#war storm tour

[montageboi]

not being at the eras tour is the worst thing that has ever happened to me i think

[coloursofunison]

Today, I'm taking part in the blog tour for Brothers of the Sword by Peter Gibbons #histfic #blogtour

Today, I'm taking part in the blog tour for Brothers of the Sword by Peter Gibbons #histfic #blogtour #BrothersOfTheSword #boldwoodbloggers @BoldwoodBooks @BoldBookClub @rararesources

Here’s the blurb: An epic battle where heroes fight and die to protect a Kingdom from Viking invasion… 991ADKing Aethelred the Unready’s Kingdom of the English is threatened. Olaf Tryggvason and his fleet of Viking warships snap at the coastal edges like ravenous wolves, and Sweyn Forkbeard, King of the Danes, has landed in East Anglia with an army of battle-hardened warriors. Ealdorman…

[heritageposts]

i saw the trailer for the new feel-good “anti-racist” US war movie about the carpet bombing of North Korea and started writing up something for this blog, partially inspired by the absolute shit storm i got for sharing that post i made with pictures of everyday life outside pyongyang

and then i gave up, because what’s the point? westerners can’t even handle a single picture of a north korean not looking miserable without screaming propaganda

meanwhile, there are no stories about the horrors of life in the ‘hermit kingdom’ that are deemed too outlandish to be believable. i can’t remember who said it, but it’s like the entire country has taken up permanent residence in the western imaginary as some silly little cartoon villain, where the leaders of the country does evil things for no discernible reason. they’re just silly and evil like that, and the citizens, of course, are silly, too. silly and brainwashed.

i watched a video recently of a tourists visiting an auto dealership in pyongyang, and the entire time he was just gawking at the employees and costumers, shoving his phone in their face, and confidently explaining to his youtube audience that everyone he’s interacting with are actually actors.

what level of dehumanization do you have to reach for that thought to even cross your mind? to think that the people you see before you are actors? that entire cities and shops are erected with to sole purpose that you, a western, will see them and be impressed?

what frustrates me the most is the casual cruelty that seeps into any mention of north korea, no matter how small. if north koreans are not being evil, they’re being silly.

a north korean newspaper reports that a group of archeologists in pyongyang have discovered an old rock carving with the words ‘unicorn lair’ (mistranslated), and the western press reports that north koreans now believe in unicorns.

a tourist at a hotel in hamhung is told by the receptionist to be careful at the beach: the waves can get high. that day the tourists goes to the beach, and there are no waves. she retells the story to her instagram followers, explaining that the poor woman at the hotel could never have seen real waves before because north koreans are probably never allowed to travel.

she adds a little teary-eyed emoji.

one of the cities i included in the post was sariwon, a densely populated city to the south of pyongyang. below are some pictures from its “folk customs street”, which was built to showcase old korean traditions and customs

here’s all wikipedia has to say about it

Built to display an ideal picture of ancient Korea, it includes buildings in the "historical style" and a collection of ancient Korean cannons. Although it is considered an inaccurate romanticized recreation of an ancient Korean street, it is frequently used as a destination for foreigners on official government tours. Many older style Korean buildings exist in the city.

it’s just north koreans being silly again. there’s no mention of what might motivate them to build a street like that — why the preservation of old customs, culture and architecture might somehow be important for the city

could it perhaps have something to do with how the U.S. air force dropped 635,000 tons of bombs, including 32,557 tons of napalm, over the korean peninsula during the war? the carpet bombings, which are now the topic of an upcoming hollywood movie about overcoming racism through warcrimes, destroyed an estimate of 85% of all buildings in north korea. some cities were entirely wiped off the map.

in sariwon they missed a few buildings, but not many — after an intense firebombing campaign the U.S. military estimated the destruction of sariwon to be at 95%.

none of this is mentioned on the wikipedia page for sariwon.

we destroyed entire cities. memory-holed the entire thing, called it the forgotten war. and now, 70 years later, we’re convincing ourselves that the people living in the ruins are actors.

and somehow the north koreans are the brainwashed ones

[luveline]

please can i request a night in with prince!steve ? something like them missing a ball due to a storm but they’re secretly very happy for the time away!! thank u <333

ty for requesting <3 prince!steve soulmate au

The palace silks are softer than anything you’ve ever touched, like the very inside of a baby’s palm, or the fluff of a fledgling bird. You savour the feeling of it on your naked legs, heat from the fireplace warring with the chill emanating from the windows. 

“Will it be a hurricane?” you ask. 

Steve sits on the floor beside the bed closest to the fire. He has one of his books. To your surprise, your new husband is a big reader, so long as the novel is trashy adventure or not so tasteful romance fiction. He reads more than he bothers with the holos, but that’s only because the storm is messing with the city’s thermoelectrics. Heir to a kingdom and obsessed with tales of pirates and bandits. 

“Steve?” 

He looks up from his book apologetically. “Yes.�� 

“Did you hear what I said?” 

“Yeah, I heard you. I think it’ll be worse than a hurricane toward the coast, but we won’t see that here.” 

“So we’ll be fine?” 

“Yeah, and we won’t have to go anywhere for weeks.” 

Just this morning a ball you and Steve were meant to attend as part of your wedding tour was cancelled. You’ve been allowed the time you’d have spent there as your own, and you’re thrilled to find that Steve wants to share it with you. He seems to really like you (which you’d hope for, considering your soulbond), raising his head in question with his hand creeping across silk to touch your knee. 

