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msmorningstaarr · 2 months

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let me be yours. | part I

ao3 | masterlist | part II >

Pairing: Rhaenyra Targaryen x F!Martell!Reader

Word count: 3.1K

Summary: You, a Martell princess who was recently brought into Rhaenyra's courtyard as a sign of goodwill to ensure the unification of the Seven Kingdoms. With time passing on, you feel trapped under the enticing aura of the Dragon Queen and sees yourself desiring her more and more. However, in a delicate situation, is it worth the yearn for your Queen? Would you give in to your needs to have your way with her and find some indulgence?

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), afab reader, bisexual rhaenyra, canon divergence, longing, age gap (you early 20s rhae mid 30s), fingering, masturbation, oral sex, sub/dom dynamics (rhae dom you sub), overstimulation, scissoring, queen rhaenyra targaryen, nipple play, possessive rhaenyra

Ever since you left your homeland to be a ward in King’s Landing, life has become a journey of too many changes and mixed feelings. The sense of homesickness and fear of the unknown was present and huge within your heart.

You were a princess of Dorne, the second in line to inherit Sunspear after your brother. After the rise of Rhaenyra Targaryen as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, she successfully united the relations with Dorne and finally brought it into the feud and unifying the realm once and for all. You, after all, were presented at her courtyard as a sign of good will from the Martells and forge a prominent marital alliance between you and the heir to the Iron Throne, Prince Jacaerys, in order to legitimise the coming of the dornish to the courtyard.

You obviously missed the sultry dunes of sand, the sweeteness of Dornish Red, the incandescent sky, with a fiery burning sun crashing your skin and the sense of community amongst your siblings and the freedom your country provided. You felt less lonely in Dorne, for the life in King’s Landing could prove to be challenging under the judgemental and prejudicial nature of the rest of the Westerosi. Some became outraged by your presence, others just spoke in whispers around the corners of the Red Keep, yet, it was undeniable that as soon as you stepped into the city, you became the centre of attention, always remembered by the courtyard for your mysterious peek, luscious, long hair and exquisite beauty or your luxurious sense of fashion. It distanced yourself from the standard beauty of the other ladies in the realm, putting yourself easily as the fairest maiden of your time.

You had no idea if this title came over the fact that you hold a big status as future consort and people wanted to fuss around you or if you were indeed the most beautiful lady in Westeros. However, you knew well that ever since the Queen has met you, she had been enchanted by you and held you in high regard, always complimenting you and your astonishing beauty. Her Grace enjoys calling you by terms of endearment, being “sweet girl” her favourite name for you, showering you with jewellery and plenty of expensive gifts or simply having your company along the day, to have long walks throughout the royal gardens and even show you the Dragonpit became a regular routine when she arranged time between her royal duties. You barely had time to bond with Prince Jacaerys, given the fact you became her loyal companion.

Speaking from the back of your mind, you cared not much, once you found yourself drowning into the alluring beauty of Rhaenyra. The Westerosi average accent for you was dull and ugly on everyone else; on her, it was perfection. Her touch was gentle and her violet eyes were rather attentive, careful of you. You spent your nights having supper with her and her other sons or simply sharing a good conversation. She made you feel less lonely in that castle.

You questioned yourself if what you were feeling was no more than a delusion, a projection over your neediness for attention. But you could swear you caught yourself in a moment with her where your gazes locked on each other and she lightly pinched your chin, getting too close to your face. Queen Rhaenyra was a daydream. You never indulged in kissing or having any romantic interaction with other ladies but Rhaenyra lit a fire within you - a liability only Her Grace could solve.

And now there you were, another night where she requested your company for supper. You wore an orange dress with silky cuts giving a slight volume to the gown, although it was a more simplistic dress, more adequate to the occasion. Her Queensguard announced you at the door and she received you with a polite smile before you gave her a courtesy.

“Good evening, Your Grace.” You speak, bending your body on a polite greeting gesture to Rhaenyra.

“It has been a far cry since we are done with courtesies, sweet girl,” Rhaenyra said, silently commanding her servants and guards to leave her with you. Her peek examined your features and smiled softly at you.

“It is a costume I would rather not lose, Your Gra-… Rhaenyra.” You corrected yourself, remembering she wanted you to address her by her name only, as a sign of how much she enjoyed your presence. She giggled and guided you through her chambers, ever so caring and jolly.

“I should warn you,” Rhaenyra began, walking through her private apartments. “I commanded the cook to prepare you something special.” Her Grace spoke to you, graciously raising her eyebrows and excited, yet contained beam. Your eyes lit up, already knowing what she was talking about.

You sat after her on the small table fetched for the two of you and a set of plates strategically placed for the duo to have dinner. Even before you would open it, you already knew. “The dornish recipe of roasted lamb.”

Rhaenyra grinned and joined her hands once she realised how much you enjoyed the said surprise. “I had the cook searching for this recipe for days, sweet girl. I hope it is of your liking.”

And then, after waiting for Your Grace to start eating, you hummed in satisfaction eating your meal. The spicy flavour exploded in your mouth, invading your taste and drooling your mouth by the slightest of satisfaction. “I take for your expression that you enjoy it a great deal.” Rhaenyra told you, after taking a bite of her own dinner. You nodded eagerly tasting it and had to contain yourself to not lose your composure in front of the Queen.

“Thank you, Your Grace. It tastes delicious, I have missed this.” You reply to her and involuntarily touches her hand, squeezing it delicately. Once you tried to take it away, Rhaenyra held it tighter, forbidding you to take it away and stared at you, silently reassuring you it was acceptable. Her hands entangling on yours was almost electrifying, causing goosebumps on your skin just with a simple touch or an exchange of looks. Her face, however, was tender and calm, with a soft smile whilst looking at you.

Rhaenyra put her hand over the table once again and her fingertips traced patterns over your soft skin. “My pleasure, sweet girl.” She muttered at you and tension was thick in the air. “Do you miss Dorne, my dear?” Rhaenyra asked you and her other hand grasped the cold metal of her cup of wine, taking it to her mouth to drink it, but her gaze never left yours.

You craved her attention, thirsting for more of Rhaenyra. Her presence sparked questions in your mind about her prowess as a lover; with so many sons, it seemed plausible her husbands found her passionate and fulfilling in bed, particularly Daemon. Could she bring that same intensity and allure to you? As Rhaenyra doted on you in your future role as a daughter-in-law, you could not help but ponder how she might express her affection in a more intimate relationship. Her gestures and glances, filled with warmth and intrigue, hinted at depths of passion waiting to be explored. The thought of her as a lover stirred your curiosity and desire, wondering how her charm and grace would translate into romantic moments.

"I do," you replied, your voice tinged with anticipation and full of honesty, grappling with the allure and uncertainty of what lay ahead. Would she meet your expectations, exceed them, or perhaps offer something entirely unexpected? The prospect both thrilled and unsettled you, as you navigated the complex emotions and possibilities that Rhaenyra's presence brought into your life.

“Well, darling, this is your home now. Your Queen will make sure you feel enoughly accommodated in my court,” Rhaenyra replied, breaking the contact between them to cut the tension shortly after it. The Valyrian Queen cuts a piece of her meat and fidget her fingers on her cup, tracing the boards as her eyes rested on your features. You, on the other hand, smiled gently at her words, deeply touched by her kindness towards you. It was not supposed to feel right to yearn for a full desire of Rhaenyra, you had to get rid these ruminations from your mind and replace them with Jacaerys. But how could it ever be possible when she is just in front of you, cornering you to fully focus on you and your relationship with her?

“I should hope you’re preparing your cloak with your ladies-in-waiting.” Your marriage, however, was a sensitive subject. Jacaerys was a dutiful boy and the interactions you had with him were more than pleasant, still, he was not what you were looking for. His long, brown curls had its appeal, but his mother unveiled things she wished she felt for Prince Jace. “I was done with the embroidery yesterday. I can bring it and show you on our next encounter, Your Grace.”

Rhaenyra lifted her eyebrows and lowered her eyes, smirking at her food as she ate it, seemingly thinking about something. You laughed, nervously drinking your wine. Your hands felt sweaty and heart beating just as it was about to rip open your chest out. “I would be most glad, sweet girl. Are you nervous about your wedding?”

You nodded, with your eyes sly and cautious while lingering on the Queen and she smiled at you again, on an attempted shared empathy. “I was a little thing like you when I married my first husband, Ser Laenor Velaryon, Jace’s father,” Rhaenyra began. “He was not my choice of husband, earnestly.” She giggled and drank a sip of her wine. “But we had a good marriage. Laenor was a good man and provided me with children and good company. We loved each other in our own ways. Jace will treat you well too, sweet girl.”

“Thank you, Your Gr-...” The Queen lifted an eyebrow, reminding you of her request. “Rhaenyra.” You corrected yourself again and she mumbled something as ‘much better’. You giggled alongside her as she shook her head in amusement.

“A marriage is just a piece of paper,” Rhaenyra began. “You and Jace will understand you both can perform a duty and still find your happiness.”

Her words sounded suggestive, was the Queen motivating you to commit treason before your marriage? Was Rhaenyra testing you? You raised your eyebrows and Rhaenyra smiled mischievously again, her eyes gazing at you intensely and in quietude. You rummined what was going on within her mind. Rhaenyra's violet eyes held a depth that made you feel seen and understood in ways that no one else ever had. The silence stretched between you, charged with unspoken words and possibilities. Rhaenyra's touch was a lifeline in the vast sea of desires you were feeling. Her thumb brushed gently over your knuckles, sending shivers down your spine. You wanted to ask her so many things, but the words seemed to fail you in the face of her overwhelming presence.

"Sweet girl," Rhaenyra began softly, her voice a soothing melody, "My first marriage was also born out of duty. I can relate to the worry in your eyes. I want you to know that your happiness means a great deal to me, equally as my son’s. Your marriage to Jacaerys is a duty, yes, but it does not have to be the entirety of your existence."

By this point, you both had finished your plates and no desire for dessert rose for any of you. Rhaenyra had her wine by a window, feeling the cold breeze blow on her face with you by her side. The moonlight casted a silver glow, contrasting with her fair skin and silvery locks. Her words were a lifeline, pulling you from the deep core of your anxiety. The way she looked at you, with such intensity and sincerity, made you feel like you were the only person in the world who mattered.

"Rhaenyra, I..." You hesitated, unsure of how to articulate the storm of emotions swirling inside you. She squeezed your hand reassuringly, her eyes never leaving yours. “Are you testing me?”

Rhaenyra stared at you, grinning and confused. “Why would I test you, sweet girl?”

The proximity of her and the warmth of her breath on your skin, was intoxicating. You found yourself leaning closer, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. Her nearness was both a comfort and a temptation, stirring feelings within you that you had never dared to acknowledge before.

“Rhaenyra, what are you asking of me?” You finally managed to whisper, your voice trembling with a mix of anticipation and anxiety.

A slow, knowing smile curved her lips. “I am asking you to trust me, to let me guide you through this. Do you trust me, sweet girl?”

“I trust you.” You simply replied, sighing heavily. You should not desire her this much. However, being this close made you want to touch her, kiss her perfect lips and beg for her to claim you as his. She smiled at you, relieved and her fingertips stroked your hair, pulling it behind your ear. Her scent was a blend of lavender and something uniquely her. You felt the pull towards her, a magnetic force that you couldn't resist. Tentatively, you leaned in, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure she could hear it.

“Good.” She mumbled against your skin as Rhaenyra came closer. You never had been this close to her before. Her fingers reached your chin, lifting it to bring it closer to her lips, but her kiss was redirected to your cheek, so gently and delicate, yet so intense and slightly lustful. “Will you visit me next evening, my sweet?” Her Grace asked you, whispering words softly and close to your ear. It was a dangerous game you two were engaging in and you knew it well. But what is duty compared to what you are feeling now? You nodded in silence, quietly responding to her question as her hands embraced you slowly, bringing you closer, like a viper defeats its prey.

“I shall leave you to rest now.” You whispered at her, trying not to look into her eyes. Rhaenyra did not deviate her eyes from you, caressing your hair and staying close enough to feel her breath close to your face. “If you excuse me, Your… Rhaenyra.” You corrected yourself for a last moment and she giggled briefly to your face and finally let you go.

You were right in front of a windy window and your body was catching fire after having that moment with Rhaenyra. The cold breeze contrasted sharply with the heat that had built up inside you. As you left her chambers, your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions.

Making your way back to your quarters, the corridors felt longer, each step echoing with the memory of Rhaenyra’s touch and her whispered words. You couldn’t shake the feeling of her fingers against your skin, the promise and peril in her gaze. It was a heady mix of excitement and apprehension, knowing that you were treading a fine line between duty and desire.

