open, light illuminating behind the curtain. She turned to the side, seeing that Aegon was gone, feeling better for it. She couldn’t quite shake how he looked at her last night after they coupled– something akin to disgust and pity, as if she was no more than an inconvenience for him. Mayhaps she was. She rubbed her eyes, wiping away the errant hair stuck to her forehead from sweat, sitting up. A gnawing pain gathered at her lower belly, as if she’d lost something precious to her. 
Stepping onto the stone floor, she slipped on her house slippers. A flash of red caught her eye– blood was on the bed. It wasn’t much, a spattering spit inked into the cotton sheets and it was reminiscent of when her moon’s blood would catch her off guard at times. But this wasn’t her moon’s blood. Her pulse hammered in her neck, remembering Aegon’s words from the night before, her eyes leading to the now dry, stiff cloth on her nightstand, which was also stained with blood. It was a reminder of what she lost– a part of her innocence, a chapter of her life closed. She was no longer a girl, fretting with girlish thoughts and girlish problems– she was a woman, a wife– she was the Queen. 
The realization came to her like a ton of bricks falling on her and her legs wobbled under her like a newborn fawn’s– she was the Queen. People would look to her for guidance, for an example– she felt underprepared for it all and her insides continued to swirl like a storm off in the distance, ever looming, ever there.
Squeak, squeak, squeak.
Lyanna’s eyes narrowed, the incessant squeaking noise that had woken her up was still going– there didn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to it, no pattern. Walking to the window, she drew back the curtain and looked outside. It was a perfectly calm, tepid, sunny day– clear skies.
Fetching her house coat, she wrapped it taut around her body, snuggling into it and covering her silken sleeping shift– she didn’t know if Aegon would be out in the solar and didn’t want to chance it. She felt ill at the thought of being… exposed to him in broad daylight. 
Squeak, squeak. Bump. Bump.
The noise was rampant now, irritating Lyanna. She wished to find the source of the disturbance, mayhaps it was something simple, like a window left open or a rat. She had hoped it wasn’t a rat.
The solar was empty upon investigation, the curtains half-open. The noise, now speeding up in its frequency, appeared to be coming from the washroom on the far side of the chamber. The door was ajar by an inch or two. Huffing, she padded over to the door and peeked in.
In hindsight, she very much wished it had been a rat. A big, fat, disgusting rat with protruding teeth and a hundred babies scattered around it. Anything would’ve been better than what she saw.
Aegon, she surmised– his backside to her, a few errant scars and burns littered around his torso. He was naked as the day he was born, his muscles taut as he drilled into a woman– she was littered in jewels and pearls in her matching outfit with Aegon, nude. She had dark brown hair and fair skin, her body undulating and shivering against each thrust Aegon made– Lyanna came to the quick conclusion that she was a whore. Lyanna’s husband was fucking a whore. Fucking a whore in their chambers, with all the vigor and fervor of a dragon, panting up a storm and whispering to her, even smacking her ass and praising her. 
She was going to be sick. She was going to vomit on the floor, cry, scream, confront him, claw the whore’s eyes out– she had to get away. A small gasp escaped her lips unwittingly as she fled back to their bedroom. Her hands were shaking as the image replayed in her mind– she never expected her and Aegon to love one another, she couldn’t ask that of him, of anyone. But he seemed pained to even touch her the night before, to lay with her– he couldn’t even look at her fucking face. Was she so hideous that her own husband couldn’t… she grabbed a pair of embroidery scissors, her body moving faster than her mind. The squeaking noises of Aegon and his whore coupling was going on for well over thirty minutes, when he could barely be inside of Lyanna for three the night before. 
The sound of his voice, the little she had heard, as he whispered to the woman, citing her as beautiful, lovely, sweet– Lyanna clutched her skirt with one hand, the scissors in the other as she began her descent. 
Her hand stabbed into the bed, cutting and slashing around the stained sheet, the edges frayed into a jagged mess. Once the twisted fragment of cloth was free, she discarded the scissors as she slammed through every door she could– out of the bedroom, out of the solar– she didn’t know what to feel, she felt too much. 
The bloody token was clenched in her fist, her knuckles white as she knocked fervently on the door of the Queen mother. 
One of her handmaidens answered, her head bowing, “Your grace–”
“Lyanna?” Alicent’s voice called. She was sitting at a table near the open window balcony of her solar, tea cup in hand. She was still in her nightgown, hair down and flowing behind her. She took one look at her good-daughter’s face and eyed her handmaiden, “Leave us, Talya.”
“This– this is proof,” Lyanna whispered, holding out the stained sheet, “This is proof that I… have done my duty– I tried, I am trying–” she sniffed, tears running down her face as her hands shook violently. 
Alicent’s brow furrowed, her face soft, “Oh, dear girl,” she murmured, wrapping her arms around Lyanna, all encapsulating and warm, “I know, I know. You’ve done so well– did… did he hurt you?” she asked, her voice so quiet it was almost unheard.
Lyanna shook her head as she dropped the sheet, slotting herself against Alicent’s chest, sobbing her heart out. 
“I know it hurts, my sweet girl,” Alicent breathed, “It won’t always hurt. Eventually… you become numb." She moved the two of them to the couch and simply held the poor girl while she shook and sobbed for the better part of an hour. Alicent petted her head softly, not saying anything more until Lyanna’s sobs quieted to simple sniffs. ��Mayhaps– we should have you move into your own chambers. It isn’t uncommon for husband and wife to be in separate chambers. King Viserys and I did not… sleep in the same bed for the better part of our marriage. I’m all the grateful for it– you need your own space to curate, to make your own. You are the Queen now, mayhaps we shall set up luncheons with the ladies in your new chambers, hm? We shall break fast together every morn before we go to the Sept, and we should even charter a weekly trip to the Grand Sept– but let me not get carried away with plans so soon. Let us focus on getting you into your own solar, your own bed,” she put her hand under Lyanna’s chin and tilted her head upward, “It gets better, I promise.”
– 
Lyanna returned to their– no, it was Aegon’s alone now– chambers a few hours later, after calming down and breaking her fast with Alicent. It was completely empty now, she checked the washroom, just to make sure.
After properly dressing for the day in a simple blue gown, tying her hair up in a braided bun. A quick peek in the mirror disappointed her slightly– she didn’t look queenly yet, merely a little girl trying to play the part. But it would have to be worked on.
Slowly, she gathered her things– mostly just one or two things to carry, and the rest for the servants to take down to her new chambers. Sometime during her organization, she heard the door close. Expecting it to be a servant, as they’d been in and out for the past hour taking her things, she didn’t turn around. “Please, don’t forget the chest near the door– it has all of my cloaks in it.”
“What’s going on here?” A voice, Aegon’s she quickly surmised, spoke.
The hairs on the back of her neck prickled as the scene from earlier in the morn plagued her mind. His voice to her now sounded to cold, versus the warm, husky drawl to which he praised the whore with. She took a breath and stood up straight, smoothing out her skirts. “I am moving my things to my chambers.”
“Your chambers? Is this not your chambers?” he spoke with a sarcasm that made her blood boil, his brow raised.
“It is yours. Husband and wife have separate chambers all the time.”
“Did my mother tell you that? It sounds like her words,” he scoffed, walking a bit closer to her. He smelled of musk and fire, something deep and animalistic she couldn’t quite pinpoint. “I must say, it’s quite a record. A mere day it took for my mother to poison your mind against me. Tell me, did she use her infamous line about me being a sinner? Talk about my voracious, impure appetites?” 
Lyanna’s brow knit in irritation, hands clenched onto a half-finished embroidery piece. It was of Sunfyre, Aegon’s dragon, whom she’d never seen, but had heard of. She started it when the betrothal was announced and it was to be a gift for him. The wood of the hoop cracked under her fingers. “Was she good to you, dear husband?” 
He was confused now, tilting his head. “Whom? My mother?”
“Did you purchase her those pearls? Or was that a gift from one of her other suitors?”
Aegon’s face blanched slightly as he cleared his throat. “I don’t know what you expected.”
“What I expected?” Lyanna’s voice quivered.
“Yes, what you expected,” Aegon countered as he clenched and unclenched his fist, “My… proclivities aren’t exactly a secret. You knew what you were getting into–” 
“Don’t– don’t! I expected to marry a king– and yes, I’d heard… rumors. I thought mayhaps you… might’ve turned a new leaf after the war.”