You lean down carefully and kiss him. 

To tell yourself that a few months ago you hadn’t known him, hadn’t thought for a moment your soulmate would be him, and hadn’t ever pictured yourself in the selenite palace kissing him like this. 

“Do you wanna get married?” he murmurs.

“Steve…” 

He smiles, takes your face into his hand, and gives you a long lovely kiss. Pressure of his lips to yours, his thumb rubbing the apple of your cheek with unquestionable adoring, Steve grins into your kissing and fights his way up, and up, kneeling and then standing, taking the lead. He kisses you until your lips are thrumming and you’re breathless, kissing down to your jaw and just under your ear. That kiss is sweetest. His hands smooth down your arms and hold you still. “Oh,” he says, his smugness palpable, “right. We already did that.” 

“You’re tickling me,” you mumble. 

“It’s on purpose, yeah.” 

Steve wraps his arms behind your head and promptly drops down on top of you. You laugh like a hyena, you’ve been careful since you met him to be you’re most attractive self, but you’re starting to wonder if it matter, considering you’re in pyjamas too big for you and you’d gotten bored taking your hair out of pins, and yet he still wants to sandwich you to the bed and kiss your neck with nipping lips. 

“Let’s never leave our room again,” he says. 

“This isn’t a very princely way to touch me,” you say back. 

“And this isn’t a very princess appropriate position you’re in–”

“You’ve put me in–”

“Are you warm enough?” he asks, his face pressed to the curve of your neck, and his hands on your tummy. “You feel cold.” 

You pull him from the soft of you and encourage his face back to look at one another clearly. His face flickers a sweet pink from the light of your soul mark, that ever hovering reminder that you and he were destined to be together, and to be in love. 

His own flickers a soft orange. 

“Warm me up,” you suggest, half-joking, lest he not want to do that and you’ve embarrassed yourself. 

Steve glares at you playfully. “Of course I will. Let’s go sit by the fire.”

“Noooo.” 

He wedges himself against you, your left leg and his right hanging off of the bed, the sheets slippery on your back. “This is perfect,” he murmurs, stroking your face as he gets comfortable atop you. “So happy. Let’s get married twice, please.” 

[hypnos333]

War and Love

clarrise la rue x Aphrodite daughter reader

Synopsis: You were always flirting and if everyone in camp encourages it she’ll beat them to death

“Hello I’m ___ from aphrodite cabin I will be your tour guide” You said cheerfully to percy. He was speechless you were a beautiful blonde with a pink rose crown on your head. Some might’ve mistaken you as your mother.

“U-Uhm I-I’m percy-“Percy Jackson hmm Poseidon kid right?” You finished for him making him nod in embarrassment.

“I can feel like you’re gonna be like me, just being chosen fast enough” You said honestly making him confused before you started walking making him walk beside you.

everyone made eye contact with both of the two nervously making you roll your eyes.

“What do you mean by that ___?” He asked hesitantly but before you answer, you noticed Clarisse storming towards you making you stand in front of the kid making him even more nervous.

“Babe” You sigh out putting your hands in Your hers Hoodie. “Why is he near you?” She asked letting her anger get the best of her.

Clarisse is very territorial of you and with your flirting nature she usually with you 24/7 .

“I was told to show him around my warrior” You answered softly having lots of patience with her. You held her hand comfortly, trying to calm her a little.

She still was full of anger so you called Luke to show Percy around. Which was easy with a little bit of an innocent smile and a wink. After that Clarisse immediately dragged you to her cabin.

“___ I-I found your pink ribbon you lost from capture the flag” A boy from the Hephaestus cabin said handing her the ribbon.

You instantly smile “Thank you, Thank you, Thank you” You repeated hugging the shy boy tightly. He hugged back but when he saw Clarisse glare he pulls away and bid you goodbye before rushing off.

You put the ribbon in your pocket before dragging Clarisse towards her cabin.

“My Love I need to get something from the cafeteria I left behind wait for me?” Clarisse asked making you hum in agreement going through her stuff to find something entertaining.

Clarisse wonder around to see if she could find the boy and she did by the archery and arrows.

So instantly she punched starting a crowd around them, he couldn’t even get a punch in as she constantly punching his face making it all bruised and bloody.

Everyone knows about the love triangle between Ares,Aphrodite and Hephaestus. Aphrodite being married to Hephaestus but having an affair with Ares.

That alone made Clarisse even more mad to have one of Hephaestus half breed flirt with her girl.

Making her punch’s become harder but it came to a hault when Luke and the leader of hephaestus pulled her off.

She shrugged them off before rolling her eyes at the bloody and bruised up boy as she left to go hang out with you.

Everyone including the newbie’s now knows what she capable of when it comes to you and it makes everyone frightened to even speak to you except your half siblings.

[fragileheartbeats]

— SUNFYRE ִ ۫ 𖥔 𓈒

𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐟𝐲𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐧, 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐧'𝐬 𝐆𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐲, 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧, 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐌𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧.

𝑭𝒐𝒓𝒎𝒊𝒅𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒇𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒆𝒓, 𝑰𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆, 𝑬𝒙𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒕𝒉, 𝑬𝒙𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝒅𝒖𝒓𝒂𝒃𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒚, 𝑫𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏, 𝑰𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆.

Sunfyre is a dragon characterized by his brilliant gold scales that glisten like beaten gold in the sunlight, along with pale pink wing membranes. His flames also share the same golden hue. Notably, Archmaester Gyldayn declares Sunfyre the most beautiful dragon ever witnessed in the known world.

