#maester marwyn

[allovesthings]

While the organization of the Maesters is extremely and completely sus, I love that we get some individual maesters who are genuinely sympathetic like Maester Cressen (yes he did try to murder someone, yes he is still sympathetic, those two things are not mutually exclusive 😁) or maester Pylos who help Davos to save Edric Storm, Maester Luwin and maester Aemon (or even Marwyn).

It's a nice way of having nuance there.

[rosaluxembae]

"No. Hear me, Daenerys Targaryen. The glass candles are burning. Soon comes the pale mare, and after her the others. Kraken and dark flame, lion and griffin, the sun's son and the mummer's dragon. Trust none of them. Remember the Undying. Beware the perfumed seneschal."

So the mummer's dragon is someone travelling to Daenerys. I've seen suggestion for alternative mummer's dragons like Jon and whatnot but this passage makes it seem unlikely. The obvious answer is still Young Griff, maybe he's fAegon Blackfyre all along. Except when I take a closer look at the list something makes me doubt it. It seems strange to have the Griffin (JonCon) at towards the start of this list and then Young Griff at the end.

We also have Victarion Greyjoy, Tyrion Lannister and Quentyn Martell. My first thought when I read Pale Horse was "isn't that pestilence? It might be a sigil tho I can't remember". And sure enough the Pale Mare is a Meereenese name for the Bloody Flux/Dysentery. I didn't know who Dark Flame was but apparently the consensus is it's a red priest that's with Victarion.

So that would suggest the pairs are traveling parties. You have the Iron Fleet, Young Griff's supporters, and then Quentyn and the Mummer's Dragon. So is the mummer's dragon someone with Quentyn? As funny as it would be to say it's Drink (Gerris "Secret Targaryen" Drinkwater???) I think it's more likely to be a miscellaneous pairing of characters travelling separately.

The only other character I can think of travelling to Daenerys is Maester Marwyn but why would he be the mummer's dragon? The only thing I can think of is he's stand-in for Maester Aemon. But then you'd expect him to be referred to as something mastiff/dog or maybe mage or something related. I find his absence suspicious tho. Unless the prophecy is saying he is the one she should trust.

Basically IDK but just putting down some thoughts I found interesting

[barbreypilled]

my main takeaway from my aGoT reread was that I want a prequel series about Mirri’s Asshai era I just know she was off that shade of the evening absolutely wreaking havoc

[vivacissimx]

Heyy hope you're well. Ignore this if you want but I'm curious, do you believe in the Maester Conspiracy?

Let me take this step by step. Long post incoming but you asked, so:

WELCOME TO VIVACISSIMX'S CONCLUSIVE POST ON THE MAESTER CONSPIRACY!!!

The Maester Conspiracy is the theory that the maesters of the citadel work in concert with one another to effect certain political ends in line with their longstanding designs for Westeros — including a specific aim to hamper the existence/return of magic via living dragons.

The only dragontamers during the times of Fire & Blood and ASOIAF are Targaryens, so it ties together as: the maesters have sought to limit/manipulate/end Targaryen rule because they are anti-magic for reasons known best to them.

Do I believe in this? Textually it's pretty clear that this phenomenon exists.

FIRST: REASONS THE MAESTER CONSPIRACY IS DEFINITELY ACTUALLY FACTUALLY REAL

ONE: Multiple characters from different backgrounds tell us so.

Pycelle’s breathing was rapid and shallow. “All I did, I did for House Lannister.” A sheen of sweat covered the broad dome of the old man’s brow, and wisps of white hair clung to his wrinkled skin. “Always.. for years... your lord father, ask him, I was ever his true servant... ’twas I who bid Aerys open his gates... ” That took Tyrion by surprise. He had been no more than an ugly boy at Casterly Rock when the city fell. “So the Sack of King’s Landing was your work as well?” “For the realm! Once Rhaegar died, the war was done. Aerys was mad, Viserys too young, Prince Aegon a babe at the breast, but the realm needed a king... I prayed it should be your good father, but Robert was too strong, and Lord Stark moved too swiftly... ” “How many have you betrayed, I wonder? Aerys, Eddard Stark, me... King Robert as well? Lord Arryn, Prince Rhaegar? Where does it begin, Pycelle?”

—ACOK, Tyrion VI + emphasis mine

[Archmaester] Marywn smiled a ghastly smile, the juice of the sourleaf running red between his teeth. “Who do you think killed all the dragons the last time around? Gallant dragonslayers armed with swords?” He spat. “The world the Citadel is building has no place in it for sorcery or prophecy or glass candles, much less for dragons. Ask yourself why Aemon Targaryen was allowed to waste his life upon the Wall, when by rights he should have been raised to archmaester. His blood was why. He could not be trusted. No more than I can.”

—AFFC, Samwell V

Why can't Archmaester Marwyn be trusted? Since it's the same reason Aemon can't be trusted?

"Archmaester Marwyn's Book of Lost Books." [Rodrik Harlaw] lifted his gaze from the page to study her. "Hotho brought me a copy from Oldtown. He has a daughter he would have me wed." Lord Rodrik tapped the book with a long nail. "See here? Marwyn claims to have found three pages of Signs and Portents, visions written down by the maiden daughter of Aenar Targaryen before the Doom came to Valyria.

—AFFC, The Kraken's Daughter

His interest in Targaryen prophecy, perhaps? (Aemon is also seen to have said interest, corresponding with Rhaegar Targaryen on the matter.)

[Barbrey Ryswell:] "[Maesters] heal, yes. I never said they were not subtle. They tend to us when we are sick and injured, or distraught over the illness of a parent or a child. Whenever we are weakest and most vulnerable, there they are. Sometimes they heal us, and we are duly grateful. When they fail, they console us in our grief, and we are grateful for that as well. Out of gratitude we give them a place beneath our roof and make them privy to all our shames and secrets, a part of every council. And before too long, the ruler has become the ruled. "That was how it was with Lord Rickard Stark. Maester Walys was his grey rat's name. And isn't it clever how the maesters go by only one name, even those who had two when they first arrived at the Citadel? That way we cannot know who they truly are or where they come from… but if you are dogged enough, you can still find out. Before he forged his chain, Maester Walys had been known as Walys Flowers. Flowers, Hill, Rivers, Snow… we give such names to baseborn children to mark them for what they are, but they are always quick to shed them. Walys Flowers had a Hightower girl for a mother… and an archmaester of the Citadel for a father, it was rumored. The grey rats are not as chaste as they would have us believe. Oldtown maesters are the worst of all. Once he forged his chain, his secret father and his friends wasted no time dispatching him to Winterfell to fill Lord Rickard's ears with poisoned words as sweet as honey. The Tully marriage was his notion, never doubt it, he—"

—ADWD, The Prince of Winterfell

Please note these quotes touch on some of the largest political shifts to occur in Westeros. From germinating the idea of alliances between Great Houses in the mind of Rickard Stark who later betrothed/fostered his children to the Arryns of the Vale, the Tullys of the Riverlands, and the Baratheons of the Stormlands; to the Sack of King's Landing; to the circumstances around the Great Council that named Aegon V the Unlikely as king. I am not saying the Citadel was the sole mastermind behind all of these events, or even that maesters all act as one without their own interests/personalities guiding them... but more on that later.

TWO: The Glass Candle test.

Glass candles are obsidian—dragonglass— candles that apparently only burn when magic (see: dragons) exists in the world. Daenerys Targaryen has been hearing about these glass candles for a while now.

Xaro looked troubled. "And so it was, then. But now? I am less certain. It is said that the glass candles are burning in the house of Urrathon Night-Walker, that have not burned in a hundred years. Ghost grass grows in the Garden of Gehane, phantom tortoises have been seen carrying messages between the windowless houses on Warlock's Way, and all the rats in the city are chewing off their tails.

—ACOK, Daenerys V

Hear me, Daenerys Targaryen. The glass candles are burning. Soon comes the pale mare, and after her the others. Kraken and dark flame, lion and griffin, the sun's son and the mummer's dragon. Trust none of them. Remember the Undying. Beware the perfumed seneschal."

—ADWD, Daenerys II

Read: What Quaithe tells Daenerys here is that because the glass candles are burning, people (powerful, dangerous, with their own designs in mind) are becoming aware of her dragons. It means they're coming and Daenerys needs to be cautious of them.

And who is watching the glass candles?

Armen the Acolyte cleared his throat. “The night before an acolyte says his vows, he must stand a vigil in the vault. No lantern is permitted him, no torch, no lamp, no taper… only a candle of obsidian. He must spend the night in darkness, unless he can light that candle. Some will try. The foolish and the stubborn, those who have made a study of these so-called higher mysteries. Often they cut their fingers, for the ridges on the candles are said to be as sharp as razors. Then, with bloody hands, they must wait upon the dawn, brooding on their failure. Wiser men simply go to sleep, or spend their night in prayer, but every year there are always a few who must try.” “Yes.” Pate had heard the same stories. “But what’s the use of a candle that casts no light?” “It is a lesson,” Armen said, “the last lesson we must learn before we don our maester’s chains.

—AFFC, Prologue (Pate)

So, the Citadel has this tradition that every single guy ever to graduate from their school has to at least be aware of the glass candles, which basically serves the purpose of letting them know whether or not there are dragons in the world. Okay, fine, it's a lesson on failure, sure. What's interesting is that this mystical and compelling lesson on failure can only be as old as the death of the last dragon in 153 AC, otherwise they'd all be able to light the candles. So it began at most 147 years ago.

Notably, for years after the death of the last dragon, various Targaryens attempted to hatch more.

So what is the true purpose of the Glass Candle test? Why would the Citadel have a convenient means of knowing immediately if a new dragon was hatched/magic was returning, despite ostensibly having a Grand Maester on every single Targaryen King's Small Council ever?

What was their investment?

THREE: It aligns with the actions/beliefs of the maesters we see on-page.

Old Cressen might be, yet he was still a maester of the Citadel. “I need no crown but truth,” he told her, removing the fool’s helm from his head. “There are truths in this world that are not taught at Oldtown.” [...] As he sank to his knees, still he shook his head, denying [Melisandre], denying her power, denying her magic, denying her god. And the cowbells peeled in his antlers, singing fool, fool, fool while the red woman looked down on him in pity, the candle flames dancing in her red red eyes.

—ACOK, Prologue (Maester Cressen)

[Maester Luwin:] "Perhaps magic was once a mighty force in the world, but no longer. What little remains is no more than the wisp of smoke that lingers in the air after a great fire has burned out, and even that is fading. Valyria was the last ember, and Valyria is gone. The dragons are no more, the giants are dead, the children of the forest forgotten with all their lore.