“Fucking hell, you sound like my grandsire. Is that what you expected then? Batting your lashes and exchanging a few words between us and I’ll swear off of other women’s cunts for the rest of my life? Mayhaps if you weren’t so…” 
“So what? Say it, so I know where I stand.” 
“You’re plain looking. You aren’t some great beauty that they write songs about, that men go to war for, hm?”
Lyanna stopped then, her throat going dry. Her finger tips felt numb as an aching feeling spread through her body in waves, emanating from her chest. 
“When my grandsire told me I was to marry one of the Baratheon girls, I’d hoped it to be one of your sisters. Cassandra, or mayhaps Floris. Now that is a woman! Blue eyes always were a favorite of mine. Mayhaps when they come to visit again I’ll stick my cock in one of them– I doubt their husbands are satisfying them as well as they could be.”
It felt as if her blood was on fire, her hands twitching. She could feel her pulse in her neck, her head spinning. She could hardly believe the words she was hearing– it felt as if he had stabbed her and each word was another twist of his knife in her gut. 
“Cat got your tongue, wife?” 
She felt her blood pumping through her body whilst feeling like her body was devoid of blood at the same time. A blank stare came over her, her eyes glazing over. Her mouth was taut in a line. Was it possible for the numbness to hurt? It rolled through her in waves like a sickness and she felt bile rise in her throat. It was acrid, stinging her mouth and poisoning her tongue. 
Her movements were a blur, she could hardly see a few feet in front of her, her body was autonomous as she left Aegon standing there with a shit-eating grin on his face, as if putting her down was some great feat, as if he’d conquered her already fragile disposition and proven himself better.
She locked herself in her new chambers for three days after that, only taking Alicent as a visitor. She didn’t cry– she just hid. She had the mirrors removed temporarily, thinking herself so ugly she couldn’t bear to see her own face, just as Aegon couldn’t even look at her face. 
“Have you no shame, son? Where did I go wrong in raising you that you could be such a brute, a monstrous cad to your wife?!” Alicent continued on, going on for the second hour of yelling at him.
“My ability to feel shame was ripped away from me at a young age, mother. You and grandsire should know best about that.” he replied dryly, swirling his wine in his goblet.
“She is a sweet girl, Aegon! A bit naive, yes, but so was I when I married your father.”
“Is that what this is about, mother? You see a small version of yourself in that girl? Is that why you so valiantly protect her– would that make me my father then?” He took a sip. “That is a new insult, quite creative you are with that one.”
“You are hopeless, Aegon.”
“Tell me something I don’t know. We are all fucking hopeless.”
Alicent left, slamming the door behind her.
Aegon stared at his half-empty cup of wine, staring into the red, swirling liquid. He was a vicious, monstrous cad. Not like his brother was, at least he was useful in his monstrousness, bringing half the realm to heel on that geriatric dragon of his.
 Aegon was more akin to a dog than a dragon, feeling the yank of his chain once more. Mayhaps he was a bad dog– he bit the hand that tried to feed him, leaving him starving and alone.
He got up from the settee and moved to refill his glass when he saw a flash of gold in the corner of his eye. Bending down, he picked up an embroidery hoop. The edges were cracked, splinters of dark wood jutting out. The thread weaved in it was golden and pink, in the shape of a dragon– half of one, anyhow. He could spot the likeness of his proudest achievement half a mile away. It was a depiction of Sunfyre, half finished. It was quite good.
He put down the bottle, discarding his goblet for the time being. He wondered who did this– mayhaps Helaena or Jaehaera. 
Then it dawned upon him– he had seen Lyanna holding it when she was gathering her things days before.
Just before he said those things. Hurtful, awful things. His fingertips traced the stitches of the embroidery, amazed that she was able to portray Sunfyre so accurately without ever having seen him.
Aegon’s lip wobbled slightly as he felt tears well up in his eyes. He wasn’t a bad dog– he doesn’t know why he bites. He just does.
taglist: @mariahossain @zillahvathek
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tessarionbestgirl · 3 months ago
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I am going to say this once and the subject will be dead on my page. Rhaenyra is Cercei, Aegon is Tyrion, Daemon is Rhaegar, Alys is Lyanna, Alicent (s1) is Ned, Baela is Arya, Rhaena is Sansa, Jace is Jon, Larys is littlefinger, Mysaria is Varys. Daron is Young Griffin, Criston Cole is Jaime, Aemond is Stannis, Heleana is Brown.
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imaginarianisms · 4 months ago
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save me indigenous house stark. save me indigenous brandon, eddard, lyanna & benjen. save me mixed indigenous robb, jon, sansa, arya, bran & rickon. save me indigenous house blackwood. save me indigenous alysanne blackwood. save me indigenous betha blackwood. save me indigenous house strong. save me indigenous lyonel strong. save me indigenous harwin "breakbones" strong. save me indigenous larys strong. save me indigenous alys rivers witch queen of harrenhal. save me mixed indigenous jacaerys, lucerys & joffrey.
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anxiousnerdwritings · 2 years ago
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In your opinion for yan! Got/asoiaf who's the most manipulative yandere? Least manipulative?
Some of the characters really depend on the situation and the overall relationship with their darling but so far this is what I could think of.
Most Manipulative:
Euron Greyjoy
Tywin Lannister
Brynden Rivers/Bloodraven
Shiera Seastar
Daemon Targaryen
Daemon Blackfyre
Aegon V Targaryen
Cersei Lannister
Visenya Targaryen
Olenna Redwyne
Margaery Tyrell
Robb Stark
Sansa Stark
Catelyn Tully/Stark
Lysa Tully/Arryn
Tyrion Lannister
Arianne Martell
Oberon Martell
Daenerys Targaryen
Roose Bolton
Ramsay Bolton
Joffrey Baratheon
Renly Baratheon
Maegor Targaryen
Aerion ‘Brightflame’ Targaryen
Rhaegar Targaryen
Aerys ’Mad King’ Targaryen
Lyanna Stark
Brandon Stark
Melisandre
Varys
Petyr ‘Littlefinger’ Baelish
Yigritte
Bran Stark
Arya Stark
Rhaenyra Targaryen
Jaime Lannister
Aemond ‘One Eye’ Targaryen
Robert Baratheon
Mance Rayder
Val
Theon Greyjoy
Reek!Theon Greyjoy?
Yara/Asha Greyjoy
Aemon ‘Dragonknight’ Targaryen
Gerold Dayne/Darkstar
Larys Strong
Corlys Velaryon
Jaqen H’ghar
Alicent Hightower
Criston Cole
Least Manipulative:
Podrick Payne
Brienne of Tarth
Rhaella Targaryen
Sandor Clegane
Jon Snow
Samwell Tarly
Tommen Baratheon
Myrcella Baratheon
Loras Tyrell
Rhaenys Targaryen
Alysanne Targaryen
Jaehaerys Targaryen
Shireen Baratheon
Ned Stark
Edric Dayne
Arthur Dayne
Elia Martell
Doran Martell
Benjen Stark
Helaena Targaryen
Aegon ‘The Conqueror’ Targaryen
Bronn
Aegor Rivers/Bittersteel
Brynden Tully
Missandei
Victarion Greyjoy
Willas Tyrell
Garlan Tyrell
Harwin Strong
Duncan the Tall
Daeron ‘The Good’ Targaryen
Robert Arryn/Sweetrobin
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motorway-south · 8 days ago
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Choose Violence: 3, 6, 7, 16, 24
3. screenshot or description of the worst take you've seen on tumblr:
i strategically avoid bad takes on tumblr but the other day someone told me not to give credit to the hotd writers for making criston dornish bc he was dornish in the book. can u imagine if in the 4 lines of page space criston has in f&b grrm was like "btw he's dornish and stuff"
6. which ship fans are the most annoying?
specifically the jb's who erase cersei and make jb into a high school au "enemies" to lovers and also briennes a girlboss. also i dont really like any arranged marriage ships like that but esp not helaegon jace/baela or luke/rhaena they're just boring to me
7. what character did you begin to hate not because of canon but because how how the fandom acts about them?
in hotd it's aemond lol. idrc that he's your communist daddy dom malewife he was mean to larys.
in asoiaf i dont hate any characters i have grace and forgiveness for everyone. but there are a certain number of dany stans that make me want to tear my hair out
16. you can't understand why so many people like this thing (characterization, trope, headcanon, etc)
fire and blood
24. topic that brings up the most rancid discourse
most eyeroll-inducing is anything that has to do with character/actor physical attractiveness (arya is actually more beautiful than sansa bc she looks like lyanna, daenaera velaryon is the most beautiful 6 year old in the world, emma d'arcy is too "manish" to play rhaenyra etc.)