Once in the privacy of your room, you closed the door behind you and leaned against it, taking a moment to catch your breath. The room felt different, almost foreign, as if it no longer fit the person you were becoming. You moved to the window, looking out into the night, the stars twinkling like a thousand silent witnesses to the secrets you now held.

You changed your clothing for a simple nightgown and decided it was time for your slumber, laying on the mattress and allowing you to rest. However, your mind recalled the way Rhaenyra was too close to you, the way her hands had touched you, her soothing voice in your ear felt as the prettiest of melodies, made just for you. It was by far, the most erotic encounter you ever had and you found yourself silently begging for more. Her words echoed in your ears, a constant reminder that your happiness was just as important as your duty. Your hands wandered throughout your body, pinching your nipples, squeezing your breasts and closing your eyes to imagine it is her touch on them. Your hand then passed down on your clothed belly and thighs, teasing yourself before actually going all the way to your pleasure. A soft moan left your lips as you played with your nipples, fantasising about Rhaenyra taking over that liability.

When her body was enoughly worked up and her cunt ached, your hand had encountered your centre over the thin fabric of your dress and when you could feel a small trace of wetness staining on the undergarment, you hummed slightly. Your hand was not a regular tool, you tried it a few times only, but her touch was so recent and her scent was well alive in your nostrils, it felt logical for your body to demeanour in that manner, begging to be touched. You moaned lightly when your fingers pressed against your swollen clit, causing your body to shudder under your own touch. You reminded her sweet talk so close to you, how soft her lips were kissing your cheek and your mind screamed, pleading for those lips to kiss your lips, your chest, your cunt…

As you moved your hand south, your fingers circled around your clit in a slow, tortuous motion and caused your body to arch your back, mumbling words of ‘please, Rhaenyra’ , begging to release for her. Alternating between circles and light taps on your sweet spot, you drove yourself to madness, humping your crotch in the air. Traces of sweat fell down your face as heat grew inside your body. Your breathing was quick to become erratic, just as the pace of your hand became more urgent on your sweet spot. Soon enough, your moans were a bit louder and the pleading became more insistent, desperate. When you least expect it, your body convulsed violently, and orgasm hits you, making your legs quiver, spread wider, hips bouncing against nothing and lungs breathing heavily, your entrance clenched around nothing. You never came this strongly before, and all thanks to your Queen. Trying to gain consciousness, you stared at the ceiling, reflecting about what you just did. Not even a single trace of guilt had reached your body and you considered doing it again if your eyes were insistent to be closed and put your body to sleep.

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a/n: missed writing and hell yeah i got inspired by THAT scene. please consider leaving likes, comments and reblogs. it’s very important for the writer! <3

Taglist: @princessanglophile @hiroikegawa @hiraethrhapsody @pet1t3

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darkficlord69 · 1 month

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Fire & Ice

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Jacaerys Velaryon

Warning: tastefully depicted smut (18+)

Word Count: 2k

Summary: When fire meets ice, the very walls of Winterfell seem to tremble. But is the wolf a worthy match for the dragon?

Jacaerys Velaryon sat beneath the sprawling canopy of the godswood, a single white flower caught between his slender fingers. He plucked its petals one by one, watching them drift down to the withered grass like fallen snow. A sigh escaped his lips, soft as the summer breeze, and his fingers, adorned with silver rings fashioned in the shape of dragons' scaly tails, stilled when a bee landed upon his pink nipple. He dared not move, resembling a statue of marble, all sharp curves and delicate lines, carved by a true master’s hand. He held his breath until the bee took flight, then allowed a small smile to break across his face as he prepared to rise.

But then, a shadow fell over him, long and imposing, blotting out the sun. Jacaerys looked up, squinting against the sudden darkness.

"Good day, my prince," came a husky voice, roughened by the chill of the North.

"You too, Cregan," Jacaerys replied mildly, his voice barely more than a whisper, as though he feared to break the stillness of the godswood.

"The lords of the war council request your presence in the solar," Cregan Stark said. "I had hoped you would care to join us."

Jacaerys let his gaze wander over Stark’s solid frame, taking in the man’s sturdy build. Those legs, long and strong beneath plain woolen breeches; that broad heavy chest hidden beneath layers of soft furs and leather; his hair, brown as autumn leaves, and his hard eyes, grey as winter’s ice—eyes that could thaw even the heart of a dragonlord.

He was lost in girlish thoughts, caught up in the rugged beauty of the Stark, when a soft throaty cough brought him back to himself. Cregan extended a gloved hand.

"Of course, my lord," Jacaerys said, taking the offered hand and letting Cregan pull him to his feet. "Anything you need."

***

The great hall of Winterfell rang with voices of discontent. Lord Umber’s booming shout rose above the rest, his face as red as his hair. “Straining our armies will only increase the risk of wildling attacks!” The room responded with a chorus of grunts and murmurs of approval. “Southron skirmishes are no concern of ours, I say!”

Lord Manderly, heavyset and lounging in his chair, responded in a bored drawl. “The South is as much a part of the Seven Kingdoms as the North. Sooner or later, one king or queen will force us to choose a side.”

“The Iron Throne will not look kindly upon our allegiance to Rhaenyra Targaryen,” Lord Hornwood intoned. Cregan Stark, seated at the head of the long oak table, had listened to enough prattle to make his head throb in annoyance. With a resounding thud, he slammed his large hands on the oak table, sending goblets rattling and silencing his bannermen. A sombre heaviness fell over the room, thick as the northern snows. The Warden of the North took a breath, his grey eyes hard and unyielding.

“We pledged our support to King Viserys’s heir long ago,” he said, his voice stern. “Never has a Stark broken his word, and I do not intend to be the first. Remember where your loyalties lie, my lords.”

With those words, dark and final as the grave, Cregan rose from the table, his wolfskin cloak trailing behind him like a shadow. Jacaerys Velaryon followed, a small, satisfied smile playing at the corners of his lips.

Once they were alone in the dim corridor of the Great Keep, Jacaerys’s mask of composure slipped, revealing the warmth beneath. “Cregan,” he said softly, his voice filled with genuine gratitude, “thank you.” The support of the North meant that his mother would be one step closer to claiming her birthright.

Cregan gave a curt nod, intent on heading to his chambers. But before he could take another step, he felt a firm yet gentle push, his back pressing against the cold stone of a column.

“Now let me show you how a dragon expresses his gratitude,” the prince murmured, a teasing grin curling his full, pouty lips. The words hung in the cold, still air, filled with a heat that made Cregan's blood pulse faster. Jacaerys moved with a lithe grace, every step a promise, every movement a dance of seduction.

Slowly, Jacaerys knelt before the Stark lord, his hands gliding up Cregan’s strong thighs. His touch was featherlight, just a whisper of fingers trailing over thick wool and leather, but it was enough to make Cregan’s breath catch in his throat. The prince’s eyes were dark, glimmering with mischief and desire, his expression one of pure intent as he let his fingers dance along the inside of Cregan's legs, feeling the muscles tense under his touch.

Cregan’s heart pounded in his chest, a heavy, insistent rhythm that matched the stirring in his loins. His hands flexed at his sides, fingers curling into fists as he fought the urge to pull Jacaerys up, to crush their mouths together in a desperate kiss. But he held back, held still, mesmerized by the sight of the prince at his knees, those nimble hands tracing patterns on his skin.

Jacaerys’s fingers found the edge of Cregan’s tunic, slipping beneath it, brushing against warm hair-covered flesh. The touch sent a shiver up Cregan’s spine, his breath hissing out between his teeth. Jacaerys looked up at him, his eyes half-lidded, his lips parted slightly, his breath warm against Cregan’s thigh.

The prince leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of Cregan’s leg, just above the knee. Cregan’s muscles tensed beneath the tender touch, his fingers twitching with the need to reach out, to bury them in the dark waves of Jacaerys’s hair. He watched, entranced, as Jacaerys continued his slow, torturous journey, his lips brushing lightly up the inside of Cregan’s thigh, each kiss a spark, each touch a flame.

The wolf stirred within Cregan, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he felt the heat of Jacaerys’s mouth moving higher. His desire, coiled tight like a spring, grew with every brush of those lips, every teasing touch. He felt himself harden, the ache of want becoming almost unbearable.

Jacaerys’s smirk widened as he felt the evidence of Cregan’s arousal beneath his hands. He looked up again, his eyes meeting Cregan’s, holding his gaze as he pressed a kiss to the sensitive skin just below Cregan’s hip. Cregan’s breath came out in a harsh exhale, his control slipping, his need overtaking him.

With a growl, Cregan reached down, his hands tangling in Jacaerys’s hair, pulling the prince up with a rough urgency. Their lips crashed together, the kiss fierce and desperate, teeth clashing, tongues tangling in a frantic dance. It was a kiss that spoke of hunger, of a desire that had been simmering beneath the surface for too long, finally unleashed.

Jacaerys responded with equal fervor, his hands gripping Cregan’s shoulders, pulling him closer, their bodies pressing together, fitting like pieces of a puzzle. The prince’s lips were soft but insistent, demanding and giving all at once. Cregan could taste the heat of him, could feel the fire that burned beneath his skin, and he met it with his own cold fury, his own wild, untamed desire.

Their mouths moved together, each kiss deeper, more intense than the last, as if they were trying to consume each other, to fuse together through sheer will. Cregan’s hands moved down, grasping Jacaerys’s waist, pulling him closer still, until there was no space between them, until they were one, bound together by the force of their need.

His lips left Cregan’s mouth, trailing down his jaw, his neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to the column of his throat. Cregan tipped his head back, a groan rumbling in his chest as Jacaerys found a sensitive spot, sucking gently, teeth grazing over skin.

The prince’s hands moved lower, finding hard planes of muscle, scars that marked his furry skin. He traced them with his fingertips, memorizing the shape of them, the feel of them, each one a testament to the man before him, to the strength and the honor that he embodied.

Cregan’s hands moved to Jacaerys’s waist, fingers digging into the prince’s hips as he pulled him impossibly closer, grinding against him, feeling the heat of his arousal through the layers of fabric. Jacaerys gasped, his head falling back, his eyes fluttering closed as pleasure coursed through him, his body arching into Cregan’s touch.

They moved together, lips meeting again in a fierce kiss, hands exploring, claiming, their breaths coming in ragged gasps. The wolf and the dragon, fire and ice, together in the dark, bound by a passion that neither could deny. And in that moment, they were lost to the world, to the weight of their titles and the burdens of their duties, lost to everything but each other.Jacaerys gasped, his fingers tangling in Cregan’s thick, dark hair as he pressed ever closer, his body melting against the northerner’s like ice before a flame. Cregan’s lips moved to Jacaerys’s neck, finding the pulse there and biting down just hard enough to make the prince hiss in pleasure.

“More,” Jacaerys demanded, his voice breathless, his eyes half-lidded with desire. “Show me how fierce the wolf can be.”

Cregan needed no further invitation. He lifted Jacaerys effortlessly, the prince’s legs wrapping around his waist as it was Cregan’s turn to press him against the wall. The cold stone was a stark contrast to the heat of their bodies, but neither of them noticed. Their world had narrowed to this moment, to the taste of each other’s mouths and the feel of their skin.

They were fire and ice, light and shadow, opposites drawn together by a force neither of them could fully understand but neither wanted to fight. Here, in the shadows of the keep, they were free of the burdens of their titles and the weight of their responsibilities. Here, they were just two dandy men, lost in the madness of each other.

Cregan’s hands found the laces of Jacaerys’s lacy smallclothes and pulled, the fabric sliding down the prince’s hips and pooling at his feet. Jacaerys shivered at the sensation, his hands gripping Cregan’s shoulders as the northern lord knelt before him.

For a moment, time seemed to freeze. Cregan looked up, his eyes meeting Jacaerys’s, asking a question without words. Jacaerys nodded, a silent answer, a trust given and accepted.

“Stay still now, woman,” Stark commanded and Jace whimpered at the order.

Then, Cregan’s lips were on him, hot and wet and hungry, and Jacaerys gasped, his head falling back against the stone. The world narrowed to that single point of contact, to the heat of Cregan’s mouth and the rough scrape of his beard against sensitive skin.

Jacaerys’s breath came in ragged gasps, his hands fisting in Cregan’s hair as pleasure coursed through him, building and building until he thought he might shatter from it. And then, with a cry that echoed off the walls of Winterfell, he did, his body tensing, his back arching, and then collapsing against the stone, boneless and sated.

