#rhaenys put the knife down

[backjustforberena]

like... did they need to be this close? did they??

[captain039]

Playing pretend

Aemond x reader

Warnings: Gore, swearing, intimacy,tension,niece/nephewcest, Targaryen incest, reader is Rhaenyras daughter, if I spell something wrong I don’t care 😂, AOB, anxiety, anxiety attacks

Did I ever think I’d write something for Aemond no no I did not I hate team green and Vhagar with a passion 😂😭

Me to me: I hate Aemond

Me to me after reading a fic: I mean-

Rhaenys will not die I swear to the gods I’ll riot about her death one day 😭

Dragon-

Aelwyn, white and gold scales daughter of Syrax. Mix between Syrax and Seasmoke.

It’s always cold at DragonStone keep. Your bed is never truely comfortable and you never sleep with both eyes closed. Your father’s gone as is your mother and as the eldest and next in line you’re struggling to keep yourself from feeding these council men to your dragon. Rhaenys is thankfully on your side majority of the time to help you calm these battle hungry mostly alpha males but you’re exhausted in need of a winters long rest or perhaps you should raid the cellar for some disgusting wine.

“That’ll be all council” Rhaenys’s voice is sharp and cuts through the bickering after she gives you a glance. They all leave and you sag against the table before instantly sitting up again when a knight comes in.

“A Raven princess’s” he says handing you the note. You thank him and he leaves and you unravel the small paper.

You know this writing, it’s the queen mother’s writing. Alicent has sent many Ravens to your mother to which she has read none but this one is addressed to you. You frown as you read your stomach dropping as you see her proposal for peace at the price of marriage. You lay the letter on the table with shaky hands, contemplate throwing yourself into the sea before rationalising that this is the way to stop the war, all the while Rhaenys has read the letter with a neutral look on her face.

“Has anyone seen my mother? My father even?” You ask the princess and she shakes her head.

“I’m afraid not” she sighs leaning back into the chair after lying the note back on the table.

“Well then” you say your heart pounding in your ears just as your brother walks in. You all but snatch the note off the table and shove it into your pockets not noticing the small chuckle Rhaenys does before she leaves.

“Brother” you greet as he sits himself opposite to where Rhaenys was.

“Is she still not back?” Your brother doesn’t look you in the eye and your heart breaks a little. He’s got too much that he puts on his shoulders.

“Not yet” you answer sagging.

You plan in privacy, pack your things inform your servants and knight guard to keep this all quiet till you can sort it out. You’re on the balcony when a knock comes and you say a ‘come in’ before Rhaenys enters.

“Princess” you greet.

“Princess” she greets back coming to join you on the balcony.

“You’re not overly sneaky I’m afraid” she says after some time and you frown tensing slightly.

“Why would I have to sneak?” You ask hoping to deflect her question but she smiles and you sigh.

“There is no other way I will agree to these terms, my mother nor my father seem to be doing anything!” Your anger rises before you force it down again.

“Apologies for yelling” you say quietly after.

“If you did not yell I’d question your Targaryen heritage” Rhaenys jokes and you smile.

“If you feel this is the right way, however I’d advise you, you are throwing yourself into a den of vipers” she leans against the stone railing eyes out to the sea.

“I’m aware” you say.

“Nor will you have allies there, and your betrothed has already killed one of your siblings” her reminder stabs you like a knife in the side and you gulp.

“You cannot kill him either” she adds.

“She said too leave in a week from the letter if I were to accept, it has been five days I shall notify the council the day I leave and if my mother or father show up I shall inform them also” you nod trying to ignore the anxiety nauseating your stomach.

Neither your father or mother show up and it breaks your heart, as you gather the council and tell them the outrage you receive is like a wasps nest being upset or an angry mother dragon whose had her eggs stolen. The one who stays silent though is your brother, the death look he gives the table makes you question his thoughts.

“Enough!” You finally snap.

“You men of the council do nothing but sit here and bitch like a bunch of ladies!” Your words stun them into utter confusing and silence and you instantly regret your words and clear your throat.

“I-“ you stutter.

“The princess is under a lot of stress as it is from this decision she does not need you to add to it” your brother finally speaks and the men finally quiet themselves.

“I leave today at lunch, my things are already packed, my ladies are in order as are my knights, they all know” you say.

“I will get peace from this war, nobody else is trying” you don’t know why you stare at the table most of the talk, but when you look up your mother is there. The room goes silent, the council leaves, as does your brother leaving you and your mother in the room. She looks as if she hasn’t slept in days, she’s covered in dirt, tear streaks down her cheeks and a rugged red cloak in her hands, Lukes cloak. Tears form in your eyes as your mother walks to you, lays the cloak on the table and rounds it before her arms are around you. You sob softly against her despite her appearance and smell, you feel her crying silently also. You stay like that for a while before she pulls apart, hands on your face as her thumbs wipe away your tears.

“If this is what you must do then so be it” she says.

“Peace doesn’t come cheaply, sometimes it may not come, I hope it does” she takes a small breath leaning your foreheads together.

“Be brave my daughter” she whispers pressing her lips to your forehead.

The ride to kings landing is daunting you’re thankful you don’t get shot down, but you see the army waiting for you by the dragon it entrance. Aelwyn grumbles on her way down as you calm her softly in high Valyrian as you land. Aelwyn despite being young is almost as large as her mother, you climb off her side down her white golden scales while a knight comes over and seizes your arm. Aelwyn growls in response.

“Calm Aelwyn” you say as the dragon keepers urge her into the dragon pit.

“So you have come” you look queen mother, adorned in a green dress.

“I have” you say and she nods relief flooding her eyes while she keeps a stoic face. You are thankful you took some scent blocking tea and purple tea. Purple tea was used to reduce one’s designation though it only lasted a couple of hours.

“Let her go” Alicent orders the guard and he lets your arm go.

“Come” she beckons you and you follow.

The castle is restless, jittery and on edge, you can hardly walk by anyone without them tensing. You wish for your things and a bed quickly, the teas are wearing off and everything is starting to overwhelm you. You head to the throne room, away from the chaos but it is too late, your heart pounds, you’re sweating, Alicent’s scent is almost as haywire as you’re feeling. You both stop but you’re unaware of the prince in front of till you breathe him in. You feel you might choke, sweet scent of an alpha filling your nose.

“Is she alright mother?” You hear distantly, you close your eyes momentarily feeling the Queen mother’s hand on your arm.

“Apologies my Queen, my prince” you curtsy but your body sways. You hadn’t noticed the prince so close till both of his hands hold your arms and a gasp leaves you. Your eyes snap open and you’re face to face with the one who killed your little brother. You reel back in your mind, blink a few times to clear it before offering a smile and nodding.

“I am not use to flying that long” you counter and the prince nods letting you go. Your arms tingle but you ignore it as you look to Alicent.

“Aegon isn’t aware of this marriage neither is the realm” she says and you nod.

“Half my family isn’t either” you say and worry flashes in her eyes.

“My mother is aware” you say and she nods.

“How shall we play this?” You ask.

Next part ->

[bloodstained-porcelain-doll]

The Kneeling Queen, ch 5 - Aemond Targaryen x OC

Read on AO3

Summary: Aemond Targaryen and Maelessa Velaryon were childhood lovers. They were each other's only comfort in a world full of darkness. When they grew up, their love blossomed until they were the only thing the other cared about. Their lives get increasingly complicated due to the fact that they're supposed to be on opposite sides of the war. Will their love survive or will it burn to ash as the war ensues?

Warnings: Smut, blood play, mutilation, knife play, asphyxiation to the point of passing out

Chapter 5 - Etched Into Flesh

After the miserable spectacle that the coronation had turned into, Aemond walked Maelessa back to her chamber, locking the door behind him.

“How long will I be your prisoner for?” she asked.

“Until I can be certain of your safety.” He trailed his long fingers down her neck, adjusting one of the sapphires of her necklace. “It isn’t safe for you to wander around the castle. Everyone is plotting, and now Rhaenys will be sure to carry the news to your mother. You have become valuable to more people than me now. It worries me.” 

Maelessa brought her hands up to cup his face.

“Do not worry for me, my king. I, too, can plot. And I’m quite capable of taking care of myself." 

“I know, Maelītsos. But you are mine to worry about. I must leave you here again, but I assure you, I will come back as soon as I can.”

“Alright, my love. But if you’re going to treat me like a prisoner, might as well do it right.” She spoke slowly, moving her hair to the side, exposing her neck. Aemond got the idea. He leaned down to kiss her neck and bit it hard, causing a whimper to slip out of her lips.

“I really must go. But later, ñuha ozgūroti,” he said with a squeeze of her ass and a wink. It was funny seeing him wink, considering he only had one eye to do it with. 

Maelessa resigned herself to needlework as she waited for Aemond. She wondered what he was doing, who he was speaking with. Surely, he was plotting too, just as everyone else. She thought of her dragon, wondering how Catlys was doing without her. Normally she never went a day without spending time with her dragon, and now they were separated. She set the needlework down and went to sit by her mirror. She unravelled the pretty braids Aemond had made in her hair, then brushed it until it shone. 

Her brown hair was long enough that it touched her waist, and had slight curls to it. Reminiscent of Ser Harwin Strong. In truth, she didn’t care much that she was a bastard, but she did resent her mother for the poor choices she had made, weakening her children’s claims as heirs. Aemond enjoyed putting her hair in various contraptions to give it more curls or less depending on what they were doing. 

She thought back to her four legged friends in Cobbler’s Square. She longed to get back out and work with the dogs again. She had taken Aemond with her a few times, he enjoyed seeing her take charge and train up the puppies and the grown dogs as well. He wasn’t particularly interested in playing with or petting the dogs, like Maelessa did, but he did enjoy watching their tricks and watching as they attacked the trainers wearing thick sleeves made of animal skins. Maelessa’s favourite dog was a large brown one named Rocco. He was strong and fierce, loved to tear his teeth into pretend enemies, but the second she told him to stand down he turned back into a playful and gentle pup, wagging his tail and begging her for affection.

She was laying in her bed having picked up her needlework again when Aemond finally returned to her. A guard had come earlier to serve her food and drink as well as a message to her that had come by raven, but otherwise she had seen no one. She had scribbled her reply and sent it away with the same guard. Her lover locked the door behind him and sat next to her in the bed. The look on his face told her he had bad news.

“What is it?” she wondered, tossing her needlework to the side. Aemond set his hands on her calves, sneaking them up her dress to hold her thighs. 

“I must leave for Storm’s End in the morning,” he said curtly. Maelessa gulped, knowing what this meant. What it meant for them.

“You’ll return betrothed,” she filled in his silence. He nodded and looked away.

“Most likely.” Then he took her face in his hands. “I’ll tell you again, Maelītsos, it will mean nothing to me. A political alliance, nothing else.”

“Will you give her children?” she asked, resting her hands atop his, tears stinging her eyes.

“No. I won’t even consummate the marriage if it bothers you.”

“It bothers me,” she said without hesitation. Aemond kissed her lips.

“It’ll be a marriage in name only. Don’t forget, you and I have plans. Depending on when we can start setting our plans in motion, mayhaps I won’t even have to wed the Baratheon girl. The wedding wouldn’t be until the war is over anyway.” He kissed her again. “Our plans will prevail. If I do have to go through with it and wed the Baratheon girl… I’ll dispose of her when our plans are set in motion. I intend to take you as my wife, Maelessa Velaryon, in the ways of the old Valyrians. This I swear to you.” He wiped her tears and kissed her until they dried, laying her back down on the mattress. “Now what was that you were saying about treating you as my prisoner?”

She smiled mischievously at his words, spreading her legs to allow him to slide between them. He slid his knife out of its sheath and cut her nightgown open in a swift motion that made her gasp.

“I bet the dressmakers all hate you,” she quipped. Aemond growled and bit down on her neck.

“You stay quiet, ñuha ozgūroti,” he ordered, sliding the cold sharp knife back down her now bare chest. She shuddered and closed her eyes, allowing him to play as he wanted. The knife cut through her smallclothes and left her completely without covering. He loved this method of removing her clothes, and she loved the shift in power when she was all exposed and he was still fully clothed in his beautiful leathers.

He set the knife down between her breasts and ran his fingers down her stomach, down to her cunt, and she bucked her hips up against him eagerly, but he used the palm of his hand to shove her back down with a grunt. He was having none of her will tonight. The tips of his fingers teased her endlessly, brushing her thighs, her outer lips, but never coming to touch her where she needed it the most. She struggled to keep still, reducing her whining to only breathless moans. When she was dripping wet and her legs trembled with need, he finally gave her what she needed and plunged two fingers into her, hard and deep. When she cried out, he slapped her cheek hard enough to make her gasp.

“What did I say?” he growled quietly, giving her a deadly look with his icy blue eye.

“Stay quiet,” she whispered. 

“So you aren’t deaf. Why do you fail to obey?” His derogatory tone sent a rush of heat down to her core.

“Forgive me, Master. I’ll obey,” she corrected herself, biting her lip as a reminder to herself. 

“Hmm,” Aemond muttered, pushing his fingers inside again, up against the spot that drove her crazy. She gripped the sheets, squeezing them between her fingers as he fucked her roughly with his. With the palm of his hand he rubbed her clit, up and down just the way she liked, and she swore she could taste blood from how hard she bit her lip. Just as she was about to cum, he moved his palm away and his fingers stilled. A frustrated sigh left her lips before she could stop it.

Aemond had a mischievous glint in his eye when he picked up the knife again, trailing it over her lips, down her neck, stopping at her chest. The sharp tip pushed into her skin.

“I would leave you with a reminder of me,” he spoke slowly. Her eyes widened and she remembered an earlier conversation of theirs, about what he wanted to do to her. She swallowed, excited at the notion but fearful of the pain.

“I wouldn’t be able to stay quiet,” she said. He shook his head to reassure her.

“You wouldn’t have to. Right here…” He pointed the knife right over her heart. “Is where I want it.”

Maelessa felt scared for the first time since they began their affair all those years ago. But at the same time, the thought of him branding her sent a jolt of electricity through her body down to her core. The idea of his name scarring her chest endowed her with a sense of pride and purpose. So she nodded.

“Do it. I want it,” she whispered.

“You’re absolutely sure? It’ll hurt.” He caressed her cheek gently and she nodded decisively.

“I can take it.” 

Aemond moved off her and unbuckled his belt, sliding it out of its loops. He folded it in half and held it in front of her face.

“Bite down on this.” Nervous, she opened her mouth and allowed him to place the leather between her teeth, biting down. He placed a long, soft kiss on her forehead and traced his thumb down her cheek before he grasped the knife again. He looked her in the eye as he brought it to her chest. She nodded again, signalling her readiness.

Aemond’s tongue darted out between his teeth as he focused, carefully digging the sharp knife into her skin. She gasped around the leather, but the pain wasn’t unbearable. He slid it down, carving an A, and by the third line she whimpered.

“You’re doing so good, Maelītsos,” he whispered, gently rubbing her arm as he moved onto the next letter. Tears pricked at her eyes when he carved the letter E into her skin. She looked down and saw the deep red blood dripping down onto her breast. Each time he dipped the knife into an already existing cut she whimpered. Her hands gripped his thighs hard for support when he carved the M into her.

“Aemond,” she whined, dropping the belt from her mouth and screwing her eyes shut.

“I’m so proud of you, my love, we’re halfway there. You’re doing so good for me.” His soft praise gave her some strength and she took a deep breath, preparing herself for the next one. The O wasn’t as bad until he tied it together. His eye was wide with lust and his breaths heavy as he continued. The look on his face was what kept her going, despite her sniffling and crying. He finished the N and she looked down again. The blood was running down her stomach and staining her sheets. It looked like the scene of a crime, not an act of love and devotion. He started on the last letter, holding her hand tightly with his free one. The knife pressed into her skin, drawing blood one last time as he etched a crimson D into her chest.

“There you are,” he whispered, looking at her in awe. “Mine, all mine. I’m so proud of you, my love. You look so beautiful.” He threw the knife to the side and attacked her lips with his, claiming her in a passionate kiss. The letters in her skin burned but the sting faded when his lips smoothed over her skin, making their way down her neck, licking, biting and sucking purple marks onto her skin, not caring anymore who could see. She moaned, but the moan turned to a cry when he ran his hand over the bleeding cuts, dragging blood down her stomach and using it to coat her sex with. She didn’t even realise he had unlaced his trousers before his hard cock was pushing into her, using her own blood as lubrication. 