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factorydefaultlu · 2 years ago
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Tin's OCs
Clara Snow
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14 at the start of GoT
Jon's twin sister and Theon's wife
One child with Jon named Eddard
One child with Theon named Lyanna
Her direwolfs name is Shadow
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Danorlah Dynios "DandyLion"
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24 at the start of GoT
A Braavosi Bard, actor, and conman, genderfluid and very charismatic
Many rumored lovers, most notable is Brienne of Tarth and Jaime Lannister.
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Lucia Clegane
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13 at the start of GoT
'Daughter' of Gregor Clegane
Transgender FtM, although he can't quite put any actual words to how they identify.
Sansa's lover
Has a hound named Beastly
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Separate Universe
Achilles Targaryen
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21 at the start of HotD
Baby brother to Viserys and Daemon
Rider of Patroclus "Fire Personified"
Alicent's secret lover, whom he has one daughter with named Pandora
Criston's secret lover, though it doesn't last long and ends mutually.
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Separate Universe
Josephine Redwyne
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19 at the start of episode 8 of HotD
Daughter of Lord and Lady Redwyne
Serious religious trauma
Helaena's lady in waiting and lover.
Larys' wife (she doesn't love him, though he loves her)
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Separate Universe
Malys Maar
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16 years old, 8 years after the Dance takes place and the Greens win
Son of Lord Maar of Braavos
Kidnapped and sold into the whore business and is bought as a gift for Aemond by Aegon.
Aemond's lover
Aegon's lover/victim
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Separate Universe
Amalthea
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48 as a dragon, 20 as a human at the start of episode 8 of HotD
A dragon turned human
Aegon, Helaena, and Aemond's lover
One child with Aegon named Maegor
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Maegor
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21 at the start of GoT
Beastly son of Amalthea
He embarks on a mission to become a full dragon to be with his mother again. A curse turns him to gold for 175 years until Gerion accidentally breaks that curse.
Gerion Lannister's lover
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Separate Universe
Alucard Dagonhart
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24 when turned, over 150 years old at the start of HotD
A Nosferatu with a rich history, and an oath to keep to the Targaryens
Rhaenys I lover
Aemond's lover
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Periskevi
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190 years old at the start of GoT
A nyad from the surface waters of Ironman's Bay
Monarch of the Nyads.
A devout follower of the Drowned God.
Euron's lover
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fromtheboundlesssea · 6 months ago
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I'm curious what is your least favorite asoiaf pairing?
Sansa/Any Adult Man Who Trauma Dumps or Traumatizes Her (a literal child)
Jon/His abusers (Y+D)
Romantic Rhaegar/Lyanna
Alicent/Larys
Aemond/Luke
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genz420 · 4 months ago
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Beauty of Scars & Flowers - Chapter 7: Gift and Embraces.
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The morning air was crisp, and the chill nipped at the exposed skin of Lyanna’s neck and chest. When she heard the Southern ladies complain about the cold, she should have understood that her definition of cold and theirs were two completely different things.
Lyanna liked the cold. She preferred it much more than the heat of the sun. She enjoyed the feeling of the wind kissing her skin and the warmth that spread from her chest. Yet as she stood in the courtyard, watching all the ladies being fussed over, she regarded every listening to the unknown ladies. 
Her attendance at the outing was not her idea but her uncle's. It seemed that, with each passing day, Larys was more eager to give her away to any man who gave her the slightest attention. She was unsure who was hosting the event but knew of the people that would be in attendance.
Lyanna was determined to find out if Ser Alan was serious in their courting dance or if she was just another pretty thing for him to play with. She had thought that Ser Alan would have been a good match for her when she had first met him, but with each passing day and the presence of a certain prince, her confidence that he was serious about his attenuation shrunk. 
She watched from beside the horse that was assigned for the day as the ladies of the court gathered together, laughing and whispering with one another. The fact only reminded Lyanna that she was an outsider among the people of the Crownlands. 
Perhaps she should start to assimilate herself more with the customs here. She is sure Helaena would happily have her company during the masses that the Sept holds on the holy day. Or she could change her yellow and blue wardrobe to green. It seemed like she was going to be there for the long run. 
Lyanna continued to run her bare hand over the horse's mane as she watched longingly at the ladies. Not paying attention to the words that her uncle was saying. 
She had not paid attention to the words since he insisted she spend her day outside the Keep, choosing to act childless and pretend that her uncle did not exist. Larys would have been offended, but Lyanna always acted childishly when forced to do something she did not want to do. 
Aemond watched from his post within the threshold of the courtyard as Lyanna petted the horse in front of her. The second he took the step out of the keep, he could not turn back once he was spotted. 
The prince took a deep breath before straightening his back and making his way toward the two Strongs within the courtyard. The sword at his hip felt like it suddenly weighed a ton, and the gloves in his hand became as hot as Vhagar's wither skin. 
Larys noticed him first. The cripple bowed his head to the prince and stepped away from his niece, allowing the two young adults a moment to themselves. Aemond should have known that Larys had heard of the blossoming friendship between him and Lyanna; it always seemed that Larys knew the things happening around the keep before anyone else. 
“My Lady Strong,” Aemond broke the silence between them, his hands gripping the gloves in his hand to the point his knuckles turned as white as them. 
The prince's voice was enough for Lyanna to tear her gaze away from the ladies. As Lyanna turned to face the prince, she quickly curtsied to him before offering a kind smile. Before Lyanna could return the greeting, Aemond held out the pair of gloves in his hand. 
They were cloth, Lyanna noted, as white as fresh winter snow with a few different colour flowers embroidered along the cuff. They were beautiful, yet she made no move to accept them, just looking at them as if they were made of fire. 
Aemond waited for Lyanna to move to accept them, making a slight shift of his weight. He had spent the last few days reading about the culture of the first men, and he knew the significant meaning of a gift of gloves, but maybe this was too soon. Perhaps he should have started with letters and not moved straight to a piece of clothing.
Larys stood to the side, leaning on his cane as he watched the duo with narrow eyes.
“These are for you, My Lady Strong,” Aemond said again. His voice made Lyanna look away from the gloves and toward his face. 
He could see the slightest tint of pink on Lyanna's cheeks. So faint that if he did not have her face committed to memory, he could not notice a difference. Aemond watched as Lyanna swallowed and smacked her lips together before she pulled her eyebrows together.
“You did not have to, my prince,” Lyanna finally spoke up, taking a deep breath after she finished speaking.
Lyanna took a step away from the horse she had been petting and toward the prince. So close that Aemond could smell the floral perfume that she was wearing. It was so intoxicating that Aemond could not help himself from stepping toward her, closing the gap between them even more. 
“I insist,” He told her, his voice slightly softer and quieter than before. 
Lyanna looked back down to the gloves, one hand gently moving toward grasp one of them. Aemond could only watch as her fingers moved along the embroidery, waiting to see the reaction she would have. 
But before Lyanna could speak up, Larys joined the two of them. The clubfoot looked between his niece and the prince and the gloves that he was holding. Larys might have spent most of his life in the crownlands, but he remembered the customs and traditions of his people. 
“Say thank you, Lyanna,” Larys told her, and for the first time, it seemed like his niece did not fight his words. 
“Thank you,” she said as she took the gloves and looked back up at Aemond. She held them against her stomach, tracing her fingers over the embroidery while offering him a smile.
“Will you be joining us today, Ser Larys?” Aemond turned his attention away from Lyanna, not fighting the smile on his face. 
“I am afraid not.  My foot prevents me from riding. I trust you will after my beloved niece?” Larys asked Aemond as he taped his cane against the cobblestone. 