Sunfyre is a young and fearless dragon. He is a formidable fighter. Despite enduring severe injuries in every battle—injuries he could never fully recover from—Sunfyre managed to triumph over every opponent he encountered. This includes Meleys, described as a splendid dragon. He also killed Moondancer, who left him very injured, and he further killed and devoured Grey Ghost. Sunfyre's last victim was Rhaenyra Targaryen, who attempted to usurp Aegon's crown.

Despite suffering severe injuries and a damaged wing, Sunfyre miraculously managed to fly back to Dragonstone. The reason for this return is considered to be that he sensed Aegon needed him. Sunfyre had a strong connection to his rider, Aegon II; their bond was one of the best, and Sunfyre never let him down. Aegon deeply cared about Sunfyre; he made his sigil a golden three-headed dragon breathing golden flames on black to honor him. This sigil also became the main symbol of the Greens. When Sunfyre died, Aegon wept.

— VHAGAR ִ ۫ 𖥔 𓈒

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐬.

𝑰𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆, 𝑰𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆, 𝑬𝒙𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒕𝒉, 𝑬𝒙𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝒅𝒖𝒓𝒂𝒃𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒚.

Vhagar was a she-dragon of House Targaryen. She was ridden by Queen Visenya Targaryen during Aegon's Conquest, alongside Aegon the Conqueror's Balerion and their sister Rhaenys's Meraxes. Other known riders of Vhagar are Prince Baelon Targaryen, Lady Laena Velaryon and Prince Aemond Targaryen.

By the time of the Dance of the Dragons, Vhagar was the hardened survivor of a hundred battles, had grown almost as large as Balerion, and was the oldest and largest of the dragons in Westeros. Her roar was so powerful that it could shake the very foundations of Storm's End. No living dragon could match her for size or ferocity.

Aemond would continue to fly Vhagar in battle during the civil war between King Aegon II and Queen Rhaenyra. During the battle at Rook's Rest, Vhagar and Aemond, and King Aegon and Sunfyre, ambushed the dragon Meleys and her rider Princess Rhaenys Targaryen. Meleys was an old and large dragon, and might have stood a chance against Vhagar alone, but died from the combined assault. Vhagar was the only dragon who left the battle reasonably unharmed.

— CARAXES ִ ۫ 𖥔 𓈒

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐖𝐲𝐫𝐦.

𝑭𝒐𝒓𝒎𝒊𝒅𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆, 𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆, 𝒆𝒙𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒅, 𝒄𝒖𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈.

Aemon's nephew, Prince Daemon Targaryen, had claimed Caraxes as his mount. Daemon took his paramour Mysaria with him on Caraxes when he retreated from King's Landing for Dragonstone.

Daemon used Caraxes during the War for the Stepstones. During those years, Daemon divided his time between the Stepstones and Dragonstone where he would often fly with his niece, Princess Rhaenyra, and her dragon Syrax. After Daemon remarried to Lady Laena Velaryon, the newly wed toured the Free Cities of Essos with their dragons Caraxes and Vhagar. Huge crowds came to see both dragons everywhere they went.

At the start of the Dance of the Dragons, Daemon landed Caraxes atop Kingspyre Tower during the assault on Harrenhal.

Atop Caraxes later in the civil war, Daemon challenged Aemond Targaryen and Vhagar at Harrenhal. All four were killed in the ensuing Battle Above the Gods Eye. At the end of the fight, Vhagar locked with Caraxes and they fell into the Gods Eye. While in freefall, even as Vhagar's claws opened up Caraxes's belly and used her teeth to tear off one of his wing-arms, Caraxes locked his teeth onto the larger dragon's throat and tore it out. Vhagar did not survive the force of the fall. Somehow, Caraxes managed to live long enough to pull himself out of the water and onto the shore, even though his entrails were falling out and one of his arms had been torn clean off. The dragon soon died in front of the walls of Harrenhal.

[damianwaynerocks]

ya know how it’s canon that damian was taking acting lessons with carrie? and that he was really good at it?

what if that’s his civilian job when he’s older?

like we know some of the bats have civilian jobs. bruce, obviously, runs WE. tim is CEO. dick is a cop.

what if damian’s civilian job is an actor?

i know it wouldn’t make total sense bc he’d probably have to leave set randomly in the middle of a scene because he’d have to go on a mission but hear me out.

we know he loved acting because he gets to be someone else. carrie says this:

and then damian says the same thing in super sons

yeah he could’ve been saying that to fuck with jon but because carrie said the same thing, i think he was being honest.

and besides, look at how he played that old man. that is a jolly old fella and i personally read it in sweet old man voice.

and the disguises he always chooses when going undercover are outfits like these

and yes you could say that it’s just a gag bit the writer put in to be funny or you could say that that’s how damian feels like “normal” people dress and he’s trying to fit in but to me!! i feel like it’s him trying to be the opposite of how he is. you know, being somebody else.

plus he’s so good with voices. he could easily put on any accent necessary.

and so i think he would be an actor. yeah, he wouldn’t be able to be in gotham all the time filming movies and stuff, but personally i love the idea of damian being like dick and moving out of gotham to become his own hero/person.

he’d get the opportunity to experience what it’s like to be someone else, someone who wasn’t taught to kill someone before they could walk, someone who wasn’t forced to grow up way too fast, someone who doesn’t have to risk their life every single night, somebody who doesn’t have to hold possibly the world’s biggest secret. he could embrace being a completely different person, even if it’s only for a few hours at a time.