She cried out and gripped his shoulders for support as he immediately began to ram himself into her, wasting no time letting her adjust. He was hard, horny and riled up. He was feral, shoving her wrists down into the mattress and growling while he fucked her until she couldn’t breathe. His hair was in her face, somewhere in the mess of them she tasted blood, probably her own. His bloodstained hand came to wrap itself around her throat, squeezing. Hard. Harder than he normally did. He flipped his hair back and she saw him. His perfect face was tainted with her crimson blood and his grin was wolfish. Her vision went blurry and she couldn’t cry out. She vaguely heard him call her his good girl, and then everything went black.

She thought she heard someone in the distance call her name when she woke up, and for a moment she was thoroughly confused, until she saw Aemond above her, and felt him still hammering into her wildly. He laughed darkly when she blinked and looked up at him stupidly, realising he had choked her so hard that she fainted.

“Welcome back, ñuha ozgūroti,” he growled and put his bloody hand on her cheek, pressing her face into the pillows, his cock feeling like it was hitting deeper inside her with each thrust. Her head finally stopped spinning and she grasped at his arm for support, holding onto him for dear life. The bed rocked back and forth, the headboard slamming into the wall over and over. Out of all their wild sex, this was the most feral he had ever been, like a wild beast claiming its prey after starving for weeks.

Somehow, the feeling of his cock splitting her open combined with the dizziness of passing out had her spiralling towards the brink of an orgasm in no time. 

“Aem… Aemond… I’m…” She was unable to form words, relegated to just taking his brutal pounding, and the the coil in her abdomen broke, and she came crashing down in the hardest orgasm of her life. She dug her nails into his arms, screaming and growling in pleasure as her pussy convulsed around his cock. He chuckled darkly at her and held her in place as he thrust into her a few more times, riding out her orgasm, then he buried himself deep inside her and spilled his seed with a pleased groan. She was so taken by her orgasm that she barely had time to register what he did. Only when he slumped down on the bed without withdrawing himself from her did she gather her wits.

“Aemond,” she panted. “Did you just…”

“Yes,” he said before she could finish her question. “You are mine. I’ll treat you as mine in all ways from now on.” There was no room to argue with him, not that she wanted to. The knowledge that his seed lay inside her thrilled her, and she wanted him to do it over and and over again. “How do you feel? I put you through a lot today.”

Maelessa laughed. Her chest burned, her pussy ached and there was a dull throb in her head.

“I feel ravaged. It feels good,” she murmured, stroking a lock of hair out of his face. It had grown slightly wavy as it did when it was wet or sweaty.

“I meant it, Maelītsos, I’m proud of you. I’m part of you forever now,” he said, his face full of adoration when he looked at her.

“You always have been, ñuha Āeksio. But now it’s plain to see.” She kissed him once more and he finally pulled out of her. He left the bed and went to fetch a rag and some water. He cleaned her up thoroughly, wiping the blood off her face, neck, chest, stomach… The stains were everywhere. It stung bad enough that she winced when he dabbed the wet cloth over the cuts. Only when she was all clean did he move on to himself. 

”What do you suppose my Baratheon bride will say when I show up with your blood in my hair?” he joked. She smacked his chest lightly.

“Don’t even joke about it, I don’t want to hear of her, ever.” She pouted and Aemond kissed her lips before climbing in under the furs and wrapping them around the two of them. She cuddled up close to him and fell asleep quickly, sleeping like a baby all night.

Ser Criston Cole walked through the halls in the morning. He had gone to the prince’s chamber to fetch him, but had found it empty. Prince Aemond was meant to leave for Storm’s End, yet he wasn’t in any of the places Criston would have thought to find him. So he supposed that only left one option. He walked past the princes’ chambers and all the way to the Velaryon girl’s room. He knocked on the door but received no response. The doors were locked, but as the commander of the Kingsguard he had keys most everywhere. 

Criston unlocked the doors and pushed them open. There he lay, the prince, with his lover nestled in his arms. They both stirred awake when they heard the doors open. 

“Ser Criston,” Aemond greeted, hoisting himself up onto his elbows. Maelessa had kicked off most of the furs in the night, but they still covered her torso.

“My prince. I’m meant to see to it that you leave for…” He trailed off when Aemond moved and the furs fell off Maelessa’s body. His eyes locked first on her legs, then her bottom, then up towards her chest and her neck. When she caught him looking, she turned innocently, exposing more of her legs and turning so he saw the entirety of her chest. His eyes widened for a second before he tore them away, forcing himself to look at Aemond, who wore a strange smirk on his face.

“Storm’s End, yes. I’m aware. I’ll meet you shortly,” he said, getting out of bed. Ser Criston nodded and turned to leave, but not before he saw Aemond lean down to kiss Maelessa. The two lovers had always caused trouble for the queen, he had heard her complain on multiple occasions. He left the chambers and went to wait in the courtyard, thinking about what he had just seen.

“Good luck, my love,” Maelessa said, standing on her tiptoes to kiss Aemond before he left. He traced his fingers over the now scabbing letters on her chest.

“Thank you. It warms my heart, coming from you. I’ll have the maids come draw you a bath and bring breakfast. Put salve on the wounds tonight, we don’t want this infected. I won’t linger longer than I have to in Storm’s End, I’ll come straight back to you, I promise.”

“I know you will. Avy jorrāelan.”

“Avy jorrāelan.” With one last kiss, he was gone and the doors locked behind him once more.

After seeing off the prince, Ser Criston went straight to the queen. She needed a report on what he had seen this morning. It made him sick, he felt disturbed at the sight that wouldn’t leave his head.

“Yes, Ser Criston?” Alicent said when he entered the council room where she sat alone. 

“Your Grace. Prince Aemond has taken Vhagar and flown towards Storm’s End,” he reported, hands clasped behind his back.

“Good. An alliance with Lord Borros is important, it will strengthen us greatly. Did you find Aemond in his chamber, then?” she asked. They had already spoken earlier this morning when Ser Criston didn’t find Aemond waiting for him in the courtyard like they agreed.

“That’s what I needed to speak with you about…” he began, and Alicent tilted her head, looking at him sceptically.

“Well get on with it, what is it now?” she asked, picking at the skin around her nails. He cleared his throat and looked away, uncomfortable.

“I didn’t find prince Aemond in his chamber, I found him in Maelessa Velaryon’s quarters,” he explained, and Alicent rolled her eyes.

“Of course you did, I’m not shocked. I’ve done all I can to keep him away from her, there’s nothing else I can do. He doesn’t listen to me anymore. I’d have to marry her off to someone far away, but I doubt even that would stop them. Was that all?” she wondered, impatient.

“No, your Grace… I feel I need to share with you what I saw this morning.” He sat down on a chair opposite her. “They were both naked, in bed together.”

“Again, not surprising despite my efforts to stop it.”

“I saw markings on Maelessa’s body. Bruises,” he kept going. Alicent set her glass down and looked at him, her face changing. “She had purple and green bruises all over her body. Some were the shape of hands. There were welts on her thighs and on her… behind. The kind that come from being beaten with a belt,” he explained, unable to look the queen mother in the eye.

“You’re saying my son beats her?” Alicent asked, leaning in closer to him. Worry was clear on her face. He didn’t answer yes or no, he needed to get the last part out first.

“The worst part was her chest… It was…” He took a deep breath and forced himself to look into her eyes. “It would appear the prince has taken a knife and carved his name into her skin.”

Alicent’s hands shot up to cover her mouth.

“You’re lying,” she exclaimed, but he shook his head. 

“When she saw that I noticed… Your Grace, I do not think the prince has done any of it against her will. She wanted me to see the marks. She looked proud of them.” 

Alicent’s eyes were wide with disbelief. She shook her head, running her hands over her face.

“Why would she… Why would he? I don’t understand.”

Cole shifted uncomfortably where he sat, unsure of how to approach this delicate matter.

“I have heard tales from other men… that some girls enjoy it more… brutally, within the confines of their bedchamber-“

“He carved his name into her chest!” she shouted and shot up from her seat. “It’s sick! I… I must speak with the girl. Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Ser Criston, you may go,” she said, dismissing him.

Over on Dragonstone, Queen Rhaenyra slammed a letter down on the table.

“My own daughter turns against me!” she yelled. She had been happy when she received such a quick response to the letter she sent to King’s Landing, urging her daughter to come back home to them. She knew Maelessa wanted to stay with her lover in King’s Landing, but that was before the king Viserys died and the greens usurped her throne. She had expected Maelessa to turn against them and return home to Dragonstone. If she wasn’t imprisoned. Rhaenys had brought the news of the king’s death and Aegon’s coronation. She had reported that Maelessa had stood on the stage during the act, giving Rhaenyra hope that her daughter was still there as a guest, not a hostage. She had sent an urgent raven, but the response was not what she had hoped for.

“May I read that?” Jace asked. She nodded curtly and her son picked up the letter. “What were the words of your letter again?” 

“I urged her to come home in the name of her mother and her queen. And that’s what she wrote back! Of her own free will!” Rhaenyra exclaimed, clutching her chest.

“I recognise no authority but that of Prince Aemond Targaryen.” Jace read the letter out loud, thinking it over. “She’s a cunt,” he said and slammed the letter down on the table.

“Jace!” his mother scolded. “She’s my daughter. Your sister.”

“And she’s a cunt if she chooses the greens over her own family. She’s always done that with him though, hasn’t she? It’s always been ‘Aemond this, Aemond that’ since we were children.” He paced around the room anxiously and his mother fidgeted with her rings. Neither of them felt sure that Maelessa was safe where she remained, but they didn’t know how to get her home either. Her refusal made everything difficult. Maelessa always reminded Rhaenyra of herself in her youth, but even she never would have refused to come home if her family needed her.

“So she supports Aegon and the greens. Fine. I suppose I’ll have to count her out of our plans then. Her and her dragon…” she said, looking down at the table, resigned. Jace knitted his eyebrows together.

“Wait… Notice how she didn’t mention Aegon or Alicent. She didn’t say the greens were her authority, she said Aemond. Maybe she’s not loyal to the greens, only to him.”

“And?” Rhaenyra scoffed. “He’s one of them.”

“Yes, but…” He set both his hands on the table. “If we assure her that we can take the throne without harming Aemond, she may yet be loyal to us. She’s never cared for Aegon, she might be willing to turn on him as long as we can guarantee Aemond’s life and safety,” he suggested. His mother looked up, the light returning in her eyes.

“You might be right… Thank you, Jace. I’ll write her back after you and Luke have left.” He and his younger brother were both leaving shortly, Jace for the North and Luke for Storm’s End. After the usurper’s coronation and his mother’s coronation, they needed to seek allies. Jacaerys set out on his dragon, and Lucerys on his.

Maelessa had mostly rolled her eyes when the queen mother had entered her chamber to question her. She was relaxing in the bath Aemond had ordered for her, and Alicent was disturbing her peace. The green queen had demanded to see the marks on her body, so she had reluctantly stood up in her bath and given her a show. Then she had been questioned about how it started, if it was consensual, why she allowed Aemond to do such things to her, why he wanted to do it. She had told the truth, that it had started out innocent enough, with light spankings in the bedchamber. Then as they aged, Aemond had begun to canalise his anger this way, taking it out of her. 

“And what do you get out of it?” the queen mother had asked. 

“It feels good to serve him. It gives me great pleasure to offer him the release he needs. And I enjoy it, too. The pain heightens the pleasure. I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

“And this?” she asked, reaching out to touch her fingers to her son’s name on Maelessa’s chest.

“Purely possessive. Seeing his name branded on me gives us both pleasure. Since you wouldn’t let us wed, we wanted to show our love another way.”

“You blame me for this?” she asked, revolted. Her eyes darted back and forth between Maelessa’s chest and face.

“I don’t blame you, I thank you.” Alicent withdrew her fingers and frowned. Maelessa sunk back into her bath with a smile on her face. She quite enjoyed the scandal of it all. Alicent reached out again, taking one of Maelessa’s hands in both of hers.

“Maelessa… you and I haven’t always seen eye to eye, but if you ever need help. Aemond is… he’s become something I don’t recognise. Dangerous and unpredictable. If you ever need help I want you to know that you can come to me.” 

She smiled at the older woman.

“I thank you for your kindness, but I doubt I’ll ever need it. Aemond is good to me, he’s never laid a hand on me against my will. He loves me, and I love him.”

Alicent nodded and withdrew her hands, leaving Maelessa alone in her chamber again.

Valyrian translations:

ñuha ozgūroti - My prisoner

Maelītsos - Little Mae

ñuha Āeksio - My Master

Avy jorrāelan - I love you Tag list: @magnificentsapphiresoul @sadgirlxangel @ner-dee

[darkpoisonouslove]

I cannot understand the people that are so outraged by Aemond asking Helaena to join the fight.

I see a few main complaints and they just don't make sense.

The people that blame Aemond for Jaehaerys' murder are completely out of touch with reality. Aemond's actions don't automatically translate to the death of his nephew. Someone had to wield the knife and that someone was sent by Daemon. Aemond paying for his actions is one thing but nowhere does that naturally lead to his siblings' children getting murdered. That was entirely the fault of Daemon and the assassins he sent, knowing they would have no chance against Aemond so he gave them a much easier alternative.

Second of all, Helaena isn't safe just because she's behind the walls of the Red Keep. Sure, she's not in any immediate danger like she would be in battle but she had a knife at her throat that forced her to give up her son so he could be murdered in front of her eyes right in the castle. I wouldn't call that safety, really. Besides, if her brothers lose the war, her life could be in danger as well, and her daughter's life. Hell, she's not even safe right now considering the riot in the middle of which she was caught.

As for Helaena not having any battle experience... None of them do! Daemon we've only seen burning people on the ground with Caraxes while he was fighting the war at the Stepstones. Aemond's "experience" is down to killing Luke, which was hardly a battle, and then struggling somewhat against Rhaenys despite his victory. Rhaenyra, Jace, Baela, Aegon, the Dragonseeds - none of them have any battle experience. Some of the dragons do. Vhagar certainly does, which is an advantage for Aemond. But Helaena's dragon - while maybe not having battle experience per se - at least isn't a hatchling, has lived a full century.

Frankly, it feels like people are infantilizing Helaena. She is a dragon rider as well. That doesn't mean that she has to crave battle or even be willing to participate at all but she has been robbed of any kind of agency so far. Think about how horrible it must be to know what's coming and be unable to do anything about it because no one understands your prophetic gift and you constantly depend on others for protection while you cannot make them see the dangers that you see. This can be her chance to finally take charge of her own life and put her gift to use. If she's the one in the driver's seat, she doesn't have to explain herself, doesn't have to make others listen to her; she can just go out and get things done herself.

[and-to-you-its-just-words]

I think it’s so interesting that Steve Toussaint spoke in this article and said that when Corlys wakes up and tells Rhaenys that they shouldn’t declare to anyone and just take their grandkids to Driftmark and live their lives that he’s saying what he thinks she wants to hear. It’s not that he’s had a near death experience and that’s changed his priorities; he still wants to be apart of what is happening. But he wakes up, looks over and can see that he has hurt his wife, and he chooses to do what will make her happy.

What Corlys doesn’t realize is that what he thinks his wife wants is 6 years out of date. I’m sure they’ve communicated via raven over that time but it’s certainly not enough. After her children died, I’d say Rhaenys wanting to keep Baela and Rhaena on Driftmark and live their lives is exactly what she wanted. But then she was left on her own and the world around her had progressively gone to shit. Rhaenys knows the time for leaving is long gone but I think it speaks to their marriage that Corlys tries at his first opportunity to put things right with his wife.

I also like Rhaenys’ reaction to his suggestion. Rhaenyra’s boys are in jeopardy and Rhaenys chooses to not let that slide. I find her general attitude towards the boys is kind of like Catelyn Stark’s attitude towards Jon Snow. They both know that the children in their lives are bastards (Cat doesn’t like to talk about it, Rhaenys isn’t supposed to talk about it) and even though these children are meant to be their family, neither women can bring themselves to love the children as they should because they both know that the bastards leave their family vulnerable. Jace, Luke and Joff put Laenor in a dangerous position and Rhaenys can’t look past that. I’m sure after Laenor “dies” she feels even more justified in that position. Now, the difference between Rhaenys and Catelyn is when the boys are in real danger, Rhaenys clearly makes a choice to protect them as best she can (don’t think I didn’t see Rhaenys snatching those kids behind her when Alicent came running with that knife) and choosing to stay is an active choice of support.