Lyanna could not help but snicker at her uncle's words as she looked down at her shoes and tried to bite away the smile on her face.  Beloved niece was the most humorous statement that her uncle had said so far.
“Of course,” Aemond assured Larys, who quickly gave the two of them a curt nod before leaving them. 
Lyanna watched as her uncle left, feeling like she could breathe again as he left her presence. She felt as if she could act like her true self without the nagging feeling that every move she made was the wrong one in her uncle's eyes. Lyanna looked back to Aemond, gently playing with her new gloves. 
“I did not know you would be joining us,” She told him as she returned to the horse. 
Aemond rested his hand on the pommel of his sword as he mirrored her movements. Standing not even an arm's length away from her, he patted the horse's rump. 
Helaena had been the one to inform him that Lyanna would be spending the day away from the keep with the rest of the young courtiers. Revealing to him, she planned to find out Alan's true intentions.  It just so happens that his training season had been cancelled, and he had the day free to do whatever he pleased. 
“I thought it would be fun to spend the day with my fellow young courtiers,” He answered as he looked around the courtyard. 
Lyanna did not stop the laugh that escaped her. 
She knew that Aemond held an interest in the lives of the courtiers. Only enjoying hearing the gossip about their lives but never socializing with them. 
“You think spending the day with Ser Alan will be fun?” She asked as she looked at Aemond; her words and smile were one of jest. 
That smile made Aemonds stomach feel warm. 
The morning sun made her skin glow, and Aemond wished he could thank whatever handmaid had dressed Lyanna. For the dress she wore hung off her shoulders. The skin of her shoulders and collarbones were free to soak up the sun's rays, and Aemond could feel his mouth drying at the thought of what it might feel like against his skin, against his lips. 
He pulled his eye away from the freckled skin and back toward Lyanna’s face. A tight smile was on his face, and any on-looker would assume that the prince was in a sour mood. 
“I think spending the day with you in the King’s Wood will be fun,” He whispered to her, not wanting the people around them to hear such tender words. 
“You honour me,” She whispered back, not hiding the smile that came on her face at his words. 
– – 
The ride to the Kingswood was filled with jokes shared between the prince and the soon-to-be lady of Harrenhal. The two of them were within their own world, not caring about the glances that were shot toward them by the other courtiers or side glances of Ser Arryk Cargyll. 
The two simply enjoyed the ride toward the wilderness, with Aemond pointing out different features of architecture to Lyanna. She had enjoyed listening to the prince and his knowledge about the city he had lived in his whole life. She didn’t focus her attention anywhere else but on him as they rode through the city and eventually the King’s Road to get to the camp. 
Once the group of courtiers arrived at the camp, Aemond could not help but slightly judge the scale of the camp. It all seemed rather intimate, with men and women all drinking and laughing loudly.
But maybe this is what this kind of event was like. 
Part of Aemond suddenly realizes that he was not invited, that he had invited himself, but he could not care. He wanted to spend the day with Lyanna. 
Aemond, still looking around, dismounted his horse first before handing the reins to Ser Arraky. He moved his neck around until he heard a satisfying crack. He then set his gaze on Lyanna, who was still atop her horse. 
Aemond, being the gentleman that he is, moved toward Lyanna. Instead of taking hold of the reins, he offered her a hand, which she gladly accepted. 
With one hand holding on hers, Aemond moved his other hand to rest against where he assumed her hip bone was. He relished in the moment of helping her dismount the horse and settling onto the ground. 
Even once Lyanna had her bearings, Aemond did waver from her side. He watched as she pulled her hair over one shoulder, exposing the bare skin of the other. His eyes stayed lingering on her chest and how, with each breath she took, her chest would almost spill out of her chest. 
The hand that Aemond had used to help Lyanna off her horse still rested against the dip of her hip. The feeling of her dress against his hand made his head hurt, knowing that only a few barriers separated them. 
He quickly removed his hand and stepped away as the unmistakable sound of the most annoying knight of the seven kingdoms sounded behind him. 
“Lyanna! You look beautiful, and with the flowers I have gifted you in your hair,” Alan broke the silence between Lyanna and Aemond. The knight’s arms were open wide in greeting, and a smile on his face. 
Even Aemond could not deny that the soon-to-be lord of Horn Hill was handsome. His face was free of scars and a typical man of descent of the first man. A common trait he shared with Lyanna was that Alan properly did not have to learn the dance of customers that is shared between two lovers like Aemond had to. 
Lyanna moved away from Aemond and toward the knight as she offered him a small smile. Aemond had not noticed the white flowers in Lyanna's hair, yet his gift cost significantly more than a few flowers. He’s held more meaning and commitment than some stupid flowers. 
Yet Aemond knew she probably cherished the flowers.  
“I thought I should make use of them before they wither away, Ser Alan,” Lyanna greeted back as she allowed the knight to take her hands.  
“No need for the formalities today; it will simply be us,” He spoke sweetly to her, his voice like honey and Lyanna now remembered why she tolerated the man.
“I think that Lord Larys would appreciate it if the formalities stayed,” Aemond said as he moved to stand beside Lyanna. He did not break his gaze away from Alan, instead straightening his posture.
The moment the prince spoke up, the joy on Alan’s face left and was replaced with distaste. It seemed that the two men held the same feeling for one another.  
“Prince Aemond,” Alan greeted with the bow of his head, letting go of Lyanna’s hands and stepping away from her. 
Lyanna looked back at Aemond, a slight pout on her face, before looking back to Alan with a smile.
“The prince is to be my chaperone for the day,” she told him as she tried to uplift the mood and situation. 
“How gracious of him,” He agreed, not looking at Lyanna but keeping eye contact with Aemond. 
The soon-to-be Lord's tone was only joyous, and it became clear to Lyanna and Alan that their plans for the day would not go according to plan. Yet the prince could not be happier. 
Lyanna grasped Alan's hands, pulling his attention back onto her and putting a warm smile on her face. She knew she had to charm a man who had been taught just like the rest of the daughters of nobility.  
“I have read a great deal about the wildlife in this area. Ser Alan, would you like to accompany me while I try to forage for some flowers,” Lyanna proposed, but her smile vanished as Alan ripped away his hands from hers and took another step away from her. 
“After I finish welcoming the rest of the ladies,” he told her curtly. Before Lyanna or Aemond could wish him a farewell, he was already moving toward another smaller group of ladies. 
Lyanna nodded to herself as she took a deep breath. Smoothing out of the front of the dress, she was unaware of the longing gaze of the prince standing behind her. 
“I will accompany you,” Aemond spoke once he was sure that Alan was far enough away from them, offering Lyanna his arm, which she gladly accepted.
“Thank my prince,” she thanked, giving him a small smile as they moved toward the tree line. 
With one wave of his hand, Aemond dismissed Ser Arryk as he and Lyanna left the group and ventured into the woods.
– 
“My prince?” Lyanna spoke up as she took Aemond’s arm once again. 
The only response she got from Aemond was a low hum as he guided the two along the riverbed. 
Lyanna kept glancing between him and the shrubbery around them, weighing the pros and cons of bringing up the topic she wished to talk about. 
The gift that Aemond had given her was the main thing she wished to ask about, but she feared that she might come off as rude and ungrateful for the prince's generosity. But the meaning behind it weighed heavy on her mind. 
If Aemond knew the significance or if it was just a friend gifting something to a friend like she had been doing with Helaena. 
“Why the gift?” Lyanna finally asked as she kept her eyes away from him so as not to see how he reacted. 
Aemond took his gaze off the greenery before them and glanced at Lyanna. He could see the slightest build-up of sweat on the side of her neck and that the bright sun was hurting her eyes. Could tell that she was slightly nervous when she asked her question. 
Aemond looked back before them as they entered a fall clearing of tall grass and wildflowers. The sound of birds and the buzz of insects were slightly overwhelming, but the smell was divine. He understood now why Lyanna yearned for nature and if this was what she was giving up while residing within the Keep. 
“Do I need a reason to give a dear friend of mine a gift?” Aemond simply asked as he tried to avoid answering the question. 
He kept his back straight as Lyanna unlinked their arms and moved to look at the flowers in front of them. She had taken out the small white flowers in her hair when they first entered the tree line, mumbling what he assumed were cruses in a foreign language as she did so. 