and imagine how funny it would be for the batfamily to turn on their tv and watch their mean, stern little brother have a wide smile with an australian accent in a romantic comedy.

jason storming out of the manor after damian insulted him 30 times and then he turns on his tv to get his mind off it and there damian is on a beach searching for treasure side-by-side with tom holland

damian in a wired google search interview and the first result is “is damian wayne robin?” and damian just sighs.

damian on a press tour in an interview and he’s just shooting the shit with jennifer anniston.

tim watching the tiktok edits of damian and just silently fuming at the comments that are like “he’s so babygirl”

damian getting an offer for a star wars movie and yeah, he might hate star wars because the lightsaber duels follow no sword fighting etiquette but he takes the role anyways so that tim can’t watch his beloved star wars without seeing damian wielding a light saber with ewan mccgregor

would dc do it? no definitely not and logistically it wouldn’t work because crimefighter hours probs do not mesh with 14 hour days on set. however!! imagine damian in a buzzfeed puppies interview.

[matan4il]

Daily update post:

The Wall Street Journal is reporting that a message from Yahya Sinwar (the Hamas leader inside Gaza) was passed to Hamas leaders who live outside of it, and the essence of that is not to worry, because Sinwar believes they have Israel exactly where they want it. In other words, when Hamas is estimated by Israel to have at least 12,000 of its terrorists killed, and despite the fact that they could stop the death of Gazans by releasing the Israeli hostages and surrendering, Sinwar doesn't see any issues with where the war is at. I think the most important part is this: "According to the report, Sinwar also told the Hamas officials that the terror group is prepared for Israel’s expected operation in Rafah, the Gaza Strip’s southernmost city, and is relying on the high civilian death toll reported by the Hamas-run health ministry to cause enough global outcry that Israel is forced to withdraw" (my emphasis). At what point do people realize that they are serving the interests of Hamas' mass murderers, kidnappers and rapists?

A few days ago, I wrote about the attempt to allow aid trucks into northern Gaza directly from Israel, instead of bringing it to the south, and waiting for Gaza-based elements to deliver it to the north. This means an escort of Israeli soldiers is accompanying the trucks. This is the route the aid trucks cross:

Today, these aid trucks were stormed by a huge crowd, and according to the IDF, many people died from pushing and trampling (at the link you can see aerial video footage of the stampede), not an unheard of phenomenon when a huge herd of people all rush in at the same time. On top of that, some Gazans were also advancing at the soldiers securing the aid trucks. The soldiers felt undr threat, and they opened fire at those charging at them, but according to their estimate, this accounts for only 10 of the dead. Still, you can count on the anti-Israel crowd to adopt a narrative that, immediately and without investigation, calls this a massacre and blames every single death on Israel, not on Hamas, which started the war that made even aid supply into a dangerous and complicated situation.

Here's a reminder that even in the middle of the war, when no one is paying attention to it, Israel continues to demolish illegal homes built by Jews. But you're never gonna hear about it, not even during more normal times, because it doesn't fit the anti-Israel narrative, so anti-Israel sources will only ever tell you about it, when Israeli demolishes illegal homes built by Arabs.

As threats to British Members of Parliament (MPs) are rising due to threats from the anti-Israel crowd, the UK has allocated bodyguards to some of them, along with 31 million pounds designated for the security of British democracy. If some of the most powerful people in Britain are that scared, what do you think Jews there are going through? Indeed, today we heard that 72 million pounds are meant to help secure Jewish centers and institutions in the UK. The problem is that until the root of the problem will be tackled, this is just taking care of the symptoms, instead of curing the disease.

Israeli security forces have stopped two Palestinian cousins, one 17 years old and the other 29 years old, from carrying out an independent terrorist attack. I refer to such attacks as independent in order to point out that they're not a part of some greater plot, unlike every single terrorist attack on Oct 7, which were all interconnected, and rocket attacks since, which are launched as a part of the war that Hamas started waging against Israel. However, some of these attacks ARE connected to Hamas. Apparently, these two cousins contacted Hamas in Gaza to get help in committing their intended crime.

This is 59 years old Michel Nissenbaum.

He made alyiah on his own from Brazil when he was 13 years old. Friends say that coming to Israel saved him. He worked in hi-tech, as well as a tour guide, and volunteered with Bedouin kids. Here he is with one such group:

On Oct 7, Michel heard that the Re'im IDF base was under attack from Hamas terrorists. Knowing that his granddaughter was there, visiting her dad, Michel decided to go there and get her out. While he was making his way to the base, he stopped responding to messages. His granddaughter was rescued from the place hours later, but Michel himself had disappeared. He's believed to be kidnapped in Gaza, but his family is scared, because he wasn't spotted in any of the pics or vids released by Hamas.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[speckles-of-stardust]

never judge a book by its cover

leo valdez x gn!reader

summary: leo assumes that your godly parent is aphrodite.

notes: the reader’s godly parent isn’t specified, but it isn’t aphrodite

also, this is my first (and probably last) fic post and its dedicated to the one and only supersized mcshizzle❤️❤️❤️

—

“son of hephaestus, huh?” you said as you toured leo through camp half-blood. “we haven’t had one since— since their counselor died in the war last summer.”

“oh.”