I genuinely think that if they weren’t in such a political position, that Rhaenys wouldn’t care that Laenor’s sons aren’t biologically his. I think she’s a woman who feels quite a lot and who loves her family deeply. But she is in that position and so she has put some distance between her and the boys so she can act objectively to protect her family. I also think she is weary of the boys because of her wariness of Rhaenyra and Daemon.

But I think it says a lot about Rhaenys that when her husband presents her with what she probably deep down wishes they could do, her first response is of her grandchildren. Not of Rhaenyra being deserving of the throne, not of her worries of what kind of king Aegon will be, or the treachery of the Greens, she thinks of her grandchildren. Because when she’s really put to it, those boys are her family, and she will do what she can to ensure their safety.

[prettymuchteddy]

The Driftmark Chapter was honestly really fun to write:

She was pulled into her body when her eyes shifted to the steel dagger. The cool metal fit in her grasp perfectly as she charged toward the one who dared leave. The one who did this.

Luke screamed. It got everyone’s attention before she could take them by surprise.

She could hear Gwayne yell from somewhere in the back. “Alicent stop!”

Rhaenyra charged at her and held her back with one hand on her shoulder, while the other gripped her wrist, the dagger threatening damage should she fail.

Lenora hid Luke behind her and a protective arm over her other two sons. Dyanna tried to move closer but the knights stopped her from getting closer. Corlys and Rhaenys prioritized their granddaughters by attempting to shield them from the violence.

The chaos had begun. Everyone was screaming as the two women danced in a circle, a deadly knife between the two.

“Helaena!”

“Daeron!”

“My Prince get behind!”

“Get your brother!”

“Rhaena!”

“Baela!”

“Don’t get any closer!”

“My Queen be careful!”

“Good Gods someone get the knife away from her!”

“Rhaenyra!”

“Alicent!”

“Mother!”

Alicent ignored all the voices. She only glared at the one in front of her.

“Alicent put the dagger down”, Rhaenyra growled.

“Now is when you care? Now when I have to use a knife?”

“Alicent this is madness!”

Alicent bared her teeth. “For once in my life, I feel sane.”

Rest is on AO3

[targaryenssurvive]

Before this chapter begins I would like to give a trigger warning for domestic abuse, physical abuse and racism. I would also like to add my obligatory ‘fuck Aerys’ warning, he is a horrible person and I am in no way condoning his actions, I am trying to show all the Targaryens dynamics with each other and that includes Aerys with Rhaella.

Two days after Aegon's chapter

Chapter twenty Rhaella

Rhaella’s face stung and throbbed with pain in the place Aerys had just smacked her, her ears were ringing from his yelling. Her nose felt broken and her lip was bleeding, his vision was blurry with tears. She was on the ground, she was shaking and sobbing on the ground. Aerys had lost his temper when he had heard Rhaella and Elia talking about how they disapproved of Rhaenys and Aegons betrothal and Aerys had taken it as them criticizing his decisions. So for the last thirty minutes he had been screaming at Rhaella about how criticizing him was treason, about how she should be killed for it.

“You stupid women! You fool! You useless cow!” Aerys screamed and grabbed her by the hair. Rhaella let out a sob. “I’m sorry, my king, I didn’t mean to ins-.” Rhaella was cut off by another smack. “You and that Dornish whore should be rotting in the black cells right now! You both don’t deserve to be living, to breathe the same air as me!” Aerys took a knife out of his pocket and held it to Rhaellas neck. Rhaella felt her heart quicken, Aerys had threatened her with a knife before. Every Time he took it out she wondered if he would finally snap and kill her. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, please A…Aerys, please, I beg for your forgiveness…” Rhaella pleaded. “Why can’t you be a good wife?! A wife who stands by me?! A wife worth the air she breathes!” Aerys pushed the knife against her neck, hard enough to make her bleed but it didn’t cut too deep. Rhaella looked up into Aerys' eyes only to see his anger and hate for her. He looked like he was about to drive the knife into her throat. She closed her eyes tightly and prayed that this would be over soon.

“Mother!” her eyes opened back up and looked across the room, Viserys was standing there looking at them, the knife, wide eyed and full of fear. Aerys scowled at Viserys. “Viserys, me and your mother are having a talk, leave.” Viserys looked at Rhaella's bruised swollen face then back at Aerys with angry eyes, fire was burning in those violet eyes. “No…No, what offense has mother partaken in that deserves such a violent response?!” Viserys spoke, his voice bitter. “That is not of concern for you, leave, now!!” Rhaella mouthed ‘Please leave’ at Viserys. “No, mother is your queen and she has not committed any crimes that are worth such cruelty, she does not deserve your cruel punishments father!” Aerys let go of Rhaella’s hair and walked over to Viserys, he looked Viserys in the eyes and smacked him across the face. Rhaella felt her stomach churn, she hated when Viserys got involved. He never backed down against Aerys, he would keep fighting. It scared Rhaella, what if Aerys hurt Viserys badly or worse…

“Don’t hurt mother.” Viserys growled baring his fangs at Aerys. “You insubordinate little brat! I should send you to the black cells for this!” Aerys grabbed Viserys by the neck, his nails digging into Viserys flesh. “Stop hurting mother, she has hurt no one and done nothing! Beat me or send me to black cells if you wish, father but mother has done nothing!” Viserys maintained eye contact with Aerys, there was a tense silence in the room. After what felt like eternity Aerys let go of Viserys neck. “Disobey me again and you’ll both be rotting in the black cells!” Aerys snarled and left the room.

As soon as he left Rhaella stood up and ran to Viserys, she put her hands on his cheeks. “Oh my sweet boy, what were you thinking?” Rhaella hugged Viserys. “He had a knife to your throat, I couldn’t just leave!....and it did work, he stopped…” Viserys hugged Rhaella back, he looked like he was about to start crying when he looked at her. “Oh my boy….you must not put yourself at risk like that, he could have actually sent you to the black cells.” Rhaella spoke. “I don’t care! He shouldn’t be able to hurt you like that, you're his queen, the mother of his children, he should be protecting you, I hate it, I hate him!” Viserys ranted and tears started welling up in his eyes. “Hush sweetling you must not say that, he is your father and you must love him.” Rhaella gently wiped his tears away. “I don’t care! He doesn’t deserve love after hurting you!” Viserys clung tightly to Rhaella, as if she would disappear the moment he let go of her.

[nononsenseladies]

All the Lost Souls!!

Sorry for taking so long but I had family visiting and was super busy!

Alright this is also a Modern AU but a very tragic and sad one bc we can't have nice things apparently. You have been warned!

Surgeon Rhaenys

Businessman Corlys

After the accidental death of their daughter the marriage of Rhaenys and Corlys falls apart. It says the death of a child brings you either closer together or breaks you apart. They definitely fall into the latter category.

They still love each but the grief just forces them apart. The question is can they find back together before it is too late?

She sat on the chair at the dining table, still in her pyjamas, the old sweatpants and his shabby old Oxford shirt, barely staying on over her slumped shoulders, hair in a messy bun. The tea in front of her ice cold by now, but she still clutched the cup in her hands, needing something to hold on to right now, anything.

How could emptiness be so agonizing? How could it hurt so much?

She heard Corlys coming down the stairs and she wouldn't have moved if she didn't hear the clunk of his brief case on the wooden floor and the clatter of his keys.

As Rhaenys looked into the hallway she indeed saw Corlys there dressed in a regular business suit and putting on his coat. She hadn't seen him in a suit since the funeral. Even this brief thought about it send a wave of pain through her body that dared to drown her, making it almost impossible to form words.

"Where are you going?" Rhaenys' voice was quiet and hoarse from barely speaking for days.

"To work." Corlys answered curtly.

"But I thought you had the week off...they can't ask you to come in-"

"They didn't, I'm going in because I want to I have to get out of here." he turned away from her to grab his brief case, she couldn't remember the last time he had even looked at her.

"You don't have to... nobody expects you to be there today...please don't go," Rhaenys begged him and Corlys paused at the door.

"I can't stay here Rhaenys..." 'not with you' that was what he had wanted to say but didn't, but she knew it. Knew he blamed her. And he was right, she was to blame.

If she had been punctual their daughter would still be alive, their beautiful little girl. Three minutes was all it took, three minutes that had shattered their lives.

"I was only three minutes late and I hurried, I swear I tried and it won't happen again I promise...I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry." the words left her mouth in a strange pathetic whimper, like a whine from a hurt animal.

"What does it matter if it happens again?! And being sorry won't bring her back! You were supposed to be there but you weren't! If you had been then Laena would still be alive!" he shouted. While the words cut through her like a knife, burned her alive, it was almost a relieving kind of pain because what had silently lingered between them was now finally out.

The door fell shut behind him as Rhaenys sunk down on the stairs shaken with new sobs and tears she thought her body couldn't produce any longer.

Outside Corlys had managed to drive halfway down the street before he had to stop. Screaming at the top of his lungs he slammed his hands on the steering wheel until he thought it might break, not that he cared. He cared about nothing these days. But he was full of hate. Hate for himself, for what he was doing to Rhaenys, punishing her for something he knew was not her fault, a more than tragic accident had robbed them of their daughter. Nothing more.

And Corlys knew that it had been his usual day to pick Laena up, but there had been a business meeting he didn't want to postpone, just wanted to be done with it. It hadn't been that important just annoying, so they had switched in the morning, knowing it was more difficult for Rhaenys, with the surgeries and emergencies. He didn't really blame her...he blamed himself if he had just cared more about his daughter and less about avoiding people he didn't like, she would still be alive. It was his own fault. It was Rhaenys who should blame him yet instead it was the other way around and he hated himself for it, so much.

Corlys couldn't even looked at his wife because the pain and grief he had caused her, caused them was something he couldn't bare to see any more. To know he was responsible for it, that she was hurting so much and he still made it worse with what he had said. Why couldn't he admit to her that it was him who was at fault, not her?

He was a pathetic piece of shit Corlys thought as he sat in his car, crying bitter tears over the death of their little girl and possible losing his wife as well.

[lightningandfireinmybones]

This is a hellish site but I am COMPELLED to find joy here. So here I am raising you a— if you can give me a panic-driven choked scream from Aemond as he zooms his way across the room or like an openly weeping Aemond ( this is SO PERSONAL to me) in Valeana’s arms or like maybe Aemond is suturing a semi-conscious Valeana ( because the nearest hospital is too far or some such ) and he is so composed, hands not wavering and voice unshakable and the moment he puts his tools down, he has to sit on the floor to keep himself from going ABSOLUTE FERAL or...

I have so much on my mind but feel free to mix these up or just do whatever. You are Magique✨🤌🏽

X

Basically I love me a mask-has-slipped GAME IS ON for readers TV MOMENT.

Okbye

BESTIE THANK YOU THESE ARE ABSOLUTELY EXCEPTIONAL IDEAS!!!

(I’m adding them to a full prompt list for when I have more time but pls consider:)

Aemond is great in a crisis: calm, cool, collected, burning with rage and fire underneath a thin veneer of civility

Except where those he loves are concerned: someone almost runs over helaena on her bike and when he’s finished cleaning up her scraped knees he takes a baseball bat to their car (and then their skull)

Someone says something out of pocket to rhaenys at a meeting and he’s sitting in the backseat of their car later, just the whites of his eyes and his teeth shining in the darkness, lovingly playing with the knife he’ll use for revenge

When Valaena is hurt, everyone expects aemond to lose it all over again

But he’s calm, cool, stitching her up with steady hands, washing the blood away, brushing the hair off her forehead, staying with her until she falls into an uneasy sleep

And then he loses it in pieces, falling to the floor to process how close she came to death

Heaven help the person who hurt her when he rises, bc he will be unleashing hell

[lya-dustin]

Someone will remember us

Chapter 52

Cw:murder

Taglist: @stargaryenx @mercedesdecorazon

Gif by:@mlfcntrx

He forces himself to remember the kicking of his child as he swore to him, he won’t kill the boy, but his hands clench as the fire inside him yearns for him to spill the blood of the boy who came in from the rain.

He teeters on the rope between reason and madness as if he had no control over himself. One small thing could undo all his self-control and doom them all to place deeper than the seventh hell.

“Look at this sad creature, my lord,” Aemond called out and taunts the four and ten year old boy. “Little Luke Strong, the bastard.” To Luke he said, “You are wet, bastard. Is it raining or did you piss yourself in fear?”

Lucerys Velaryon addressed himself only to Lord Baratheon. “Lord Borros, I have brought you a message from my mother, the queen.”

“Yet earlier this day, I received an envoy from the King. Which is it? King or Queen? The House of the Dragon does not seem to know who rules it.” Borros taunts from his throne, insulted because he had hoped it would be his cousin who came begging for his help, to make him feel like a man despite Rhaenys being ten times the man he is.”

Lucerys is nervous, unprepared for the task he took up. He stammers as he presents his message to Baratheon and Baratheon latches onto his weakness like a tick on a bare arm.

“’Remind’ me of my father's oath? King Aegon at least came with an offer, my swords and banners for a marriage pact. If I do as your mother bids...” the lord paused for effect, “which one of my daughters will you wed’ boy?”

A trick question, everyone knows little Luke Strong is betrothed to Rhaena of Pentos, and yet it is the only confirmation Aemond has that the Storm Lord has accepted his offer to remain neutral.

“My lord... I am not free to marry. I'm already betrothed.” The boy’s voice cracks, he never could handle being put on the spot. Always crying for his mother, or Jacaerys or Aemma to come to his defense.

But there is no one here for him.

There is no one here to stop you…kinslayer, a voice whispered almost seductively in his head.

You will kill him anyways, its fated that he dies by your hand, it continues saying.

“So, you come with empty hands. Go home, pup. And tell your mother that the Lord of Storm's End is not some dog that she can whistle up at need to set against her foes.” Borros doesn’t even call up the servants for bread and salt to perform the tradition of the guest right as he dismissed the boy and keeps his neutrality in the war vague.

The boy takes his leave and looks at Aemond as if wanting to say something but decides against it.

He never did apologize like he promised his sister months ago.

“Hold, Strong. First pay the debt you owe me.” Then he tore off his eye patch and flung it to the floor, to show the sapphire beneath. “You have a knife, just as you did then. Put out your eye, and I will let you leave. One will serve. I would not blind you.”

“I will not fight you.” The boy doesn’t stammer even if he’s as afraid as a child. “I came as a messenger not a knight.”

You swore on the life of our child! He can hear Aemma hiss in anger and fear of what he is.

But a monster doesn’t stop being a monster no matter how much you love him.

His mother had tried, Aemma had too, only Criston seemed to understand his thirst for revenge would never be satisfied by words.

“A fight would be of little challenge. One eye will be enough. I plan to make it a gift to my mother.”

Once the words leave his mouth, he knows it is all over.

At that Lord Borros grew uneasy. “Not here,” he grumbled. “He came as an envoy. I want no blood shed beneath my roof.”

So, his guards put themselves between the princelings and escorted Lucerys Velaryon from the Round Hall, back to the castle yard where his dragon, Arrax, was hunched down in the rain, awaiting his return.

If only it had ended there, but Aemond had already fallen over the edge, madness had eaten away at his reason and only one of them would be leaving the Storm Lands alive.

“He is your wife’s own brother, your highness.” Borros warned.

Aegon the Uncrowned and Viserys were Maegor’s brothers and yet that didn’t stop him.

Aenys was Visenya’s own nephew, and she didn’t have any pity when she poisoned him.

But Maegor cursed his own seed, all his children born malformed and dead and with that Visenya’s line came to an inglorious end as the Iron Throne killed him itself.

Aemond focused on Aemma, on Aemon who is destined to claim a dragon as great as his sire and mother and have a destiny as great as Aegon the Conqueror.

“Was it one of your eyes he took, or one of your balls?” Maris asked mocking him, in tones sweet as honey. She was the most like her father, so much so she used the same insults as he did.

Aemond storms out after the bastard without thinking.

He should stop, he should not get on Vhagar and chase after the boy, but he is more beast than man now.