Cregan rose, his lips curved in a small, satisfied smile as he pulled Jace into his arms, holding him close as the prince caught his breath. They stayed like that for a long moment, wrapped in each other, the only sound their breathing, the only warmth the heat of their bodies.

Finally, Jacaerys pulled back, his eyes bright, a lazy smile playing at his lips. “Well, Lord Stark,” he murmured, “I must say, your loyalty has its rewards.”

Cregan chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent a thrill through Jacaerys’s already sated body. “And you, Prince Jacaerys, are a demanding wench.”

Jacaerys leaned in, his lips brushing against Cregan’s ear as he whispered, “Only because I know you can handle me, oh Wolf of Winterfell.”

Cregan’s grin widened, his eyes darkening with promise. “Then you’ll have to show me again, you feisty dragonling,” he said, his voice a low growl.

Jacaerys laughed, a bright, clear sound that filled the corridor. “Oh, I intend to, Cregan Stark. Many times over.”

And with that, they slipped away into the shadows, leaving only the faint echo of their laughter and the lingering warmth of their passion behind them.

End.

Hi! Hope you liked it 🥰 Any form of feedback is greatly appreciated! 🫶

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queenvhagar · 2 months

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I believe Rhys Ifans’ statement “Both sides are genocidal war criminals… I think we should all enjoy seeing how they die[,]” would be wrong because the entire time the story HOTD is fundamentally about how one group, the greens, IE Alicent, Otto, and Aegon Hightower, seek to maintain the status quo of an oppressive power structure versus Rhaenyra, the blacks, whose very existence seeks to jeopardize that power structure (the patriarchal society of Westeros).

It is made explicitly clear that the chief architect of team green in the usurpation of Rhaenyra’s throne that the only reason that they cannot have Rhaenyra on the throne is explicitly because she is a woman. It’s a theme that is present throughout the entirety of HOTD’s season one as this conflict builds up.

For instance, the conversation between Alicent and Rhaenys at the end of season one where Alicent justifies why she is participating in the usurpation of Rhaenyra’s throne to Rhaenys by saying that it is not a woman’s place to rule the Seven kingdoms and instead it is a woman’s place to gently guide the hand of the men who do rule.

The story of HOTD, the civil war for the succession of the Iron Throne following the death of Viserys, the Dance of the Dragons, is fundamentally a conflict that is built on the foundation of misogyny and the writers are making that explicitly clear.

The weird false equivalency when ppl imply that both sides are equally genocidally crazy, that treads to reduce the nature of this conflict down to just simple good old fashioned greed which it really isn’t.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think Rhaenyra is perfect and of course I understand that over the course of the war, she’s going to do some pretty terrible things but it’s been made pretty clear that Rhaenyra’s done everything in her power to avoid this turning out into a war in the fist place.

I just don’t think by any stretch of the imagination regardless of what Rhaenyra does throughout this war, that you’re supposed to enjoy watching her die. I don’t think that’s how her character is written and I don’t think that’s what the narrative goal of her end is supposed to be. Her character is a character by all accounts some victim of the patriarchal society that she lives in. Even if she does go down the “mad queen route,” it will only be to explore how the patriarchal society has completely twisted her. How this war that was started because she dared to be queen of the seven kingdoms completely ruined her and ruined her family.

I would very much appreciate your thoughts on this and would like to learn more if this take of mine is confusing and blinded.

I think this take might be correct if you're solely going off of the show and its interpretation of Team Black as modern feminists attempting revolutionary societal change led by divinely ordained and pure Rhaenyra vs Team Green as conservative misogynists led by incompetent and unorganized abuser Aegon...

Fire and Blood is not this, though. Sexism and misogyny is one element of power and power imbalance in Westeros but it's not the only one, nor is it the only factor into why Rhaenyra's claim was disputed, despite what the showrunners are trying to portray on screen.

The reality is two ideologically different sides with fairly equal claims to the throne are trying to seize power, leading to a war that ruins the land and the family that started it. Team Green has Aegon, firstborn son of the last king, following Andal tradition going back thousands of years and most recently reinforced in the Council of 101 AC that made his own father king. Team Black has Rhaenyra, eldest daughter named by the previous king but not supported by precedent. Rhaenyra unfortunately also had some political scandals that went against her in having bastards, having Velaryons killed and mutilated, and marrying Daemon despite fear of him in power being the reason she was named heir in the first place. Any of these are valid reasons why some people might be against her coming into power. It's more than "she's a woman and I don't like women."

Rhaenyra did not press her claim to raise up the women of the realm, nor did she do it out of a desire to save the world. She wanted it because she wanted power that was promised to her. But the show can't let women simply want things for themselves. Rhaenyra has to be an advocate for peace and want the throne for some higher purpose instead of just wanting power for power's sake.

The Greens were motivated by power to push for Aegon's claim, and surely misogyny in the society helped to get Aegon on the throne, but they also put Aegon on the throne out of fear for the lives of all of Viserys' sons, who would have to be taken out of the picture to secure Rhaenyra's atypical claim lest war and rebellion potentially break out against her at any point in her reign, and Team Black had already shown willingness to resort to violence to help themselves (Rhea's death, Laenor's death, Vaemond's death, Velaryons' tongues getting cut out, Aemond's eye cut out without any punishment and instead Aemond threatened with torture over speaking the truth about Rhaenyra). It's not just "we hate the idea of a woman ruling, we hate women, and we're terrible, incompetent people."

Fire and Blood is a tale of two sides fighting for even more power than they already have who are willing to do horrible terrible war crimes against each other and innocents in order to obtain their end goal of the Iron Throne, and realistically you are interested in seeing all of them die and face the consequences of their actions. The story has weight, the characters are real and human and messy and tragic, the war is unjustified in its means and methods and purpose. It's the failure of Viserys' legacy and a reflection of the flaws of monarchy and specifically the ideals Targaryen supremacy. No side is right and the other wrong. Nobody's a hero.

This is where the show has failed in its adaptation. It has abandoned its themes, along with several characters, characterizations, and plot points, in order to create their own narrative that fits a story that they think will sell best to the casual modern viewer: essentially, redemption for Daenerys fans after the catastrophe of Game of Thrones' ending. By making up prophecy and dream stuff to give to Rhaenyra and also giving her some of that Dany "change the world" mentality that was absent in the source material, the writers can cut apart the character of Rhaenyra and make her into a new Daenerys, and this time they can give the fans want they wanted for Daenerys. Except Rhaenyra is not Daenerys at all, and their only similarity is dragon riding queen seeking to inherit their father's throne. Changing the narrative so Rhaenyra becomes the new Daenerys and a true hero of the story ruins the underlying themes of Fire and Blood and specifically the Dance.

Rhys Ifans likely read Fire and Blood and actually knows what he's talking about. The point of the Dance isn't "heroic woman attempting to overthrow the patriarchy is burned and destroyed by the patriarchy and agents of the patriarchy." The takeaway isn't just "misogyny and sexism are bad and hurt women" like the show hammers in so heavily every single episode. It's "the pursuit of power by the already powerful comes at the cost of innocents, war is never justified no matter what (and certainly not justified by manifest destiny, someone's dream of saving the world, or even 'misogynists stole my throne') and the violence of war destroys indiscriminately." There should be catharsis when gray characters who have done good but also horrific bad in the pursuit of power finally face the consequences and die early deaths. Like, for example, the end of Succession: none of the Roy siblings get what they want, and we understand why, and even though parts of their character are sympathetic and tragic to us, we can objectively view them as flawed and selfish people whose decisions led to this ultimate, inevitable conclusion where they don't get what they want, and it's deserved. This is what House of the Dragon should have been. Tragic, flawed characters on both sides acting selfishly but realistically to seize power from each other and ultimately failing. But the writers opted for an oversimplified morality tale of good vs evil to push their version of feminism into the story where it doesn't belong, at the detriment to the characters and the story to the point it goes against the themes and messages of the source material.

#asks #hotd critical #anti hotd

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shesjustanothergeek · 1 month

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The Gods We Can Touch

Archmaester Gyldayn’s Testimonies of Princess Aelora Targaryen’s Youth

Masterlist of Series

Summary: The older twin of Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, you were a picture of the maiden, untouched and untainted by man's sins. At least, that was what Alicent Hightower believed when she held you in her arms moments after her old friend's labors. You were her shining light, her dream. Though you were never hers, she believed you were meant to be.

What will become of you as time passes and the Queen's shining light grows within the blackened darkness? Will her eldest son's morbid fascination with the light burn the realm? Or will her second son's obsession with the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen change the course of the Seven Kingdoms as we know it?

Author's Note: This is kind of a filler chapter until I can finish chapter 7. I was planning on either putting this at the end of chapter 6 or the beginning of chapter 7, but here is as good as any. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that I'll be able to finish chapter 7 by next Sunday. Thank you for your support and patience. Love y'all! (⁠*⁠＾⁠3⁠＾⁠)⁠/⁠～⁠♡

Chapter Warnings: mentions of childhood SA, mental illness, suicidal ideations, Targaryen queerness.

Princess Rhaenyra’s eldest child blossomed into a captivating presence at Dragonstone, earning admiration from those close to her but invoking fear and ire in those who dared to cross her. Known for her unpredictable temperament, she would fall into fits of anger and sorrow, during which her judgment would become clouded, leading to subsequent regret. In bouts of profound grief, she sought solace in Aegon’s Garden with the company of flora and fauna, finding peace and consolation by tending to the roses and lilacs and fashioning delicate flower crowns for her siblings to wear.

When Princess Aelora was approximately ten and two, eyewitnesses observed her standing on the balcony railing for an extended period during one of her episodes, seemingly trance-like. Despite numerous attempts to persuade her to step down, she adamantly refused, stating her desire for a better view of the landscape. In response to this concerning behavior, Princess Rhaenyra took the drastic measure of ordering the balcony doors to be permanently sealed shut. The exact cause of her distressing episodes remains shrouded in mystery. While many attributed it to the infamous Targaryen madness in her bloodline, the Fool Mushroom believed it was linked to a specific incident involving Prince Aegon during her early years.

Late one night, he claims to have spied on Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon in their bed chambers on Dragonstone. He overheard the Princess confiding in her husband about her eldest’s behavioral problems and impulsivity. He alleges that she confessed to a rape committed by Prince Aegon on her daughter while they were living in King’s Landing. However, this information is heavily debated, as there has been no further mention in oral or written records.

When Princess Aelora reached ten and four, scandalous rumors began circulating on Dragonstone about her relationship with her twin brother, Prince Jacaerys. It was whispered that their stepfather went to her rooms after reports of suspicious sounds emerging from behind closed. Prince Daemon was rumored to have discovered the Prince in a compromising position between the legs of the Princess. In response to the gossip, Princess Rhaenyra sent her daughter to study abroad at the Citadel and in Dorne as a gesture of goodwill, hoping it would ease her troubled mind. This separation was particularly difficult for the twins, as it was the first time they had ever been apart. Prince Jacaerys was visibly upset during this time, spending hours upon end sulking inside his chambers and absconding his duties until Princess Aelora finally returned home once they both came of age.

Nevertheless, Princess Aelora radiated warmth and kindness to all she encountered. She was admired for her outgoing and naive nature, and she took great delight in her love for nature, herbalism, botany, and medical techniques gathered from her journeys around the realm. Her fondness for citrus plants was evident as she carried the sweet scent of the fruits wherever she roamed, though they were difficult to cultivate on Dragonstone’s soil. Adorned in her late father’s distinguished Velaryon blue, she was never seen without the elegance of pearls, aquamarine, topaz, and sapphire, with a delicate headpiece and veil enshrouding her dark, lustrous locks.

When eligible suitors ventured to Dragonstone intending to court Rhaenyra’s eldest daughter, she dismissively turned them away, leaving the cock hurt Lords to return home scorned. It was said that during a gathering of the court, Princess Aelora boldly declared that she harbored no yearning for a marital alliance, as she found solace in the enduring companionship of her beloved dragon Gaelithox and her loyal brother, firmly indicating that she had no intention of entering into matrimony.

IMO, the reader suffers from borderline personality disorder. People with BPD are often mistaken for having depression, but the main qualifier is periods of mania with impulsivity, which is more susceptible to hypersexuality and addictions. They're typically triggered by actual or perceived separations, disagreements, and rejections. Highly sensitive to abandonment and being alone, which brings about intense feelings of anger, fear, suicidal thoughts and self-harm, and very impulsive decisions. People with high-functioning BPD experience frequent negative thoughts, fear of rejection, and regret about expressing their feelings. I'm by no means a mental health expert. This is just my head cannon.