“it’s okay. everything’s fine now,” you assured him. “anyway, i think hephaestus kids are awesome. they have all these cool weapons and devices that can pretty much do anything. and of course, very useful against all the monsters.”

you mentioned the monsters if it was a normal occurence, which made leo a bit nervous. monsters? people actually had to fight some things worse than the storm spirits?

you passed a cabin that was fully pink, with flowers growing at the window sills and the smell of perfume filled leo’s lungs.

“cabin ten,” you told him. “aphrodite, goddess of love and beauty.”

when you finished your sentence, leo noticed the girls and guys coming in and out of the cabin were hella good-looking. he found himself involuntarily inching closer and closer to the pink cabin until you snapped your fingers near his ear.

“next cabin,” you said when he came to his senses, but you looked a little amused at him.

“so, your mom’s aphrodite?” leo asked you as you walked.

you frowned at him. “no, she’s not.”

“oh.”

leo assumed that every person who looked good was part of aphodite’s kids, with her being the goddess of beauty and all. and, he couldn’t help but be aware of this, you were really good looking.

you were smirking now. “why’d you assume that i’m an aphrodite kid?”

—

[coloursofunison]

Today, I'm taking part in the blog tour for Storm of War by Peter Gibbons #histfic #blogtour

Today, I'm taking part in the blog tour for Storm of War by Peter Gibbons #histfic #blogtour @boldwoodbooks @booksandtonic @rararesources @AuthorGibbons

Here’s the blurb: The fight for a torn kingdom rests in the hands of a few brave men… 990AD. King Aethelred II, who men will one day call The Unready, rules over a land divided by the shadowy spin of his mother Queen Ælfthryth and the sprawling power of the Church. The Viking Warlord, Olaf Tryggvason smelling the Kingdoms weakness brings the vicious Jomsvikings to the Saxon coastline ravenous…

[cool-fancier]

Backstage Whispers and Online Speculation

Synopsis: Backstage at your world tour concert, Bada offered you comfort as you waited for your stage cue. A behind-the-scenes video captured your intimate moment, sparking fan speculation about Bada's identity. You and Bada enjoyed the mystery as you prepared for your performance.

The vibrant energy of a concert venue was buzzing around you as you sat backstage, waiting for your cue to take the stage. The enthusiasm was obvious as it was an important night in your world tour.

Bada was sitting next to you, offering comfort in the midst of the nerves from the show. She was perfectly aware of what to say and do to ease your anxiety. She wrapped her arm around your shoulders and gave you a soft squeeze while smiling reassuringly.

"You've got this, Darling," said Bada. The crowd out there is going to love you."

Leaning into her warm hug, you felt the need to let your guard down a little. Her signature fragrance, a blend of her favourite perfume, engulfed you as you felt her breath on your neck. It was a scent that felt like home.

One of your staff members recorded a little behind-the-scenes video for your YouTube channel while the backstage workers worked quickly to finish getting everything ready for your big arrival. Your sudden moment with Bada was caught on camera, however it was a little blurred because of how quickly it was done.

@Y/N_Addicts: "Who's that beside Y/N?"

@_Fanatic_Y/N: Is that a secret guest?!🤔

@Wife-of-Y/N: I can't see clearly, but they look close!

@Y/N_Heartbeat: Maybe it's Y/N's new duet partner?☺️

@Y/N-damn: This is killing me! I need answers!🙃🫣

You chuckled, your voice warm and affectionate as you chatted with Bada off-camera. The lighthearted conversation was an indication to your closeness.

Bada said, "Darling, let them guess.  It's a lot of fun to see them try and figure out."

You nodded in agreement, enjoying this intimate moment before stepping into the the spotlight.  With her arm around you, Bada provided a comforting hold in the middle  of the online storm.

Once the video was uploaded to your YouTube account, fans couldn't help but try to identify the "mystery person" in the clip. Some eagle-eyed fans pointed out the cap Bada was wearing, fueling speculation that it might indeed be her.

@Bada_Lovers: "That cap looks like Bada's!"😆😮

@BadaAndY/N_Lovers: "Is it Bada? It has to be!"😉

@BadaY/n_Forever: "Y/N and Bada are so close, I bet it's her!"🤭

@BadaAdmirers:Guys relax,it could be them but everyone knows they are very good friends.😑

Fans searched through every frame looking for hints, turning the comments area into a war zone of speculations and hypotheses.  You and Bada, nevertheless, took enjoyment in the mystery you unintentionally created amidst the chaos.

The rumours in the comments section intensified as the performance started and you dazzled the audience. They had no idea that Bada, your confidante and love, was there to support you no matter what as you performed on stage.

@Bada_HypeSquad: "I can't believe it might be Bada!"🥹🥹

@Y/NBada_Supporters: "If it is, they're so cute together!"🙌

Even though they were uncertain about the mystery alongside you, your supporters couldn't help but wish for your happiness despite all the commotion and discussions.

[nrilliree]

1.Rhaenyra did not call Alicent a "whore". That scene was deleted and is not part of the show's canon, but if we are going to take deleted scenes as canon, then Alicent laughed when Criston called Rhaenyra a "cunt".

https://x.com/darksvster/status/1765074801050488991

2."Alicent tries for years to mend the relationship between them and foster a positive relationship between herself, Rhaenyra, and her children."