—ACOK, Bran IV

Note: Maester Luwin actually has a Valyrian Steel chain and has attempted to do magic but by the end of his Citadel studies, he no longer believed in such. Due to his own failure to harness it, yes, but perhaps also due to his teachings under the archmaesters at the time.

Alleras stepped up next to Sam. "Aemon would have gone to [Daenerys] if he had the strength. He wanted us to send a maester to her, to counsel her and protect her and fetch her safely home." "Did he?" Archmaester Marwyn shrugged. "Perhaps it's good that he died before he got to Oldtown. Elsewise the grey sheep might have had to kill him, and that would have made the poor old dears wring their wrinkled hands."

—AFFC, Samwell V

FOUR: Citadel Maesters are super into dragons in general, perhaps a bit too into them, you be the judge.

In what place, if any, has there been an accumulation of dragonlore? Valyria. The Citadel. Dragonstone. Probably some of the Free Cities as well. Maybe Asshai in the far east.

—So Spake Martin, May 2000 (the Citadel clocking in at #2, technically #1, considering RIPValyria)

[H]e brushed the dirt off Colloquo Votar's Jade Compendium, a thick volume of tales and legends from the east that Maester Aemon had commanded him to find. The book appeared undamaged. Maester Thomax's Dragonkin, Being a History of House Targaryen from Exile to Apotheosis, with a Consideration of the Life and Death of Dragons had not been so fortunate. It had come open as it fell, and a few pages had gotten muddy, including one with a rather nice picture of Balerion the Black Dread done in colored inks. Sam cursed himself for a clumsy oaf

—AFFC, Samwell I

Tyrion had read much and more of dragons through the years. The greater part of those accounts were idle tales and could not be relied on, and the books that Illyrio had provided them were not the ones he might have wished for. What he really wanted was the complete text of The Fires of the Freehold, Galendro's history of Valyria. No complete copy was known to Westeros, however; even the Citadel's lacked twenty-seven scrolls. They must have a library in Old Volantis, surely. I may find a better copy there, if I can find a way inside the Black Walls to the city's heart.

He was less hopeful concerning Septon Barth’s Dragons, Wyrms, and Wyverns: Their Unnatural History. Barth had been a blacksmith’s son who rose to be King’s Hand during the reign of Jaehaerys the Conciliator. His enemies always claimed he was more sorcerer than septon. Baelor the Blessed had ordered all Barth’s writings destroyed when he came to the Iron Throne. Ten years ago, Tyrion had read a fragment of Unnatural History that had eluded the Blessed Baelor, but he doubted that any of Barth’s work had found its way across the narrow sea. And of course there was even less chance of his coming on the fragmentary, anonymous, blood-soaked tome sometimes called Blood and Fire and sometimes The Death of Dragons, the only surviving copy of which was supposedly hidden away in a locked vault beneath the Citadel.

When the Halfmaester appeared on deck, yawning, the dwarf was writing down what he recalled concerning the mating habits of dragons, on which subject Barth, Munkun, and Thomax held markedly divergent views.

—ADWD, Tyrion IV

Maesters who have written on dragons: Munkun, Grand Maester to Aegon III The Dragonbane whose efforts to revive the dragons all failed - he wrote True Telling about the Dance of the Dragons as well; Thomax, unknown time; and Anonymous, who wrote a real banger that the world isn't ready for, apparently. This last one will come into play later.

There is also Truth by Maester Anson, cited in AWOIAF, which is only mentioned insofar as it disagrees with Septon Barth's statement that dragons can switch sex.

So there are at least four books written by maesters on dragons, and more that the Citadel library has collected from the world over!

(The books by Thomax and Anonymous, while both being titled The Death of Dragons, are confirmed not the same.)

There is potentially one more, if the unnamed tome Arianne encounters is unique:

During the daylight hours she would try to read, but the books that they had given her were deadly dull: ponderous old histories and geographies, annotated maps, a dry-as-dust study of the laws of Dorne, The Seven-Pointed Star and Lives of the High Septons, a huge tome about dragons that somehow made them about as interesting as newts.

—AFFC, The Princess in the Tower

In summary: the Citadel's investment in dragons/magic is rigorous, a matter serious enough that they lock knowledge on it away in a vault, in order to take a maester's vows you must undergo a test that disavows magic's existence, there are maesters willing to die to deny arcane arts, potentially maesters willing to kill for that too. To a man, maesters dismiss magic... but are they actively engineering it's downfall?

This is where it gets murky. I myself would say that they take advantage of circumstances to have others do their dirty work. That maesters seek to preserve the status quo but also manipulate it to serve their own ends. Which brings us to the next point

SECOND: HOW THE MAESTER CONSPIRACY FUNCTIONS IN ASOIAF (POSSIBLY)

In ASOIAF timeline, the dragons are all already dead and magic is subdued. As a result, the winters are longer and the summers are shorter, another thing the Citadel is deeply concerned with, being the people who officially announce the changings of the seasons.

As established, we know of Pycelle's involvement in opening King's Landing for Tywin after Rhaegar died — this is where the concept of maester's having differing motives and personal loyalties comes up.

Pycelle is a pretty clear case study, he's both deeply loyal, as a maester of the Citadel, to preserving a nominal peace regardless of the dishonorable & murderous ends required to do so... but he also personally is loyal to Tywin Lannister, who is his ideal ruler.

In a letter to the Citadel, Pycelle wrote that the divisions within the Red Keep [between Aerys and Rhaegar] reminded him uncomfortably of the situation before the Dance of the Dragons a century before, when the enmity between Queen Alicent and Princess Rhaenyra had split the realm in two, to grievous cost

—AWOIAF, The Targaryen Kings: Aerys II

Grand Maester Pycelle cleared his throat, a process that seemed to take some minutes. "My order serves the realm, not the ruler. Once I counseled King Aerys as loyally as I counsel King Robert now, so I bear this girl child of his no ill will. Yet I ask you this—should war come again, how many soldiers will die? How many towns will burn? How many children will be ripped from their mothers to perish on the end of a spear?" He stroked his luxuriant white beard, infinitely sad, infinitely weary. "Is it not wiser, even kinder, that Daenerys Targaryen should die now so that tens of thousands might live?"

—AGOT, Eddard VIII

“For the realm! Once Rhaegar died, the war was done. Aerys was mad, Viserys too young, Prince Aegon a babe at the breast, but the realm needed a king... I prayed it should be your good father, but Robert was too strong, and Lord Stark moved too swiftly... ”

—ACOK, Tyrion VI

We know from the books of the unswerving Pycelle's loyalty to the Lannister and precisely to Lord Tywin. Why this loyalty? Was there any event we don't know yet?

There´s backstory yet to be revealed, certainly, but if you asked Pycelle he would insist that he was acting in the best interests of the realm.

—FORUM: Asshai Chat July 27, 2008

It's possible that Pycelle's advice given to Aerys was personally motivated by his own political beliefs on who was best suited to rule & his acceptance that the war was already over, so he needed to get out on the winning side. GRRM has hinted that there's more to the story.

It's additionally possible that Maester Walys, Rickard Stark's maester born from a Hightower mother and an alleged archmaester father, was advising Rickard on making alliances down south simply because that's what he thought was smart politicking.

However, it's interesting that multiple maesters were involved in arranging the chess board of power in Westeros against House Targaryen, and, now, are shown to be aligned to preserve power in the hands of... the Lannisters. More accurately, I would say they seek to preserve whoever is a) currently in power and b) amenable to a maester's advice and manipulation. More on this when we get to Stannis.

Now, Pycelle is personally loyal to the Lannisters because that is what he thinks is in "the best interests of the realm," but otherwise, maesters in general are invested in preserving the power structure as is, because war disrupts their slowgoing machinations (Marwyn's words: the world the Citadel is building). In fact, as the Lannisters infight throughout ACOK and become unstable, only to be saved by an alliance with the Tyrells, there is a response from the Citadel that indicates they're willing to switch to whoever is the dominant side, it if means protecting their influence.

[T]he Conclave accepted the fact of Pycelle's dismissal and set about choosing his successor. After giving due consideration to Maester Turquin the cordwainer's son and Maester Erreck the hedge knight's bastard, and thereby demonstrating to their own satisfaction that ability counts for more than birth in their order, the Conclave was on the verge of sending us Maester Gormon, a Tyrell of Highgarden. When I told your lord father, he acted at once." The Conclave met in Oldtown behind closed doors, Tyrion knew; its deliberations were supposedly a secret. So Varys has little birds in the Citadel too. "I see. So my father decided to nip the rose before it bloomed." He had to chuckle. "Pycelle is a toad. But better a Lannister toad than a Tyrell toad, no?"

—ASOS, Tyrion II

Before we get into cartoon villain territory, let's caveat that their involvement in the deaths of the dragons and the Targaryens who could potentially hatch them once more does seem to be a one-off for them in terms of puppet-mastering against a monarch, and indeed, they never intended war, preferring to function methodically in the background.

"Be that as it may. My father sat where I sit now when Lord Eddard came to Sisterton. Our maester urged us to send Stark's head to Aerys, to prove our loyalty. It would have meant a rich reward. The Mad King was open-handed with them as pleased him. By then we knew that Jon Arryn had taken Gulltown, though. Robert was the first man to gain the wall, and slew Marq Grafton with his own hand. 'This Baratheon is fearless,' I said. 'He fights the way a king should fight.' Our maester chuckled at me and told us that Prince Rhaegar was certain to defeat this rebel.

—ADWD, Davos I

They maximize their influence — they don't overstep.

On to Stannis.

[Alys Karstark:] "Arnolf [Karstark] is rushing to Winterfell, 'tis true, but only so he might put his dagger in your king's back. He cast his lot with Roose Bolton long ago … for gold, the promise of a pardon, and poor Harry's head. Lord Stannis is marching to a slaughter.

—ADWD, Jon IX

“Y-your Grace, my order is sworn to serve, we…” “I know all about your vows. What I want to know is what was in the letter that you sent to Winterfell. Did you perchance tell Lord Bolton where to find us?” “S-sire.” Round-shouldered Tybald drew himself up proudly. “The rules of my order forbid me to divulge the contents of Lord Arnolf’s letters.”

—TWOW, Unreleased Theon Chapter

Here we have Arnolf Karstark, castellan of Karhold, who pledges to Stannis... but secretly he's actually pledged to Roose Bolton, who is in league with the Lannisters. Together they planned the Red Wedding. The Karstark maester is seen assisting in this plot to see Stannis dead via the Karstark-Bolton-Lannister network.