“I am your friend?” Lyanna asked as she picked a wildflower and handed it over to Aemond. The prince gladly took the flower from her as he nodded his head.
“I consider you one,” he answered as he followed her through the tall grass. It seemed like Lyanna knew where she was going, but a small part of Aemond worried about the safety of the land they were on.
“It’s just that to me, that kind of gift means something,” she told him, not stopping to look back at him. 
It was easier for her to focus on the nature around her than the heavy gaze of the prince. 
Aemond smiled as he noticed the slightest blush on the back of Lyanna’s neck. He would bet that her face held the same fairness of pink. A gift as simple as gloves had her flustered and confused, and that fact made Aemond proud of himself. 
“I did not know; my apologies,” He apologized as he sped up his pace to keep stride with Lyanna. 
Aemond knew what it meant. Knew that gloves were only given when serious interest was there. He had confirmed it not only with the maesters but also with two knights that were from the north. 
Ser Criston had almost overheard the conversation he had to have. Gods know that the Kingsguard would have run to his mother and told her. The headache from that would not have been worth it.  
“Perhaps you could tell my uncle such,” Lyanna proposes, worried about the future of their relationship if her uncle gets the wrong idea.  “The gift of gloves is often a late courting gift between betrotheds. I fear that my uncle will think it is you showing interest,”
Aemond hummed for her to continue; part of him wanted to keep listening to Lyanna, and the other wanted to ensure he had gotten the right information. 
“It symbolizes a man asking for the woman's hand. It is also a type of clothing,” She told him as she turned to look back at him. 
Lyanna stepped back and leaned against what she knew to be an oak tree. She could feel the roughness of the bark against the soft skin of her back, and she was sure her hair would be intertwined with the bark. 
She put her hands behind her back as she watched Aemond move closer to her as if a predator stalking its prey. 
Aemond moved to stand before Lyanna, one of his feet almost next to her as he leaned his weight against one leg. The prince crossed his arms behind his back, looking over Lyanna once. The humidity of the air caused her hair to become slightly frizzy, and a few strands had stuck themselves onto her temples. 
“What does clothing have to do with courting,” He asked as if he didn’t already know. But he wanted to hear her say it, needed to hear her say it. 
Lyanna could feel her chest become hot as Aemond's gaze remained on her. She had nowhere to run, not that she wanted to. 
She swallowed the saliva in her mouth before looking Aemond up and down. She did not know how he could look so flawlessly and perfectly put together. 
Lyanna took a breath before straightening herself. 
“You can not touch each other, so giving a gift that you have both had against your skin becomes the closest thing to it. Gloves, shirts, and garters,” she answered, her voice trailed off at the last word. 
The prince had asked her a question, and who was she to deny him an answer. 
The sides of his mouth perked slightly up at her words. Part of him thought that Lyanna would not tell him the whole truth, but he was glad she did. Aemond took another step toward the trapped Lyanna. They were so close to one another that their chests were almost touching. 
Only one breath separated them from one another. 
And at that, Lyanna could not help but slightly lick her lips as she forced herself to keep his gaze.
“Garters?” he asked, and his voice had a slight tone of jest. 
Both of them knew that they should not be talking about this. 
Should not be so close to one another. 
Should not even be left alone with one another. 
All it took was one onlooker for there to be repercussions of this conversation. 
But that was part of the thrill for both of them.
“It’s scandalous. Erotic even, the intimacy of giving something that will hold up a woman's stockings so close...I’ve heard men even have messages in silk embroidered in them,” Lyanna continued, and she did not waver as she saw Aemonds hand move to touch a loose curl of her hair. 
She did not move as she felt his knuckle gently graze against her ear or when one of his hands gently clasped around her waist. 
She did not move as the prince leaned him to the other side of her face, cheek against cheek, as he whispered in her ear.  
“What kind of messages?” he asked her before he moved his lips to ghost against the skin of her cheek and jawline. 
“I have yet to have such kind of gift, so I can not say,” Lyanna answered as she carefully moved her head to the side, yet she worried that any movement she made would scare away the prince. 
Aemond smiled as he gently planted a kiss against her jaw, moving his free hand to hold the other side of her neck; Lyanna moved to grab his wrist as she shifted on her feet.
Aemond carefully moved his thumb along the side of her jaw as his lips made their way to the underside of her jaw. 
Everywhere he touched, he left a trail of waking fire along her skin. He could tell how his actions affected her by how her breathing deepened, and she leaned into him.  
She could feel the blush that was on her face and chest. Yet she did not want the overwhelming feeling to end. 
She wanted to feel his lips against all the skin of her body. She wanted to feel his hands against her skin. She wanted him. 
She could take in here in the woods if he allowed. Fuck dignity and tradition. She now understood why lust dedicated people's actions. 
“Maybe I could change that,” Aemond whispered against her skin as he planned another kiss against her skin.
Lyanna was about to nod before a lady's scream pulled them out of their haze. The two moved just far enough away to look each other in the eyes.
The sound of laughter of both men and women quickly followed the scream.
She was the first to move as she pulled herself away from Aemond and the tree. Not caring about the pain of her hair being stuck within the tree's bark. Lyanna moved her hand over the skin of her neck where Aemonds lips were. 
She cleared her throat and turned to look at the prince, who was already watching her. For once, Lyanna could not read his face. 
“It seems that the ladies are having fun. “We should rejoin the party, should we not?” Lyanna asked, and Aemond nodded. He started back toward the group, leaving Lyanna to follow after him. 
– – 
Lyanna was knelt before the Heart Tree. She could feel the wet dirt against her knees as it seeped through the fabric of her stocking, probably staining both the fabric and her skin with each second she stayed. The corset of her dress felt tight against her chest with each breath she took, and the pins in her hair felt like they were stabbing her scalp. 
But through her pain, the only movement was those of her lips as she whispered her prayer. 
She had made a beeline for the Godswood when she and Aemond arrived back at the keep, not stopping when she heard the prince call out to her. And once she arrived at the holy place, she had planted herself before the tree and had yet to leave it. 
The sun had long left the sky, but Lyanna remained.
She prayed through the pain of hunger that came from her stomach—prayed through the bite of the chill of night.  Her eyes closed so she did not have to see the red weeping tears of the tree judging her. Yet even with her eyes closed, she could still feel the eyes of the nameless gods judging her as she prayed and repented.  
Whenever she thought she had prayed for enough forgiveness, her skin would burn where Aemond’s lips had once ghosted against her neck and lips, and then she would start the prayers again. 
It seemed like any self-dignity and preservation that Lyanna thought she had would burn to ash the second the prince joined her side. No, whenever the prince was in eyesight, they would become as if the flames of desire burned inside her. Lyanna knew what would happen if anyone were to discover the events today: she would be sent back to Harrenhal, and the title she fought so hard for would be given to her uncle. 
Lyanna could not allow that. Could not let all the sacrifices be for nothing. 
Larys could not help but compare his niece to a child asking for forgiveness from a parent as he watched her pray. The moon's light casted a shadow of her body against the ground, and Larys was reminded of how young Lyanna was. He was sure that if her parents had survived the fire, they would fight to keep her locked away in Harrenhal and away from any man she might be able to marry. 
The language of her prayers was now foreign to him, but he knew that his niece would not spend hours before her gods praying for a simple mistake. She had been raised by devout worshipers of the old ways, and every decision she made was with them in mind. Larys knew that much about his estranged niece.
“Care to say why you missed our dinner,” Larys broke the silence of the night. 
He waited for Lyanna to respond to him, yet as he watched her kneeling figure, she made no movement to get up or answer him. Larys tapped his cane against the ground and cleared his throat, waiting for a response from the girl deep in prayer. 
“No. I’m praying, so go away,” she answered him, her voice coarse, and it was clear that she needed a drink to soothe it. 
Lyanna did not want to face her uncle. Even if he was a cripple, she was sure that he would be able to see through her lies and know precisely what she had done. That he would punish her for her harlot actions and desires. 
So Lyanna remained knelt. She would stay before the tree until she could move past her improper behaviour and thoughts. The gods would tell her when she was done. 
“You have been praying for hours,” His tone was one of authority, yet Lyanna could only choke down a snicker at it. 