------

Aemma has never been devout to the Seven, she did all that was required of her, but never where they the ones she came to beg.

She comes and lights a candle on Balerion’s altar, where the dragon named after him serves as an idol.

The princess prays and chants in High Valyrian until her lower back begins to ache almost in tandem with Vhagar’s roars.

Even without seeing her husband, Aemma knows Lucerys’ blood is in his hands.

“Fetch the maester.” She said to her new handmaid, Saera or Sharon or Sally as the princess sucked in a breath as the next pain hit.

-----

Vaemond arrives too late.

It is morning when the Silent Sisters prepare the bodies that washed up ashore.

“You should have kept him under your roof until morning, kept him as a hostage or what have you.” Vaemond spat at the Storm Lord who came expecting bribery for a loyalty he should have without question.

“He was dead the moment his whore mother whelped him.” Baratheon shifted the blame on Rhaenyra.

Once he would have agreed, but he knew this was the last thing the boy’s mother had wanted. Baela was supposed to come, to sweeten the pot with Daella’s hand for Royce and Joffrey for the youngest of the Four Storms.

But the boy had wanted to prove himself, to show he was just as capable as Jacaerys and that he could handle a real diplomatic mission.

And now he was dead.

Killed by his sister’s own husband.

“I will remain neutral, give my condolences to your Queen and my cousin, and tell them I have my hands full with the Vulture King and because of Prince Lucerys’ death in my lands, King Aegon will not have my men filling his ranks.” Baratheon said the most sensible thing to ever leave his mouth.

“No man more accursed than a kinslayer.”

------

“How is she?” he asked Helaena who had been the only one to stay with Aemma after she began to feel pains.

“The maester says it is just a false alarm, brought on by the worry and all that. She and the baby are doing well, do not worry, Aem.” She comforted him as best as she could.

Aemma didn’t want to see him, she knew he had killed her little brother. He had sworn on the life of his child and the gods had reminded him that.

Aemond may as well have killed their boy, Maegor had no children, why would he be any different.

“You should go to her,” his all-wise sister advised and he didn’t have the strength to scoff.

He has not slept, not because he can no longer sleep without Aemma, but because every time he shuts his eyes, he sees Vhagar kill Arrax and Lucerys.

Aemond had not meant for it to slip out of his control.

He had intended to make Luke feel as scared as he had felt when he lost his eye, to know true fear, to know the hopelessness of knowing there is no one there to save you.

But the prince had lost command of his dragon, in his thirst for revenge, Vhagar had taken matters into her own claws and snapped Arrax’s neck.

By the time the one-eyed prince had been able to subdue her, the boy and his dragon had fallen into their watery grave.

I cannot face her, not when I killed her brother.

“She hates me, you heard her earlier, Helaena.” He shook his head.

‘Monster, monster, get out, get out, GET OUT!’ his wife had shouted when he tried to see her. the maester and his mother had asked him to take another room, it wasn’t good for her health or his for him to force his presence on her.

He wasn’t good for her health, no, neither were, both doomed to hurt each other from the start.

“Tell her what you told me, brother. Tell her the truth of it.” His sister urged quietly.

As far as everyone believes, Aemond killed Luke on purpose and not because he struggled with controlling his dragon.

War was inevitable and instead of a pardon on account of him being Aemma’s husband, he has now been sentenced to death for murder by a grieving Rhaenyra.

“It won’t matter, I swore I wouldn’t kill him and now we’ll lose our child because of me.” The prince looked forlornly at the chamber door separating him from his wife, same wife whose brother he murdered and who he has condemned to hell for marrying him.

“He will live, the maester says both are well. Besides, Maegor was poisoned by Tyanna of the Tower just like Rhaenyra was.” She reminded him.

“Go to her, go to her and tell her the truth, Aemond.” She urged him before leaving.

Aemma refused to even look at him when he knocked softly on the door.

“How are you feeling?” he asked wishing he could just hold her like he used to.

Gods, just hours ago he was sure he could come back, and nothing would change.

That it wouldn’t matter if she was their hostage because she was his wife and that was all that needed to matter.

But it had, he had lost her for good because of his own selfishness.

“My heart is broken.” She said with a sniffle. This wasn’t like when they were children and Aegon’s cruelty or people’s stupidity made her cry, or when she grieved for Teora, this time it had been he who had brought her the worst of miseries.

“I didn’t mean to.” He apologized and felt like the scared little boy he used to be before he claimed Vhagar. “I am sorry I killed your brother, I only intended to scare him—"

She scoffed, still refusing to even look at him. Looks at the tapestries depicting a happy couple celebrating their nuptials in idyllic gardens in Old Valyria. “Does the life of your son mean so little to you?”

“I couldn’t control Vhagar, I lost control when Baratheon and his bitch of a daughter said I was less of a man for losing an eye to him.” A paltry excuse, one that seems so stupid and trivial after seeing Vhagar act out as his hatred and resentment fueled his impulsive nature.

“Then why claim you did it on purpose? Why let your fucking brother throw a feast to celebrate Luke’s fucking murderer?” she cried as she asked. “Do you think you me a fucking fool?”

“Because they don’t believe me When I told them the truth. My own mother thinks me a monster, the man who is like a second father thinks it is just the remorse talking.” He answered with a tired sigh.

“I am sorry, Aemee, I never meant to hurt you this way.” He apologized again and left when she turned her face back to the tapestry on the wall.

[dragonshavenomasters]

One thing that I think about a lot in regard to the kid fight: Baela and Rhaena don't know who it is until they get to the tunnel

They rouse Jace saying "someone stole Vaghar!"

No idea that it's another child

They go down to confront this mysterious dragon rustler, who could be anyone.

Jace takes the dagger, not Luke.

Luke doesn't even know what they're doing, he asks Jace what's going on as they round the corner and see Aemond.

Jace doesn't jump in until Aemond punches Baela in return for her hitting him. They're all standing back at the start.

Luke jumps in after Jace, and he's pretty useless, given that he's basically an overgrown guinea pig developmentally.

Aemond holds the rock but doesn't hit Luke, or even feint, it's just a threat to hold everyone still and at a distance after they've all jumped on him.

Jace draws the knife only when he's called Lord Strong, Aemond has already lowered the rock and seems to have relaxed the chokehold on Luke. He's definitely put him down.

That's the main thing that makes me really sorry for Aemond. He's not ready for the knife to come out, in that moment it goes so far beyond what he could have imagined. (Well that and the fact he loses an eye, obviously.) I know he threatens Luke with dying screaming but I honestly don't believe he means it. It's just bravado.

And it's really sad to me that Luke ends up dying for it. He didn't even know where they were going. And he was so small.

I don't blame Baela or Rhaena for taking their cousins. They didn't know what they were facing, and it's not as if their dad was around. And they hardly know Rhaenys and Corlys at this point, having spent all their childhood away. They're so alone in the world and they've just lost their mum.

It's just all so very sad. But I think it's really cleverly done. An unstoppable avalanche of horrible things that keeps gathering speed and collecting people in its wake. Neither Luke nor Aemond went out those nights with any intention to do what they did, but what's done is done.

[goodqueenaly]

What do you think is the significance of the swords that Ice had been melted down to create showing Targ colours instead of Lannister colours when they were dyed? Jon already has a sword, and Dany doesn’t use one. Or does it symbolise House Lannister’s eventual defeat by House Targ?

To quote!

The colors are strange," he commented as he turned the blade in the sunlight. Most Valyrian steel was a grey so dark it looked almost black, as was true here as well. But blended into the folds was a red as deep as the grey. The two colors lapped over one another without ever touching, each ripple distinct, like waves of night and blood upon some steely shore. "How did you get this patterning? I've never seen anything like it."

"Nor I, my lord," said the armorer. "I confess, these colors were not what I intended, and I do not know that I could duplicate them. Your lord father had asked for the crimson of your House, and it was that color I set out to infuse into the metal. But Valyrian steel is stubborn. These old swords remember, it is said, and they do not change easily.["]

What Tywin was trying to do with the (then-unnamed) Oathkeeper and Widow's Wail was establish a simultaneously new and "ancestral" political reality, one dominated by House Lannister. Joffrey, the consummately Lannister-looking Lannister-blooded king on the Iron Throne, and Jaime, the consummately Lannister-looking Lannister heir (as Tywin had never ceased thinking he was), would each have a Valyrian steel sword - not only as any respectable Westerosi House might, but specifically as the former royal dynasty had had and as the Lannisters had once had. In producing and gifting (or at least attempted to gift) these swords, Tywin was in a sense trying to erase the last two decades of Westerosi history: Jaime had never joined the Kingsguard but was the heir to Casterly Rock, and the Lannisters were not nuptial incorporations into the new Baratheon dynasty but the royal family in their own right. Grandfathered into the highest prominence by their "ancestral" blades, the Lannisters royal and lordly were being established as the one and only masters of the universe; as it now was, so it had always been, for Tywin.

Yet as Tobho Mott confesses, "[t]hese old swords remember ... and they do not change easily". Beneath Tywin's golden (pun intended) image of House Lannister is a figurative darkness embodied by the literal darkness of these blades, the crimes that he cannot erase. Among his many, many evil deeds, Tywin can count the murder of the children of Rhaegar (as well as, of course, Rhaegar's wife); Tywin may not have personally taken the knife to Rhaenys (dozens of times!), and Tywin may not have personally smashed Aegon's head against a wall - but Tywin had sent brutal, sadistic men in his employ to murder these children, and had not lifted a finger to condemn them or himself afterward (until Amory was safely dead to hurl under the bus). Tywin can publicly deny his responsibility - putting the blame on the (again, by then dead) Amory Lorch, grandly stating his intent to give Oberyn "the justice Robert denied him for the murder of his sister Elia and her children" - but the swords remember and give the lie to his words. This is the origin of the Lannisters' royalty, the swords proclaim: just as Tywin had once presented the mutilated bodies of the two Targaryen children wrapped in Lannister cloaks, so now these two swords would keep fast to the Targaryen colors, no matter how Tywin tried to cover them in Lannister ornaments.

[arielseaworth]

When they came ashore at the mouth of the Blackwater Rush to begin their conquest of the Seven Kingdoms, with them came a black-eyed, black-haired bastard named Orys Baratheon. (The World of Ice and Fire)

But what is a memorial, when you come right down to it, but a commemoration of wounds endured? Endured, and resented. (The Blind Assassin, Margaret Atwood)

The man – no, the king – depicted in the tapestry had long, streaming black hair and a full black beard. If not for his eyes, which were deep pools of blue instead of black, he could have passed for an ancestor of Orys Baratheon. A great-grandfather, perhaps, staring out proudly at his descendants from the wall covered with faded and not-quite-faded tapestries depicting illustrious Durrandons throughout the ages, beginning with Durran Godsgrief and his beloved Elenei, who were pictured locked in an embrace as a vicious storm was assaulting the ill-fated predecessor to Storm’s End.

Argella’s voice cut through Orys’ reverie like a hot knife slicing through butter. “My father, in his glory and his youth, or his glorious youth, some would say,” she said, her gaze lingering on the signet ring on her father’s finger in the tapestry, the signet ring bearing the seal of House Durrandon. The last Storm King had not been wearing this ring when he was slain.

The ring had been passed to his daughter before King Argilac departed Storm’s End for the last time, according to Rhaenys’ spies inside Storm’s End.

The ring was lost when the traitors and the betrayers who would deliver her to Orys’ camp had stripped her naked and put her in chains, claimed Argella. “One of them might have stolen it, and is currently hiding it, my lord. Should you not try to find it? Who knows what mischief they could achieve with such a ring?”

Argella remembered. Remembered the name of every man who had laid hands on her, who had dared to lay hands on the royal person of the Storm Queen. The list was long, but she recited the names as if each and every one had been carved with a knife on her bloodied flesh.

Might it not be you yourself, my lady, who is hiding this ring? wondered Orys from the start. He investigated the men on her list nonetheless, before trying to search through every nook and cranny of Storm’s End.

He searched, but never found it. It being the ring, it being the truth, it being any semblance of reconciliation.

“I said it is a portrait of my father. Did you hear me?”

Orys nodded. “I know. His eyes …”

His eyes I see in my dreams still. His eyes follow me every step of the way in Storm’s End still. His eyes judge and scorn, though not as severely as another pair of eyes, ones not depicted in any tapestry I see on this wall.

It was absurd, beyond absurd. Orys had slain many men in battles both before and after he slew the last Storm King, but none of the others had ever haunted his dreams. Why should Argilac Durrandon be any different?

But of course, he had not married the daughters of the other men he had slain. He had not moved into the castles of the other men he had slain. He had not –

Usurped the position of the heirs of the other men you had slain? demanded Argella, with her gaze.

“Would you like a woven portrait of yourself to be hanged in Storm’s End, next to the tapestry depicting my father?” asked Argella, with her courteous-sounding words that often felt sharper than any sword to Orys, even a Valyrian one.

“Hanged?”

“Forgive me. I misspoke. To be hung, I mean.”

Did you? Did you truly misspeak?

He doubted it. Doubted it very much indeed. His lifeless body hanging on that wall beside her father’s woven portrait would not displease Argella overmuch, he’d wager.

“I would like,” said Orys, “to commission a tapestry depicting the Lord and Lady of Storm’s End.”

They would not be portrayed locked in an embrace like Durran Godgrief and Elenei, certainly, but perhaps it could be the first step towards some kind of reconciliation, thought Orys. Reconciliation between the last Durrandon queen and the first Baratheon lord, between husband and wife.

Argella saw it very differently. “You would like to commission a tapestry depicting the ruling Lord of Storm’s End and his consort, you mean. I am more than aware of my current position, my lord. You need not remind me of it with a permanent memorial on this wall.”

[queenaryastark]

Elia Martell: Quote Masterlist

In preparation for Elia Week 2021, I compiled all of the times Elia is mentioned in ASOIAF and TWOIAF. It’s not surprising, but it is very troubling how little we get of her actual personality and characterization. There’s clearly an overemphasis on her rape and murder, the quest for vengeance on her brother’s side, and how she compared to other women. We get one flashback/vision of her after Aegon’s birth discussion song and prophecy with Rhaegar which is the only time she actually speaks. Oberyn’s courtship tour story gives hints at her characterization, while Barristan, who wouldn’t have known her well, gives us details like: good, delicate health, kind, clever, and sweet wit. It’s pretty vague, but unfortunately that’s all GRRM gave us. 