Does Stannis have his own maester with him? No, Maester Cressen dies in the ACOK Prologue, and his replacement, Pylos, is not mentioned as having accompanied Stannis North. Stannis is far from the influence of the Citadel and has publicly declared his new faith in R'hllor, something for the Citadel/general Westerosi hegemony to worry about, and now we have a maester helping to plot against him...

Once more, it's possible that said maester is simply acting of his own volitions & values. Conveniently in service to House Lannister which currently holds power. However, he's not the only Northern maester to have conflicting loyalties South:

[Wyman Manderly, Lord of White Harbor:] If Stannis wonders that my letters say so little, it is because I dare not even trust my maester. Theomore is all head and no heart. You heard him in my hall. Maesters are supposed to put aside old loyalties when they don their chains, but I cannot forget that Theomore was born a Lannister of Lannisport and claims some distant kinship to the Lannisters of Casterly Rock. Foes and false friends are all around me, Lord Davos.

—ADWD, Davos IV

Something to consider.

THIRD: ADDRESSING THE FERTILITY OF TARGARYEN WOMEN

Let's take it back for a minute. I'm separating this section because a whole bunch of it comes from AWOIAF/Fire & Blood and I know not everyone is super familiar with those, so I'm taking time to explain it fully. A big facet of the Maester Conspiracy has to do with magic and dragons ergo House Targaryen. We have covered the Aerys/Pycelle, Maester Aemon, and Daenerys portions.

But there is a larger relevant point: The miscarriages and stillbirths of Targaryen women.

From AGOT we know that the birth of dragons is tied to blood magic, but specifically, that magic which is performed by Daenerys — a pregnant Targaryen. She has prophetic visions both asleep and awake that lead her to the final hatching of the dragons... and it's the deaths of Rhaego in her womb, Drogo by her hand, and Mirri by her order that facilitate this.

She was lying there, holding the egg, when she felt the child move within her… as if he were reaching out, brother to brother, blood to blood. "You are the dragon," Dany whispered to him, "the true dragon. I know it. I know it." And she smiled, and went to sleep dreaming of home.

—AGOT, Daenerys IV

"You will not hear me scream," Mirri responded as the oil dripped from her hair and soaked her clothing. "I will," Dany said, "but it is not your screams I want, only your life. I remember what you told me. Only death can pay for life."

—AGOT, Daenerys X

So, let's posit that there is some matriarchal link between fertility, motherhood, and births... even of dragons.

The theory here is that maesters, operating under the idea that Targaryen wives's fertility was somehow related to the blood magics/births of dragons, meddled with their pregnancies to prevent said magics/births of dragons.

The reason the maesters may have suspected this? Well according to AGOT and Fire & Blood, at certain times, Targaryen women/wives experienced miscarriages of fetuses that were "monstrous." Dragonlike, some might describe them (some being me, in the following list) — so the contention that the women of House Targaryen were magically involved in literal dragon-birthing does seem possible.

The miscarriages in question:

1A) Maegor Targaryen and Alys Harroway's stillborn: a monster, with twisted limbs, a huge head, and no eyes.

1B) The hatchling born to Alyn Velaryon and Baela Targaryen's daughter Laena: the dragon that wriggled from the egg was a monstrosity, a wingless wyrm, maggot-white and blind

2A) Maegor and Jeyne Westerling's stillborn: a legless and armless creature possessed of both male and female genitalia → eventual death in childbirth

2B) Maester Aemon in AFFC Samwell IV: Dragons are neither male nor female, Barth saw the truth of that, but now one and now the other, as changeable as flame

3A) Maegor and Elinor Costayne's stillborn: a malformed and stillborn child, an eyeless boy born with rudimentary wings

3B) In The Hedge Knight, the last dragon to ever live is described as small with unformed wings

4A) Daemon Targaryen and Laena Velaryon's stillborn: the babe was twisted and malformed, and died within the hour → eventual death in childbirth

4B) Laena's stillbirth unique because it's implied that Rhaenyra's maester, Gerardys, who arrived slightly too late, might have been able to assist in saving Laena's life following the birth — the same way he was able to save Viserys I's hand and life when other maesters couldn't. Thus, incompetence or malice on the part of the present maester might have contributed to Laena's death.

5A) Daemon and Rhaenyra Targaryen's stillborn Visenya, Rhaenyra's early labor brought on by the news of her father's death and her usurpation by Aegon II:

The princess shrieked curses all through her labor, calling down the wrath of the gods upon her half-brothers and their mother, the queen, and detailing the torments she would inflict upon them before she would let them die. She cursed the child inside her too, Mushroom tells us, clawing at her swollen belly as Maester Gerardys and her midwife tried to restrain her and shouting, “Monster, monster, get out, get out, GET OUT!” When the babe at last came forth, she proved indeed a monster: a stillborn girl, twisted and malformed, with a hole in her chest where her heart should have been, and a stubby, scaled tail.

—Fire & Blood, The Dying of the Dragons: The Blacks and the Greens

5B) Rhaenyra's usurpation by Aegon II is a parallel to the usurpation of the Amethyst Empress by her younger brother the Bloodstone Emperor, in the ancient Great Empire of the Dawn. This is said to have been what caused the first Long Night to occur and indeed, after Rhaenyra, we see the dragons die out, magic disappear, summers grow short, and winter grow long.

When the daughter of the Opal Emperor succeeded him as the Amethyst Empress, her envious younger brother cast her down and slew her, proclaiming himself the Bloodstone Emperor and beginning a reign of terror. [...] In the annals of the Further East, it was the Blood Betrayal, as his usurpation is named, that ushered in the age of darkness called the Long Night.

—AWOIAF, The Bones and Beyond: Yi Ti

6) Naerys Targaryen's multiple miscarriages/stillbirths vs. 2 living children → eventual death in childbirth

7) Rhaella Targaryen's 8 miscarriages/stillbirths/child deaths vs. 3 living children → eventual death in childbirth

8) Daenerys with Rhaego:

"Monstrous," Mirri Maz Duur finished for him. The knight was a powerful man, yet Dany understood in that moment that the maegi was stronger, and crueler, and infinitely more dangerous. "Twisted. I drew him forth myself. He was scaled like a lizard, blind, with the stub of a tail and small leather wings like the wings of a bat. When I touched him, the flesh sloughed off the bone, and inside he was full of graveworms and the stink of corruption. He had been dead for years." Darkness, Dany thought. The terrible darkness sweeping up behind to devour her. If she looked back she was lost. "My son was alive and strong when Ser Jorah carried me into this tent," she said. "I could feel him kicking, fighting to be born."

—AGOT, Daenerys IX

With these in mind, we can ask: why would anyone think these similar descriptions have anything to do with outside interference? Couldn't it just be that Targaryen babies are weird, it's the blood magic and the incest, nothing to see here?

The thing is that all of Maegor's stillborn children (3/6 examples of dragonesque children) were poisoned, by Tyanna of the Tower. Rhaego was also poisoned, by Mirri Maaz Duur's blood magic.

So 4/6 of these hybrid children were born under the influence of some sort of darker magic. This still leaves Rhaenyra and Laena's respective draconic stillbirths. It opens the question of whether poison was involved in those, too. In my personal opinion, it might also intend to raise a question mark on the matrilineage of Targaryen women who birthed children & brought about dragons — a private theory but raised by the idea of Rhaego's description and the concept of him being "dead for years."

That said, the two serious cases I think we can look into here are Naerys and Rhaella's serial miscarriages/stillbirths/child deaths.

Both these women suffered from frail health and abusive circumstances. Naerys was extremely slight and small of stature, it's possible that she simply struggled with the physical toll of pregnancies. Rhaella gave birth for the first time under traumatic circumstances (the burning of Summerhall and deaths of her family) when she was 14 years old, totally reasonable that she'd be permanently affected by that. In fact, these are two women for whom it would not be suspicious should they experience fertility issues. So if there were ever two people who you could get away with pulling this on...

The reasons to consider each more closely —

NAERYS TARGARYEN: Naerys's successful birth of Daeron (later Daeron II) happened the same year the last dragon died. After this, King Aegon III The Dragonbane started attempting to hatch new dragons whereas before he was extremely resistant to dragon-anything. Naerys's miscarriages and stillbirths begin only after attempts to hatch dragons commence — a likely time, if a link between her fertility and future dragons was suspected by bad actors. Her only other living child Daenerys Lateborn is born 17 years later, and in fact is one of a set of twins, the other child dying at birth. So, it's possible that pregnancy was also tampered with, and simply did not succeed on both twins

Counterpoint One: Naerys was not a healthy or robust person, nor did she desire to carry children. They were forced on her by her purposely cruel brother-husband Aegon IV. It's possible she was not poisoned and simply suffered from miscarriages/stillbirths naturally.

Counterpoint Two: Naerys was married to a man who had many mistresses, lovers, bastards, and grasping councilors. It's possible that she was poisoned, but not by maesters, rather by those who sought to gain power by opening up the position of Queen.

RHAELLA TARGARYEN: Aerys and Rhaella were married to one another based on a prophecy by the Ghost of High Heart that through them, The Prince/Princess That Was Promised would be born.

"Why did they wed if they did not love each other?" "Your grandsire commanded it. A woods witch had told him that the prince was promised would be born of their line."

—ADWD, Daenerys IV

"Maester Aemon believed that Daenerys Targaryen was the fulfillment of a prophecy... her, not Stannis, nor Prince Rhaegar, nor the princeling whose head was dashed against the wall." "Born amidst salt and smoke, beneath a bleeding star. I know the prophecy." Marwyn turned his head and spat a gob of red phlegm onto the floor.

—AFFC, Samwell V

Someday the dragons will return. My brother Daeron's dreamed of it, and King Aerys read it in a prophecy. Maybe it will be my egg that hatches. That would be splendid

—The Hedge Knight

The prophecy is known to at least one maester of the Citadel... seems realistic that it would be known to multiple! The prophecy in question regards the birth of the Prince/Princess That Was Promised, the herald who will bring dragons back into the world, and the culmination of House Targaryen. When Rhaella became pregnant and was close to her due date, the King Aegon V had all the Targaryens gather in Summerhall where he intended to attempt to hatch seven dragon eggs (perhaps he also had some suspicion about the connection between the blood magic needed to hatch dragons and Rhaella's imminent potentially prophesized birth?)