He might be her elder, but Larys held little true authority over her when they were in private. He could not physically punish her, nor would the rest of their family be okay with any humiliation that Larys might put her through as a punishment. She was sure her aunts would ride to the Keep themselves if he did so. 
“I have been neglecting the gods since I arrived in the south; I just wish to show devotion once again,” Her voice was louder this time as if with each moment Larys spent in her presence, she was coming out of her trance of prayer. 
“Lying before that tree is a sin, Lyanna. That is much I remember,” Larys told her, hoping to use her faith to gain the truth from her. 
Her words were not lies and, therefore, not sin. She tried to tell herself. 
Lyanna sighed to herself. She knew that Larys would not be leaving her alone. With shaky legs, she stood up. The sound of her knee popping raised slight concern, but the stiffness in her legs and throbbing pain in her head raised more. 
Maybe she shouldn’t have skipped her dinner. 
Lyanna's hands moved to rest on her hips as she took a deep breath and turned to face her uncle. Rolling her shoulders as she moved toward her henched man. 
“Is praying to the old gods forbidden now? Do I need to go to the Stept and light a candle?” Her tone had a bit of bitterness and venom that the sweet girl here a second ago did not usually possess, but it was reminded of a woman he had long since forgotten.  
Or tried to forget. She often plagued his dreams, and sometimes, when he was awake, he could swear that he saw her within the darkness of the corridors.  
“It is time to retire for the day, Lyanna,” He calmly told her. He did not want to alert her of how her voice truly shivered his bones. 
The darkness of the night made her hair look almost black; her soft features were suddenly sharp, and he could see a sparkle of green in the brown of her eyes. As Lyanna stood before Larys, it was as if her face was transforming into hers.
As he spoke, Lyanna could not help but roll her eyes. She knew that it was of no use to fight now. She was tired, and her bed was calling for her. 
She let her arms fall and began to move toward the exit of the Godswood. But as she moved past her uncle, he quickly wrapped a hand around her arm, stopping her from moving further. 
Larys debated whether or not he should press the issue further. He might be able to gain the truth from Lyanna if he continued to annoy her with his questions. 
But as he held her arm in his hand, her eyes only narrowed, and her mouth turned into a scowl. The more he looked, the more he saw of her. 
But she was always present in Lyanna in the way she held herself—the quickness to her jabs of words. 
Larys let go of her arm, resting both hands on the pommel of his cane. He offered her a small fake smile.
“You remind so much of her in this light,” He quietly whispered to her, as if the tree in front of them was listening to the words. 
Lyanna's brows pulled tougher, and she swallowed the spit in her mouth. She moved slightly to face her uncle, unsure of who he was referring to.
“My mother?” She asked, her voice louder than Larys’s. 
He shook his head as he responded. “The wretched witch that raised you,”
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horizon-verizon · 1 year ago
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ASoIaF Fandom Shipping (Romantic or Otherwise)
Canon, Confirmed Ships (Actually Occurs in Canon)
        - Alysanne & Jaehaerys Targaryen
        - Rhaena Targaryen & Elissa Farman
        - Rhaena Targaryen & Aegon Targaryen
        - Rhaenyra & Daemon
        - Rhaenyra & Harwin
        - Rhaenyra Targaryen & Laena Velaryon
        - Daemon Targaryen & Laena Velaryon
        - Lyanna & Rhaegar
        - Cersei & Jaime
        - Rhaenys Targaryen & Corlys Velaryon
        - Daenerys (Naerys’ Daughter) & Daemon Blackfyre 
        - Brynden Rivers & Shiera Seastar
        - Shaera & Jaehaerys Targaryen
HotD/Fire and Blood (the Dance) Ships
        - Rhaenyra and Alicent
        - Alicent and Larys
        - Aemond and Helaena
        - Aemond and Alys        - Aemond and Rhaena
        - Aegon (II) and Helaena
        - Aemond and Lucerys
        - Aemond and Jacaerys
        - Daemon and Nettles
        - Daemon and Aemond
        - Alysanne Blackwood (Black Aly) & Cregan Stark
AGoT/GoT Ships
        - Daenerys Targaryen & Jon Snow
        - Jon Snow & Sansa Stark
        - Jon Snow & Arya Stark
        - Brienne and Jaime
        - Daenerys Targaryen & Jorah Mormont
        - 
AWoIaF Ships
        - Naerys and Aemon
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hiddenwashington · 2 years ago
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Anonymous asked: mw from got/hotd?
from game of thrones our members would love to see: oberyn martell, ashara dayne, arthur dayne, robert baratheon, gendry, podrick payne, bronn, ser davos, any of the sand snakes, loras, garlan and willas tyrell, joanna lannister, asha/yara greyjoy, renly baratheon, alys karstark, lyanna mormont, any of the other mormont sisters, maege mormont, jeor mormont, melisandre, tywin lannister, val the wildling, mance rayder, tormund giantsbane, gilly, samwell tarly, ellaria sand, quentyn martell, arienne martell, trystane martell, grey worm, shireen baratheon, aegon targaryen (martell), bran stark, rickon stark, brandon and benjen stark, any of the targaryens, the direwolves, rhaegal and drogon! from house of the dragon our members would love to see: criston cole, corlys velaryon, rhaeyns targaryen, harrold westerling, baela and rhaena targaryen, viserys targaryen, lucerys velaryon, ammena arryn, alys rivers, any of the dragons and larys strong! 
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ao3feed-rhaewin · 1 year ago
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huramuna · 10 months ago
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wine red, tears gold - chapter 3.
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king aegon II x baratheon ofc
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a 'what if aegon didn't get poisoned and the greens technically won the dance but at what cost' au. basically aegon, alicent, otto and jaehaera are the only greens alive. and larys i guess. someone get rid of this guy.
word count: 3.8k
no more taglists unfortunately (i always forget and then feel bad) so please follow & turn on notifs for @huramuna-fics
content: smut (specifics below cut), canon typical misogyny, canon typical violence, angst, fluff, arranged marriage, touch-staved aegon, aegon isn't a r*pist in this au but he is still a bad person and has his vices, ofc and aegon need to go to therapy together, justice for jaehaera, awkward sex, kind of a slow burn, infidelity
jealous sea - meg myers • drinking lightning - AWOLNATION
warnings: oral (f receiving)
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Waves upon a placid sea, bobbing with the tide. The warmth of the water enveloped her and was something akin to comfort— something she was severely lacking these days.
Lyanna imagined herself as a piece of driftwood lost in the ocean, strewn back and forth with the motion of the swells, wishing and hoping to wash ashore, but not actually moving.
Opening her eyes, she sat up in the tub, filling her lungs with air. Her maids gasped and fretted over her, citing that she could drown doing such things. Mayhaps she could, but it was unlikely. If the Gods were to strike her down and have her drown in a bathtub after being the queen for approximately a fortnight, then so be it. She would be of a similar laughing stock as Rhaenyra was around the Keep. The two of them would be dubbed ‘The Half-year Queen’ and ‘The Drowned Queen’. The jest almost brought a smile to her face– almost.
It had been a half-month since she had moved to her own chambers, since Aegon had dubbed her hideous and unworthy of his time. She fell into a deep depression for about three days, only allowing Alicent in her chambers. Tears weren’t shed, no– she was too numb for it. She felt as if she was living outside of her body, chained to her husk like a ghost.
On the fourth day, something in her snapped. Mayhaps it was the last of her innocence, of her girlish and naive view of the world finally shriveling up and dying– but the numbness didn’t hurt any longer. It was just there, an ever present reminder that this was her life now. As melancholy as she was, she felt it a duty to herself to atleast make an effort. So, on that fourth day, she picked herself up and requested a golden and green dress to wear, having her hair up in a half-do with intricate braids. Her posture was set rigid, her hands clasped over one another, now adorned in rings. She walked the gardens with Alicent and some other ladies, visited the Sept, and read in the library.
Aegon was nowhere to be found during those times and she wondered if he was avoiding her– it would be good, if so. Let him.
She decided to make a statement– to attend the Small Council meeting, another one of Alicent’s suggestions. Lyanna wished to be taken seriously, and should have her hand in many pots, so to speak, at the Keep and in King’s Landing. The Small council was one of those.