Anyway, the quotes are under the cut:

Her Murder

Princess Elia of Dorne pleading for mercy as Rhaegar's heir was ripped from her breast and murdered before her eyes. -- Dany I, AGOT ----- The Dornishmen burn to avenge Elia and her children.  -- Dany I, AGOT ----- Some said it had been Gregor who'd dashed the skull of the infant prince Aegon Targaryen against a wall, and whispered that afterward he had raped the mother, the Dornish princess Elia, before putting her to the sword. -- Eddard VII, AGOT ----- Ned remembered the moment when all the smiles died, when Prince Rhaegar Targaryen urged his horse past his own wife, the Dornish princess Elia Martell, to lay the queen of beauty's laurel in Lyanna's lap. -- Eddard XV, AGOT ----- In Dorne, the Martells still brood on the murder of Princess Elia and her babes. -- Eddard XV, AGOT ------ The prince is a sentimental man, and he still mourns his sister Elia and her sweet babe. "My father once told me that a lord never lets sentiment get in the way of ambition . . . and it happens we have an empty seat on the small council, now that Lord Janos has taken the black." "A council seat is not to be despised," Varys admitted, "yet will it be enough to make a proud man forget his sister's murder?" "Why forget?" Tyrion smiled. "I've promised to deliver his sister's killers, alive or dead, as he prefers. After the war is done, to be sure." Varys gave him a shrewd look. "My little birds tell me that Princess Elia cried a . . . certain name . . . when they came for her." -- Tyrion IV, AGOT ----- "Prince Doran comes at my son's invitation," Lord Tywin said calmly, "not only to join in our celebration, but to claim his seat on this council, and the justice Robert denied him for the murder of his sister Elia and her children." -- Tyrion III, ASOS ---- I did not come for some mummer's show of an inquiry. I came for justice for Elia and her children, and I will have it. Starting with this lummox Gregor Clegane . . . but not, I think, ending there. Before he dies, the Enormity That Rides will tell me whence came his orders, please assure your lord father of that. -- Tyrion V, ASOS -------- "It is justice. It was Ser Amory who brought me the girl's body, if you must know. He found her hiding under her father's bed, as if she believed Rhaegar could still protect her. Princess Elia and the babe were in the nursery a floor below." -- Tyrion VI, ASOS ----- "I grant you, it was done too brutally. Elia need not have been harmed at all, that was sheer folly. By herself she was nothing." "Then why did the Mountain kill her?" "Because I did not tell him to spare her. I doubt I mentioned her at all. I had more pressing concerns. Ned Stark's van was rushing south from the Trident, and I feared it might come to swords between us. And it was in Aerys to murder Jaime, with no more cause than spite. That was the thing I feared most. That, and what Jaime himself might do." He closed a fist. "Nor did I yet grasp what I had in Gregor Clegane, only that he was huge and terrible in battle. The rape . . . even you will not accuse me of giving that command, I would hope. Ser Amory was almost as bestial with Rhaenys. I asked him afterward why it had required half a hundred thrusts to kill a girl of . . . two? Three? He said she'd kicked him and would not stop screaming. If Lorch had half the wits the gods gave a turnip, he would have calmed her with a few sweet words and used a soft silk pillow." His mouth twisted in distaste. "The blood was in him." -- Tyrion VI, ASOS ------ Justice is in short supply this side of the mountains. There has been none for Elia, Aegon, or Rhaenys. Why should there be any for you? Perhaps Joffrey's real killer was eaten by a bear. That seems to happen quite often in King's Landing. -- Tyrion IX, ASOS -------- "I am not lying. Ser Amory dragged Princess Rhaenys out from under her father's bed and stabbed her to death. He had some men-at-arms with him, but I do not know their names." He leaned forward. "It was Ser Gregor Clegane who smashed Prince Aegon's head against a wall and raped your sister Elia with his blood and brains still on his hands." -- Tyrion IX, ASOS --------- "The gout I cannot help," she said, "but my father had no use for grief. Vengeance was more to his taste. Is it true that Gregor Clegane admitted slaying Elia and her children?" "He roared out his guilt for all the court to hear," the prince admitted. "Lord Tywin has promised us his head." -- Hotah, AFFC --------- "My sister Elia had a little girl as well. Her name was Rhaenys. She was a princess too." The prince sighed. "Those who would plunge a knife into Princess Myrcella do not bear her any malice, no more than Ser Amory Lorch did when he killed Rhaenys, if indeed he did. They seek only to force my hand. For if Myrcella should be slain in Dorne whilst under my protection, who would believe my denials?" -- Arys, AFFC --------

Oberyn VS Gregor Clegane

The Dornishman slid sideways. "I am Oberyn Martell, a prince of Dorne," he said, as the Mountain turned to keep him in sight. "Princess Elia was my sister." "Who?" asked Gregor Clegane. Oberyn's long spear jabbed, but Ser Gregor took the point on his shield, shoved it aside, and bulled back at the prince, his great sword flashing. The Dornishman spun away untouched. The spear darted forward. Clegane slashed at it, Martell snapped it back, then thrust again. Metal screamed on metal as the spearhead slid off the Mountain's chest, slicing through the surcoat and leaving a long bright scratch on the steel beneath. "Elia Martell, Princess of Dorne," the Red Viper hissed. "You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children." Ser Gregor grunted. He made a ponderous charge to hack at the Dornishman's head. Prince Oberyn avoided him easily. "You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children." ------- But the Red Viper of Dorne was back on his feet, his long spear in hand. "Elia," he called at Ser Gregor. "You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children. Now say her name." The Mountain whirled. Helm, shield, sword, surcoat; he was spattered with gore from head to heels. "You talk too much," he grumbled. "You make my head hurt." "I will hear you say it. She was Elia of Dorne." The Mountain snorted contemptuously, and came on . . . and in that moment, the sun broke through the low clouds that had hidden the sky since dawn. -------- Prince Oberyn tilted his dinted metal shield. A shaft of sunlight blazed blindingly off polished gold and copper, into the narrow slit of his foe's helm. Clegane lifted his own shield against the glare. Prince Oberyn's spear flashed like lightning and found the gap in the heavy plate, the joint under the arm. The point punched through mail and boiled leather. Gregor gave a choked grunt as the Dornishman twisted his spear and yanked it free."Elia. Say it! Elia of Dorne!" He was circling, spear poised for another thrust. "Say it!" Tyrion had his own prayer. Fall down and die, was how it went. Damn you, fall down and die! The blood trickling from the Mountain's armpit was his own now, and he must be bleeding even more heavily inside the breastplate. When he tried to take a step, one knee buckled. Tyrion thought he was going down. Prince Oberyn had circled behind him. "ELIA OF DORNE!" he shouted. Ser Gregor started to turn, but too slow and too late. The spearhead went through the back of the knee this time, through the layers of chain and leather between the plates on thigh and calf. The Mountain reeled, swayed, then collapsed face first on the ground. His huge sword went flying from his hand. Slowly, ponderously, he rolled onto his back. The Dornishman flung away his ruined shield, grasped the spear in both hands, and sauntered away. Behind him the Mountain let out a groan, and pushed himself onto an elbow. Oberyn whirled cat-quick, and ran at his fallen foe. "EEEEELLLLLLIIIIIAAAAA!" he screamed, as he drove the spear down with the whole weight of his body behind it. The crack of the ashwood shaft snapping was almost as sweet a sound as Cersei's wail of fury, and for an instant Prince Oberyn had wings. The snake has vaulted over the Mountain. Four feet of broken spear jutted from Clegane's belly as Prince Oberyn rolled, rose, and dusted himself off. He tossed aside the splintered spear and claimed his foe's greatsword. "If you die before you say her name, ser, I will hunt you through all seven hells," he promised. ------ Clegane's hand shot up and grabbed the Dornishman behind the knee. The Red Viper brought down the greatsword in a wild slash, but he was off-balance, and the edge did no more than put another dent in the Mountain's vambrace. Then the sword was forgotten as Gregor's hand tightened and twisted, yanking the Dornishman down on top of him. They wrestled in the dust and blood, the broken spear wobbling back and forth. Tyrion saw with horror that the Mountain had wrapped one huge arm around the prince, drawing him tight against his chest, like a lover. "Elia of Dorne," they all heard Ser Gregor say, when they were close enough to kiss. His deep voice boomed within the helm. "I killed her screaming whelp." He thrust his free hand into Oberyn's unprotected face, pushing steel fingers into his eyes. "Then I raped her." Clegane slammed his fist into the Dornishman's mouth, making splinters of his teeth. "Then I smashed her fucking head in. Like this." As he drew back his huge fist, the blood on his gauntlet seemed to smoke in the cold dawn air. There was a sickening crunch. Ellaria Sand wailed in terror, and Tyrion's breakfast came boiling back up. He found himself on his knees retching bacon and sausage and applecakes, and that double helping of fried eggs cooked up with onions and fiery Dornish peppers.-- Tyrion, X

General

Viserys, was her first thought the next time she paused, but a second glance told her otherwise. The man had her brother's hair, but he was taller, and his eyes were a dark indigo rather than lilac. "Aegon," he said to a woman nursing a newborn babe in a great wooden bed. "What better name for a king?"

"Will you make a song for him?" the woman asked.

"He has a song," the man replied. "He is the prince that was promised, and his is the song of ice and fire." He looked up when he said it and his eyes met Dany's, and it seemed as if he saw her standing there beyond the door. "There must be one more," he said, though whether he was speaking to her or the woman in the bed she could not say. "The dragon has three heads." He went to the window seat, picked up a harp, and ran his fingers lightly over its silvery strings. Sweet sadness filled the room as man and wife and babe faded like the morning mist, only the music lingering behind to speed her on her way. -- Daenerys IV, ACOK

------

She nodded. "There was a woman in a bed with a babe at her breast. My brother said the babe was the prince that was promised and told her to name him Aegon."

"Prince Aegon was Rhaegar's heir by Elia of Dorne," Ser Jorah said. "But if he was this prince that was promised, the promise was broken along with his skull when the Lannisters dashed his head against a wall." -- Daenerys V, ACOK

------

No doubt he was waiting for Prince Viserys to mature, or perhaps for Rhaegar's wife to die in childbed. Elia of Dorne was never the healthiest of women. -- Jaime II, ASOS

------

 The king reminded Lewyn Martell gracelessly that he held Elia and sent him to take command of the ten thousand Dornishmen coming up the kingsroad. -- Jaime V, ASOS

-----

When the word reached court, Aerys packed the queen off to Dragonstone with Prince Viserys. Princess Elia would have gone as well, but he forbade it. Somehow he had gotten it in his head that Prince Lewyn must have betrayed Rhaegar on the Trident, but he thought he could keep Dorne loyal so long as he kept Elia and Aegon by his side. -- Jaime V, ASOS

-------

"It was when I visited Casterly Rock with my mother, her consort, and my sister Elia. I was, oh, fourteen, fifteen, thereabouts, Elia a year older. Your brother and sister were eight or nine, as I recall, and you had just been born." -- Tyrion V, ASOS

--------

The cell they gave me had a featherbed to sleep in and Myrish carpets on the floor, but it was dark and windowless, much like a dungeon when you come down to it, as I told Elia at the time. Your skies were too grey, your wines too sweet, your women too chaste, your food too bland . . . and you yourself were the greatest disappointment of all." -- Tyrion V, ASOS

----------

"Cersei promised Elia to show you to us. The day before we were to sail, whilst my mother and your father were closeted together, she and Jaime took us down to your nursery. Your wet nurse tried to send us off, but your sister was having none of that. 'He's mine,' she said, 'and you're just a milk cow, you can't tell me what to do. Be quiet or I'll have my father cut your tongue out. A cow doesn't need a tongue, only udders.'"

"Her Grace learned charm at an early age," said Tyrion, amused by the notion of his sister claiming him as hers. "She's never been in any rush to claim me since, the gods know.

"Cersei even undid your swaddling clothes to give us a better look," the Dornish prince continued. "You did have one evil eye, and some black fuzz on your scalp. Perhaps your head was larger than most . . . but there was no tail, no beard, neither teeth nor claws, and nothing between your legs but a tiny pink cock. After all the wonderful whispers, Lord Tywin's Doom turned out to be just a hideous red infant with stunted legs. Elia even made the noise that young girls make at the sight of infants, I'm sure you've heard it. The same noise they make over cute kittens and playful puppies. I believe she wanted to nurse you herself, ugly as you were. When I commented that you seemed a poor sort of monster, your sister said, 'He killed my mother,' and twisted your little cock so hard I thought she was like to pull it off. You shrieked, but it was only when your brother Jaime said, 'Leave him be, you're hurting him,' that Cersei let go of you. 'It doesn't matter,' she told us. 'Everyone says he's like to die soon. He shouldn't even have lived this long.'" -- Tyrion V, ASOS

---------

"As children Elia and I were inseparable, much like your own brother and sister." -- Tyrion V, ASOS

----------

"But that was the tourney when he crowned Lyanna Stark as queen of love and beauty!" said Dany. "Princess Elia was there, his wife, and yet my brother gave the crown to the Stark girl, and later stole her away from her betrothed. How could he do that? Did the Dornish woman treat him so ill?"

"It is not for such as me to say what might have been in your brother's heart, Your Grace. The Princess Elia was a good and gracious lady, though her health was ever delicate."

"It is not for such as me to say what might have been in your brother's heart, Your Grace. The Princess Elia was a good and gracious lady, though her health was ever delicate."

Dany pulled the lion pelt tighter about her shoulders. "Viserys said once that it was my fault, for being born too late." She had denied it hotly, she remembered, going so far as to tell Viserys that it was his fault for not being born a girl. He beat her cruelly for that insolence. "If I had been born more timely, he said, Rhaegar would have married me instead of Elia, and it would all have come out different. If Rhaegar had been happy in his wife, he would not have needed the Stark girl." -- Daenerys, ASOS

--------

"Aye. I will." Ulmer, stooped and grey-bearded and loose of skin and limb, stepped to the mark and pulled an arrow from the quiver at his waist. In his youth he had been an outlaw, a member of the infamous Kingswood Brotherhood. He claimed he'd once put an arrow through the hand of the White Bull of the Kingsguard to steal a kiss from the lips of a Dornish princess. He had stolen her jewels too, and a chest of golden dragons, but it was the kiss he liked to boast of in his cups. -- Samwell II, ASOS

--------

"Do you recall the tale I told you of our first meeting, Imp?" Prince Oberyn asked, as the Bastard of Godsgrace knelt before him to fasten his greaves. "It was not for your tail alone that my sister and I came to Casterly Rock. We were on a quest of sorts. A quest that took us to Starfall, the Arbor, Oldtown, the Shield Islands, Crakehall, and finally Casterly Rock . . . but our true destination was marriage. Doran was betrothed to Lady Mellario of Norvos, so he had been left behind as castellan of Sunspear. My sister and I were yet unpromised.

"Elia found it all exciting. She was of that age, and her delicate health had never permitted her much travel. I preferred to amuse myself by mocking my sister's suitors. There was Little Lord Lazyeye, Squire Squishlips, one I named the Whale That Walks, that sort of thing. The only one who was even halfway presentable was young Baelor Hightower. A pretty lad, and my sister was half in love with him until he had the misfortune to fart once in our presence. I promptly named him Baelor Breakwind, and after that Elia couldn't look at him without laughing. I was a monstrous young fellow, someone should have sliced out my vile tongue."

Yes, Tyrion agreed silently. Baelor Hightower was no longer young, but he remained Lord Leyton's heir; wealthy, handsome, and a knight of splendid repute. Baelor Brightsmile, they called him now. Had Elia wed him in place of Rhaegar Targaryen, she might be in Oldtown with her children growing tall around her. He wondered how many lives had been snuffed out by that fart.

"Lannisport was the end of our voyage," Prince Oberyn went on, as Ser Arron Qorgyle helped him into a padded leather tunic and began lacing it up the back. "Were you aware that our mothers knew each other of old?"

"They had been at court together as girls, I seem to recall. Companions to Princess Rhaella?"

"Just so. It was my belief that the mothers had cooked up this plot between them. Squire Squishlips and his ilk and the various pimply young maidens who'd been paraded before me were the almonds before the feast, meant only to whet our appetites. The main course was to be served at Casterly Rock."

"Cersei and Jaime."

"Such a clever dwarf. Elia and I were older, to be sure. Your brother and sister could not have been more than eight or nine. Still, a difference of five or six years is little enough. And there was an empty cabin on our ship, a very nice cabin, such as might be kept for a person of high birth. As if it were intended that we take someone back to Sunspear. A young page, perhaps. Or a companion for Elia. Your lady mother meant to betroth Jaime to my sister, or Cersei to me. Perhaps both."

"Perhaps," said Tyrion, "but my father—"

"—ruled the Seven Kingdoms, but was ruled at home by his lady wife, or so my mother always said." Prince Oberyn raised his arms, so Lord Dagos Manwoody and the Bastard of Godsgrace could slip a chainmail byrnie down over his head. "At Oldtown we learned of your mother's death, and the monstrous child she had borne. We might have turned back there, but my mother chose to sail on. I told you of the welcome we found at Casterly Rock.

"What I did not tell you was that my mother waited as long as was decent, and then broached your father about our purpose. Years later, on her deathbed, she told me that Lord Tywin had refused us brusquely. His daughter was meant for Prince Rhaegar, he informed her. And when she asked for Jaime, to espouse Elia, he offered her you instead."

"Which offer she took for an outrage."

"It was. Even you can see that, surely?"

"Oh, surely." It all goes back and back, Tyrion thought, to our mothers and fathers and theirs before them. We are puppets dancing on the strings of those who came before us, and one day our own children will take up our strings and dance on in our steads. "Well, Prince Rhaegar married Elia of Dorne, not Cersei Lannister of Casterly Rock. So it would seem your mother won that tilt."

"She thought so," Prince Oberyn agreed, "but your father is not a man to forget such slights. He taught that lesson to Lord and Lady Tarbeck once, and to the Reynes of Castamere. And at King's Landing, he taught it to my sister. My helm, Dagos." Manwoody handed it to him; a high golden helm with a copper disk mounted on the brow, the sun of Dorne. The visor had been removed, Tyrion saw. "Elia and her children have waited long for justice." Prince Oberyn pulled on soft red leather gloves, and took up his spear again. "But this day they shall have it." -- Tyrion X, ASOS

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"Was she a fair maid?"