… the blood of the dragon gathered in one … … seven eggs, to honor the seven gods, though the king’s own septon had warned … … pyromancers … … wildfire … … ames grew out of control … towering … burned so hot that … … died, but for the valor of the Lord Comman …

—AWOIAF, The Targaryen Kings: Aegon V

This is what remains of the story of Summerhall. Who wrote this note? Maester Corso, of course. Where did he send this letter? The Citadel. Woof. Innocuous on it's own but for the purpose of this post, in line with the idea that the Citadel was keeping a close eye on all things dragon.

The Maester Conspiracy would ask: who is to say what really went wrong at Summerhall? All we know is that Rhaella gave birth there amidst the chaos and then she didn't give birth to a child who lived past a year for 17 years to come. Miscarriages, stillbirths, child deaths... she had them all. Aerys's paranoia grew and grew until Rhaella was completely isolated. It was under these conditions of extreme scrutiny that Rhaella finally had Viserys, and Viserys lived, and then Daenerys was born while isolated on Dragonstone & raised far from maester's influence following.

Here's the point that sticks out though:

"Lannisport was the end of our voyage," Prince Oberyn went on, as Ser Arron Qorgyle helped him into a padded leather tunic and began lacing it up the back. "Were you aware that our mothers knew each other of old?" "They had been at court together as girls, I seem to recall. Companions to Princess Rhaella?"

"Just so. It was my belief that the mothers had cooked up this plot between them.

—ASOS, Tyrion X

The Unnamed Princess of Dorne and Joanna Lannister were both companions to Princess Rhaella. The exact timeline is unclear but it's definite that the Unnamed Princess was older than the other two. She'd given birth to Doran over a decade before Rhaegar was born, although Rhaella was a very young mother (13 or 14). However, they were close enough to cook up 'plots.' It seems realistic that the Unnamed Princess was present earlier in Rhaella's life while Joanna came about later. GRRM is not trustworthy with ages and timelines anyway, so that's a supposition.

All three of these women had the same experience: a firstborn who lived, followed by a long expanse of fertility issues, followed by another successful birth (or more).

"I was the oldest," the prince said, "and yet I am the last. After Mors and Olyvar died in their cradles, I gave up hope of brothers. I was nine when Elia came, a squire in service at Salt Shore. When the raven arrived with word that my mother had been brought to bed a month too soon, I was old enough to understand that meant the child would not live. Even when Lord Gargalen told me that I had a sister, I assured him that she must shortly die. Yet she lived, by the Mother's mercy. And a year later Oberyn arrived, squalling and kicking.

—AFFC, The Captain of the Guard

Doran was nine before his mother had another successful birth after two child deaths. Her manner of death is unknown. Tyrion is likewise nine years younger than Jaime & Cersei. Joanna Lannister's possible fertility issues in the in-between are unknown, but she died in childbirth. Viserys is 17 years younger than Rhaegar (similar to how Daenerys Lateborn is 17 years younger than Daeron II). Rhaella Targaryen died in childbirth. If all three of these women who canonically shared time, meals, chambers, etc together suffered from similar infertility issues and timelines, with Rhaella being the worst affected, can we theorize that there might have been issues of poison at play?

Pycelle was the Grand Maester at the time — we know he was involved in other plots with poison at the center (Robert Baratheon and Jon Arryn most notably), and we also know that Tywin Lannister married for love. So despite his loyalty to Tywin, couldn't it be that Pycelle never expected Tywin to match with his cousin of few advantages, and that Joanna's struggles were perhaps an unintended, unforeseen consequence?

Could this be the additional backstory regarding Pycelle and Tywin that GRRM is referencing?

Counterpoint One: If the maesters were aware of the prophecy and Rhaegar fulfilled it, they shouldn't have continued with Rhaella

Counterpoint Two: The timeline for the various births of Rhaella, Joanna, and Unnamed Princess are all over the place. It's possible that GRRM didn't simply flub the timeline and actually there is no connection between these three women's similar fertility issues.

Counterpoint Three: Rhaella was traumatized from her young birth and Summerhall's tragedy, her fertility issues arose naturally.

All possibilities.

FOURTH: IS ALL OF THIS GOING TO BITE THE CITADEL IN THE ASS SOMEHOW? WHY ARE THEY EVEN DOING THIS? (SPECULATION)

My theory as to the roots of the Maester Conspiracy is threefold:

ONE: The Citadel, like all institutions of higher academia, is not politically neutral and is invested in specific visions for the future. They inherently seek to preserve the status quo which allows them to function and expand their own influence. They are as liable to corruption as any of the other institutions we see (monarchy, knighthood, the Faith, the Night's Watch, the Kingsguard, etc.) and while maesters do not act as one, they do act as an informal web pushing forth specific beliefs and ideals.

TWO: Not all maesters are created equal. Archmaesters and other such influential members of the Citadel are closer to certain truths than others, it's in the handchosen placement of maesters in the ears of specific lords/political players that we see a larger plan.

THREE: The Citadel is aware of prophecies foretelling a second Long Night to come. To combat this, they have long sought to destroy one of the heralds of said disaster, that being dragons. To put it simply: All magic is from the same root / all magic must be destroyed.

That's my theory.

Now, is this going to bite them in the ass? Hahaha of course!

ONE: The Faceless Men are infiltrating the Citadel due to some plan we are not yet privy to. The AFFC Prologue shows us the novice Pate being body snatched by an FM implied to the Jaqen H'ghar — what is he after, though? Potentially the extremely rare book titled The Death of Dragons that is solely kept in some locked basement of the Citadel... which he just acquired a key for?

TWO: Euron Greyjoy is coming to sack Oldtown, and he is obsessed with dragons/arcane arts/doing experiments with pregnant women (back to my point about connecting dragon births and human fertility)... but above all, he is not nice.

THREE: Daenerys Targaryen is coming to Westeros, and she's the Mother of Dragons. The Dragons are here. By focusing on dragons, it's possible the maesters have lost sight of the bigger picture — the incoming Long Night, wights, and Battle for the Dawn.

That was such a long post I fear and way beyond the question you asked. I appreciate it anyway, seeing as I've wanted to get all these thoughts out for a while to organize what I think & what the text itself points to.

To answer your question: Yes I do think the Maester Conspiracy is a real thing! I believe it's been set up mainly insofar as it will guide Samwell Tarly's POVs in Oldtown, the upcoming Euron Greyjoy plotlines, and potentially Arya due to the Faceless Men connect.

Eventually it will bring Daenerys Targaryen and Jon Snow into play (the latter likely due to the Arya and Sam of it all, which winks to the importance of Jon now having an Oldtown-bred squire in Satin), probably in line with the concept of the Second Dance George has been teasing us about.

Just how it will all play out, though, I couldn't say. We shall have to see. Drink water. Manifest TWOW. Speaking of manifesting...

[atopvisenyashill]

do you think qyburn and marwyn fucked nasty before qyburn was banished from oldtown

[alaynerhinestone]

house hightower nearly destroyed house targaryen, house strong nearly destroyed house targaryen

[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.

[vassia-sparta]

Daemon Targaryen x OC (Stark)

So, this is my way of coping until the new season of House of the Dragon is released.

Synopsis: After Daemon is wounded during a patrol with the City Watch, how will his Stark wife react?

This is a oneshot, and contains adult themes, so anyone under 18, please do not read.

You have been warned!

Also, POV is from the OC.

Enjoy!

I had been having tea with the Queen and a few of her ladies, when word came that my husband had returned from his patrol down in the city. That was not the concerning part though.

“I heard from one of the men of the City Watch that he was wounded my lady,” the servant girl stuttered. “Wounded seriously.”

I got up from my seat, hastily made my apologies to the Queen, then made my way out of her chambers and down the many corridors, passing by a lot of nobles and servants, ignoring their enquiries and whispers, hurrying to reach our rooms.

I could hear my husband’s screams and curses all the way down the corridor that led to our wing of the keep. That put me a bit at ease, so I slowed down my pace, coming to stand right outside the entrance to our bedchambers.

“He is in a bad state my lady,” ser Frederick Selwyn, his second in command, said to me when he saw me. “He is wounded, but he is in too much pain to let the maesters sew up his wound. They suggest we try to give him something to sleep so they can help him, but he won’t let us.”

“I see,” I nodded, going through the half-open door, pausing when I heard another string of curses coming out of his mouth as he tossed a vial of something the maester gave him. The thing crashed against the wall, coating it with whatever salve was inside it.

“I will not be drinking anything you grey sheep want to give me,” the Rogue Prince yelled, turning away from the poor maester. He was one of the newer ones, barely three months here in the capital. Two of his acolytes stood in the corner, their wide eyes watching Daemon’s every move.

“My prince, you have to listen to the maesters,” ser Marwyn Westerling, one of Daemon’s close friends, tried to reason with him, but the Rogue Prince wouldn’t listen.

“I don’t have to listen to any of them,” my husband raged. “I am fine, I just need to rest a bit.”

I could see at least one wound on his right side, though it was a small one, and another on his left shoulder, bigger and deeper, both bleeding. His tunic was soaked through with blood, and yet he still didn’t want the help of the maesters. I knew well that his stubbornness would be his undoing. He’d rather die than let someone help him.

“Everyone, please leave,” I called out in a clam voice.

The maester jumped at the sound of my voice. He must have been scared out of his mind, after coming face to face with an irritated and wounded Targaryen prince.

“My lady,” he approached me, his voice dropping to a whisper, “if we don’t treat your husband’s wounds, he will bleed out.”

“I will take care of my husband, you can go now,” I assured him, giving him my best serene smile.

The men hesitated for a moment, but one look at the wounded dragon warrior was more than enough to convince them to leave. They knew better than to force their luck with him.

Ser Marwyn hesitated at the door, but I just smiled politely at him, nodding that I would be fine.

When the door closed, leaving us alone in the room, I turned to face my husband. He had sat down on one of the chairs near the balcony, breathing heavily.

“Rough day?” I simply asked, making my way to a nearby table, pouring a glass of his favorite strongwine before I walked up to him.

“Nothing a dragon cannot handle, she-wolf,” he spat, taking the glass from me and downing it all in one go.

I smiled to myself, amazed at how he would continue this little game we had going on ever since we were forced into this marriage. He would call me she-wolf, and I’d call him rogue dragon. We both refused to use each other’s name, if only to irritate each other. It worked, on both sides.

“Well, it seems this time the rogue dragon has bitten a little more than he can handle,” I nodded at the wound on his shoulder.

“This?” he wiped at it with his hand, wincing a bit as he touched it. “This is a lover’s caress,” he smirked, his eyes glinting with sass.

“Well, your lover has some pretty sharp nails,” I smirked back at him, unfazed by his barb. “What did you do, did you tell her that you found someone else and won’t be fucking her anymore?”

He looked up at me, his eyes wide.