Masterlist of Series

Spotify Playlist

Jace and the reader fulfill the Targaryen queerness. Who would've thought? XD

Thank you for reading! (⁠*⁠˘⁠︶⁠˘⁠*⁠)⁠.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡

P.S. the reader wears what's called a French hood. I couldn't find one that matched her aesthetic unfortunately.

Tagged Peeps: @millies0bsimp, @britt-mf, @marvelescvpe, @haikyuusboringassmanager, @discofairysworld , @lottiemsgf , @nessjo , @fiction-fanfic-reader , @qvnthesia , @hotvillianapologist , @p45510n4f4shi0n, @theendlessvoidofdarkest , @readerselegance , @gothamgurl2024 , @aleemendoza2425-blog , @vaylint , @ln8118 , @prettyduckling22 , @primroseluna

Bold means I couldn't tag you for some reason :(

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bookshelf-in-progress · 4 months

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Reflection: A Retelling of “Snow White and the Seven Dwarves”

The mirror is a gift from the dwarves. Its frame of hammered gold is wrought with delicately-crafted birds and beasts, fruit and flowers. Its silver-backed surface, unlike those created by human craftsman, shows a true reflection.

The queen loves to gaze at herself in the mirror. It tells her that she is beautiful—skin like milk, hair like midnight, eyes as blue as a crystalline lake. She is young, healthy, graceful, charming—perfection in human form. Truly a queen worthy of this kingdom.

Then, one day, the mirror’s message changes. It shows that the queen has lines around her eyes, sunspots on her nose, wicked glints of silver in her night-black hair. The queen does all she can to hide the damage, spends hours before the mirror with cosmetics and concealers. To the rest of the world, the queen is as perfect as ever.

Yet every morning, the mirror tells the truth.

Worst of all, her husband has a little daughter—barely fourteen years old—who grows lovelier by the day. Every morning, the mirror says that before long, those who worshiped the queen’s beauty will transfer their devotion to the princess—and will be right to do so.

The queen's beauty would not seem so tarnished if the princess were not there for comparison. The queen tries to send the princess to an isolated estate—tells her husband it is better for the girl to grow up away from the corrupting influences of the court. But the girl is too dear to her father. She wastes away with homesickness, until her father the king orders her to come home for the sake of her health.

The queen tries neglecting the girl in ways the king won't notice—refusing to let her wash with good soap, denying her a maid, forbidding her fashionable clothes and hairstyles. Through it all, the mirror tells her that the girl’s beauty shines out brighter than ever.

Before long, the queen spends hours by the mirror each day, locked in a futile endeavor to restore what is lost forever. One moonlit night, she finds a dagger, and considers plunging it into her heart just to end this ceaseless torment, but the morning shows her a better path.

She will never be perfect, nor make the princess less so—but she can destroy perfection.

It would be easy to take this dagger to where the princess sleeps and shove it through her perfect heart, but the queen doesn't dare to mar her own beauty with blood-stained hands.

She gives the dagger to a loyal huntsman. He takes the girl into the forest—and returns holding a small, bloody heart.

That night before the mirror, the queen's smile makes her glow with a new kind of beauty.

People often tell the princess she is beautiful. She believes them, for she has never seen an ugly face. Old Sal’s missing tooth is an open door into her smile. The chambermaid’s freckles make a daytime constellation. The little stable boy’s one good eye glitters green as an emerald. Her stepmother owns a beautiful mirror, but the princess barely gazes at it. Why would she waste time examining her own familiar face in a world with so many other lovely faces to gaze upon?

One day in early spring, she asks to go berrying in the forest beyond the castle, as she once did with her mother. To her surprise, the queen permits it—the queen rarely allows the princess anything that might be a luxury. She even sends one of her huntsmen as protection.

In the eaves of the forest, the princess finds strawberries not far from the path, and she hastens to gather as many as she can. She invites the huntsman to join her, but he stands statue-like at the edge of the clearing, always on guard. Not wanting him to go without, the princess brings the berries to him, and offers him the largest, sweetest one.

As she does, she gazes at his face. Scars make mountain ranges along his cheeks and brow. His hair is edged with silver. The lines of his face are solid as stone. His deep gray eyes hold storm clouds.

“Oh, my,” the princess says in awe. “You are beautiful.”

The huntsman’s face disappears as he hides it in one of his hands. “I can’t,” he says, his voice rough with unshed tears. “I must betray my queen."

His other hands darts to the side, quick as a serpent, and the silver flash of a blade disappears into the undergrowth.

The huntsmen places both of his hands on the princess’ shoulders and crouches to look into her face. “You must run. The queen wants you dead. If you stay at the palace, she will find a way to kill you. You must flee into the forest and never return.”

“The forest?” the princess asks in terror. She has often wandered in the eaves, but she has never dared the strange terrors that are said to lurk in its interior.

“There is nothing there that can harm such innocence,” the huntsman says. “You will find shelter.” He turns her around and pushes her toward the depths of the forest. “Now run! As fast and as far as you can!”

The shadows of the forest embrace her, and the flowers make a path at her feet. She crosses shallow rivers, climbs rocky slopes, winds through twisted groves of trees. She couldn’t return home even if she wanted to.

She had not been blind. She had seen something like ugliness in the queen’s face whenever they were alone. But hatred? Murder?

She nearly collapses with grief, but through the trees, she sees a wisp of smoke. A chimney. A roof over a tumbledown cottage. The princess runs through the open door, collapses on the floor, and is glad to find a safe place to weep.

Her father will think her dead, and she will not be there to comfort him. She will never again see any of the beautiful faces that fill the palace. The hundreds of hidden details that made the castle home are forever out of her reach. The huntsman saved her, but to what end? A lifetime of loneliness and misery? Is this truly a better fate than the quick death of a dagger through the heart?

She opens her eyes. She has looked too long at the sorrows in her heart. She must find solace from without.

She gazes upon the cottage.

And sees seven beautiful faces.

The dwarves love their princess. She is beautiful, not only because of her face, but because of the way her soul shines out through it. She is endlessly beautiful because she sees the beauty in everyone and everything.

There never was a girl so selfless. Her every waking moment is spent filling their days with a million small comforts. The cottage has never been so clean. The food has never been so lovingly prepared. There is nothing she would not do for them, and in return, they devote their lives to her service.

She needs their protection. One so naturally kind and innocent can’t recognize when strangers might have ill intent. One day, after being out in the woods, the seven dwarves return to the cottage to find the princess nearly strangled by a set of stays. When they revive her, she tells them of a ragged old woman (with such beautiful hands!) who asked for food and water and then repaid her generosity by giving a nearly-fatal gift. The eldest of the dwarves caught a glimpse of the stranger’s retreat, and saw enough of her form to suspect the queen.

The dwarves keep a closer guard on the princess, but six months later, a few minutes go by when all seven of them are away from home. They return to find the princess nearly killed by a poisoned comb in her hair. The story she tells is similar to the last one—an old woman in need of help repaid their kind princess with a gift meant to kill.

After that, the princess is never alone. The dwarf on guard duty always has the envied task, so lovely is it to be in her presence. A year, then two, go by with no signs of danger.

Then one winter morning, after a night of birthday feasting, all seven of the dwarves sleep late. The princess rises at her usual time, hoping to fix them a holiday breakfast. By the time the dwarves stumble out of bed, they find the princess sprawled across the kitchen floor—cold, pale and lifeless, with a poisoned apple in her hand.

They despise themselves for having failed her, but their love for the princess drives them to serve her the only way they can—by laying her body to rest. The cold, hard earth won’t take her, and they can’t bear to hide her away in the realm of death. Knowing that decay will not touch one so innocent, they place her in a coffin of glass and lay her in their garden, where her beauty can brighten the world in death as it did in life.

They keep a constant vigil, lost in loving grief. They ought to have known she would end this way. This is the fate of all innocence in this dark and sinful world—to be destroyed by wickedness. Even as they see this truth, they know that it is wrong. The world should not be this way, but what can they do? They wish and pray for better, but they can’t hope. How can innocence ever overcome such evil?

In the spring, when the last snow melts and the first snowbells bloom, the dwarves see movement in the woods beyond their cottage. A prince approaches on a snow-white horse. He is ruler of this forest and its mysterious ways—a king of kings, even more beautiful than their princess. His face shines with a wisdom that does nothing to defile the innocence of his heart.

He leaps from his horse, approaches the coffin, raises the lid, and takes the cold hand of the princess between his.

“Beloved,” he says, “arise.”

In his words and actions, the dwarves find the answer to the riddle they have pondered in their long vigil of grief. In a world of wickedness, the salvation of Innocence is Love.

The princess opens her eyes. Takes a breath. Sits up and gazes upon the world she loves, upon the one who loved her back to life. Something of the prince’s wisdom is reflected in her, so that her beauty is almost painful to behold.

The dwarves rejoice, and the princess rejoices with them. She kisses each one atop the head, but does not release the hand of her prince.

Eager to serve one who served them so well, the dwarves cook her breakfast, and she eats with even more enthusiasm than she showed in her former life. Yet when the meal ends, she stands with her prince at the threshold of the cottage.

“I must return to my father,” the princess says.

The dwarves protest. What of the queen? What of the danger?

The princess looks at her prince with eyes full of love. “I have nothing to fear.”

The king rejoices at his daughter’s return—he has thought her dead for so many years. Grief has aged and weakened him, but there is beauty in his face that grows brighter with every minute he spends in the presence of the princess.

The princess tells him of her troubles since she went away, and the king is horrified by her words. “I knew my wife had lost her reason,” he says, “but not her heart! She must pay for her crimes!”

He moves toward the door as though he will administer justice this moment.

The prince stops him with a gentle hand upon his chest. “There is no need.”

The queen gazes at herself in the mirror. She never looks anywhere else. If there is a world beyond the edges of its frame, she has forgotten it. She sees only her own face, searches for the remaining scraps of beauty, tries desperately to erase the blemishes that grow ever more hateful with the passing of years.

Another face appears in the reflection—a face the queen thought she had destroyed long ago. It is lovelier than ever. The queen hides her face in her hands so she can not see the painful beauty of the princess.

“Come away from there,” the princess says. “Gaze with me upon the other beauties of the world.”

“And lose myself?” the queen shrieks. “That is what you have always wanted—to destroy my very self! To take all the honor and beauty that should be mine!”

“I wish to save you,” the princess says. “Come away.”

“Never!” the queen screams, clutching the mirror in two white-knuckled hands. “I have everything I need right here! You can’t take it from me!”

The princess touches the queen’s shoulder. The queen screams and shrinks away, hiding her face once more in her hands.

A man’s voice—painful in its beauty—says, “Beloved, she has made her choice.”

At long last, they leave. The queen looks in the mirror and sees no face but her own. No greater beauty remains nearby to shame her.

In the confines of her world’s silver surface, she is fairest of all.

The queen is locked away in the prison of her choosing.

The king stays to do what good he can for his kingdom, and the princess promises to return for him after he has fulfilled his purpose.

The prince places the princess on his snow-white horse, and they travel once more past the cottage of the dwarves, who are glad to see her so beautiful and beloved.

At last, the prince brings the princess to his kingdom at the heart of the forest.

The beauty she finds there is beyond words.

#the bookshelf progresses #fairy tale retellings #snow white and the seven dwarves #a completely rewritten version (as best i could)#sorry if it doesn't live up to the hype #i was going to write my snow white retelling with tolkien-esque elves and dwarves #but instead decided to work with my idea that the magic mirror is actually just the queen's own reflection #making her go mad with too much self-examination #and then it turned into an allegory #but look if you're a christian fairy tale author you're allowed the occasional clunky allegory it's like the law

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twisted-wonderland-but-gayer · 2 years

Note

REQUESTING G7! YUU WHERE WHEN THE OVERBLOT GANG MEETS THE G7 MEMBER THEY MATCH WITH AND THE G7 MEMBER SUBTLY IMPLIES (or straight up announces) THAT THEY SHOULD WED GET TOGETHER UL give grand kids?

Not all G7 members fit this but for the ones who do

Bringing The Overblots Home to the Seven

Great 7 AU

Uuuh Urusla and Jafar is more based on Starkid/Unfortunate Yuu is gn

To say your boyfriend was nervous was an understatement. He was an anxious wreck since learning that your parents were the seven themselves, even if he tried to play it off. How could he possibly explain when he tried to hurt you during his overblot to them. Would all seven even approve of him? To relax his nerves about meeting your family you decided to introduce them to each other one at a time, starting with the one their dorm was based on.

Riddle + The Queen of Hearts

“Rule 298, one must dress in appropriate attire when meeting with the Queen. According to the Heart’s Kingdom Fashion Guidebook of old, this is exactly the distinguished guest wear that they wore then…” Riddle takes a deep breath in as he smooths the multicolored and rather zany suit across his body. It was covered in all sorts of patches of color and card patterns, but he seemed to pull it off well.