This morn, a half-month since her wedding, it was particularly dreary. Storm clouds hung above King’s Landing like an oppressing force, hiding away the sun and churning up the seas. Instead of indulging in the gloomy weather, she had her maids dress her brightly– a dress yellow like the sun, embroidered with gleaming jewels and a sweeping decollage to match, leading to an ornate depiction of a golden stag. Her hair was braided into two buns, fixated to her head with interweaving golden accents and pearls.
As she entered the council chamber, which was already in session, the heads at the tables turned to her. All of the men at the table stood up and bowed their heads except for one.
Aegon sat across the table, leaned back in the chair like a sloven cad, looking less than enthused at Lyanna’s presence. “My dear wife, dressed so brightly,” he mused, his fingers grasping around the marble ball at the table– his was golden and pink, an homage to Sunfyre– “To what do we owe the pleasure?”
“Husband,” she greeted back in a similar temperature, her facade warm. She looked at him head on, unwavering in her stance. Outwardly, she was the symbol of stalwart, a small smile gracing her lips. On the inside, she was remembering everything he had said, what he had done– she wanted to run away, to cower like a little girl. Lyanna smoothed down her skirt, “I simply wished to sit in on the meeting. Forgive me for my absence these past two weeks, my lords. I’ve needed much time to adjust to the capitol– but I am ready now to attend each meeting going forward.” she spoke evenly, moving towards an empty seat. It was across from Aegon’s. She pulled her own marble out from her pocket and put it in the circular ramekin– hers was colored gold and green.
“Each meeting?” Aegon drawled. “Certainly there is no need for that– mayhaps your time would be better spent with the court ladies, organizing luncheons and the like.”
Lyanna seethed beneath the surface, resisting the urge to pick at her cuticles. She took a deep breath. “Yes, each meeting. I don’t see why I cannot attend each small council meeting and organize luncheons with my courtiers, husband. Now, what is the topic of discussion?”
One of the lords spoke up, she recognized him as Ser Wylde, “Ah– yes, your grace,” he bumbled slightly, trying to remember the subject of conversation before she had come in, “There are… some emissaries from Dorne arriving on the morrow. We are ascertaining what sort of welcome they should receive.”
Otto Hightower was sitting near Aegon, his eyes not leaving Lyanna since she had arrived in the chamber. He seemed amused. “We were speaking of the cost it would be to give them a warm welcome. A feast, a celebration and the like– the coffers won’t support such an event.”
Lyanna perked a brow, her thumb and forefinger rimming around the marble idly, not dissimilar to how Aegon had been fiddling with his before– this was by coincidence, however– “Well, if I may be so bold as to put myself in their shoes,” she began, “It is quite a long and tenuous journey from here to Dorne, if I recall correctly. If I were a diplomat from Dorne getting off the boat after such a dreary travel, the last thing I would want is an extravagant party and hundreds of people to meet and entertain. What if we gave them a warm, intimate welcome? Mayhaps dinner with the King and I, some food and music, wine and a bit of dancing. Nothing overly… pompous.”
“They are from Dorne. They are overly pompous. Surely they would be bored of a small gathering and take it as an insult?” Aegon countered.
“What would you suggest then, my king?” Lyanna quipped back, leaning forward in her seat. Her leg was bouncing under the table errantly as she tried to contain her anxious energy.
Aegon stared blankly at Lyanna, the marble still rolling between his fingers. Then, he slammed it back down onto the wooden placing. “It is the best idea we have had. Very well. Small and intimate. Grandsire, you and mother shall attend as well. You’re much better at… diplomacy than I. Mayhaps we shall see how my dear Lyanna fares at her first taste of it, hm?”
After about thirty more minutes of back and forth about other subjects, the meeting was adjourned. The Lords left, leaving Lyanna and Aegon alone in the chamber.
She picked up her marble and placed it back in her pocket, straightening her skirts as she got up.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Aegon spoke then, having come up behind her quicker than she could register.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You haven’t spoken to me in over a ten-day and you show up to the council meeting looking like… a beacon of the sun– and challenging me in front of the council. That is what I am speaking about.” Aegon’s hand grabbed her wrist as it came back out from her pocket, looking over it.
Lyanna glowered at him. “I am simply doing my duty as Queen. A good queen is informed about the going-ons of her small council, is she not?”
Aegon snorted. “Oh, yes– another page out of my mother’s book. Arriving somewhere you weren’t invited to fashionably late wearing the loudest outfit possible with the subtext of wanting attention. Do you even have an original thought in your head, wife? First, you could only parrot your oaf of a father’s words, and now my mother is trickling her spew down your ear. Truly, you’re like a fucking puppet. Where are you strings, puppet?” he sneered, pinching at her bare collarbone.
She let out the tiniest of whimpers at his pinch, doubling down and smacking Aegon right across his face.
He answered with a whimper of his own, his bottom lip pouting out for a moment. “Still not original, little rabbit.” he growled, squeezing her wrist tightly.
Over her stint locked away in her room, she thought of many things she wished to do to Aegon– anything to make him feel a semblance of the pain he had put unto her. Her knee came up, knocking him straight in his balls.
“Fucking, fuck,” he groaned, releasing her wrist and doubling over.
She expected him to explode at her, unsheathe his sword and cut her down for raising a hand– and knee– to him. But, when he looked up, he was smiling. “T-that… was original,” he croaked out, chuckling. “I kind of enjoyed that.”
Lyanna’s lip curled up. “You’re a pig.” she promptly picked up her skirts and left the room, not entirely sure what had just happened.
Up until that moment, Aegon hadn’t felt anything but mostly indifference to Lyanna. She was boring, plain featured and nothing to write home about.
Still, even after all he had said to her– he had meant it– he still felt… odd that she hadn’t spoken to him since then. Being married to Helaena was a hell in itself, but even hell can become familiar. Aegon was a creature in need of affection, of touch. Even when it was his mother slapping him or his grandsire pushing him– that meant that they loved him, in some way, right? With Helaena, she didn’t like touch like he did, shying away usually. They came to a middle ground during some point in their marriage that when Aegon needed touch, he could lay his head in Helaena’s lap while she embroidered or talked to bugs. They wouldn’t speak to one another– they just knew, and so it was.
Helaena was gone now, though. And now it felt that the only physical contact he got from others was those that he paid for and those that he earned from his mother and grandsire. And now, Lyanna, apparently. Her hand was warm when it came across his face and her lip quivered like she was on the verge of tears again. He couldn’t resist getting another jab in– and neither could she, apparently, as she kneed him in the balls. That was a new one for him and it fucking hurt– but it sent an electric shock to the fucked up part of his brain– wasn’t that all of it? – and he somewhat liked it. Not in a sexual way, contrary to what one might think, but in a way that he needed… contact.
He mulled it over for hours after it happened, deep into the night. He wanted to knock at her doors and explain the entirety of his fucked up life and his previous fucked up marriage to his sister and how she used to let him lay his head on her lap– and if he could do it with her.
But he would be an idiot if he thought that would work.
The following day, into the feast welcoming the Dornish emissary, an unfamiliar feeling bubbled up in his chest as he sat at the table.
Lyanna, dressed in sunflower yellow, looking as radiant as the sun, was dancing with one of the Dornish men. Prince Qyle, he remembered. His hands were grasped firmly around Lyanna’s waist– she was corseted tighter than normal today, he noted– as they danced.
He tried to pinpoint the feeling– it was a warmth simmering in his gut, threatening to boil over at any moment if this man didn’t get his hands off of his wife. Aegon’s pulse thrummed in his neck, his blood searing hot in his veins.
She laughed– Lyanna laughed. Aegon didn’t think he had ever heard that noise before but he longed to hear it again. He bit down on his lip, drawing blood. Why did he care if she was dancing with him? Aegon didn’t even really like her– she… she wasn’t hideous, of course, and in the right light and colors, she was pretty but– she was boring! A boring woman with nothing to offer him, when he could easily procure any woman of his choice just outside the castle walls. A boring woman who… he had made cry. Who he had said horrible things to– who was now dancing with a fucking Dornish prince and laughing. A Dornish prince who had his hands on his wife, the fucking queen– he was jealous.
Jealous? Jealousy never really permeated him until he was intertwined with Lyanna. At their wedding, with the men pawing at her– and now.
His blood was on fire and he needed to quell it. Immediately.