“That is no way a lady should be talking,” he warned me.

“But I’m not a lady,” I reminded him. “We have long since established that I’m merely a she-wolf,” I shrugged, taking his glass to refill it.

As he drank his second glass, I went to a basin of water and drenched a piece of cloth in it. I made my way to him, then started to clean his skin from all the blood.

“Fuckin’ piece of work, he caught me by surprise,” Daemon muttered, leaning back his head and closing his eyes.

“Ambush?” I questioned, taking extra care around the wounds. The one on his side had stopped bleeding, it wouldn’t need stitching, but the one on his shoulder, that was another story. Whoever had hit him, it had gotten him good.

“That cunt was hiding behind a corner, with an axe at hand. Went right through my armor, would have taken my head off if not for ser Strong.”

“Why would someone attack you for no reason?” I questioned, walking up to the basin to rinse off the cloth. The water turned pink, darkening every time I dipped the cloth back in.

“Not like I have a great army of friends in the city. I probably killed one of his gang buddies or something, sliced his brother’s hand for stealing, cut his best friend’s dick for sticking it where he shouldn’t have, the list could go on and on,” Daemon shrugged, wincing as his wound gushed some more blood.

“Yet people still call you the Prince of the City and cheer for you at every tourney,” I reminded him, trying to clean his other wound. “Surely you must have some who like you, especially around the Street of Silk,” I smirked at him.

He looked up at me, his face growing serious. I didn’t know why he looked at me like that. It was no secret he was a frequent patron of the many brothels residing in the Street of Silk, both before our marriage and after. I ignored him, more focused on the task at hand.

After I finished cleaning his wounds, I took thread and needle, refilled his glass, then set out to stitch him up.

“Better drink that, this will hurt a bit,” I warned him as I threaded the needle and approached him.

He focused those dark violet orbs on me, and I found myself having trouble breathing for a moment.

I always had that reaction when Daemon looked at me like that. From the moment I first laid eyes on him, that fateful day at the throne, just before my father and king Viserys had announced that we were to be wed, the Rogue Dragon had stared at me with such intensity, I might as well had burst into flames right there. The weirdest part was, I had liked it. I wanted his attention. And he seemed to appreciate my presence, licking his lips as he eyed me up and down. It should have felt wrong, but deep inside me, I was thrilled that I appealed to him.

Alas, that had lasted all but a few moments. After the betrothal was announced, a surprise for him if according to his shocked expression, Daemon turned colder than the Wall itself. During one of the walks we were forced to take in order to ‘get to know each other better’, he made it clear to me that he had no intention of marrying me, but he was merely doing it because his brother forced him too.

Any hopes I had of a happy marriage vanished in a moment. Rumors of his previous marriage had of course reached me, but my father had assured me that I would be different. I was nothing like lady Rhea. I was the daughter of the North, lady Lara of house Stark, daughter of the Warden of the North and one of the prettiest maidens in all the Seven Kingdoms, as some would say. Yet, none of that mattered to Daemon Targaryen. He never acted according to rules set by others. He always followed his own rules, the others be damned. After that walk, he didn’t spend one second around me, preferring to spend his nights with his friends and his whores in the various winesinks of the city.

The night of our wedding, he came to my room and made it clear that he had no intention of bedding me, nor would he ever touch me. This marriage was forced upon him, and he had no desire to consummate it. It was a knife in my heart, a complete destruction of any dream I had for my marriage. I was not silly. As a noble woman and daughter of a great house, I was expected to marry for political or diplomatic reasons. Yet, I hoped that, maybe whoever I had to marry would at least make the effort to get to know me, and then he’d try to make this marriage work.

No. Not the Rogue Prince. He continued with his nights in the brothels and the training of his men, as if our marriage had not happened. I had to endure the whispers and gossip of the ladies at court, maintain a calm demeanor, while the wolf inside me howled with fury. At some point, I had fallen in love with my heartless husband, and therefore was doomed to suffer a marriage to a man that would never want me.

Many had suggested that I follow lady Rhea’s example and go back to Winterfell, away from the whispers of the court and my husband’s cold behavior. It seemed enticing, I admit, but I rejected the idea. I was not some measly girl that would run back to her parents in tears. I was a wolf, and I would show everyone that I was not afraid in the face of hard times.

Life went on and now, almost a year after our marriage, Daemon and I had settled in a sort of routine. We both avoided each other during the day, but made sure to keep a united front against our common enemies during assemblies or feasts. He never slept in our shared chambers, but was at my side whenever anyone tried to get a rise out of our situation and make a fool out of me.

Chief amongst those who sought to humiliate this marriage was Lord Otto Hightower, the King’s Hand. Gosh, how I hated that man. It was the one thing Daemon and I shared. Our disgust at the upstart lord from the Reach who sought to rule the Seven Kingdoms while trying to move the King around like a puppet.

It was during a banquet that Daemon and I first realized that we had that in common. We were celebrating the birth of prince Aemond, the second son of the king and the slimy lord Hand had the audacity to come to our table, baby Aemond in his arms.

“Such a delight that the king has another son to continue his legacy, isn’t it?” he had asked in that annoying voice of his.

“It is indeed my lord Hand,” I had agreed, trying to keep appearances. Daemon, on the other hand, didn’t deem it worthy to answer him.

“Perhaps you should make some effort to give a son to your husband my lady, it has been quite some time since your marriage, hasn’t it? Or has prince Daemon been keeping too busy with the City Watch?”

His comment and that sneer on his smug face made my blood boil, but I took a deep breath to calm myself down. Beside me, Daemon seemed ready to jump at him, but I took his hand in mine under the table, squeezing it slightly. He turned to look at me, a small surprise dancing in those dark purple eyes of his.

“My husband is doing his duty to his king, keeping the city clean of the criminals,” I replied calmly. “Perhaps you should do your duty and find a way to keep our people fed and busy, then maybe the people will stop stealing and murdering, and his talents with a sword won’t be needed so much.”

“Surely he can stop his patrols for a while to tend to you, right?” lord Otto turned to Daemon, and I felt my husband twitching to snatch the little weasel and crush him under his boots.

“I understand my husband’s duty, and I am patient. When the time comes, the Gods will bless us with a child,” I replied, still holding onto Daemon’s hand. Its warmth gave me strength, somehow.

“I did ask your husband to take one of my sons as his lieutenant, but it seems the Rogue Dragon is too proud to accept my help,” lord Otto sneered.

“Which of your sons, the one that runs after boys or the one that I squashed during my last tourney?” Daemon smirked at his adversary.

Lord Otto looked furious, but didn’t say anything.

“The City Watch needs soldiers with extraordinary fighting skills and the guts to do what is needed,” I intervened, not wanting to cause a scene in the middle of the banquet. “Who better to fill that post than the finest warrior of the Seven Kingdoms? I am sad to say that, according to rumors, neither of your sons are known for their prowess my lord,” I smiled sweetly at him. “Wasn’t it ser Gwayne who lost in the training yard yesterday, after ser Harwin smashed him to the ground two minutes into the fight?” I turned to Daemon.

“Why yes it was,” he smiled at me, that teasing smile that could make a septa give in to him. “The poor thing was on his back bleeding, when ser Strong had barely touched him. I assure you my lord, if I took him with me to the patrols, he’d run back to you in tears an hour into the service. How did he earn his spurs, I’ll never understand.”

Daemon turned to smirk at his adversary, his eyes shining with glee. “Then again, you were never known for your skill in the battlefield, am I right? Perhaps your sons took after you.”

The weasel looked furious, but didn’t say anything. After he left, I let go of Daemon’s hand, conscious of how long I had held on to it.

That night, as I was making my way to our bedchambers, I found him waiting for me outside.

“Something wrong my prince?” I questioned, confused as to why he was here this late at night.

“Why did you defend me?” he asked, straight to the point. His face was devoid of any teasing of playful tone. It was the most serious I had seen him since our wedding day.

His question took me by surprise.

“Why not? You are my husband after all,” I shrugged, pushing the door open.

“That is no reason to defend me,” he insisted, following me inside.

“Then I don’t know what to tell you my prince,” I shrugged, sitting before my mirror to take down the elaborate braids my maid had woven my hair into for the night.

“What do you have against him? The Hand never moved against you or your house. Why would you side with me?”

I sighed, the tiredness of the evening making me antsy.

“Look,” I got up to face him. “You might ignore it, but the fact remains that we are married. And though that is no reason to defend you, I do recognize that you do fine work with your men all around the city. You do what you were born to do, wield a sword and swing it on those who deserve to die. The Hand is too proud to understand that, and he decided to make fun of us and our marriage right to my face, in order to get a rise out of you and humiliate me. That is low, even for him.” I turned away, reaching for my hair brush.

“You could have kept quiet,” Daemon suggested.

“We are married my prince,” I looked at him sternly. “That makes you part of my family. I don’t let weasels like him hurt my family.”

Daemon stood there for a while, penetrating me with his sharp gaze.

“Good night my lady,” he nodded lightly, then turned to leave without another word.

From that day on, he became just a tad kinder to me, and I even caught him staring at me when he thought I wasn’t looking. Just as he was doing now.

I pushed my anxiety deep down, and focused on the task at hand. I cut the tunic off of him, leaving his muscular chest bare.

“Are you ready?” I asked him.

“Go on,” he merely replied, taking another sip of his wine.

I came to stand beside him, then started the slow and painful process. I tried to keep the stiches as small as possible, to keep the wound from scarring terribly. I could see several scars on his muscular back and chest, remnants from the battles he had participated in. He was a true warrior, more comfortable in a bloody battlefield fighting his enemies, than in a palace full of courtiers, playing the game of thrones.

In a way, I understood his discomfort. He was a wild creature, preferring to do what he wanted over what was forced upon him. I too longed to be free to do as I wished, but my sense of duty forbade me from acting on my desires.

Halfway through the stitching, Daemon had consumed his fourth glass of wine, and looked a bit drunk. His eyes shined, and his face had turned a slight pink. He kept his gaze on me as I worked on him, and I tried my best not to flinch. This was the first time I had been so close to him for so long, and the fact that he was half naked only added to my discomfort.

Though I had never known the touch of a man, I was no stranger to what went on between a man and a woman behind closed doors. Prior to my wedding, some of my lady friends, the more scandalous ones, had dragged me into a secret corridor that led to a sort of observation deck. Hidden behind a wooden panel, we watched as two servants used an old storage room to house their secret affair. I still remembered the things that man did to his lover. How he used his mouth, his hands, his whole body to give pleasure to the young woman. I wanted to feel that, what it was like to be in a man’s arms, to be wanted, to be pleasured.