“You don’t need to worry, Riddle, she likes you! She really does!” You soothe as Riddle gives himself a quick once over in the mirror. Pressing a kiss to his cheek, you both made your way over to Ramshackle where your mother waited excitedly.

Riddle sat at the tea table, directly across from the Queen of Hearts as you sat between them. Swallowing a lump in his throat he sat with perfect posture. “It is an honor to meet you, your majesty,” Riddle speaks nervously.

The Red Queen sits, for a moment, glancing over at you. “Mother… This is my boyfriend, Riddle as I’m sure you know!” Knowing what was to come you close your eyes, ever since you first arrived in NRC, your mother has adored Riddle and his affinity for her rules. She was beyond happy when you started developing feelings for him.

“Oh, my little Rose has a lover now! I’m so happy!” She says, holding her hand to her heart. “And with such a perfect gentleman too!” Riddle smiles proudly as the Queen hands him his tea. “You know…” She starts in a tone of voice you are all too familiar with.

“My little Rose here had a crush on you for a looong time!” “Mother…” “I think it was love at first sight!,” “Mother!” “And honestly I think it was so cute the way my little Yuu would speak of you!” “Mom!” You want to hide your face in embarrassment as Riddle shoots you a smirk. “Is that so, your majesty?”

“So have you discussed much about marriage?” “MOM!” You sputter as Riddle goes pink in the face. “Oh, I’m just saying you two are perfect for each other! You see—“ You hid your face in your hands, you just knew this would happen.

“Oh, it has been so long since I heard the words your majesty. Rose, you must hang on tight to this one!” As the conversation continues, Riddle starts to loosen up, and is able to bond with your mother over all sorts of things, and even impress her with reciting each of the Queen's rules by heart. That combined with his academic excellence, it's no shock that the Queen approves of him. What was shocking, however, was the conversation topic that came directly after.

Leona + Scar

“My father he’s…” “Strict?” Leona finishes, “I figured.” He sighs as he stretches up from his napping spot. “He does like you though if that's worth anything?” “Hmph.” Leona didn’t allow his aloof persona to fall, but you both knew that he was nervous. His idol the King of Beasts wants to meet him? And he’s dating his child…

It was a lot for Leona to take in… Still, he held a lot of respect for the King of Beasts. Washing up and dressing his best, you both made your way to Ramshackle where the lion lazily lay in the common room on the couch, messing with a chessboard.

“Oh? The little cub and their betrothed are here?” Scar glances over to where you and Leona stood, before getting up himself and approaching. Circling Leona, his sharp tongue dances again. “You’re certainly dressed to impress…” A small roar escapes his throat, before he circles back to the chessboard. “Do you play?”

“Yes, sir” Taking the king's cue, Leona sat down at the seat across from Scar. The two stare at each other for a moment before the lion lets out a yawn. “White goes first.” He huffs and Leona carefully moves a pawn to the center, a classic opener. You go and sit next to your father, giving your boyfriend a reassuring look.

“So tell me…” Scar moves his pawn to the center as well. “What are your intentions with my cub?” Despite how boredly he said it, you could tell how serious he was. Leona remained calm as ever, tail flicking. “To be their loyal mate and give them the best I can provide. They mean a lot to me.”

“Hmph. A daring answer…” Scar snarks (Though you could tell he was surprised by how mature Leona was), and watches Leona make his move on the board. “You’re usually a confident one, show me.” Just then Scar moves one of his rooks in a seemingly random maneuver. “You won’t be able to beat me nor impress me if you play it safe, cub.” He roars. “Bare your teeth…”

The most intense chess match breaks out spanning across an hour, the whole time you watch nervously as sparks fly and gears turn. Maunvers both bold and brazen are played across the board, and in the end, Leona…. Loses. With only the queens on both sides left, it was only a matter of time before one of them lost.

Scar suddenly leans into Leona’s face, snarling. Before you could intervene Leona gets up, snarling back, body ready to fight if needed. Your father then smirks before turning away, feigning boredom once again despite the small smile on his face and the fact that he had a good opponent for once, “Hmph, I suppose you have proven yourself to be worthy of my cub today…” He stretches before letting out a yawn.

“But if you ever want their hand, you would have to fight me for it, got it?” “I look forward to it.”

Azul + Urusla and the Eels.

You and Azul sat across from the table from your mother and your eel siblings as you glared at them. “You two better not say anything…” you warn. “Why I would never!” Jetsam snickers as he eyes a very nervous Azul, sitting with perfect manners and posture.

“Be nice to each other you two…” Ursula lightly scolds. You sigh and sit back, ready for the endless amount of teasing you both would endure, judging by Azul's carefully calculated expression, you could tell Azul was holding back his urge to fanboy at the sight of his idol.

“Now…” Ursula turns around to face you both, mirror in hand and touching up her lipstick. “Let's get started,” she smirks along with the eels who eye you and give a few sinister chuckles. “Hey, Azuuul!” Flotsam chuckles. “The little guppy had the most embarrassing crush on you~” “Do not go there.” You warn. “What did you say about him again? That he was super pretty and you couldn’t—“ “Jetsam!” You cut off the other eel as they both snicker, making Azul glance over at you, holding back a smirk.

“Ignore them.” You silently pray that you will survive this. “So Azul…” “It is an honor to meet you, I greatly admire your work.” “I can tell Angelfish, and I have to say I adore the way you run things!” She waves her hands showing her nails. “You and your boys run a tight ship, and I always appreciate a good old-fashioned gentleman to take care of my little guppy here.”

“I'm glad you chose well, child. You know I will always support you no matter who you choose so long as they make you happy. Besides, I know no one would have the audacity to hurt my baby!” Ursula gives a genuine smile at the two of you as you lean into Azul. “Aw, you two are adorable!” Leaning in closer with the eels, Ursula’s grin grows again.

“Come here Azul, I’m sure we have much to talk about,” your mother says as she slides over, makeup brush in hand. “In this family, we always do our makeup together, I hope you don’t mind~” “Not at all, ma’am!” Azul boasts as Ursula starts applying some light foundation to Azul’s features. Your eel siblings slither their way over to you with makeup brushes in their mouths and an evil glint in their eyes and you know you're gonna look like a clown by the end of the night.

The rest of the night was spent well, doing makeup and talking about all sorts of things as if Azul was already a deeper part of your family. He even sasses back Jetsam on a few occasions (probably due to experiences with his own eels) and you knew he would fit in just right.

Jamil + Jafar

To say that your father wasn’t all that pleased that you got with Jamil was an understatement. He was an intelligent and strong artisan, yes, but that doesn't erase what he did during book four! At least that is his excuse, you have a faint idea however that your baba doesn't want to see you grow up however, given the fact that he seems fond of Jamil compared to most others…

You and a sharply dressed Jamil are escorted by a very talkative Iago, who is attempting his best shovel talk as he flaps his wings. “Oh hush Iago,” you roll your eyes out of embarrassment. “He’s always like this…” “I am not!” Iago squawks, landing on your shoulder. “I just can't believe you're coming home with some guy!” “He’s not just a guy, Iago. He’s my boyfriend!” “That’s even worse!”

Sighing, you hold Jamil’s hand, squeezing it as you brave the mirror into the Ramshackle dorm where your father waits. Into the dorm, you immediately see him standing there, and Iago goes to take his place on his shoulder. Tapping his staff on the ground twice, he greets you both. “Child… Jamil…” “Greetings, sir.”

Jamil was in his servant mode, years of being at Kalim’s beck and call paying off. Jafar and Iago stared down at the young man where he stood “Drop the act. I see through it.” Jamil relaxes slightly but still holds his posture as Jafar approaches him. “Hmph. So my diamond brought back the boy who tried to kill them… How do I know you won’t try to hurt them again?” Jafar leans in and glares as Iago gives a smug look.

“I regret what I have done in the past, sir. If I could go back and right my wrongs I would. I do not want to hurt Yuu.” “Hmph…” Jafar held his head high as he sifted through his pockets. “We shall see about that. Follow me.”

Guiding Jamil out of Ramshackle you followed Jafar as he held a device out; two halves of a golden scarab. You could feel Jamil tense slightly at the sight. “ Love is built on the foundation of trust. This device,” Jafar holds them up between his thumb and index finger. “Can only be conjoined when two lovers truly trust each other. When there is no trust, there cannot be love. Only if the beetles connect, will I allow this relationship” He states, face stoic.

“Baba, isn't this a bit much?” You interrupt making Iago squawk again. “You heard what Jafar said!” Jafar merely held up his hands, a signal for silence. “Habibi, you should have nothing to fear if you both truly love each other.” A small grin threatens to rise to his face before he closes his hand into a fist and opens his palm revealing the halves. “Take one.”

Jamil reaches over and grabs one half of the mechanical beetle as do you. “Hold them next to each other. You grab onto Jamil's empty hand, intertwining your fingers with his as you feel his heartbeat speed up. He was nervous, and so were you. Swallowing you both look at each other, ignoring how Iago snickers as you hold both halves of the beetle to each other.

For a brief moment, nothing happens and your heart sinks, before Jamil’s half twitches and connects with yours, activating your side. The beetle suddenly glows, shooting a beam of golden light into the air briefly before its wings flap. Jafar reaches his hand out and allows it to fly back onto his palm.

“It seems you have passed. It will be wonderful to have another talented mage in the family.” The sorcerer remains stoic as Iago’s jaw hangs on the floor. “Now, come in. I will prepare a pot of tea.”

You didn't tell Jamil that when he left Jafar asked if you see yourself getting married to him.

Vil + Queen Grimhilde

Queen Grimhilde was always… stiff. She seldom expressed her emotions, and she rarely was physically affectionate, but you knew she loved you in her own way. You remember her awkward hugs to your child self and how she always pushed you to be your best.

So when it came time to introduce her to your boyfriend Vil, you were nervous. You didn't know if she would show her more brutal side or if her strictness may come off the wrong way when she expresses her opinions on your relationship. It did bring you both comfort to know that the Queen admired his own strictness and ideals.

In his best dress, Vil entered the Pommefiore commons which was bare due to the presence of the Queen who admired herself in the hand mirror she carried, her Raven sitting on the table next to her. You remember her saying she couldn’t bear to be in the Ramshackle dorm any longer. Come sit.” She commands, gesturing to the chairs next to her at the fancy table she sat at, not taking her eyes off the mirror.

You stiffly sat down, making the Queen glance at you as Vil curtsied before sitting down gracefully. De-materializing the mirror in thin air she placed her perfectly manicured hands on top of each other, resting them on the table, Raven started to flap her wings and went to perch on your mother's shoulder. “So, you are the one dating my child, I must admit, I’m more impressed than I thought I would be.” She states giving him a once-over.

Grimhilde raises a brow, then looks at you, pouring a strange sparkly tea into a cup and bestowing it to Vil, before pouring one for you as well. “Drink up.” She commands again and you and Vil pick up your saucers your teacups sat on and took a sip with your best manners,

“Tell me, why should I entrust my child to you?” A flash of light seemed to flicker in Vil’s eyes as he spoke. “I will cherish them every day of our lives together, they mean the world to me.” “And you will not hurt them?” “I wouldn’t dream of it, your highness.”

Lifting her head up and crossing her arms she asks another question, one Raven crows at. “What do you love about them, about my Yuu?” Grimhilde ran her fingers through Raven's feathers as her gaze seemed to burn through you and Vil. “Everything. I am completely infatuated with Yuu.” Vil’s eyes widen slightly at the blunt response he gave, at which Grimhilde wears an evil glint in her eye as she continues.

“And you child. Do you love, no, do you trust this man?” A sudden force came over you, and it was like you couldn't formulate your own words. “With all my heart.” “With all your heart…” She repeats, almost impressed. “Well, that's a start... Now tell me. What do you love about Vil? What do you see in him that you want?”

As you try to formulate a sentence you sputter slightly making realize what that sweet liquid you drank was: Truth Serum Tea. “I see someone who always gives his best. A young man who always looks out for others in his own way. Someone that will love me as much as I do him.” There was so much more you wanted to say, so much more than the truth serum beckoned out of you, yet you didn’t know how.

“And you, Vil?” “I see someone I can be my true self with. Someone I can let my guard down with. Someone I can truly trust.”