"She was," said Meera, hopping over a stone, "but there were others fairer still. One was the wife of the dragon prince, who'd brought a dozen lady companions to attend her. The knights all begged them for favors to tie about their lances." -- Bran II, ASOS

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

-------

"Tyene. Obara is too loud. Tyene is so sweet and gentle that no man will suspect her. Obara would make Oldtown our father's funeral pyre, but I am not so greedy. Four lives will suffice for me. Lord Tywin's golden twins, as payment for Elia's children. The old lion, for Elia herself. And last of all the little king, for my father -- Hotah I, AFFC

-------

"He went beyond anything I asked of him. 'Take the measure of this boy king and his council, and make note of their strengths and weaknesses,' I told him, on the terrace. We were eating oranges. 'Find us friends, if there are any to be found. Learn what you can of Elia's end, but see that you do not provoke Lord Tywin unduly,' those were my words to him. Oberyn laughed, and said, 'When have I provoked any man . . . unduly? You would do better to warn the Lannisters against provoking me.' He wanted justice for Elia, but he would not wait—"

"He waited ten-and-seven years," the Lady Nym broke in. "Were it you they'd killed, my father would have led his banners north before your corpse was cold. Were it you, the spears would be falling thick as rain upon the marches now." -- Hotah I, AFFC

-------

"And what is it I want, ser?"

"The Sand Snakes freed. Vengeance for Oberyn and Elia. Do I know the song? You want a little taste of lion blood."

That, and my birthright. I want Sunspear, and my father's seat. I want Dorne. "I want justice." -- Arianne I, AFFC

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"With me?" That is so like him. "For Lord Tywin and the Lannisters you always had the forbearance of Baelor the Blessed, but for your own blood, none."

"You mistake patience for forbearance. I have worked at the downfall of Tywin Lannister since the day they told me of Elia and her children. It was my hope to strip him of all that he held most dear before I killed him, but it would seem his dwarf son has robbed me of that pleasure. I take some small solace in knowing that he died a cruel death at the hands of the monster that he himself begot. Be that as it may. Lord Tywin is howling down in hell . . . where thousands more will soon be joining him, if your folly turns to war." Her father grimaced, as if the very word were painful to him. "Is that what you want?"

The princess refused to be cowed. "I want my cousins freed. I want my uncle avenged. I want my rights." -- Arianne II, AFFC

-------

Black cats brought ill luck, as Rhaegar's little girl had discovered in this very castle. She would have been my daughter, if the Mad King had not played his cruel jape on Father. It had to have been the madness that led Aerys to refuse Lord Tywin's daughter and take his son instead, whilst marrying his own son to a feeble Dornish princess with black eyes and a flat chest. -- Cersei V, AFFC

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"Her duty." The word felt cold upon her tongue. "You saw my brother Rhaegar wed. Tell me, did he wed for love or duty?"

The old knight hesitated. "Princess Elia was a good woman, Your Grace. She was kind and clever, with a gentle heart and a sweet wit. I know the prince was very fond of her."

Fond, thought Dany. The word spoke volumes. I could become fond of Hizdahr zo Loraq, in time. Perhaps. -- Daenerys IV, ADWD

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The lad flushed. "That was not me. I told you. That was some tanner's son from Pisswater Bend whose mother died birthing him. His father sold him to Lord Varys for a jug of Arbor gold. He had other sons but had never tasted Arbor gold. Varys gave the Pisswater boy to my lady mother and carried me away." -- Tyrion VI, ADWD

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Seventeen years had come and gone since the Battle of the Bells, yet the sound of bells ringing still tied a knot in his guts. Others might claim that the realm was lost when Prince Rhaegar fell to Robert's warhammer on the Trident, but the Battle of the Trident would never have been fought if the griffin had only slain the stag there in Stoney Sept. The bells tolled for all of us that day. For Aerys and his queen, for Elia of Dorne and her little daughter, for every true man and honest woman in the Seven Kingdoms. And for my silver prince.

"The plan was to reveal Prince Aegon only when we reached Queen Daenerys," Lemore was saying. -- JonCon I, ADWD

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That time was done, though. "No man could have asked for a worthier son," Griff said, "but the lad is not of my blood, and his name is not Griff. My lords, I give you Aegon Targaryen, firstborn son of Rhaegar, Prince of Dragonstone, by Princess Elia of Dorne … soon, with your help, to be Aegon, the Sixth of His Name, King of Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms."-- JonCon I, ADWD

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Prince Doran frowned. "That is so, Ser Balon, but the Lady Nym is right. If ever a man deserved to die screaming, it was Gregor Clegane. He butchered my good sister, smashed her babe's head against a wall. I only pray that now he is burning in some hell, and that Elia and her children are at peace. This is the justice that Dorne has hungered for. I am glad that I lived long enough to taste it. At long last the Lannisters have proved the truth of their boast and paid this old blood debt." -- Hotah, ADWD

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"A start?" said Ellaria Sand, incredulous. "Gods forbid. I would it were a finish. Tywin Lannister is dead. So are Robert Baratheon, Amory Lorch, and now Gregor Clegane, all those who had a hand in murdering Elia and her children. Even Joffrey, who was not yet born when Elia died. I saw the boy perish with mine own eyes, clawing at his throat as he tried to draw a breath. Who else is there to kill? Do Myrcella and Tommen need to die so the shades of Rhaenys and Aegon can be at rest? Where does it end?"-- Hotah, ADWD

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"Oberyn wanted vengeance for Elia. Now the three of you want vengeance for him. I have four daughters, I remind you. Your sisters. My Elia is fourteen, almost a woman. Obella is twelve, on the brink of maidenhood. They worship you, as Dorea and Loreza worship them. If you should die, must El and Obella seek vengeance for you, then Dorea and Loree for them? Is that how it goes, round and round forever? I ask again, where does it end?" Ellaria Sand laid her hand on the Mountain's head. "I saw your father die. Here is his killer. Can I take a skull to bed with me, to give me comfort in the night? Will it make me laugh, write me songs, care for me when I am old and sick?"-- Hotah, ADWD

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It was his failures that haunted him at night, though. Jaehaerys, Aerys, Robert. Three dead kings. Rhaegar, who would have been a finer king than any of them. Princess Elia and the children. Aegon just a babe, Rhaenys with her kitten. Dead, every one, yet he still lived, who had sworn to protect them. And now Daenerys, his bright shining child queen. She is not dead. I will not believe it. -- Barristan II, ADWD

-------

A bride for our bright prince. Jon Connington remembered Prince Rhaegar's wedding all too well. Elia was never worthy of him. She was frail and sickly from the first, and childbirth only left her weaker. After the birth of Princess Rhaenys, her mother had been bedridden for half a year, and Prince Aegon's birth had almost been the death of her. She would bear no more children, the maesters told Prince Rhaegar afterward. -- JonCon II, ADWD

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Griff had heard enough of the captain-general's cowardice. "We will not be alone. Dorne will join us, must join us. Prince Aegon is Elia's son as well as Rhaegar's."-- JonCon II, ADWD

--------

Rhaegar had chosen Lyanna Stark of Winterfell. Barristan Selmy would have made a different choice. Not the queen, who was not present. Nor Elia of Dorne, though she was good and gentle; had she been chosen, much war and woe might have been avoided. His choice would have been a young maiden not long at court, one of Elia's companions … though compared to Ashara Dayne, the Dornish princess was a kitchen drab. -- Barristan III, ADWD

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She will never wash the stain away, no matter how hard she scrubs. Ser Kevan remembered the girl she once had been, so full of life and mischief. And when she'd flowered, ahhhh … had there ever been a maid so sweet to look upon? If Aerys had agreed to marry her to Rhaegar, how many deaths might have been avoided? Cersei could have given the prince the sons he wanted, lions with purple eyes and silver manes … and with such a wife, Rhaegar might never have looked twice at Lyanna Stark. The northern girl had a wild beauty, as he recalled, though however bright a torch might burn it could never match the rising sun.

But it did no good to brood on lost battles and roads not taken. That was a vice of old done men. Rhaegar had wed Elia of Dorne, Lyanna Stark had died, Robert Baratheon had taken Cersei to bride, and here they were. And tonight his own road would take him to his niece's chambers and face-to-face with Cersei. -- Kevan, ADWD

------

Fire and blood was what Jon Connington (if indeed it was him) was offering as well. Or was it? "He comes with sellswords, but no dragons," Prince Doran had told her, the night the raven came. "The Golden Company is the best and largest of the free companies, but ten thousand mercenaries cannot hope to win the Seven Kingdoms. Elia's son... I would weep for joy if some part of my sister had survived, but what proof do we have that this is Aegon?" His voice broke when he said that. "Where are the dragons?" he asked. "Where is Daenerys?" and Arianne knew that he was really saying, "Where is my son?" -- Arianne I, TWOW

-------

"Gregor Clegane ripped Aegon out of Elia's arms and smashed his head against a wall," Ser Daemon said. "If Lord Connington's prince has a crushed skull, I will believe that Aegon Targaryen has returned from the grave. Elsewise, no. This is some feigned boy, no more. A sellsword's ploy to win support." -- Arianne I, TWOW

-------

"I... it would give great joy to my father if Elia's son were still alive. He loved his sister well." -- Arianne I, TWOW

-------

So it was. "I was seven when Elia died. They say I held her daughter Rhaenys once, when I was too young to remember. Aegon will be a stranger to me, whether true or false." The princess paused. "We looked for Rhaegar's sister, not his son." Her father had confided in Ser Daemon when he chose him as his daughter's shield; with him at least she could speak freely. "I would sooner it were Quentyn who'd returned." -- Arianne I, TWOW

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Meanwhile, King Aerys was becoming ever more estranged from his own son and heir. Early in the year 279 AC, Rhaegar Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone, was formally betrothed to Princess Elia Martell, the delicate young sister of Doran Martell, Prince of Dorne. They were wed the following year, in a lavish ceremony at the Great Sept of Baelor in King's Landing, but Aerys II did not attend. He told the small council that he feared an attempt upon his life if he left the confines of the Red Keep, even with his Kingsguard to protect him. Nor would he allow his younger son, Viserys, to attend his brother's wedding.

When Prince Rhaegar and his new wife chose to take up residence on Dragonstone instead of the Red Keep, rumors flew thick and fast across the Seven Kingdoms. Some claimed that the crown prince was planning to depose his father and seize the Iron Throne for himself, whilst others said that King Aerys meant to disinherit Rhaegar and name Viserys heir in his place. Nor did the birth of King Aerys's first grandchild, a girl named Rhaenys, born on Dragonstone in 280 AC, do aught to reconcile father and son. When Prince Rhaegar returned to the Red Keep to present his daughter to his own mother and father, Queen Rhaella embraced the babe warmly, but King Aerys refused to touch or hold the child and complained that she "smells Dornish." -- TWOIAF

-------

Chief amongst the Mad King's supporters were three lords of his small council: Qarlton Chelsted, master of coin, Lucerys Velaryon, master of ships, and Symond Staunton, master of laws. The eunuch Varys, master of whisperers, and Wisdom Rossart, grand master of the Guild of Alchemists, also enjoyed the king's trust. Prince Rhaegar's support came from the younger men at court, including Lord Jon Connington, Ser Myles Mooton of Maidenpool, and Ser Richard Lonmouth. The Dornishmen who had come to court with the Princess Elia were in the prince's confidence as well, particularly Prince Lewyn Martell, Elia's uncle and a Sworn Brother of the Kingsguard. But the most formidable of all Rhaegar's friends and allies in King's Landing was surely Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning.-- TWOIAF

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And when the triumphant Prince of Dragonstone named Lyanna Stark, daughter of the Lord of Winterfell, the queen of love and beauty, placing a garland of blue roses in her lap with the tip of his lance, the lickspittle lords gathered around the king declared that further proof of his perfidy. Why would the prince have thus given insult to his own wife, the Princess Elia Martell of Dorne (who was present), unless it was to help him gain the Iron Throne? The crowning of the Stark girl, who was by all reports a wild and boyish young thing with none of the Princess Elia's delicate beauty, could only have been meant to win the allegiance of Winterfell to Prince Rhaegar's cause, Symond Staunton suggested to the king..-- TWOIAF

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As cold winds hammered the city, King Aerys II turned to his pyromancers, charging them to drive the winter off with their magics. Huge green fires burned along the walls of the Red Keep for a moon's turn. Prince Rhaegar was not in the city to observe them, however. Nor could he be found in Dragonstone with Princess Elia and their young son, Aegon. With the coming of the new year, the crown prince had taken to the road with half a dozen of his closest friends and confidants, on a journey that would ultimately lead him back to the riverlands. Not ten leagues from Harrenhal, Rhaegar fell upon Lyanna Stark of Winterfell, and carried her off, lighting a fire that would consume his house and kin and all those he loved—and half the realm besides..-- TWOIAF

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From Dorne, in defense of Princess Elia, ten thousand spears came over the Boneway and marched to King's Landing to bolster the host that Rhaegar was raising. Those who were there at court during this time have recounted that Aerys's behavior was erratic. He was untrusting of any save his Kingsguard—and then only imperfectly, for he kept Ser Jaime Lannister close at all hours to serve as a hostage against his father..-- TWOIAF

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Birds flew and couriers raced to bear word of the victory at the Ruby Ford. When the news reached the Red Keep, it was said that Aerys cursed the Dornish, certain that Lewyn had betrayed Rhaegar. He sent his pregnant queen, Rhaella, and his younger son and new heir, Viserys, away to Dragonstone, but Princess Elia was forced to remain in King's Landing with Rhaegar's children as a hostage against Dorne. Having burned his previous Hand, Lord Chelsted, alive for bad counsel during the war, Aerys now appointed another to the position: the alchemist Rossart—a man of low birth, with little to recommend him but his flames and trickery. -- TWOIAF

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The Red Keep was soon breached, but in the chaos, misfortune soon fell upon Elia of Dorne and her children, Rhaenys and Aegon. It is tragic that the blood spilled in war may as readily be innocent as it is guilty, and that those who ravished and murdered Princess Elia escaped justice. It is not known who murdered Princess Rhaenys in her bed, or smashed the infant Prince Aegon's head against a wall. Some whisper it was done at Aerys's own command when he learned that Lord Lannister had taken up Robert's cause, while others suggest that Elia did it herself for fear of what would happen to her children in the hands of her dead husband's enemies.-- TWOIAF

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Dorne continued to be closely allied with House Targaryen in the years that followed, with the Martells supporting the Targaryens against the Blackfyre Pretenders and sending spears to fight the Ninepenny Kings on the Stepstones. Their loyal service was rewarded when Rhaegar Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone and heir to the Iron Throne, took to wife Princess Elia Martell of Sunspear, and sired two children by her. But for the madness of Rhaegar's father, Aerys II, a prince of Dornish blood might very well have one day ruled the realm, but the upheavals of Robert's Rebellion brought about the end of Prince Rhaegar, his wife, and his children. .-- TWOIAF

[queen-of-songs]

The Accidental Crush of Sansa Stark and the recurring annoyance that followed- Chapter 2 pt.1

"Sansa? If you could date any boy counselors here, who would you date?" Shireen, an adorable little camper asked as she walked all of them to canoeing. Sansa paused. Was her developing attraction that obvious? One of the golden staff rules was that there were to be no summer romances or if there was one, to be discreet to the point leadership didn't have any suspicions.

"She'd date Harry of course! Have you seen the way he looks at her?!" Beth giggled. "They would be like Ariel and...Philip!"

"Philip is Aurora's prince, Beth. Ariel's prince is Eric remember?" Alys shook her head at Beth. "I think Sansa would be happiest with Sam!"

"Sam likes Gilly, he blushes every time he's around her," Osha spoke up and the girls around her nodded in agreement.

"Sansa should go out with Dickon, he's so handsome!" Minisa sighed dreamily while Lyanna rolled her eyes.

"Can't you all see Sansa likes...." Lyanna began before Sansa interrupted her. "Girls, I appreciate you all comparing me to a Disney princess and wishing for my happiness. But I assure you, I don't feel that way toward anyone here."

Most of the girls seemed convinced by her little white lie and forgot about their question within seconds. All except for Lyanna. Lyanna stood behind while the other girls went down to the canoeing river. She tilted her head at Sansa in curiosity and Sansa took a deep breath.