It was no secret that Daemon knew his way around a woman’s body. His many adventures in the city’s brothels spoke volumes. Many a night I had wondered what it would feel like to be in his arms, and the frustration only made my heart and my body ache more for his touch. And now here I was, as close to him as I would ever be, touching his naked skin with my fingers. So close, and yet so far away.

I was so focused on keeping my mind from focusing on our proximity, that I didn’t even realize it when Daemon spoke to me.

“What?” I uttered, my cheeks flaming in embarrassment. My mind had been traveling in paths too improper for a noble lady to consider. And yet, being so close to my beautiful husband, I couldn’t help but wonder.

“I asked, why are you taking care of me?” he said, his voice so rough, it felt like a rumble of a distant thunderstorm.

“You are my husband Daemon, that is my duty,” I sighed, tying off the end of the thread, securing the stitches.

“My previous wife did not feel inclined to treat me when I got hurt,” he commented.

“Your previous wife was not me,” I retorted, feeling hurt. How could he really compare me to his first wife, when he had not even made the attempt to get to know me better?

I turned away, reaching for the salve on the table beside him. I had to lean over him to take the small jar, and felt his chest touching mine as he breathed.

I took a small amount of salve and rubbed it on the wound, trying to keep my touch as light as possible so as to not hurt him.

“Why do you do this?” he whispered, making me pause.

I chucked softly.

“Though I do like black, mourning does not suit me my dear husband,” I shook my head, trying to brush off his question.

“I’m serious,” he growled, his arm wrapping around my thighs, trapping me in place.

“So am I,” I threw back at him, reaching down to rub salve on the wound on his side. I massaged it softly, helping the salve be absorbed by his skin, while trying to keep my mind from enjoying the softness of it, the strength that I could feel underneath my fingertips.

He let me go as I put the jar away and took the roll of bandages to tie off his wound. He leaned forward, letting me wrap the soft cloth around him, making sure both wounds were properly protected before I secured the end of the cloth.

I took a clean cloth and started cleaning the dirt and blood that was spattered on his face. He closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of the cool cloth on his brow before he turned to look at me once more.

“Why do you tolerate all this?” Daemon asked, wrapping his arm around me once more, making my heart beat wildly in my chest.

“As I told you before, you are my husband Daemon,” I sighed, looking at him. “Whether we like it or not, we are bound together. For better or for worse, we are destined to move forward in life, until one of us is claimed by the Gods. By the looks of it, you will not be claimed any time soon. Now, can you let me go, I need to find you a new tunic to wear, and I’ll have to give my dress to the washers and hope they can salvage it.”

“I’ll buy you a new one,” he replied immediately, still keeping me pressed up against him.

“No need for that my rogue dragon, I can dye it if it doesn’t wash out. Perhaps a deep purple, like your eyes when you get angry,” I smiled, pushing a strand of hair that had fallen over his face while I treated him.

With a swift move of his other hand he pulled my face towards his, crushing his lips against mine. He took me completely by surprise, and my gasp gave him the opening he needed. His tongue slipped in my mouth, deepening the kiss and setting my insides on fire.

He pulled my legs from under me, making me land on his lap, never breaking our kiss. I yelped in surprise, but that only made him chuckle as he resumed his attack on my lips. I was completely stunned, too overwhelmed by the sensations to think rationally, so I just slipped my hand behind his neck, holding onto him as he ravaged my mouth.

We broke off for air, but I didn’t have the chance to say anything. He set me on my feet again, though I was glad he kept his hold on me. I wasn’t sure I could stand on my own, my legs felt too unsteady to support me.

Daemon slipped his hands low, never breaking eye contact with me, and pulled the hem of my dress up to my thighs, exposing my legs to the light breeze coming from the open windows. I stood still holding on to the back of his chair, breathing heavily as I felt his hand pull my leg over his lap, whispering words that sent a shiver all the way from my head to my toes.

“Ride me my wolf.”

I obeyed his command, lowering myself onto his lap. Even over my underclothes and his breeches, I could feel him, hot and hard, poking at me. I gasped sharply, clenching my legs around him.

“See what you do to me my she-wolf?” he whispered, caressing my legs lazily.

He nuzzled my neck, peppering it with hot kisses.

“Daemon,” I gasped, feeling so overwhelmed. I had no idea what was happening, but I was too weak to put an end to it.

“I like this, you moaning my name like that,” he purred, reminding me of the sounds Caraxes made when he was around his rider. He might be the most feared dragon amongst those in the Pit, but he was putty in his master’s hands.

Just like I was.

I barely realized it when I started rocking against him, trying to find some relief in the strange feeling I had between my legs. Was this what a woman felt when she was in the arms of her lover?

I paused, not sure what it was I felt at the moment.

Daemon pulled back to gaze at me when he felt me stop moving.

“What is it?” he whispered, his eyes watching me carefully.

“What are we doing Daemon?” I asked, my voice barely audible. I was afraid that, if I spoke any louder, the spell would be broken, and the moment would end. I didn’t want it to end.

“What does it feel like we’re doing?” he smirked, pushing his hips slightly at me, making his intentions obvious. “Don’t you want it?”

“I do, by the Gods I do,” I groaned as he resumed his attack on my neck, descending lower, nuzzling at my bosom while his fingers made quick work of the lacings on the front of my dress.

“Then stop thinking too much about it, and just let yourself go. Let the wolf go free,” he whispered, and the darkness in his eyes made something inside me snap.

I was the one that attacked him this time, searching for his lips as if I was roaming the desert and he held the last of the water in his mouth.

His fingers finally untied my lacings, and he pushed at my dress, letting fall to the ground. I was left in my thin shift and underclothes.

He went for my braid then, releasing my long hair from the ties I had secured them with. He pulled at my hair, not enough to hurt me, but enough to expose my neck to him. He nipped at my skin, marking it with his teeth before easing the bite with his tongue.

“Daemon,” I gasped, pulling at his hair myself.

He hissed, but the lust in his eyes told me all I needed to know. He got up from his chair, wrapping my legs around his waist as he carried me towards the huge bed not far from where we were.

He placed me softly on the soft sheets, hovering over me.

I pulled him for another earth-shattering kiss, and felt him slip his hand under my shift. He reached for my undergarments, pulling at it sharply, ripping it to shreds.

He attacked my neck again, almost rutting against me, and I thought I was going to explode from lust.

“Gods,” I moaned, pulling at him, trying to get some relief on the ache I felt between my legs.

Daemon chuckled.

“I know some of the smallfolk think we descend from the ancient Gods of Valyria, but I never thought a northerner would believe the same thing.”

“You cocky bast-” I started to protest, only to be silenced by the feel of his fingers enter me.

“Ah, so that’s how I can get you to stop talking,” my husband chuckled huskily, giving me another of those fiery kisses.

I couldn’t reply, let alone form any coherent thought. Whatever he was doing to me with those fingers, it lit a fire in my whole body, a fire I never wanted to get out of.

A pressure started building low in my belly and I started panting, as if I was trying to run a long distance.

“Come my little wolf, howl for me,” Daemon whispered to my ear, and it was all I needed. The knot that had been writhing in my belly suddenly burst, and I saw white stars explode behind my eyelids. An amazing sensation engulfed me, and I felt as if I was flying.

Daemon continued to caress me, prolonging this feeling, until I could take it no more. Then, he withdrew his fingers from my core, raising his torso a bit to take a look at me.

I couldn’t imagine what I looked like from his perspective. Panting, with my hair wild, my skin flushed, and my legs spread before him as if I… as if he and I had just…

I dared to open my eyes to look at him, and was rewarded with a hungry look that rekindled the fire in my belly. He looked at me as if I was his next meal.

As if he could read my thoughts, Daemon licked his lips, giving me another of his signature smirks before he reached for my shift. He pulled it over my head, leaving me completely bare before him. I had the greatest urge to try and cover myself, but I knew that would not please him.

“My little wolf,” he crooned, leaning down to kiss me, softer this time. “That was no true howl. Even after what we did, you still hold back. It seems I have to use other methods to let the wild beast free.”

I didn’t have the time to ask him what he meant before he burned a trail of kisses from my lips, to my neck, to the sensitive skin between my breasts, down to my belly and, before I could stop him, right between my legs.

“Daemon, what are you doing?” I dared to ask him, still dizzy from our previous tryst.

“Feasting on my darling she-wolf wife,” he winked at me cheekily, before descending upon my mound.

I moaned loudly as I felt him lap at my cunt, licking like a cat devouring a bowl of cream. I couldn’t control the sounds that left my mouth, nor my hips from moving as close to that torturous mouth as I could get them.

His mouth closed around something down there that made me scream, asking him, begging him not to stop. His fingers entered me once more, and the feeling was even better than before. I bunched up the sheets with my hands, trying to find a way to anchor myself to reality. There was no way this was happening to me. Another jolt of pleasure shook me whole, and the divine feeling shattered my body once more, sending me crashing towards oblivion.

I barely realized that the moans echoing around the room came from my mouth. What was happening to me? This was nothing like what those servants had done in the storage closet. The man hadn’t treated his lover like this, nor had she moaned the way I was right now. Was this a different way for a man and a woman to be united?

I didn’t realize I had closed my eyes until I heard Daemon’s voice, calling to me as if he stood far away.

“Lara,” he whispered, now leaning over me once again. His voice sounded like velvet, and my name coming from his lips like that was the sweetest thing I had ever heard.

I couldn’t reply to him, only gaze at his perfect face, all sweaty and… Was all that wetness around his mouth from me, from my…

“Want to taste your desire my wolf?” he asked, and the flames rekindled in me once more.

I knew I should be disgusted. What decent noble lady would dare to do such a vulgar thing? Those were things that only whores would do, and only because they got paid for it.

But I wanted it. I wanted to taste my desire, mixed with his taste. And I wanted it now.

I reached for him, uniting our lips in a sloppy, wet and absolutely amazing kiss that had me reeling. I moaned at the sweet and at the same time salty taste that exploded in my mouth, and licked at his tongue, wanting more.

He groaned deeply, and I felt something poke at my cunt, something long, hand and hot. I had been so lost, I didn’t even realize when he had taken off his breeches and now was as naked as I was, hovering over me. Daemon rubbed his cock at my folds a few times, then pushed in me, slowly, giving my time to adjust to him.

This new feeling had me gasping. It felt uncomfortable at first, but I was so wet, he slid in easily. I felt him fill me, bit by bit, until he paused.

I pulled back to complain but, before I could, he shushed me with his finger.