'Hmm… That concludes this test, for now.” Raven crows in response as you let out a sigh of relief. “I shall brew you the antidote, now Vil.” She adds some powder to into the teapot and mixes it with a golden spoon. “We have much to talk about,”

Idia + Hades

“Nice to see you're doing charity work by dating him.” “Be nice! I love him!” You sighed, knowing well that your father would make getting a lover exceptionally difficult. “I just can’t believe you’re falling head over heels for some guy!” “He’s very kind to me!” “Oh please, he's a guy!” Hades spat. You knew introducing Idia to him would be… interesting.

Idia was practically shaking as you both walked hand in hand to Ramshackle, he was already an anxious person in general, and now he has to meet his partner’s (Who was already way out of his league beforehand) father who happens to be LORD HADES?! It was a wonder he hasn’t fainted.

“Oh hey, you're finally here.” Hades spoke standing in the doorway of Ramshackle, smirking when he sees Idia. “Please, do come in…”

Idia sat at the table, Pain and Panic sat between you and Idia per Hades orders and he “doesn’t want to see any canoodling between to two of you.” Floating over to his seat Hades stretches before leaning in. “Soooo…” Hades looks between the two of you. “Tell me again, kiddo why did you choose this one again?”

“Dad! I told you he treats me well and is very nice to me! He’s a really sweet guy!” Idia’s hair flickers with pink highlights for a second before he looks away “Right, I don't see it. I see a very cowardly Panic wannabe here, personally.” Man, he never expected Lord Hades, Thee Lord Hades, to tear into him this is so embarrassing.

“Okay so listen here kid, what do you want from my kiddo, huh? What's your deal?” “Well, um, I” Hades looks unimpressed at you. “I really love them, you know…” Idia practically whispers without realizing. Hades nearly drags his hand over his face.

“Alright then, kid. Let's try this again, what do you want with my ember?” “I um” “Come on, say it with your chest!” “I can't say it with my chest if you keep interrupting me!” Idia snapped before covering his mouth with a horrified expression. You stare at your dad and then at Pain and Panic who looked at each other in horror. A moment of silence passes before Hades smiles.

“There we go!” Hades laughs. “There's a bit of punch, a bit of bite, you lacked. I knew there was more to you. Keep it up and you just may be in my good graces yet,” Hades laughed, making Idia relax.

The two seemed to hit off very well, as they occasionally sassed each other in their conversations, even conversing with Pain and Panic as well. “Aaah srry for my awkwardness you were always a big inspiration for my growing up…” ”Oh is that so? Well don’t stop there, praise me more!” (There are lots of times where Idia talked about Tech Hades didn't understand)

It is safe to say Hades sees Idia as a good kid and is welcomed to the family.

Malleus + Maleficent

To say that Malleus was surprised that his distant ancestor watched over you was an understatement, even more so when she invited him out for a walk to get to know him, promising Lilia they will catch up later. Is the Thorn Fairy inviting him? This was a huge honor, especially since she wants to congratulate you on your relationship together.

Deep in the forest of Ramshackle stood Maleficent in all of her glory as she admires the world around her, finally free to roam. The fae looked back to you and Malleus, face carefully neutral as Dival flocked from your shoulder to hers. “You’ve arrived. We have much to talk about, it appears you are a great-grandson of mine?”

“Indeed I am, Mistress Maleficent.” “There is no need for formalities. Now tell me all about you and my Dragon-Child.” Malleus gave a smile and you leaned into him, before Diaval let out a crow, as if telling you to stop.

The four of you took your time walking the forest trail that Malleus adored, you listened as Malleus updated the Thorn Fairy on all the history that has taken place since her reign, the well-being of Briar Valley, and Lilia, her old friend. “Still can't cook after all these years?” “I am afraid not.”

“It seems you and my child have grown close. Usually, I would be against anyone dating my child, but you aren’t just anyone, are you? Tell me, what made you love them?” Malleus's eyes widened slightly as he thought for a moment. “Well, everything.” He finally answered after a while.

Maleficent smiles down at Malleus as Diaval looks between him and you. “And you will take care of them?” Diaval asks in his crow voice. “I would do anything for them,” Malleus answers strongly.

“Congratulations you two on finding each other, I am happy to see how your relationship will flourish. And finally... Yuu?” the fae asked gently “Yes?” Maleficent approaches you and bends down to hug you. “I can now truly welcome you into my family as well my child… Just do not tell the other six…” You let out a chuckle before returning the hug tenfold.

“Now tell me, when do you both plan on getting married?” You speak for Malleus, trying to get your mother to drop the subject. “Oh! Well, we haven't gotten that far yet—“ Maleficent will understand but will also now give you all sorts of courting advice on dragon fae. Diaval and you see right through her though.

The rest of the seven are secretly salty

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #riddle rosehearts #riddle rosehearts x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #leona kingscholar #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #jamil viper x reader #jamil viper #vil schoenheit #vil shoenheit x reader #idia shroud #idia shroud x reader #malleus draconia x reader #malleus draconia #the great 7 parents

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sapphire-writes · 2 years

Text

Playing with Fire (part 2)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader x Aegon II Targaryen

summary: Your adventure in the capital continues as you grow closer to more than one Targaryen prince.

warnings: some sensual themes, drinking

word count: 3.4k

A/N: In absolute awe of the love for part 1!! Hope you all enjoy part 2 as much as I enjoyed writing it! 💚

masterlist

“I shall not have my daughter late for such a charming event,” your mother says, moving to fix a broach from its tilted position on your neckline. You purse your lips. Your time in the Red Keep was to be full of different social events, all catered to winning Prince Aegon’s affection.

“I suppose I do not need to attend,” you tell her, batting your lashes, “the Queen did specify it was not mandatory.”

“We came to the capital to find you a husband,” your mother said, giving you a stern look, “and after last night’s escapades you need to remind the members of court what a charming young lady you are.”

You groan at your mother’s words but are silenced by her fierce motherly glare. You press your lips together in a thin line. She smiles at your surrender.

“A walk in the gardens is quite the romantic opportunity, Y/N,” she says, brushing your shoulders. Your mother moves to caress your cheeks.

“Beautiful,” she whispers, and you can’t help but smile at her kind words and the loving look on her face.

As you make your way to the gardens, your mother is an overflowing fountain of advice.

“Make sure to take his arm,” she informs, “and smile often, but not too much, we do not wish for him to think you are fatuous.”

You tilt your head to the side, frowning at your mother.

“What?” she says, ushering you forward through the castle doors.

“You think me fatuous?”

“I do not,” your mother argues, “hence why I wish you do not act like it.”

The gardens of the Red Keep are a beautiful sight. Rows upon rows of flowers from all over the seven kingdoms make a colorful sanctuary, with tables and benches scattered throughout the many paths that twist and creep throughout them.

The air is perfumed by the sweet scents emitted by all the flora. You have never traveled to Highgarden, but if it is anything as beautiful as the gardens in front of you now, you can scarcely imagine it.

As you enter the gardens you are greeted by several of the lords and ladies from the previous night. Everyone is dressed in gowns of expensive Myrish lace, colors bright as though the plumes of birds.

“Does Prince Aegon enjoy bright colors?” you ask and your mother shrugs, clearly surprised as well by the fashionable efforts.

Cassandra Baratheon spots you, a smile overtaking her. You raise your eyebrows at her as she approaches, only to realize too late she was smiling at someone behind you. She brushes by you, with little decency, causing you to stumble.

“My prince!” she says, skirts dancing around her as she approaches Prince Aegon, who has entered just behind you. He smiles at Cassandra before his gaze falls on you. You feel the heat rush to your cheeks as his eyes light up.

I remember you, they seem to say.

Cassandra loops her arm through his, attaching herself to his side. Aegon’s eyes widen at her boldness and he allows himself a once over of the Baratheon lady. She is breathtakingly beautiful, everything a future queen should hope to look like.

“I would be honored to join you this morning, my prince,” she says, leading Aegon toward the gardens and away from other ladies who seem to pout as they see Aegon’s arm has been claimed.

“That would be lovely, my lady,” he says to her, but as they pass his eyes stay on you. You look away first, unable to hold his piercing gaze. You swear you hear him chuckle, before the pair disappear within the greenery, trailed by several goldcloaks.

“Perhaps when Cassandra returns,” your mother says hopefully, watching where the pair headed off to. You shoot your mother an exasperated look.

“It is rather pointless,” you tell her, “Cassandra is quite determined the prince is her match.”

Your mother pats your arm, attempting to comfort you. You roll your eyes at her efforts.

“We shall see,” your mother says, ever confident in her daughter. You stay next to her as other ladies begin to promenade.

“I have seen one near the tulips,” a voice says softly, causing you to turn. Prince Aemond stands behind you, a small smile on his face. His hands are crossed behind his back, violet eye sparkling.

“Good morrow my prince,” you tell him brightly, crossing your ankles in a brief curtsey.

“Or perhaps near the golden roses?” he continues as if not hearing you. Your brow furrows in confusion.

“I do not follow, my prince,” you tell him, following his gaze into the gardens until it landed on a table full of refreshments.

“I only assumed you may need another hiding space,” he says. Cheeky bastard. You scoff in surprise, but a smile forms on your face at his jest. Blush blooms on your cheeks and he chuckles.

“I apologize, my lady,” he begins, “I could not help it.”

You smooth your gown, as a laugh escapes you. Prince Aemond was jesting with you.

“I suppose I deserve it, for my foolishness,” you tell him, more laughter bubbling from your lips.

“May I?” Aemond said, offering his arm to you. You smiled at the kindness, linking his arm in yours.

“I promise not to lose my slipper this time,” you tell him, earning a chuckle from the one-eyed prince.

You began your promenade through the gardens. You glance behind you and your mother gives you an encouraging smile, trailing behind a modest distance from you and the prince as a chaperone.

As you continue your walk with Aemond, you notice sideways glances from ladies as they pass. You turn, watching them whisper and giggle before hurrying along down the path.

Aemond notices your confusion and clears his throat.

“I suppose it is a strange sight, to see such a beautiful lady on my arm,” he says softly, flashing a half smile. You can tell he is trying to ease the awkwardness of the encounter. Your eyebrows cinch together, not understanding what he is implying.

“Why would that be strange, my prince?” you ask.

“My condition frightens most women of court.”

You look at Aemond, and note the way his mouth sits in a tight line, blush blooming on the tops of his cheekbones. Your face softens.

“It does not frighten me,” you tell him. Aemond meets your gaze, expecting to see some hint of displeasure. He finds none, only fierce honesty in your expression. You stop your walk as the path opens to a large courtyard. Lords and ladies are deposited around, talking and drinking leisurely in the warmth of the midday sun.

Aemond picks a goblet up, filling it with wine. He hands it to you before pouring one for himself.

“You are very peculiar, Lady Y/N,” he says, sizing you up once more, “I do hope you do not take offense to me saying that.”

You shrug nonchalantly, taking a sip from your cup. The Arbor red burns a path down your throat.

“Not at all,” you assure him, “I do not believe there is shame in the odd or unusual.”

Aemond cocks his head, before nodding in agreement, taking a sip from his cup. You watch as a dragonfly buzzes by, opaque wings catching in the sunlight.

“Fascinating,” you murmur and Aemond follows your eyes.

“You should speak with my sister Helaena,” he tells you, “she is fascinated with the creatures that reside in this garden.”

“I did speak with her,” you tell him, recalling your late night discussion with the princess, “she is a very interesting woman, your sister.”

Aemond feels a sense of sharp pride at your words. Helaena was the sibling he was always closest to. He spent most of his time defending her from odd looks and jests from ladies of court, it was a refreshing change to hear you speak so kindly of her.

“She was telling me about her recent readings of insects outside of the seven kingdoms,” you continued, craning your neck to see where the dragonfly had flown off to. You make a noise of contentment before taking another sip of your wine. You feel your body beginning to warm from the liquid.

“I quite enjoyed the time I spent with her,” you continued, glancing at Aemond, “and with you , of course my prince.”

Aemond chews at the inside of his lip as he takes in your words. He suddenly wants to sweep you away from the gardens, keep you out of sight until Aegon chooses a wife. Aemond cannot help but remember why you are here. You have come for his brother’s hand, not his. A rush of possessiveness rolls through him at the thought. Aemond places his cup on a table closeby, before leaning closer to you, speaking low into your ear.

“You enjoy that?” he asks, the look in his eye changing, “spending time with me?”

Gooseflesh prickles on your skin at the feeling of his breath on your ear.

“Of course, my prince,” you say, and you can feel your nerves, twisting and twirling in your stomach. He is so close to you, leaning over your frame, and you find yourself stumbling backward.