"What is it Lyanna?"

"I saw you look at Jon at the pool yesterday."

"Lyanna, I had sunglasses on. I was looking at everyone in the pool." Sansa scoffed, hoping the defiant little camper would drop it. But Lyanna raised her chin with a sly smile on her face.

"Maybe that's true. But I saw you look at him a couple of times today at breakfast and you didn't have sunglasses then. You get a big smile on your face when he's around like the Disney princesses do."

Perhaps I should tone it down a bit.

Sansa took a moment to collect herself and sighed. "Lyanna, Jon is my coworker and friend. I smile when I see all my coworkers..."

"It's different with Jon. That's the way my mom looked at my dad before he died." Lyanna sadly smiled and quickly ran off to join her fellow campers, while Sansa stood in silence.

——————————-

"Girls, can I ask you something?" Sansa asked as she turned up the volume to skype her friends during break time. Margaery was in the process of making an anniversary gift for Theon, Dany was painting her nails so they could be ready for her date night with Daario, Missandei was painting a portrait for Grey, and Brienne was ordering a knife for Jaime's birthday.

"Sure, Sansa!" They all sang in unison.

"Am I being too obvious if one of my campers can tell who I am attracted to?" Sansa spoke quickly, hoping they missed it. But judging by how they were all looking at each other as if they were in the Brady Bunch credits, they did.

"OMG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Missandei shouted.

"I bet it's Harry! Margaery surmised.

"I think it's Dickon. Did you see the pics Sansa posted that tagged him in? They'd be absolutely perfect together!" Dany sighed happily.

"Well, are you going to tell us who it is?" Brienne rose an eyebrow.

"It's the guy I told you all about that pissed me off a few weeks ago. We've patched things up and he's really...cool." Sansa blushed and saw their collective smiles.

"You never told us Mr. Broody's name, what is it?" Margaery inquired.

"His name is Jon, Jon Snow," Sansa responded, and immediately Dany spat out her drink. "Jon Snow?! You like him?!"

"Yeah. Do you know him Dany?" Sansa asked, confused out of her mind.

"He's my nephew," Dany responded and Margaery's eyes widened. "Dany, how on earth do you have a nephew the same age as you?"

"Remember my older brother Rhaegar? Jon is his whoops kid after he had an affair while Elia was in a coma." Dany shrugged.

"Oh yeah! But you've never mentioned him before, why is that?" Missandei asked in curiosity.

"I didn't know he existed until he came to live with Rhaegar and Elia four years ago. He's hasn't been around much because he was either going to school or working at camp." Dany answered and Brienne leaned forward. "Dany, what were you going to add about Jon earlier when Sansa mentioned that she liked him?"

"He's a great guy...but Sansa, he has a girlfriend. Her name is Lysa Tully. He's been dating her for years. I am truly sorry, Sansa." Dany's face was full of sadness.

"Dany, don't be sorry! I'm glad you told me before I made a fool of myself. Now I can be more cognizant of my actions." Sansa put her hands in a heart shape and Dany laughed as she responded with heart hands back.

"But damn, I wish it were different. It would be so cool to have you as my sis...niece in law. Seven hells, that's so weird...."Dany began before all the girls cackled in unison.

Before long, Margaery narrowed her eyes. That typically meant she was vying for information. "Dany, give us the deets on Lysa."

"My brother and Elia think she's a character," Dany grimaced.

"That sounds like how my grandmother would describe Mr. Baelish and Mr.Varys," Margaery hummed.

"Rhaenys tolerates her and Aegon can't stand to be in the same room as her. My experience made me want to slap her, honestly."

"What happened?" Brienne inquired and Dany sighed. "She made Daario feel uncomfortable because he's not from "here," whatever "here" is supposed to mean."

"Oh. She's one of those types of people... ew does that mean Jon is as well???" Missandei rose an eyebrow.

"No, not by a long shot. Jon is super passionate about social issues and has always been involved in some way or another. He and Lysa got into an argument after she made Daario feel uncomfortable. She ended up apologizing, though I didn't think it was truly genuine. I think it was only to show Jon that she was "improving." Dany shrugged, while Brienne, Margaery, and Missandei collectively sighed. Sansa bit the inside of her cheek.

Of course, he has a girlfriend. He's good looking and has a kind soul. Who was I kidding? Well, maybe I can try to be his friend at least. Yes. That's what I'll do and my feelings will go away. They have before and they will now.

After making her decision, Sansa spoke up.

"Well ladies, enough about me and my sad crush life. Tell me about all your individual plans with your guys!!!!!!"

———————————-

"Sansa, you should go! I'm sure it'll be loads of fun!" Her co-counselor Mya exclaimed.

The leadership team decided last minute to have counselor late-night swim and Sansa internally debated if she really wanted to go.

If I am trying to friendzone my crush, shouldn't I try to limit the times I see him wet and shirtless?

"I'm really tired, Mya. I just want to take a hot shower, it's been a really long day."

It wasn't necessarily a bad excuse. It had been a long day. It hadn't even been five minutes after Sansa ended her skype call with her friends when she heard Dickon radio for her help. Two of the girls got into a fight during canoeing and poor Beth cried the entire time after she fell backward in the river. The next skill area didn't fare well either after Minisa got bit by a brown recluse and had to go to the hospital. Then later in the day, the porch swing broke off at the merchandise store and Lyanna sprained her ankle. Sansa had gotten well acquainted with nurse Thoros. Because she worked so well with the little ones, she typically made calls throughout the week but never this many in one week.

"That's true but Sansa, you've been such a trooper today. You deserve a break." Mya reasoned.

"You were there too, Mya. I wouldn't have survived today without you, honestly. In fact, why don't you go tonight and I'll go tomorrow?" Sansa responded.

"Are you sure, Sansa?"

"Absolutely."

"Aww thanks, Sansa." Mya smiled and hugged Sansa tight for a few seconds before going to her room in the cabin to get a bathing suit.

"Oh by the way Mya, I'd wear the blue one. Harry blushes a little when you wear it." Sansa looked at her nails while Mya's mouth slightly dropped.

"How did you know?! I thought I was hiding it well."

"You are! I'm the only one who can really tell because I'm a big sucker for enemies to lovers so I can tell by the little things."

"...Harry blushed a little when I wore it last?"

"Yeah and I'm pretty sure he was going to say something before one of his campers jumped in the pool with his stuffed kittens." Sansa and Mya began chuckling as they remembered the sweet little boy who wanted to prove cats weren't afraid of water.

"Well thank you for the heads up, Sansa." Mya began to leave before leaning back in the doorway. "Should I wear my braids up or down?"

"Do whatever makes you feel confident."

"I'm going to wear them down. Harry Hardyng, here I come." Mya sang as she left the cabin into the hall to go change.

"Sansa?" a soft whisper woke her up and she could see Mya's outline by the bed. Sansa rose up on her elbow and she could tell Mya wanted to talk out in the hall. She followed her out quietly and then sat against the wall.

"Mya, how was it?" Sansa rose an eyebrow and a deep blush appeared on Mya's brown skin.

"It was wonderful. We... we kissed under the water. It was magical." Mya sighed happily and Sansa's heart leaped with joy.

"Did anyone see you two?"

"Surprisingly and thankfully, no. Everyone was distracted by Sam and Gilly. He finally asked her out!"

"Sounds like a good night for everyone it seems." Sansa smiled and closed her eyes for just a moment before Mya spoke up.

"Do you like anyone Sansa?" Sansa opened her eyes to see Mya have an eyebrow raised.

"Erm... not really." Sansa lied and Mya scoffed as she began redoing her braids.

"Are you sure? Because I'm pretty sure I saw you staring at your former pool duty partner a bit the other day. Is that why you switched?"

"For one, for some reason, I thought Jon was going tonight before I remembered he and Harry are co's this week. Two, it doesn't matter how I feel."

"Why doesn't it matter, Sansa?"

"Because he has a girlfriend." Sansa's voice cracked a little and Mya's face filled with sorrow.

"I'm sorry I brought it up, Sansa."

"It's okay."

"What's your game plan?"

"My game plan? I want to become his friend and try to friendzone him."

"Friendzone your crush, hmm. I've never heard of that before. How are you going to do it?"

"Ask him about his girlfriend, what he likes, try to steer from anything super personal, keep a healthy distance, and....I'll talk about guys I find attractive."

"Besides Jon, who else would you want to go on a date with at camp?"

"Not really." Sansa shrugged.

"Any guys back home?"

"Um sort of I guess? If you count teammates/friends Robb brings home during breaks. His is name is Pyp. He's really cool and kind." Sansa smiled.

"Ooh tell me more!" Mya rested her face on her hands as the girls did during storytime before bed.

"He's majoring in Civil Engineering. He plays left wing on the hockey team at White Harbor, he's pretty good. I wouldn't be surprised if he was drafted in the WHL. He's pretty funny and a movie buff."

"Why didn't you go on a date with him then?"

"I was scared after everything that went down with Waymar, that I was a little hesitant to date."

"What did happen with Waymar?" Mya questioned.

"I made a fool out myself for him. I wore different clothes, dyed my hair black, and I even started going by my middle name to seem "cooler" to him. I..." Sansa shuddered. "I gave him special favors in the hopes, he just so he'd finally see me. One day, he texted me to meet up with him at his house and I went over thinking that he was going to ask me to be his girlfriend. I got there and the door was wide open. I thought it was a bit strange and I went in, worried if Waymar was okay when I heard noises coming from his bedroom. I opened the door and caught him having sex with my former best friend Myranda. I closed the door and ran down the stairs. Waymar and Myranda came down right before I left. Waymar forgot he texted me and tried to apologize while Myranda just smirked at me. I asked her 'How could you?' and she said 'You're the biggest fool to ever think you had a shot with Waymar and I only became friends with you to get to him along with your money. Who would anyone ever want to date someone like you? You're a stupid and ugly little girl. Oh, you're crying now. How sad? No one's ever had the guts to tell you that? You're sasquatch with no curves or boobs."

Sansa looked down at the crown, while hot tears streamed down her face. Mya gathered her in her arms as Sansa sobbed.

"You know what Myranda said about you isn't true right? You're beautiful on the inside and out. Hell, I wish I was as tall and skinny as you." Mya whispered while Sansa shook her head.

"Mya, you're beautiful."

"So are you! Being tall sounds great, I don't like always having to crane my neck to look at Harry when we're bantering. The pool is probably one of the few kisses where he won't have to practically bend down to kiss me. Don't get me started on being curvy and having to find jeans that don't feel like they're not suffocating my thighs and butt while having a huge awkward gap in the back." Mya ranted. "Don't be hard on yourself, Sansa. You're amazing, you need to believe that. The girls love you, I love you, your other friends and family love you, and everyone at camp does. You need to love yourself."

"Thank you, Mya. You're right, I do need to work on loving myself." Sansa smiled.

"That's the spirit!" Mya high fived her and then they heard the door open from Mya's room to see Beth's face full of tears.

"What's wrong Beth? Did you have a nightmare?" Mya asked, her voice full of concern.

"No, I..." Beth's lip wobbled. "Miss Mya, I woke up and I realized I don't have any more underwear for the rest of the week."

"How many did you bring Beth?" Sansa asked as Beth sat down in between her and Mya.

"My brother packed me six."

Only six for Sunday through Friday? I'd pack at least twelve or fourteen... Wait! It's only Tuesday?!

"But it's only Tuesday Beth, how did you go through six?" Mya's eyes widened.

"I... I peed myself a bit on Sunday when I was waiting for the bathroom after I took my shower, so I had to change. Monday, I got my unicorn undies wet from the shower after I dropped them. I asked Lyanna to get some out of my bag. Today, after I fell in the water I got scared I was going to get leeches so I changed into my last pair. I just keep getting bad luck!" Beth started to tear up and an idea popped up in Sansa's mind.

"Beth, are all your dirty clothes in a bag?" Sansa asked.

Beth nodded and Sansa sighed in relief.

"Okay, I'm going to wash all of your dirty clothes in the washer and you'll have your five pairs clean again."

"Won't people judge me for re-wearing the same undies again?"

"No, it's none of their business and besides sometimes I wear the same undies when I don't take a shower for a day if I didn't sweat." Sansa shrugged.

"Same." Mya agreed and Beth looked at the both of them in amazement.

"Thank you so much, Miss Sansa and Miss Mya!" Beth hugged them both and went back into Mya's room.

"What. A. Night," Mya exclaimed and Sansa couldn't help but agree.

"Drinking coffee right before lunch?" Jon asked as Sansa filled her coffee mug.

"Yep. I'm exhausted, I had to wash one of my girls' clothes because she didn't pack enough underwear. She was upset and it broke my heart. Yesterday just wasn't her day."

"Beth right? She's a sweetheart." Jon smiled before he took a sip of his tea.

"She definitely is." Sansa nodded in agreement.

"Is she your favorite this week?"

"We as counselors aren't supposed to have favorites." Sansa attempted to be stern as Jon rose an eyebrow and narrowed his eyes. Sansa began laughing so hard that her nose snorted and coffee spilled down her nose.

She grabbed a napkin and dabbed at her nose, refusing to make eye contact with him.

Seven hells, why must I embarrass myself in front of hot guys??? Why can't my laugh be sweet and adorable???

"I like your laugh, it's cute. You should do it more often." Jon's deep voice broke into her reverie and she lifted her eyes to see a small grin on his face.

"You should make more dramatic faces and jokes then," Sansa smiled back and Jon laughed a little.

"Noted." Jon nodded and then his eyebrows knitted together. "I just realized you didn't go to last night's late-night."

"Nope, besides doing Beth's laundry, I took a hot shower and talked to Mya out in the hall for a bit."

"Oh, Mya? Harry had heart eyes when he came back to the cabin last night. About damn time something happened."

"Mr. Jon? Did you just curse on campgrounds?" Sansa dramatically exclaimed and Jon chuckled as he shook his head.

"I sure did, Miss Sansa. Am I going to lose points now?"

[moon-ruled-rising]

as the rain hides the stars | xv

read it on ao3...

where to begin?

Babe, there’s something wretched about this,

something so precious about this,

where to begin?

Babe, there’s something broken about this,

but I might be hoping about this.

Oh, what a sin.

-Hozier, “From Eden”

“I’m sure Rhaenys will be fine, it’s Aegon I’m worried about. He’s a little chatterbox.”

The bits of dialogue between Dany and her conference call reached Jon’s ears as he stared out the window and watched the countryside slip past. They were on their way to another Northern landmark, just the two of them. Their Majesties thought it was a good way for the public to see them acting like a real couple, even though it was far from the truth.

Despite the impending publicity stunt, Dany was seemingly playful. After a week of wedding planning she was probably ecstatic to get away from it all. And understandably so. He attended a few of the planning sessions, specifically the cake tasting and menu planning. Dany surprised him by taking his opinions into consideration and even Catelyn appeared to tolerate his presence. 

They also had their first dance lesson which only reinforced the fact that Jon had two left feet. Luckily, it wasn't a standard ballroom dance so they were both spared any crushed toes. Although there were a few instances of hands missing their mark and ending up in the other’s face. They could hardly look at each other the next day without cracked smiles and stifled laughter. Much to the dismay of the Great Wedding Committee who wanted to discuss stationary and rings. 

Jon felt guilty after that particular meeting. Even though they were discussing wedding rings, he realized he’d never given Dany a proper engagement ring. She’d taken to wearing a ring of her mother’s on her finger so no one would get suspicious about the lack of a real proposal. Dany said people wouldn’t question the legitimacy of their engagement if a ring was involved. So Jon employed the help of Arya and Sansa, who were both detrimental in getting Dany’s ring size on the sly and helping him choose from the modest selection of jewels. They found a perfect choice after an hour of looking, it didn’t even need to be reset. He would’ve given it to her there in the car but it wouldn’t matter. The weather took a nasty dip and it was always cold on the wall so they would be wearing light gloves.

“Oh, thank the Gods!” Dany cried, breaking Jon from his reverie.

“Finally done?”

“Deadzone.” she let her phone fall dramatically onto the seat between them and leaned her head on the window.

Jon chuckled. They had crossed into the Gift, a swath of land set aside for the Night’s Watch specifically and notorious for its spotty reception. In another hour they would be at Castle Black. He would by lying if he said he wasn’t anxious to be back. The reminder of the incident and his subsequent indefinite leave were still fresh in his mind.