“This will hurt a bit at first, but I promise you, it is worth it. Are you ready?”

I didn’t dare speak, only nodded, trusting those dark eyes with my body, my soul and my heart.

With a snap of his hips, Daemon broke through my maidenhead, and I felt as if someone was slicing me in half. I yelped in pain, tears falling from the corners of my eyes. Daemon kissed them away, whispering to me that the hardest part was over. He stilled his motions, giving me little kisses to distract me from my pain.

And indeed, after a while, the pain faded away, leaving only pleasure, and a need for more.

I tried to move my hips, to get more of this feeling, and Daemon groaned over me. He started pushing further in, filling me to the brim with his cock. He pulled back, almost completely, only to slam back in me with a powerful move.

“Don’t stop, please don’t stop,” I begged him, moving with him, trying to get more, more, more.

His hands grabbed hold of my thighs, pulling me towards him, driving into me faster, harder.

I pulled him down for another kiss, this one the hottest of them all. He was on fire, as was I. I didn’t care. I wanted him to burn me, own me, destroy me in every way. I was his, and he was mine. Nothing else mattered.

Daemon quickened his pace, his pants echoing along with my moans all over the room. This time, the knot in my belly was tighter than I had felt the previous times, and I wanted to scream, to let the whole castle, maybe even the whole city know what Daemon was doing to me. I wanted everyone to know that I was his, and he was mine.

His pace became frantic, and I felt as if I was going to explode from pleasure.

“Let go my love,” he gasped, pinning me with his violet gaze. “Let yourself go wild, let go.”

The sound of his voice, those words, the way he looked at me, it was all too much. One last snap of his hips and I was gone, screaming his name for all to hear. He growled, a loud and primal sound that only added to the passion between us. I felt him release his seed deep inside me, and I thought to myself that didn’t want this moment to end, ever.

--

I must have passed out from exhaustion, because the next thing I knew, I woke up with Daemon’s arms wrapped around me, my head resting on his muscular chest. I lay there for a moment, listening to his strong heartbeat, trying to accept what had happened between us. I was no longer a lone wolf. I had given myself, body and soul, to my dragon. That thought both excited and terrified me.

What if, now that he had performed his duty and made me his wife in every way, possibly planting his seed in me, he decided to go back to his old ways, and spend his nights away from me, in the company of his whores?

The thought was like a knife in my heart. It would devastate me if, after a taste of his fire, he turned cold once more. I didn’t know if I could handle it.

I slipped out of his arms, wrapping myself with a sheet and made my way to the balcony. Night had fallen, and it looked to be about midnight, the moon already high in the sky. I stood at the very end of the stone balcony, taking in the peaceful atmosphere of the night. It felt soothing, calming my nerves a bit.

I tried to think of the worst that could happen. If Daemon decided to go back to his whores and ignore me, I would have to continue pretending as nothing was amiss, keeping myself deaf to the whispers of the other courtiers. No doubt our night together was already known to the entire castle. There was no way the servants or the guards had not heard us. They would speak to each other about it behind my back, giggling and commenting how the wolf had not managed to tame the dragon after all, and mock me every time Daemon spent his nights in the Street of Silk.

My only comfort, the only reason to keep myself together, was if I had managed to get pregnant from tonight. If I had, Daemon would have his heir, and I would have someone to give my love to. I didn’t care if I gave birth to a boy or a girl. All I wanted was a child, something to remind me of the one and only night my husband had touched me, had been with me as a man should be with his wife.

My mind was so preoccupied with all those dark thoughts, I didn’t hear the silent footsteps behind me. Two strong arms were wrapped around me, warming me from the night’s chill.

“Why did you leave our bed love?” Daemon whispered, kissing me lightly on my shoulder.

My heart fluttered at the little nickname he used. Could he really mean it?

“I wanted to see the moon,” I lied, lifting my gaze to the almost round glowing orb.

“Ah, my little she-wolf, she wants to howl at the moon, does she?”

I giggled, turning to look at my husband. He looked so beautiful in the moonlight, his silver hair shining, the same color as the moon. He too had wrapped a sheet around his waist, leaving his chest bare. I was mesmerized by how soft and pale his skin looked under the moonlight.

“Wolves don’t howl at the moon,” I shook my head, twirling a strand of his hair with my fingers. “They howl to call out to their mate, communicate with them, let them know where they are.”

“That sounds romantic,” Daemon smiled at me.

“Yes, it is. Wolves only mate once in their lifetime, they never let anyone else near them if something happens to their mate.”

“So do dragons,” Daemon replied, caressing my face ever so gently.

Something in his eyes told me he wasn’t talking only about the dragons currently residing in the pit.

I stayed silent, wrapped in his arms. I had so many things to ask him, but I had no courage to do so. His answers could either make me the happiest woman in the world, or break my heart beyond repair.

“What are you thinking my wolf? I can almost hear your mind humming with how much you are thinking right now.”

“I… just try to think of what tomorrow might bring for me, for us,” I muttered, knowing that it was now or never. Might as well get it over with.

Daemon pulled back, his face scrunched in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“I know you Daemon,” I sighed. “All this time we’ve been married, I’ve come to know a lot about you, even with the limited amount of time we’ve spent together. Ever since we got married, you made it very clear that you had absolutely no interest in me. But now, after tonight, things have changed between us. I… I have to ask. What do you intend to do from now on?”

Daemon lifted my chin, looking at me with those dark eyes I had come to love.

“What are you afraid of? What do you fear I’m going to do?”

I looked away, trying desperately to hold back the tears that threatened to fall.

“I fear that you will go back to what you used to do every night,” I said quietly, walking to the other end of the balcony. “Go out with your men, spend your time with other women, ignoring me, shunning our bed in favor of some lady of the night.”

My dragon approached me once more, pulling me into his embrace.

“My sweet, my lovely wife,” he sighed, leaning his head against mine, his forehead rubbing on the top of my head.

“Do you know how long I wanted to claim you, to hold you in my arms as we lay in our bed?”

I looked up at him, confused.

“Then why didn’t you, why did you treat me so coldly?” I demanded, hurt.

“Our marriage was arranged, just like my previous marriage. I was afraid, I thought you only agreed to this marriage to get into the royal family, to gain more power for your family, through me,” he sighed, his face turning sad. “I couldn’t let my heart be exposed, let my feelings out and get them crushed under your rejection. You were so cold, so formal with me, I had to keep my distance, to protect my heart.”

I could not believe what I was hearing. This great man, this famous warrior, the man who rode a fierce dragon with no fear, looked at me as if I might break him with a wrong move I made.

“I have not touched another woman, not for a while now, since that night that cunt Hightower tried to ridicule us both. I go out every night, looking for criminals to punish, using them to spend my frustration and fear, but I have not laid with another woman. None have touched me, nor have I touched them, this I swear to you.”

The sound of his words filled me with such happiness, I half-expected to burst from joy. I leaned and rubbed my forehead against his, smiling at how sweet he sounded.

“Your heart has nothing to fear from me my dragon, for you have my own heart in your hands. My heart, my body, my soul, my very being, it’s all yours, from this day, until the end of our days.”

My husband smiled, kissing me sweetly and deeply. I had no words to describe how I felt. I was no longer just me. We were one, connected in every way, body and soul.

“As I am yours my little wolf, in every way, until the end of our days, and beyond that,” he whispered, giving me little kisses around my mouth. "Come now, it’s getting cold out here, we’d better return to our bed.”

That night, we made sweet love to each other, not stopping until the sun’s rays broke over the nearby hills.

The next few days, several noble ladies I came across seemed to notice the bite marks my husband had left on my neck, but didn’t dare to ask me about them. They also didn’t dare to comment on the fact that, after his patrols around the city, Daemon returned to the castle every night, and the corridor outside our rooms echoed with our moans.

Nine moons after our first night together, I gave birth to a silver-haired boy. We named him Aemon.

[fireandbloodsource]

DAENERYS APPRECIATION MONTH 2022 ↳ Day 15: Embodiment of hope

He was not a man to be refused. Sam hesitated a moment, then told his tale again as Marywn, Alleras, and the other novice listened. "Maester Aemon believed that Daenerys Targaryen was the fulfillment of a prophecy . . . her, not Stannis, nor Prince Rhaegar, nor the princeling whose head was dashed against the wall."

"Born amidst salt and smoke, beneath a bleeding star. I know the prophecy." Marwyn turned his head and spat a gob of red phlegm onto the floor. "Not that I would trust it. Gorghan of Old Ghis once wrote that a prophecy is like a treacherous woman. She takes your member in her mouth, and you moan with the pleasure of it and think, how sweet, how fine, how good this is . . . and then her teeth snap shut and your moans turn to screams. That is the nature of prophecy, said Gorghan. Prophecy will bite your prick off every time." He chewed a bit. "Still . . ."

[pessimisticpigeonsworld]

In this post, I talked a bit about how the removal of magic in GOT destroyed the character of Euron Greyjoy. Now I'm going to talk about how it negatively impacted Daenerys' character.

Magic is fundamental to Dany's storyline, which is why her story is one of the only ones that still has magic in it on the show. However, that magic is drastically reduced, there's now simply hatching the dragons, the calling she feels to do so, and like two visions in the House of the Undying. Meaning, aside from dragon riding, Dany's magic is only in the first two seasons.

I want to talk first about how they reduced her dreams. In AGOT, we have almost a dream per chapter for Dany, each of them pointing to her future as the Mother of Dragons, a dragon rider, and her later story points. In ACOK, her visions in the House of the Undying point to not only her future, but those of other characters (i.e. the Red Wedding, Tyrion, Jon, the Others, etc). ASOS sees the first appearance of Quaithe in Dany's dreams, and in ADWD, Dany dreams in the Dothraki Sea and sees Quaithe a few more times. That's a pretty big difference from the show's portrayal.

The removal of these dreams serve to make Dany seem much more similar to the rest of her family than she really is. It's a way for them to make her seem less remarkable and force their "parallels" with Aerys. In the books, while other Targaryens have dragon dreams, none of them are quite to the same level as Dany, with the exception of maybe Daenys (we don't actually know). She's meant to be set apart, just like the other main five. She, Jon, Bran, Arya, and even Tyrion are meant to have stronger connections to magic than any other main characters.

Jumping back to Quaithe, removing her really shows how little they cared about George's plans for Dany's character. Her connection to the resurgence of magic is touched on in the show, but not to the same extent as it is in the books. Quaithe is constantly telling Dany to go to Assai, one of the magical centers of the world. Obviously there is something important in Asshai that has to do with magic and the dragons. But apparently, D&D decided to fuck around and drop that whole idea, leaving Dany with an easy and pretty boring storyline after Meereen.