Your foot catches a loose stone and you feel your ankle twist. As you throw out your arm to steady yourself your goblet flings from your grasp and into the chest of Aegon Targaryen. You hear the shriek of Cassandra as drops of red liquid rain down on her. You watch, eyes wide, as the red liquid seeps into the fabric of his shirt. As you feel your cheeks heat up, you meet his gaze.

You’re not sure what you expect. Anger, fury perhaps. But as you look up, Aegon’s smile is wolfish, his eyes hungry. You feel your heart drop into your stomach as his eyes meet yours. It is the same look he gave you in the corridor the previous night, as though you are a feast to be devoured.

“When I suggested we have a drink,” Aegon begins, the grin never leaving his face, “this was not what I had intended.”

“Seven hells!” Cassandra grumbles, wiping the wine from her arm. The expression on her face is murderous. Aegon barely pays her any mind.

“Your grace, I do apologize,” you say, flustered by his words, by your mistake. You reach for a handkerchief, for something, and Aemond holds one out to you.

“Thank you,” you say, looking up at his chiseled face. His mouth sits in a taut line, and he does not meet your gaze, only giving you a slight nod.

Your mother saw the scene, unfortunately for you. Eyes wide, she hurries over to you, skirts a whirlwind behind her.

“My prince, you must excuse my daughter,” she says nervously, snatching the handkerchief from your hands as you bring it towards Aegon’s chest. You look at him, a wild look in your eyes. His face is the picture of amusement, as he takes the handkerchief from your mother.

“Lady Y/N is quite ungraceful,” Cassandra sneers, attempting to re-engage Aegon. His attention is lost, and Cassandra can sense it, eyes flickering from the prince to you.

“No harm done,” Aegon says, dabbing the red liquid that pools on his shirt, “it has happened to me on more than one occasion.”

Your mother gives a courteous laugh, but you can tell she is embarrassed by your actions.

“May I introduce my daughter, Lady Y/N?” she says, smiling cautiously. Aegon looks from your mother to you.

“Yes,” he says, eyes flickering again to your mouth, “we have been introduced.”

Your mother’s brows lift towards her hairline. You bite your lip. When were you supposed to tell her? When you arrived in your chambers she was deep in sleep, and as you sat to break your fast the conversation of the previous night had quickly shifted to one of the new day.

You could picture your mother’s face if you had told her about your rendez-vous with Prince Aegon. It would probably look an awful lot like the expression she wore now; of confusion and anxiety.

“You have?” she asks, looking at you for help.

You swallow, thinking of a delicate way to phrase it.

“Yes,” you tell her, “you see I happened to run into Prince Aegon on my way to bed last night.”

You can’t help but notice the way Aemond’s shoulders tense at your words. Your face flushes. You want to continue speaking, tell him that nothing happened. He probably thinks Aegon did something unseemly to you. You imagined the red haired lady he was with, his lips on her neck. Suddenly you imagined yourself in her place, your fingers tangled in Aegon’s hair, his hands all over you. Surely that was what Prince Aemond was thinking.

You opened your mouth to speak, to clarify what had happened, when Prince Aegon interrupted you.

“Might you escort me to my chambers, Lady Y/N?” Aegon asks, “if it is alright with your mother of course. I should like to change.”

Your mother nods encouragingly. You raise your brows at her. Perhaps she is hoping Aegon does have his way with you. A babe in your belly would be a reason for Aegon to marry you. You shake off the thought.

Cassandra is furious.

“Are you sure you would not like me to escort you, your grace?” she asks, attempting to mask her anger with a polite smile, “surely Lady Y/N should take a moment to compose herself.”

Aegon gives her a gracious smile.

“How right you are Lady Cassandra,” he tells her, “ever more the reason you should join me, Lady Y/N, let us get you out of the sun.”

Aegon winks at you, so quickly you’re sure no one else had seen it.

“Of course my prince,” you tell him, as he holds his arm to you. You turn to Prince Aemond as you take Aegon’s arm.

“Thank you for the walk,” you tell him earnestly. Aemond’s expression warms.

“It is you I should thank, my lady,” he tells you, bowing slightly. You smile at him, as Aegon ushers you toward the castle.

“Quite a dramatic way to get my attention,” he murmurs, a sly grin on his face.

“I did not mean-”

“I jest, my lady,” he says, grinning, “though I had hoped to find you. It was getting rather boring with Lady Cassandra.”

You laugh as Aegon leads you to the door of his chambers. He opens the door and you walk inside with him. The room is spacious, and full of light. Aegon closes the door behind you.

“I shall wait outside,” you tell him, as he is already unbuttoning his shirt.

“Nonsense, I’ll be quick,” he says, looking up from where his fingers work. Aegon takes in your expression, your wide eyes at the sight of his bare chest. He makes a face at you.

“Relax,” he says, laughing slightly, “I’m not whipping my cock out.”

You gasp like a fish on dry land.

“I-I’didn’t say-” you begin, turning beet red. He grins wolfishly.

“You didn’t have to,” he says, fully shirtless. He tosses the soiled shirt onto a chair. You can’t help but admire the muscles of his back as he turns towards the wardrobe to pick another shirt. You clasp your fingers in front of you nervously, before moving to hold them behind your back.

You have never been alone with a man before, let alone a prince. Let alone Prince Aegon. You shift from one foot to the other. Aegon picks out a shirt, putting his arms through the sleeves. He glances over at you and smiles at your nervous expression.

“My lady?” he asks, beginning to approach you.

“Mhmm?” you say, not trusting your voice. Aegon tilts his head as he comes to stand in front of you. His eyes flicker down, then back to yours.

“Might I ask your assistance?” he asks, motioning to his unbuttoned shirt. Your lips part, drawing his attention to them.

“Of course my prince,” you tell him, reaching forward. You will your hands not to shake as you begin to button his shirt, fingers brushing against the skin of his chest and stomach.

“Did you enjoy the gardens?” he asks, studying your face as you continue your task.

“Very much, my prince,” you tell him, trying to focus on the buttons instead of his closeness. Instead of the feeling of his breath on your face. His skin under your touch.

“I see you are acquainted with my brother,” Aegon says, causing you to miss a buttonhole, nail scraping against his chest. You feel your cheeks flood with color as you quickly loop the button in the whole.

“Yes, Prince Aemond was very kind to me last night,” you told him, glancing briefly in his violet eyes that watched you suspiciously.

“Kind?” Aegon asked, tilting his head back as you got to the collar of his shirt. You nod.

Aegon reaches up as you secure the last button, fingers wrapping around your wrists. He holds you in place as your eyes widen. Aegon’s mouth turns into a lazy smile that sends warmth pooling in your belly.

“Thank you, my lady,” he murmurs, “it is much appreciated.”

“Of course,” you whisper.

Aegon releases your wrists, wetting his lips.

“There is a feast tonight,” he tells you, eyes flickering about your face.

“Yes, my prince,” you tell him.

“I require your presence there,” he commands, “I shall escort you later on, since you evaded me the previous night.”

Your lips part and Aegon reaches up toward your face, grasping your chin between his fingers.

“You’re very beautiful, Lady Y/N,” he murmurs, eyes dropping to your lips, then back to your eyes.

“You flatter me, my prince,” you somehow manage to get the words out, squeaking the final word. Aegon smiles at that, teeth biting into his lower lip. Fire coils in your lower stomach, your eyes cannot seem to stay on his. Eyelashes fluttering they keep dropping to his lips, so soft and inviting. You wish to bite it as he does, to sink your teeth into the pink flesh.

“It is in my nature,” he tells you, giving your chin a squeeze before setting your free. You suck air into your lungs, not realizing you had been holding your breath.

“Come, my lady,” Aegon says, leading you towards the door, “I shall have my guard escort you back to your chambers, to prepare for the festivities.”

“Yes my prince,” you tell him, reaching to open the door. Aegon places a hand on it before you can open it. You turn back to him.

“Fuck,” he growls, before placing his hands on your cheeks and pressing his lips to yours. His lips are soft and warm, just as you imagined they would be. Fire courses through you as he deepens the kiss before he pulls away, gaging your reaction.

“What are you thinking?” he asks, not moving his hands.

I am hoping you’ll kiss me again.

The words do not come.

“My lady?” he questions, concern evident on his face.

“I was-” you begin, head feeling airy and empty, “I enjoyed it.”

Aegon smiles, before pressing his lips to yours once more, a softer, sweeter kiss this time.

“Now you may leave,” he tells you when he pulls away, leaving you dazed, “I shall see you tonight, my lady.”

He opens the door for you, relishing in your dreamlike expression. You stand outside his chambers for several moments, his guard waiting for you to begin walking.

You walk towards your chambers in a haze, before deciding to stop and get some air at a veranda you pass. As you lean across the balcony letting the air of early evening cool your burning skin, a dragonfly lands next to you. Your heart cinches in your chest, confusion flooding your mind.

Aemond. Aegon. Aemond. Aegon.

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sweetestpopcorn · 1 year

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Hi there Anon 😊 and once again so sorry for this delay!

Hum... I would say yes and no. And a big no to “yet all the time we see her in any of those matters, she performs as poorly as possible.”First, we do see examples of Rhaenyra being involved in Politics, we aren't just told. She attended Small Council meetings from the time she was seven, and when she was 16 she took possession of Dragonstone and ruled it for the next 16 years. During these 16 years we have no reports of anyone there complaining about Rhaenyra - which they would if she didn't know what she was doing.

In fact, Rhaenyra was quite popular amongst the people of King's Landing, Dragonstone, and Westeros. Certainly much more than her half-brothers, and like I already mentioned, the only ones who seemed to have an issue with her three eldest sons were the Greens (though their biggest issue remained the fact that Rhaenyra had no 🍆). Hells, when she takes King's Landing the people are happy in the beginning, "relieved" that they were free from Aegon and Aemond - who unlike Alicent, Helaena, and Daeron were not popular.

“Neither Aegon nor his brother, Aemond, had ever been much loved by the people of the city, and many Kingslanders had welcomed the queen's return... but love and hate are too faces of the same coin (...)" (Fire and Blood, pg. 466-467)

We do see other examples, especially in the beginning of her reign, of her actually displaying an ability to rule and making good decisions. For instance, more than once Daemon and Corlys are at odds with each other and suggest completely opposite things. Rhaenyra always takes a diplomatic approach and weights the argument of both men. In one example she finds a middle ground between her consort and her Hand, in another, she actually goes against Daemon's advice and follows Corlys’s advice.

"It was the fear of losing the support of such lords, Munkun asserts in True Telling, that led the queen to decide in favor of Lord Corlys rather than Prince Daemon.” (Fire and Blood, pg. 465)

"It fell to the queen herself to choose between her consort and her Hand. Rhaenyra decided to steer a middle course.” (Fire and Blood, pg. 479)

Note: You can read more about the particulars of both situations in the pages I just quoted. This is from the hardcover version of the book, the pages in the other edition change a little.

Would you not agree that this is what a good ruler does? Hear both sides and try to weigh out each and come up with the best solution?

While we are later told - only later - that she was a terrible ruler, this is not accurate in the beginning of her reign. We see Rhaenyra hearing advisors and trying to do the best with what she was given - which was utter sh:t and I would love to hear experts say what they would have done so differently -> not by means of writing a fanfiction in my notes though thank you, especially showGrangreen fans who go between book and show for whatever tickles their dirties. Moreover, some of the taxes Celtigar imposed in the beginning were actually similar to those imposed at the start of Jaehaerys’s reign. And again, rather than decide herself, she called someone who supposedly knew about this. If they did a good job at it or not - answer is not - that is up for the question. What Rhaenyra did, though, was what her father had always done, and had gotten good results from it.

The thing about Rhaenyra’s reign, Rhaenyra herself, and much of what is written in Fire and Blood is that you have to actually read it carefully and make up your own mind with what is there.

People can write whatever meta they want, some even write fanfictions adding the Rogares into the mix as if this holds any ground in canon 😂, but unless they use actual proof from the books, it’s worth nothing. And, the danger of reading what others write as opposed to the actual books is that people a lot of times twist and turn their notions and do not back it up with actual book material. A lie told many times runs the risk of becoming the truth, and this is so frequent in this fandom.