Even though he trained and studied like the other recruits, he was never meant to be a ranger. The job was too dangerous for the Prince of the North so Lord Commander Mormont requested Jon be his personal steward. While he still craved the adventure of the rangings, he was willing to concede. However, there was one time he’d gotten a taste of what he could’ve had if he weren’t so damned important.

Shadow Unit was down a man and with no reports of wildling activity in the area, they let Jon ride out with them. The route they patrolled was clear with no sign of any wildling activity. That was how it usually went. In his four years at the Wall the only times there were actually run ins with the tribes that lived there got too close or Mormont sent the ranging parties further north.

The clear mile between the forest edge and the Wall was in their sights, bringing with it the promise of warmth and rest. The night was still and unnaturally dark and cold, the men in the unit were just as wary of the atmosphere as their mounts. The Haunted Forest was overgrown and wild, making it impossible for bulky vehicles to navigate. And going on foot was worse for obvious reasons so the Watch kept horses. 

A rustling in the trees brought their procession to a halt. With no wind to shake the branches, Jon knew at once that they shouldn’t have stopped. One of the men went to radio in  the activity when dark shapes descended on the front and rear and chaos ensued. Their formation broke into a mess of nervous horses and shouting men. On the narrow trail there was no way to break through, they were fish in a barrel. 

Somehow, in the darkness and confusion, Jon was tossed from his saddle. He landed on the frozen ground and avoided being trampled by his own horse. With no cover and no clear way out, Jon ducked into the trees. He managed to conceal himself and was about to try to contact Castle Black when he was tackled, his radio skidding across the snow and out of his reach. He managed to get his forearms between the attacker and his face but not before his crude knife slashed at his eye. 

The shout that left Jon filled the still forest as he forced his assailant off. Jon flipped himself over and tried to crawl to his radio. A searing, fire erupted in his leg and he knew he was a victim to the primitive tool his attacker had. As though it was second nature, Jon drew his gun and aimed. 

Even in the dark, he could feel the eyes of his opponent. Jon realized there was a human staring down the barrel of his gun. It was a brief thought, fleeting. Neither of them moved. There was no time to overthink it and without any more consideration, Jon pulled the trigger. 

He wasn’t shaking like he hoped he would. His breath was even and the pain from his eye and leg was dull but the sensation was growing. But as he laid there in the snow he contemplated what would come next.

The afternoon brought a meeting with Lord Commander Mormont. He wasn’t in command of Shadow Unit, nor was he leading the ranging so Jon had no idea why the Lord Commander would want to talk with him about the incident. At least that’s what he told himself to keep the dreading feeling away. Mormont was going to tell him his time with the Night’s Watch was over and he was going back to Winterfell.

“You wished to see me, Lord Commander?” Jon asked as he stepped through the door.

“Have a seat Jon.”

He didn’t want to. He wanted to be ready to leave the moment the Old Bear said the words but the ache in his leg was still too bothersome to ignore.

“I’m sure you know that your father was alerted about the attack last night. Once he heard of your involvement and subsequent injury he commanded that you be placed on leave indefinitely and sent back to Winterfell.”

There it was. “What did you say to him?”

Mormont sighed, “I tried to convince him to let you stay but my explanation of the events did little to sway him.”

“I can’t go back there.” Jon shook his head.

He knew he would return eventually but he hadn’t planned on it being so soon.

“Neither of us have much choice in the matter,” the Old Bear reminded him, “We must all answer to the crown.”

At court, he felt like everything was handed to him. Even his claim to the throne was presented like a gift on his name day. While any other man would’ve taken advantage of it, Jon came to resent it. He found it to be one of the many reasons for the disdain surrounding him. It didn’t help that bastards were considered treacherous, even a legitimized one.

Serving with the Night’s Watch gave him the chance to earn something. Even if it was the least exciting of the positions, he put in the time and effort to achieve it. Hearing his name called and reciting the word beneath the grove of heart trees was the most gratifying experience. 

Jon found himself in much the same position again, though this time it was a woman the Crown placed into his life. Like an invitation for a week-long hunting trip on Bear Island only significantly more permanent and harder to refuse. And they were both real people with their own wants and needs but some selfish pricks higher than them decided that none of that mattered; reducing him and Dany to mere pawns in the ever evolving game.

The view outside the window changed with the first signs of Mole’s Town, several roofs and chimney stacks sticking out of the ground. To help protect against the cold homes were built underground and the public buildings were connected by tunnels. In more recent years, people began constructing their houses into the sides of man made hills. It seemed the only structure to be seen from the road was Castle Black, standing stoic and dark against the gleaming ice of the Wall.

Once a simple fortification of towers and scattered rooms, the years saw it transform from ancient keep to proper military base. Not that there was a great war to be expected from the folk beyond the wall, Castle Black was really a form of discouragement from trying to sneak through the wall.

“Seven hells,” Dany muttered as they passed through the gates, “That is a lot of ice.”

“Wait until you see the view from the top,” Jon said.

“We’re actually going up there?”

“Of course. Wouldn’t be a trip to the Wall without it.”

There was a media frenzy in the courtyard. As part of the agreement between the press and the Royal Family, Jon and Dany would give them enough time for a photo op as they were greeted by the Lord Commander and then they expected peace and quiet for the day and a half they were there. 

Jon was surprised they were willing to accept such a quick and easy deal since it was the first public sighting of the newly engaged royals. A pair who were supposedly so in love, they decided they wanted to spend the rest of their lives together in the span of a week. Luckily, decorum helped them avoid any public displays of affection and bed sharing as their accommodations provided two separate rooms.

Brother’s of the Night’s Watch paused along the walkways to view the flashing cameras and the two people all the fuss was over. Jon didn’t recognize any of the faces. He doubted he would, a lot could change in two years. He at least expected to see Edd Tollett walking alongside the Lord Commander, complaining Mormont’s ear off. But the Lord Commander arrived alone, dressed in the ceremonial blacks with the bear of Mormont set among the various pins and medals.

“Your Highnesses, it is an honor to have you at Castle Black.”

The camera flashes increased as Jon shook Mormont’s hand and they posed for a good minute afterward, smiling and acting gracious. The press was ushered out of the courtyard and Mormont dropped the pretense.

“So, this is the young lady you’ve decided to spend the rest of your life with?” Mormont sizing up Dany, “A spectacular choice.”

Jon saw her smug smile. When she noticed he was looking at her, she nudged him with her shoulder.

The loud, high-spirited sounds that accompanied a returning patrol unit drew his attention away. Ghost Unit, he could tell. The two friends he made in his time at the wall, Grenn and Pyp, were in that group. 

“Well if it isn’t Lord Snow!” one of them called.

He shook his head. The nickname was meant as a mean tease and it stuck. Jon should’ve corrected them, reminded the men that he deserved the respect of his rank, but it brought back a wave of nostalgia he was grateful for.

“Aurochs and Pyp-squeak,” he greeted in the same mocking tone.

“We were about to head to Tormund’s if you wanted to join us,” offered Grenn, clapping Jon on the back.

“The lady can come too.”

Pyp nodded toward Dany, who stood by Jon’s side.

She laughed, “I would love to but one of us should stay for the tour from the Lord Commander.”

“You don’t mind if I go?”

“Of course not. You’ve probably seen enough of the place anyway.”

Jon thanked her, which she waved off in her casual way before leaving with Mormont.

Tormund’s little pub was one of the busiest attractions in the underground village of Mole’s Town. The atmosphere was humid and hot with all the bodies stuffed in the small space. When Jon inquired about the increase in people, his brothers laughed.

“It’s because of you and your sweetheart. As soon as news broke about your visit up here they all decided to make a weekend trip just to catch sight of you two.” Grenn informed. 

Jon noticed there were quite a few people wandering around up top. They were probably hoping to get close enough to the base but would have to wait until the photos were released. For once the strict policy on royal/press policy. 

The group found an empty table somewhere, Edd ended up joining them later. He wished he could enjoy their company like he used to but they kept asking him about the wedding and Dany and he found himself dodging questions, unable to relax.

“Can I come to the wedding?”

“You can come to the reception.”

“What if I’m your supporter?”

“Robb’s already got the job, Pyp.”

“Okay but what if-”

“If you don’t shut up I’m going to throttle you,” Edd threatened, as tired of the wedding talk as Jon was.

He managed to flip the conversation back to them by asking Grenn about his possible promotion. Grenn launched into a long winded rant, with added talking points by Pyp, about the placement of new recruits and new training requirements. All was going well until Tormund found out they were at his establishment.

Jon heard his warhorn of a voice call ‘Crow!’ from across the packed room. There was more grey in his orange hair than Jon remembered but that didn’t stop him from plucking the Prince out of his seat and nearly crushing him in a hug.

“I thought I’d seen the last of you when they shipped you back south. What the hells are you doing up here?”

“He and his fiancée are here to see the wall.”

“Fiancée? Well, what are you waiting for crow, show me a picture of this special woman,” Tormund demanded.

Jon pulled out his phone to find a picture of Dany and realized that he had none on his camera roll. He tried to search the internet for one but Tormund spotted him.

“You don’t have a picture of her in your phone?”

“They’ve only known each other a week,” Pyp chimed in.

“A week? Gods you work fast,” echoed Tormund in disbelief.

“It’s a long story that I’d rather not get into,” he tried to defend.

He wasn’t allowed to reveal the exact nature of his and Dany’s relationship, no matter how far-fetched it seemed to other people.

Edd broke in with, “I think we know why Lord Snow fell so fast.”

The tone in his voice reminded Jon of someone who was about to tell a bad joke. When he gave Edd a questioning look, he shrugged.

“When we found out who you were engaged to we did some digging.”

“The deep web is a wonderful, wonderful place,” came Pyp’s addition.

“The situation is much more complicated than that.”

Jon tried to sit down but Tormund pulled him back up and threw an arm around his shoulders.

“At least he’s found himself a girl to share his time with. Unlike the lot of you, sitting in my pub every weekend in the same spot and leaving together. If I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re more like to warm each other’s beds.”

Groans and protests went up from the group, mostly accusing Tormund of similar bachelor behavior. Jon patted Tormund’s shoulder, relieved that the conversation was off of him. 

When he returned to Castle Black with Grenn and Pyp, the sun had dipped below the wall, the sky making it’s nightly shift from orange to pink to purple to black and casting the southern half of the wall in shadow. The breeze had a harsher bite to it and Jon shoved his hands in the pockets of his coat. His gloved fingers brushed against something small and odd shaped. The ring. He’d almost forgotten about it.

In a streak of luck, Dany was crossing the courtyard with the Lord Commander. He called out to her and she stopped to look at him.

“We were about to go up top,” she said, “Everyone says now is the best time.”

Jon doubted it. The air would be colder and the wind rougher but there was something he needed to do.

“I can take you up.”

“Are you sure? Lord Commander Mormont said he would do it.”

“I’m sure.”

The Old Bear backed off and let Jon take Dany’s arm.

Despite the creaking and rattling from the winch, it was an unbearably silent ride. One that left Jon with nothing to do but fiddle with the piece of jewelry in his pocket and watch Dany readjust her scarf from the millionth time.

No matter how much he’d seen it during his four years at the Wall, the view from the top still impressed him, especially then. The horizon burned orange, lighting the soft clouds yellow and making the purple-blue of the sky look electric. The light reflected off the trees and light snow of the lands beyond the wall.

“The Lord Commander told me there are still people who live out there. What will they do when winter comes?”

“They’ve survived the cold and snow for thousands of years, they can handle one more.”

Silence settled between them again. 

“You were right. It is beautiful.”

Dany tucked her chin into her scarf as the wind picked up, swirling her loose hair around. She gathered it in her hands and wrestled it under her scarf. A few pieces managed to escape and as she turned to look at him they brushed across her face. Her cheeks and nose were pink from the cold and her eyes were starting to water. Jon lost his nerve.

It was too romantic, he decided. There was nothing he wanted less than to seem like he was trying to woo her. Not to mention with their security officers present and the possibility of a watchman passing by, it was too public. 

“We should head back down,” he offered.

She agreed and they descended, heading directly for their guest quarters. The pair of bedrooms with a common space between was fully furnished and  a welcome retreat from the oncoming cold. There was even a fire burning in the fireplace. Castle Black had a modern furnace system but nothing truly beat the cold like a roaring fire.

They parted to peel off their outerwear and change. Jon waited a good few minutes, sitting on the edge of the bed, examining the ring and trying to get his nerve back. He finally stood, walked into the living space and said, “Hey Dany, can you come here for a second.”

She appeared in the doorway. An oversized brown flannel hung from her shoulders, dwarfing her small frame, and she wore a pair of hot pink fuzzy socks on her feet.

“Is everything alright?” she asked, heading straight for the sofa in front of the fire.

Dany pulled her legs up beside her and twisted so she could see him. Her hair had a frizz to it, he noted. The light from behind caught in it, surrounding her make-up free face in a halo of gold.

“Yes,” he answered without thinking, “I mean, no… Yes and no.”

Her eyebrows raised as she eyed him. 

Jon moved to sit on the sofa with her, “When we talked about wedding rings this week, I realized that I forgot an important part of engagements.”

He realized the error he’d made in waiting until then. While the scene on the Wall was romantic in a trope riddled teen romance movie way, the low light and Jon and Dany in their sleepwear was much more intimate. And Jon cursed himself for it.

“Uh, it’s fine? I’m not really sure which part of the engagement you’re referring to.”

“That would be the proposal. I mean, you deserve a real one.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Well, that’s a shame because I have this…” Jon held the ring up.

“Oh, I’m fine with the one I’ve been wearing. You didn’t have to-”

“I know.” Without another moment’s hesitation he continued, “Daenerys Stormborn the First of House Targaryen, Princess Royal of the United Kingdoms of Westeros and Lady of Dragonstone, will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

A laugh escaped her, good natured and light, “I thought you’d never ask.”

“Considering the wedding is in three weeks, I figured I’d better squeeze it in at some point.”

“Talisa was right, you are such a sap.”

“If that’s the case, I’ll be taking this back.” he started to put the ring back in his pocket but Dany reached for it.

“No, no, no, you proposed and I said yes, the ring is a fair exchange.”

She still had on her mother’s ring, so she took it off and put it on her other hand.

“Here,” Jon offered, taking her hand and sliding the real engagement ring onto her finger.

It wasn’t anything extravagant or glamorous, a simple kite shaped diamond with flecks through it (something Sansa called a ‘salt-and-pepper diamond’) set in silver. The shape reminded Jon of the tiara Dany wore to the charity gala, as well as the dragon sigil of her House.

“It’s a beautiful ring,” she said with a soft smile, still twisting and turning her hand to watch it catch the light.

“It was my Aunt Lyanna’s.”

“What happened to her?”

“She renounced her title. After Uncle Brandon died the succession skipped to my father. She was never meant for the princess life anyway, it was too stifling for her.”

“Where is she now?”

“We don’t know. Sansa thinks she fell in love with a Myrish merchant and took off to be with him in Essos.”

Dany’s face took on a thoughtful look, she dropped her hand to her lap and looked to the flames.

“I was engaged once.”

“Really?” 

Jon was shocked. As far as he was concerned, Dany had never been in a serious relationship. She just flitted from one man to another.

“I was fresh off my first semester of university and it was my first time in Meereen. The Grand Masters invited me to a gala of theirs and the Dothraki Khal happened to be there. We hit it off right away, although he didn’t speak a word of the common tongue except ‘no’. Ser Jorah had to translate everything.

“When I returned to Meereen the next summer, he invited me to Vaes Dothrak and I spent more time with him than I should have. It wasn’t a proper proposal, there was nothing planned about it. No ring, no kneeling, no pretty words. It was spur of the moment and I said yes.”

“What happened?”

“Rhaegar found out. I haven’t seen or heard from Drogo since, unless you count that tell-all article.”

“I’m very sorry.”

She looked, eyebrows furrowed.

“Why? It wasn’t your fault, it wasn’t anybody’s fault but my own.” There was bitterness to her voice.

“I guess I… have sympathy for you,” Jon admitted.

“Well thank you for that. And for the ring.”

She paused, like she was contemplating something more, then got up and disappeared into her room. Jon gazed at the closed door. He sighed and departed for his own bed.