It was only two years that Alicent tried to mend her relationship with Rhaenyra. Rhaenyra has the right not to want to be her friend, with or without justification. People are not obligated to be friends with others if they don't want to. If Rhaenyra doesn't want to be her friend, she doesn't want to, period. Villainizing her for this is weird. Rhaenyra is not conspiring against Alicent or her children, she is not spreading rumors about her, she is not trying to ruin her marriage with Viserys, she just doesn't want to be her friend. God forgive her for that! Moreover, since she declared war on her, she has been antagonizing Rhaenyra and her children for over 15 years. Alicent has spent more time being her enemy and going against her than being her friend or trying to mend their relationship.

3. Alicent instead praises Rhaenyra and defends her to her own father, her husband and king, and the ladies at court." (...) She lies on her mother's grave to take advantage of Alicent's support for her and cover her own ass which results in Alicent being left all alone in the Red Keep (and after this conversation she goes back to acting like Alicent means nothing to her).

-Rhaenyra did not ask Alicent to defend her...

-Alicent hides her father's desires to push Aegon as heir. It doesn't matter that she doesn't agree if she is willing to stay silent about her father's objectives and machinations.

-Rhaenyra has the right to defend herself and look after her own safety. Alicent is the mother of the son who is a danger to her claim and is the daughter of the man who wants her disinherited. Moreover, she has already hidden information from Rhaenyra. She has no reason to fully trust Alicent.

"She convinces the king to let Rhaenyra embark on a kingdoms-wide tour to personally select her own match among hundreds of suitors, something literally no other noblewoman has ever had the opportunity to do before."

She didn't convince him of that... she convinced him to make Rhaenyra believe she had the power to choose. Giving her the opportunity to choose doesn't change the fact that she doesn't want to get married. God forgive her for fearing marriage after seeing what her mother went through!

"She insults everyone at Aegon's birthday party, yells at the king in front of the court about how she thinks she's above duty and tradition, and storms off into the woods overnight, only to return covered in blood giving Alicent and her toddler a death glare."

-Alicent's fans have an innate ability to exaggerate and distort things and over-victimize Alicent.

-God forgive Rhaenyra again for not coming back happy after having a traumatic experience when a boar attacked her. Lol.

5."makes fun of how romantic Alicent's situation is of being forced to be a broodmare locked away in a castle." (...)

-Rhaenyra was not talking or mocking of Alicent, she was talking about herself and her fears, and when she realized what she said, she apologized. I can't say the same for Alicent when she made the insensitive comment about how easy her childbirth was in front of Rhaenyra...

-After that conversation, Alicent declares war on her. Lol.

7. Alicent is evil because she spent over 15 years meddling and conspiring against Rhaenyra and her children and trying to have them exiled or, even worse, killed when Rhaenyra was not doing the same with her and her children. Alicent is evil for using a baby who had just come out of his mother's womb as a political pawn against Rhaenyra. Alicent is mean for insulting Rhaenyra's children, who are just kids who have done nothing to her. Alicent also asked for Rhaenyra's son to be physically harmed in Driftmark , but unlike Rhaenyra, who did nothing more when Viserys ignored her request, Alicent took a knife and went after a child. Add to this that by this time, Alicent had let Larys get away with Harwin's murder, who was someone important to Rhaenyra, and then had the audacity to try to give Rhaenyra a hypocritical speech.

8. Vaemond no tenía derecho a Driftmark . Corlys estaba vivo, y en el caso de que los hijos de Rhaenyra estuvieran fuera de la línea de sucesión, Baela y Rhaena estaban allí y tenían más derecho que Vaemond. Simplemente usó esto como una maquinación política nuevamente contra Rhaenyra cuando una vez más Rhaenyra no estaba haciendo nada contra Alicent y sus hijos. Alicent estaba jugando ping pong con el trono Driftmark como si fuera suyo. Se lo ofreció a Vaemond, luego a Rhaenys y nuevamente a Rhaenyra y Luke.

9. Rhaenyra was ruling Dragonstone as was her duty as Princess of Dragonstone.

10. "Alicent's son is a drunken rapist who assaulted an original character created by the writers to make him look worse than Rhaenyra... Gotcha."

That last part is very funny because everything she mentioned here to victimize Alicent's character regarding her relationship with Rhaenyra were things the writers made up to victimize her and show her as a martyr. So, the writers can victimize Alicent, they can change her age, make up the whole plot of her friendship with Rhaenyra, and change much of her story to victimize her, but Dyanna's thing is wrong? I mean, changes are only good if they benefit and victimize my favorites? Alicent's fans are really very hypocritical.😭

Even if Rhaenyra called her that, you have to take into account that she had just found out that her friend who had been listening to her worries about her father remarrying would be his new wife, because she had been seeing him secretly for several months. Without saying a word about it. Rhaenyra had every right to feel betrayed and deceived.

We don't see much of Alicent trying to rebuild her friendship. All we see is that she tried to be nice, and when that didn't work, she took advantage of her privileged position by reminding Rhaenyra that she was no longer her friend, but her queen. Rhaenyra had every right to no longer feel trust in the person who had lied to her and (according to what Rhaenyra knew) betrayed her in order to obtain benefits. Especially since Alicent was Aegon's mother and Otto's daughter, who was trying hard to deprive Rhaenyra of her position in his favor. Otto was sending spies after her, and Rhaenyra had no assurance that if she got close to Alicent, it wouldn't be used against her. Therefore, even if she didn't want to, she had to lie to Alicent for her own good when it came to her virginity.