Now, to hit some on the old man, I will agree that he could have gone into much more detail of how Rhaenyra ruled Dragonstone, yes. He ought to have named concrete things she did, that she learned growing up. We are indeed left to read in between the lines in many cases and “guess”. Be that as it may, it is unfair to say that we are told and not shown and that the two do not match. We are shown things, but we only have to pay close attention otherwise we will miss much 😉

And just to clarify something else, the "show don't tell" approach is not something I have ever seen Turtle Man advocate for. This is just a general writing advice to make the read more engaging. I do argue, however, that Turtle Man has too many instances in Fire and Blood of just this: a tell instead of a show. He has many others when it is the contrary, however, he shows but doesn't tell, and I argue that is where his writing in Fire and Blood is more successful. However, he trusts his audience a bit too much at times and he should have added some little tell with the big show... then again in this fandom you can have sh:t black on white and still people question it. So... I don't know. Moreover, it’s also important to mention that the Dance was written with an end in sight. It was plot driven not character driven and as a consequence a lot of time the characters suffer from it. I have mentioned this before and I consider it one of the biggest flaws of George’s “fake history”, though I still absolutely love it 🥰

All the best to you 😺

PS: Everything I write concerns only the asoiaf canon and the books. Gangreen Redacted fans who use book and show for whatever idea they are trying to push are henceforth welcomed to go back to the trash can they came out of 🤗 there are two canons bestie, and you can't decide you want x for this and y for that. Take it all or don't take anything, but don't try to join book discussions.

#rhaenyra targaryen #canon rhaenyra targaryen #the rogue prince #the princess and the queen #fire and blood #the world of ice and fire #pre asoiaf #queen of fashion and the seven kingdoms #popcorn answers

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daenysthedreamer101 · 6 months

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Headpiece for Queen Aemma Arryn

#asoiaf #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #house of the dragon #hotd #house targaryen #house arryn #queen aemma #aemma arryn #asoiaf aesthetic #hotd aesthetic #westerosi fashion #westeros #seven kingdoms

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westerosisim · 2 months

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Fashion during Aegon I's reign

Visenya's influence on fashion during Aegon's reign

cc: dress, hair, crown, necklace, earrings/ring/bracelet (crystal creations)

model: Queen Visenya Targaryen

cc: dress, headpiece, necklace

model: Lady Alarra Massey

cc: dress, hair, necklace, earrings

model: Lady Redwyne

cc: dress, hair, earrings/necklace

model: Lady Jocasta Tarbeck

As a result of the unification of Westeros, the former seven kingdoms lost their distinctive styles. Under the influence of Queen Visenya, sharp and structured shoulder dresses, as well as braids and hair updo's became popular among noble westerosi women.

#aegon the conqueror #ts4 #sims 4 #sims 4 asoiaf #targaryen #house of the dragon #fire and blood #visenya targaryen #asoiaf #sims 4 medieval #sims 4 hotd #sims 4 got #sims4hotd #sims4asoiaf #sims4 #team black #sims4got #sims4medieval

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libraryoffandomsuniverse · 2 months

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the root of the root and the bud of the bud

Series masterlist

Not a drabble this time, but my headcanons about Rhaenyra and Reader's children! Don't worry, more fics are in the works.

Possible spoilers for future events in this series. Fic title comes from one of my all time favourite poets, EE Cummings!!

Jacaerys

Daddy's boy. Follows Reader around and mimics his mannerisms almost unconsciously.

Has the lightest skin out of all the children - just a shade darker than Rhaenyra. He also has black hair like Rhaenys, and dark purple eyes.

He was crowned Queen of Love and Beauty by Baela after she entered a tourney in disguise.

His first daughter marries Gaemon and succeeds him as Queen. His second daughter married Cregan Stark's son Rickon.

Rider of Vermax.

Lucerys

Mama's boy.

Very affectionate, he'd often run up to his parents and attack them with kisses before running away to keep playing.

Also has Rhaenys' black hair but resembles Reader more than Rhaenyra.

He was devastated when he realised that him being the Lord of Driftmark meant that Reader and Corlys would be dead.

Him and Rhaena slept together before they were wed and their first child was born 7 moons after the wedding.

Rider of Arrax.

Baelon (canon Joffrey)

Looks exactly like Reader photocopied himself - there's nothing of Rhaenyra.

Becomes Daemon's squire and earns a reputation for being bloodthirsty.

He was a biter as a toddler until Luke bit him back. He stopped doing so after that.

Travels across the Seven Kingdoms to dispense the Queen's (and later King's) justice for Rhaenyra and Jace.

Summerhall was built for him.

Rider of Tyraxes.

Aegon

The quietest out of all the children.

Has Rhaenyra's hair, which he keeps very short.

Has sailed to Essos numerous times and has almost been captured by pirates twice.

Oversees the Stepstones.

Loves art, particularly painting.

A family man, prefers to spend his free time with his children.

Rider of Stormcloud.

Gaemon (canon Viserys II)

The tallest of Rhaenyra and Reader's sons and you bet he bragged about it.

Studied at the Citadel and earned 4 links.

Travelled widely across Essos and owns a manse in Volantis.

The first of Rhaenyra and Reader's children to not have an egg hatch in their cradle. He later claims Vermithor when he's five and ten.

Becomes Jace's Hand.

Marries Jace's oldest daughter and becomes King Consort like his father.

Visenya

Loves fashion and prefers to wear blue or pink.

She can speak several languages including the Summer Tongue.

Acted as Rhaenyra's scribe when the Queen was hearing petitions.

Both her and Aemma are doted on and spoilt by their brothers.

Knows self defence, but doesn't like getting dirty. She does have a interest in poisons though.

Rider of Tessarion.

Aemma

Visenya's fraternal twin. Rhaenyra and Reader thought there was only one baby so they were very surprised when another appeared.

She likes archery and always carries a dagger with her.

Acts as Jace's unofficial Master of Whispers during his reign.

She sings and plays the harp.

Although her cradle egg goes cold, she eventually claims Shrykos when she is six name days.

#my writing #x male reader #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #lucerys velaryon imagine #jacaerys velaryon imagine #black reader #hotd imagines

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duchess-of-oldtown · 1 year

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Crowns, Tiaras, Diadems of A Song of Ice and Fire

This is a comprehensive list of every crown, tiara and diadem mentioned in the entirety of A Song of Ice and Fire and related books, because I'm insane. This is a very long post so enjoy.

The Rights of Inheritance

Royal crowns, Tiaras and Diadems are usually inherited by the next monarch and destributed at their whim. Certain crowns in canon are symbolically important, lending credence to a claimant's claim to the throne. During the Dance, the crown of Aegon the Conqueror became of of two relics to confirm Aegon II's right to the throne throne at a time it was disputed. Even during the short Regency of Aegon II, Prince Aemond wore the circlet as an affirmation of his power.

The Fate of Royal Jewelry

Many of the Crowns on this list haven't been seen in a while. I suspect as in royal jewels in real life, many of the pieces have either been sold off to afford wars or lavish livestyles or have been broken down to create newer pieces. It may be that the families are still in possession of these crowns but they have taken a new shape.

Crowns of Westeros

Crown of Aegon I - The Conqueror's Crown

The Conqueror's Crown is an open circlet of Valyrian Steel and large square cut rubies. Aegon's crown was of the trappings of legitimacy for House Targaryen, worn by some of her more martial minded Kings. It's notable wearers are Aegon I, Aenys I, Maegor I, Aegon II, Daeron I "The Young Dragon" and unusually, Prince Aemond for a period during the Dance. The crown was lost in Dorne during the campaign of The Young Dragon.

Crown of Aenys I

The crown of Aenys I was a large, ornate circlet of yellow gold inlaid with pearls and jade. It also depicted the faces of each of the Seven gods. Aenys' crown was worn by Aenys and later, for a time, his son Jaehaerys I. It's current whereabouts are unknown, likely broken up for the gems or kept in storage.

Crown of Jaehaerys I

The crown of Jaehaerys I is an open circlet of gold set with seven coloured jewels to represent the Seven and the Seven Kingdoms. This crown was worn by Jaehaerys I, Viserys I, Rhaenyra I. It was sold by Rhaenyra during the Dance to pay for passage abroad a ship.

Consort Crown of Alysanne

Alysanne's crown is described as a more feminine and slender version of Jaehaerys' circlet. Its unknown if any other Queen Consort wore this crown or where it is now.

Tiara of Rhaenyra I

Described as a jade tiara once owned by the Empress of Leng and gifted by Daemon Targaryen. Worn by Rhaenyra, its whereabouts are unknown.

Crown of Aegon III

The crown of Aegon III is a an open circlet of gold. It was worn by Aegon III, Viserys II and Aegon V. Its current whereabouts are unknown.

Crown of Baelor I

The crown of Baelor was a crown of vines and flowers.

Crown of Aegon IV

The crown of Aegon IV was a large circlet of red gold with each point fashioned into the likeness of a dragon with eyes of gemstones. It was worn by Aegon IV, Daeron II, Aerys I and Aerys II. Current whereabouts unknown, very likely to have been destroyed after Robert's Rebellion.

Crown of Maekar I

The crown of Maekar was described as "warlike". It is an open circlet of red gold with large points of sharp black iron. Notable wearers were Maekar and Jaehaerys II. The whereabouts of this crown are unknown, likely in storage at the Red Keep.

Tiara of Daenerys I

Described simply as a tiara. Gifted by Illyrio of Pentos, worn at the Princess's wedding to the Khal. Its whereabouts are unknown, likely lost after the death of Khal Drogo.

Crown of Daenerys I

A crown featuring three dragons wrought of jade, onyx and ivory, with coils of gold and wings of silver. Daenerys is its first and current owner.

Consort Crown of Hizdahr zo Loraq of Meereen

Described as a gold crown, accompanied by a jewelled sceptre. First wearer and current owner is Hizdahr zo Loraq.

Crown of the Kings in the North

An open circlet of bronze inscribed with ancient runes with nine longsword-shaped points fashioned from black iron. Notable wearers include perhaps every King in the North until Torrhen who offered it up to Aegon. Whereabouts unknown.

Crown of Robb Stark

An open circlet of bronze inscribed with ancient runes with nine longsword-shaped points from black iron fashioned after the ancient and lost crown of the Kings in the North. Robb Stark was the original owner and it has since then been passed through many hands, now in possession of Lady Stoneheart, Lady Catelyn Stark (née Tully)

Consort Crown of Jeyne Westerling

Undesribed, only noted as small. Made for Queen Jeyne and likely offered up to House Lannister after the surrender of Riverrun. Whereabouts unknown.

Crown of the King of the Rock

Description unknown. Surrendered after the field of fire. Notable wearers include the Kings of the Rock.

Crown of the Kings in the Reach

A crown of fresh flowers in peace time and a crown of iron thorns and bronze during ear time. Notable wearers include Garth the Gardener and the Gardener Dynasty. Likely burned to ash on the field of fire.

The Falcon Crown of the Eyrie

Undesribed. Worn by the Kings of the Vale. Handed up to Visenya after the supplication of the Vale.

Sharra Arryn's Regent's coronet and Ronnel Arryn's Small Crown

Both undesribed. Likely the boy King's crown was a smaller version of the Falcon Crown. Both surrendered after the boy King's trip around the Eyrie on the back of the dragon Vhagar.

Driftwood Crowns of the Iron Kings

The traditional crowns of the Iron Kings were created on the ascension of each King and then destroyed after their death, always fashioned out of driftwood.

The Crowns of the Grey Kings

A tall pale crown fashioned from the teeth of the ancient sea dragon, Nagga. Worn by the legendary figure, the Grey King. Whereabouts unknown.

Crown of Euron Greyjoy

Breaking tradition, Euron Greyjoy wears a crown of iron with points fashioned from the teeth of sharks. Euron is the first and only wearer. It's origin is unknown.

Crown of Theon Greyjoy

A slim band of iron set with nuggets of gold and black diamond. It was made for Theon Greyjoy. Its whereabouts are unknown.

Crown of Princess Arianne Martell

Described as a band of copper suns worn across the brow. Owned by Arianne, Princess of Dorne.

Crown of Cersei Lannister

Described as a sparkling crown or spun of pale gold spun with emeralds. Worn by Cersei, origins unknown.

Crown of Cersei Lannister

A crown of gold described as heavy. Worn by Queen Cersei, origins and whereabouts unknown.

Crown of Margaery Tyrell

Described as a slim golden crown. Worn by Margaery, origins and whereabouts unknown.

Crown of Joffrey I and Tommen I

A golden crown of rubies and black diamonds. Worn by Joffrey I, possibly created for him. Worn later by Tommen I though it is said it is too large for him.

Crown of Stannis Baratheon

A crown in the fashion of flames cast from red gold. Made for Stannis and likely currently in his possession sonewhere outside Winterfell.

Consort Crown of Selyse Baratheon

A twin to her husband's, of red gold with points resembling flames. Currently in her possession at the Wall.

Crown of Renly Baratheon

Renly's crown is a circlet of golden roses with the head of a stag carved out of jade arising at his forehead. Made for Renly, whereabouts unknown, likely in the possession of House Tyrell or handed up in surrender to House Lannister.

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