Hours passed during the feast and Aegon didn’t make a move– until he saw Lyanna leave the hall and go back to her chambers. It was a horrible idea, in truth, to follow her– but he couldn’t help it. As she went to close the door behind her, Aegon stopped her hand, slipping in and closing it.
“Hello, wife,” he murmured, trying not to sound as if he was in pain– which he was, the blood of the dragon running through him like sweltering lava. “Did you enjoy yourself?”
Lyanna looked surprised to see him, her big brown eyes glazing over once more like they had when they first met– like a rabbit in the snare of a predator. “Husband,” she responded slowly, her hands reaching up to pull the pins from her hair. “Yes, I enjoyed myself quite thoroughly. Prince Qyle is a fantastic dancer.”
“Oh– I’m sure. You let him put his hands all over you like you’re some sort of commodity.”
“Excuse me?”
“Tell me, did you like him touching you? Holding you close and no doubt whispering sweet nothings in your ear?”
Lyanna simmered for a moment, plopping down the pearl pins onto her boudoir. “Are you quite finished yet?”
Aegon bit the inside of his cheek, his blood still stoked to a flame. “No, the opposite in fact. It’s hilarious, really— how I was so ready to grovel at your feet last night, offer an olive branch to you,” he paced back and forth, twisting his rings, “But then you just have to throw it back in my face, hm? Parade yourself like a whore with a fucking Dornish prince of all things. Is this your idea of getting back at me? Hm? Notching your corset tighter and… looking like the sun itself and letting another man put his hands on you?”
She stopped fiddling with her hair as the last pin came loose, letting it fall down her back in dark brown waves. “You really have the audacity to call me a whore, Aegon?” she murmured, fingers gripped on the wooden edge of her vanity. “You are a whore, Aegon. As much as any of the ones you pay to sleep with you.”
The king scoffed, an unbelieving chuckle coming from his throat. “A whore. You call me a whore?” he glanced at her with red rimmed eyes, brow furrowed.
“Yes, you’re a whore. Mayhaps I should treat you like one. If I threw you some coin, would you grovel at my feet as you were so ready to do so last night, apparently?”
His mouth went slightly dry at the notion, his clothes feeling a bit tighter than before. Clearing his throat, he adjusted the collar of his doublet. “I have no need for your coin,” he retorted, “I’d do it for free.”
This caught her off guard and she turned to him. “… what?”
“I’ll grovel. I’ll prostrate myself for you like a whore— if,” his voice changed tone, something akin to uncertainty. It reminded Lyanna of their wedding night. “If you… will indulge me for the evening.”
Lyanna looked dumbfounded, her abashed confidence melting away. “You want to… couple with me?” she murmured with confusion.
“I can make you feel good if you just… let me sleep here tonight.”
She blinked profusely at his seemingly timid offer. She didn’t exactly know what he meant by it, but it made a warmth tingle within her at the thought. “… okay.”
Aegon’s eyes flicked up to her in disbelief, he didn’t expect her to say yes. He resisted the urge to smile smugly, as not to irritate her further. “Can I touch you?”
Lyanna nodded slowly.
He came before her as she sat at her vanity, very much still dressed from the feast. Kneeling down, he rucked up her skirts and dragged a testing finger near her inner thigh.
“… tickles.” she mewled, twitching slightly. They both must’ve indulged too much in wine this eve, or else this may not be happening.
“Damned skirts,” he growled, flitting through layers of tulle and silk. Throwing caution to the wind, he unsheathed the Valyrian Steel dagger at his hip, “Stay still.” he started at her chest, bringing the blade downward to slice the fabric apart like butter, effectively cutting her out of her outfit. She was left in her underclothes and corset.
Her face went beet red at the gesture, the unexpected precision of Aegon made that heat within her continue to build. “Y-you could’ve taken it off like normal, Aegon— this was Myrish lace!”
“Too much time and effort. I think you quite liked it as well,” he hummed, bringing the pad of his thumb to the apex of her thighs, feeling a growing wet spot. “Seems I was right.”
“… hmm,” she murmured, hiding her face behind her hands.
He pressed a hand to her corseted chest, leaning her back against the desk, his other hand prying open her legs further, to where she was positioned exactly how he wanted her. He hooked his arms under her thighs, effectively throwing both of her legs over his shoulders. Peering up at her from below, the way she hid her face, the edges of red blush eking out from her parted fingers, her now tousled hair falling over her like a curtain— it made something deep within him stir, something he couldn’t quite name yet.
Sliding the soft cotton of her panties to the side, he observed her form. He had been up close and personal with his fair share of cunt, but not usually in clear lighting and not black-out drunk. Her folds were a lovely shade of pink, curtained by dark brown curls. Parting them with his fore and middle finger, he found what he was looking for. His tongue prodded at her pearl experimentally, testing her reaction.
Her fingers opened slightly, the deep color of her eyes staring at him hazily. “W-wh— what was that?”
Aegon almost felt bad for her, poor thing had likely never touched herself before— surely this had to be an act of kindness and service that he was introducing this to her. “Your clit, dear,” he spoke before rasping at it again with his tongue, extracting a surprisingly delightful little whimper from her. “Feels good?”
Lyanna’s fingers were closed once more as she hid. “Mmhm…”
Wishing to hear her little noises again, he pulled her closer to his face, his hands gripping her bottom like a lifeline. He started slow, licking up and down her folds, savoring and enjoying her taste. Then, he decided he was done being merciful. His mouth latched onto her clit, suckling at it like he was a man starved. Her whimpers of pleasure turned into a siren’s song, breathy moans, broken strings of his name— she didn’t even know what she was asking for, but she wanted more.
“A-Aeg— w—,” Lyanna cried, the coil of warmth within her coming to a searing height, “S-some… something—,” her hand had autonomously threaded into his hair, pulling on his strands. He had seen the expression of bliss and ecstasy on her face, with the light of the candles illuminating the delicate planes of her face as she came and he thought she looked… beautiful. Her climax hit her hard and fast, her legs shaking as she unraveled completely, thighs snapping close around Aegon’s face.
He didn’t mind, of course— if he was to suffocate between a woman’s thighs after making her come, so be it. As a bonus, he kept up his ministrations on her pearl, not letting go until she pulled him off like a leech.
“S’too much— t-too much,” she heaved. Lyanna’s skin was pinkened, legs shaky still like a newborn fawn. “W-what was that? That wasn’t coupling— it wouldn’t result in a child.”
Aegon wiped his face with the back of his hand. “No, it wasn’t. It’s called pleasure, Lyanna. You surely have a lot to learn about it, it seems.”
“… I don’t understand.”
“That’s what whores do, they are experienced in the art of pleasure. It all isn’t just to make children— that isn’t the end all be all of it— sometimes, you can do it just for fun, for release, for pleasure— and also for love and romance and all that.”
“Hm.” she huffed, “So you aren’t… going to fornicate with me?”
Aegon smirked. “You put it so delicately, my queen,” his grin was toothy and made Lyanna feel faint, “No. Not right now at least— although, I am not opposed to it in the future. It is expected to conceive an heir but we have time for that.”
“Oh. Well… what about your… pleasure? Your release?”
His brow furrowed for a moment. This was the part where he’d have a whore ride him to completion or take him in her mouth— but he didn’t exactly feel the need to do it now. He was aroused, to be sure, but it wasn’t an overwhelming need like usual. He felt… satiated by satiating her. “No need.”
He helped her out of her corset and into her nightgown, relishing in how she subtly leaned into his touch.
“So, you just wish to sleep here tonight?” she asked as she climbed into bed.
“Yes— and I have… a request,” he climbed in after her, discarding everything but his small clothes on the floor. “Can I rest my head… here?” he pointed to her lap.
He fully expected her to laugh at him, to berate him— even if, deep down, he knew she wouldn’t— but she just nodded. “Just… lay?”
“Just lay.”
She pat her lap and he slowly descended, putting his head down. It felt… good. She was soft in all of the right places and she smelled… pleasant. And she was warm. He curled up next to her, bringing his body into itself and closing his eyes.
Sometime during the night, he felt her fingers glide through his hair, drawing soothing circles on his scalp as he slept.
He hadn’t slept better since he was a child.
this is what lyanna's 'revenge' outfit looked like.
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