Alicent didn't want Rhaenyra's best, she wanted Rhaenyra to believe that she was happy. These are two different things. It wasn't about giving Rhaenyra freedom, it was about giving her the false sense that she had it. If Rhaenyra had chosen the wrong candidate, it is highly doubtful that the wedding would have taken place. And yes, Rhaenyra was so horrible and spoiled that she didn't want to be the wife of someone like a Lannister, some 10-year-old, or some 80-year-old… What a spoiled brat she was.

And I will add that if it weren't for Alicent's father, Alicent wouldn't have to "defend" Rhaenyra from anything.

People need to understand that Otto wasn't fired because Rhaenyra lied to Alicent about her virginity, lol. Otto was fired through his own fault. He went against the king's will, trying to push Aegon to the throne when Viserys clearly said no, and went so far as to send spies against the heir to the throne. Despite the king. That's why he was fired. Even if Rhaenyra hadn't lied, it still would have happened.

Alicent decided to declare war on Rhaenyra. She insulted the royal guests of honor (Velaryons) at the royal wedding. She promoted the murderer of the future king's consort's guest of honor (whom the murderer punched in the face). She abused the heir to the throne, exposing her and her heirs to potential health complications, even though she knew about the fate of Rhaenyra's mother, both of her grandmothers, and her five siblings and her uncle. She clearly declared her actions against the crown, dressing the king's sons not in the colors of their family, but in the war colors of her own family. She spread lies (without evidence) about the birth of heirs to the throne, endangering their lives. She questioned the king's rights and authority. She was planning a coup d'état. She sought to usurp the throne. She attacked and injured the heiress to the throne.

And people in this situation are surprised that Rhaenyra was afraid for her life and the life of her family? It was Rhaenyra who had real and real reasons to be afraid, because Alicent, with the help of Larys, was ready to murder the King's Hand and his heir so that her own father would get his job back. It was Alicent who attacked her and physically injured her against the king's orders. The worst thing Rhaenyra did was demand to hear Aemond. And it's more than obvious that she did it to put pressure on Alicent. Viserys wouldn't send anyone to torture because it's Viserys. But Alicent, even when faced with the idea that her son might be tortured, did not admit to her own crimes. To me this is clear evidence that Alicent put greed and power ahead of the safety of her children. Otherwise she would say that she was the one spreading the rumors so her son didn't have to be questioned. But she didn't.

[soaringthroughthegalaxy]

hi! i saw the soaring’s tour post (love the name btw it’s soo cute!) and i figured i’d book a trip💕✨

my travel companion is wolffe (i love this man so much😭)

our luggage is slice of life/family and romance

we were thinking of going to tatooine and yavin 4

i’m the wolffepack’s medic. i’m the sunshine to his grumpy storm cloud, but he’s always had a soft spot for me. we’ve been together for a while now, and i think he’s gonna pop the big question during this trip, if you know what i mean *wink wink*

that’s all i got to tell you! i can’t wait for this trip, but absolutely no rush though!! thank you so much for helping to plan this trip! have a wonderful day/night!!!

Thank you for booking with Soaring's Tours. We're now ready to board your flight. Please mind the gap between the transport and the platform. We wish you a pleasant journey!

Part of the Pack

Amidst the chaos of the war, you've found solace and love in the arms of your grouchy Commander. As you steal a moment away from the battlefield, the future becomes all that more exciting.

Pairing: Wolffe x f!reader

Word count: 2k

Warnings: fluff, sweetness, grumpy and sunshine.

Translations: meshurok - gemstone

The sound of your heels clicking echoed down the hallway of the ship, and every trooper you passed gave a slight dip of their head in greeting. You returned it with a smile, hands smoothing down the front of your dress.

Two years you’d served as a medic for the Wolfpack - two years of patching them up after they charged headfirst into chaos. Two years of being madly in love with their grouchy Commander, too. You wouldn’t trade it for the galaxy.

Although outwardly calm, your mind raced. This morning, your comm had beeped with a message from Wolffe, asking you to meet him in the hangar – with the stipulation that you wear something nice instead of your usual gear.

As you approached the hangar entrance, your heart quickened with excitement and apprehension. The hum of activity intensified, with mechanics scurrying around and ships being prepped for departure. Amidst the organised chaos, you could easily spot Wolffe standing near the edge of the hangar, his back turned towards you. Gone was his armour and blacks; instead, he was dressed in civilian clothing – black pants that hugged in all the right places and a grey button-down with the sleeves rolled up. His presence still exuded authority and confidence, yet there was a subtle tension in his posture that you’d learned to recognise. He wasn’t happy about something.

Approaching, you stopped at his side, biting the inside of your lip to suppress your smile as you came face to face with the source of his ire.

A droid.

But not just any droid.

That blasted protocol droid that had joined you all on Aleen.

As the droid prattled on, you could sense Wolffe’s frustration rising. His posture was rigid, shoulders back, lips pressed flat. While it would’ve been fun to remain silent and watch him become increasingly annoyed, you figured it was time to end his suffering. “I’m so sorry to interrupt, but I need the Commander.” You interjected, offering the droid an apologetic smile.

Wolffe finally glanced at you, hand flexing at his side as he tampered down the desire to reach for you. “No need to apologise.” He answered, gaze shifting to you. “We were just finishing up here.” With a curt nod to the droid, he gestured for you to follow him as he strode away towards a small ship docked nearby.

Together, you entered the ship, and once the ramp was closed, you found yourself pulled into his arms. While your relationship was no secret among the pack, it wouldn’t do for prying eyes to spot you.