Finally, the show removed most of the prophecies. I did cover this partially in the dreams section, but there's more to be said about erasing the prophecies. Mainly the Prince that was Promised/Azor Ahai prophecy. Obviously, in the show, it was decided that the prophecy should be completely thrown aside and Arya should kill the Night King and the War for the Dawn be over in a few hours. This is a gross mishandling of the themes, which makes sense given who the head writers were. Prophecies are a key part of ASOIAF, and the Prince that was Promised/Azor Ahai is definitely the most important. Targaryens throughout history made unwise decisions in the name of the prophecy: Viserys II forced Aegon IV and Naerys to marry, Jaegaerys II forced Aerys and Rhaella to marry, (according to HoTD) Viserys I killed Aemma for a son, and Aegon conquered Westeros. Clearly this is important, writing it out in the name of "subverting expectations" is the dumbest fucking idea ever, right after mad queen Dany.

D&D also wrote out many magical objects that clearly are meant to have importance to the story. The glass candles and the dragon binder are magical objects that will change the course of Dany's life as she knows it. Whether the dragon binder Victarion has will work or not is irrelevant, its very existence could drive Dany off course from Westeros to Asshai. Maester Marwyn is bringing a glass candles to Dany and Quaithe warned her that they are burning again. The magic the glass candles have would have a massive impact on how Dany will proceed. After all, they could allow her to communicate with people in Westeros or Asshai or enhance her dragon dreams. They will also put her in direct conflict with the Citadel, as the Maesters use the glass candles as examples for magic's nonexistence.

Magic is integral to the ASOIAF universe. Removing it makes the story so much more boring and damages or destroys character arcs. Daenerys suffered so much in the adaptation, and one of the greatest blows was the removal of magic in her story. It shows how lazy D&D were, since they couldn't be bothered to figure out the magic system of the world they are adapting. It removes the interesting ideas George came up with, making it into someone's historical fiction smut fic when mixed with the other ideas D&D put in.

[dalekofchaos]

If Ned Stark became King

Hypothetically speaking. Let's say Robert and Rhaegar killed each other in the Battle of The Trident and Ned had no choice but to take the Iron Throne because The Rebellion expected it of him. Here is how I could see things going.

Tywin lannister would have been sentenced to death do to his part in the deaths of Ella Martell, Rhaenys and baby Aegon.

Jamie has three options. He killed the King he was sworn to protect which should mean either a death sentence or a sentence to the wall. If he could convenience Ned that he did the right and honorable thing by keeping the city from being burned maybe he could have lived and be Lord of Casterly Rock.

If Jamie died, Tyrion would have become Lord of Casterly Rock.

He would send for Queen Rhaella and Viserys and baby Daenerys in peace promising safety. Rhaella would have been allowed to live and raise Daenerys possibly in the capital or on Dragon Stone. Viserys would have been sent to the Eryie as a ward of Lord Jon Arryn. ( Ned had fond memories of being warded there, a good place for a confused young child).

Now for Jon, this is my belief of what would have happened. Jon would have been named Prince and heir and betrothed to Ned's first born daughter, in this case Sansa. This would unite both the rebellion and House Targaryen uniting the kingdom again.

Stannis would have been given temporary lordship over Dragonstone, holding it for Viserys. And would still be Lord of Storms End.

The Martells would be happy because they would have been given the Mountain and Tywin would've been executed for his crimes. I could see Ned also fostering Jon there. By all rights Jon is sort of related to the Martells. Its unknown if Ella knew that Rhaegar was going to remarry or not, if she knew and told her family I could see them opening their arms to Jon.

Now for Winterfell, with Ned at Kings Landing, Benjen would be the stark in the north. Its unknown why Benjen joined the Nights watch, I think he just plain wanted to. Ned would ask Benjen to hold Winterfell for a time before he joins, till either Robb is ready to take over, or Ned leaves the thrown for Jon.

Since the Eddard-Catelyn marriage had already been arranged it would not change. Marriages would be vastly different however.

Eddard and Cats marriage ensures an alliance between the Tullys and Starks.

Robb would then be promised to Margaery Tyrell when they both came of age thereby ensuring an alliance between the Tyrells and Starks.

Jaime Lannister and Lysa Tully would be betrothed thereby ensuring an alliance with The Westerlands and the Riverlands and, by extension, the Crown.

Because Jon Arryn had no heirs and was getting older he would be wed as well but since he was already Lord Paramount of the Vale his bride would be from a lesser vassal house from the Reach.

Prince Oberyn would be wed to Cersei hereby ensuring an alliance with Dorne and the Westerlands.

Arya Stark and Quentyn Martell

Arianne Martell and Theon Greyjoy

Viserys and Shireen

Daenerys and Willas

Varys and Baelish would be summarily dismissed from their services in the capital. They would be given holdfasts somewhere far away and forever be barred from the capital or from raising armies.

Grand Maester Pycelle would be sent to the Citadel for reassignment elsewhere. An election for a new Grand Maester would take place then (as is the Citadels way).

Small Council members:

Hand of the King: Jon Arryn

Grand Maester: Marwyn

Master of Coin: Olenna Tyrell

Master of Ships: Balon Greyjoy (bring him into the fold)

Lord Commander of the King’s Guard: Barristan Selmy

Master of Whispers: Prince Doran of Dorne (Bringing Dorne into the Fold as well)

Master of Laws: Brynden Tully

Lord Commander of the City Watch: Mace Tyrell

One of Ned’s first and continuing acts would be to repair the damage, both physical and emotional from Robert’s Rebellion and to repair the relations and trust between the common people and the Crown.

All soldiers that fought against Robert and Eddard during the campaign would be forgiven and pardoned and allowed to return to their homes without consequence. Their leaders, depending on their level of loyalty, would be offered a chance to swear fealty to the Starks. Any that refused would be sent to the Wall and their lands, estates, and positions would be given to loyal nobles.

Ned understood that the job of a noble is to help the people (he considers them his children), and he would immediately order all noble houses of a certain wealth to pay a one-time reparation tax to lift the poor out of poverty and to secure a positive working relationship with them.

Because so many noble houses have been killed off and there is a lack of trueborn individuals left in the kingdom tournaments would be held throughout the kingdom that would be open to the common man, the winners of which would receive a large reward of coin, be allowed to squire with the guarantee of knighthood, and a holdfast. These new nobles would be extremely loyal to the house that allowed them knighthood as well as the crown that elevated their status. These tournaments would also serve to lift the spirits of the common people.

If Ned took the throne the world would be a lot different and ultimately the story would be considerably more boring because the “game” would never happen.

[spearsndragons]

HOURGLASS UPDATE: “a series of revelations,” is OUT NOW

The trio each meets someone in Pentos. Robert seems to have gained control over his dreams.

“Tell me, who had been the maester in charge of your pregnancies?”

Jaime had been the one to answer. “The king’s Grand Maester, who else? He oversaw the queen’s pregnancy before that.”

“Your father’s Grand Maester, you mean?” Marwyn shot back. “Do you know what they call him at the Citadel? Just as they call me a mage, they call him Tywin’s footman. Ha! That cocksucker is no maester. He likes to pretend he’s a lord more than anything, parading in those ostentatious velvet robes.”

“What are you implying, archmaester?” Elia asked evenly.

Archmaester Marwyn shrugged. "What did Tywin Lannister want more than anything for his daughter?”

“A crown,” Jaime breathed out, and instantly, everyone else in the room came to the same realization.

Elia froze.

I AM ALIVE!!! sorry law school has been hard but pls enjoy this new chapter! a big change from the OG hourglass is revealed hehe

[visenyaism]

If we're talking about house hightower's magic shenanigans and why people think they hate magic, what do you think about the grand maester conspiracy? You can use the theory rubric for this if you want

I could believe they rigged a great council or started a war or two. I could believe they have some dislike for valyrian magic as an institution. I could believe individual maesters still have political sympathies and try to leverage their power to further those. But i just cannot believe there is a national conspiracy of EVERY maester in Westeros to start wars in their favor and successfully eliminate all magic from the world yall. You really think a single university is capable of that level of coordination without any leaks at any point in history. Barbery Dustin and Marwyn the Mage are NOT reliable sources they are fantasy qanon posters

[lemonhemlock]

The funniest part about the Maester Conspiracy is that targ stans are sitting here willingly admitting that their faves who had literal DRAGONS, the ultimate power in Planetos, got rolled by a bunch of middle aged men whose job duties were *checks notes* reading books, writing down historical events, and keeping track of dates or whatever, like it's fucking hilarious.

Truly the biggest flop house in Westeros.

I... don't think that the Maesters' work is so preposterous as to render their positions without merit, power or influence. What is this, jocks laughing at nerds? The order is exclusionary and misogynistic, but it's the only proper science institute that Westeros has. I myself am a historian so that description seems needlessly disdainful; those activities are important.

Anyway, my take on the Maester Conspiracy is that it's plausible inasmuch as it's plausible that the biologists within the Order would be very interested in studying how dragons actually work. Would they really turn their noses at the chance to examine a dragon? I don't think so. And it just so happens that two dragons have resided in Oldtown, namely Tessarion and Morning. There are also Marwyn's words, who is generally more open-minded when it comes to magic.

I don't think the maesters were off secretly assassinating Targaryens or scaling the Dragonpit to poison dragons, but it is curious that Morning, the only tame dragon left, had such a short life and died not long after the Dance. Morning is also mentioned to be a she-dragon; a dragon's gender is classified as female if she happened to lay eggs. Where are Morning's eggs? What happened to her? Maybe this is what Marwyn is alluding to.

[catasterisms]

thinking about how the captain of the cinnamon wind was the one to tell dany that robert was dead, and how he was also the one who took sam&co from braavos to oldtown and now marwyn plans to sail to dany on the cinnamon wind so he'll also be the one to bring dany news of maester aemon's death

[atopvisenyashill]

in the middle of my pyramid of needs is a book written by septon barth and edited by maester marwyn thats nothing but targ dirt

Marwyn has been trying to get Jaehaerys Is A Dumb Bitch, His Whole Family Is Whack, And Me & Alysanne Have Done Most Of The Actual Ruling: A True Telling By Septon Barth and Seven HELLS What The Fuck Is Wrong With My Family: A Tell All Memoir From Archmaester Vaegon published for the last decade, to the point that he tried to get an audience with Robert to be like heyyyy can i please pretty please publish my books shit talking the Targs but unfortunately for him Yandel was also there trying to get funding for his latest vanity project and fucking bodied him before he could get anywhere the Red Keep.