“You look good enough to eat, meshurok.” Wolffe complimented, his voice low and warm. While the droid had raised his ire, one look at you had swept it all away. “I hope you’re ready for a little adventure today.”

Your heart fluttered, and you nodded eagerly, excitement bubbling within you. Whatever Wolffe had planned, you knew it would be unforgettable, just like every moment you’d spent by his side. “Do I get a clue?” You teased, smiling up at him as you smoothed your hands across his chest, enjoying the softness of his shirt and the firm muscle beneath.

Wolffe grumbled under his breath. You were always teasing, using your pretty smile to make him melt. But not today. Today was too important. “No clues.” He muttered, but there was a hint of amusement in his tone. Leading you into the cockpit, he settled you into the copilot’s seat before taking the helm.

As the ship hummed into life around you, you couldn’t help but steal glances at him, admiring how his jaw tightened in concentration, yet his eyes softened whenever they met yours. Despite his tough exterior, a tenderness was hidden underneath, a gentleness reserved only for those he cared about. His grumpiness might have been legendary, but so was his unwavering loyalty and fierce protectiveness towards the pack and you.

As the ship lifted off smoothly and soared into the endless expanse of space, he made the jump to hyperspace. “I wanted to steal you away for a moment,” Wolffe admitted, his gaze fixed on the star-studded vista beyond the view-port before he glanced your way.

“You’re taking me on a date.” You stated, unable to stop your wide smile from appearing again. It wasn’t often the two of you had time away from the war effort, and you could count the number of actual dates you’d been on on one hand. Most of the time, you made do with stolen moments between missions - the quiet brush of hands in silent hallways, passionate kisses in empty med-bays, and stolen hours tangled in sheets when no one would disturb you.

Wolffe’s lips twitched into a faint smile at your deduction. “Something like that.” He replied cryptically as his fingers tapped against the controls.

Curiosity curled through you. Wolffe had always been an enigma, but he’d never kept you in the dark. He’d taken to you surprisingly quickly, growing more comfortable around you until one night, when you’d swung by his makeshift office to check on him, you’d ended up pinned against the crates that had been turned into a desk, the firm planes of his body pressed against you as he’d kissed you wildly.

By the morning, he’d made you his, complete with his tags around your neck.

As the ship finally dropped out of hyperspace, you found yourself gazing upon a breathtaking vista - the planet below bathed in the soft glow of its sun, its surface a patchwork of vibrant colours and swirling clouds.

Wolffe glanced over at you as a hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips, taking in your awestruck expression. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” He remarked softly. “But not nearly as beautiful as you.” He tacked on.

Pulling your gaze from the view, you offered the man by your side an amused smile, feeling warmth in your cheeks. “Sap.” You teased, still not used to the compliments after all this time.

“Don’t go telling anyone.” He grumbled though mirth danced across his face.

The sun started setting as you leaned back against Wolffe’s chest. He’d set the ship down atop a small hill, and upon exiting you’d been surprised to find a blanket already laid out, along with a basket of food. He’d neither confirmed nor denied that he’d sent Sinker and Boost out earlier to set it up.

The two of you had spent some time catching up, enjoying the food and each other’s company. Without eyes on you, you were free to share as many kisses and touches as you liked. Wolffe had finally propped himself up against a nearby rock, drawing you to sit between his legs, wrapping his arms around you as his chin came to rest on your shoulder.

The sky above painted a breathtaking palette of oranges, pinks, and purples as the sun dipped lower on the horizon, casting a warm glow over the landscape. The gentle breeze tousled your hair as you leaned into Wolffe’s embrace, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your back.

“I could stay like this forever.” You murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as you watched the colours of the sky blend and shift with the approaching twilight.

“Me too.” Wolffe pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, his arms tightening around you in a silent promise of protection and comfort. “You’re my anchor.” He confessed quietly, a tenderness reserved solely for you in his voice. “In this chaotic galaxy, you’re the constant I can always rely on.”

Warmth spread through your chest at his words, and you turned your head to meet his gaze, finding a depth of emotion reflected in his eyes that took your breath away. “And you’re mine.” You whispered, reaching up to draw your finger down his cheek, across the scar from the close call that had nearly taken him from you. “No matter what, I can always count on you to be there for me.”

Wolffe’s expression softened even further at your words, his rough exterior giving way to a vulnerability he only showed you. “I may not always say it, but I love you.” He confessed, his voice barely above a murmur as he pressed his forehead against yours. “More than anything in this galaxy.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you leaned into his touch, overwhelmed by the depth of emotion between you. “I love you too.” You whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. “More than words can express.”

With the confession hanging in the air like a delicate promise, Wolffe’s heart pounded in his chest, nerves fluttering like a thousand tiny butterflies as he watched you turn your focus back to the sunset. He knew what he wanted to say next, but the weight of it pressed down on him. He never thought this moment would come, that he’d get to love someone as bright and beautiful as you. Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself as best he could, unwrapping an arm from around you as he reached into his pants pocket to find the small box he’d kept a secret for weeks now.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.” He stated, his voice slightly hoarse with emotion.

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, but before you could turn around to face him and ask him what was wrong, his arm was back around you, and in his hand, he clutched a small box, open to reveal a delicate ring nestled within.

As you gazed at it, your breath caught in your throat, the metal gleaming softly in the fading light.

“Ner meshurok,” he began, his voice husky with emotion, “I know we’re living in uncertain times, fighting a war that seems to have no end. I can’t promise you a lifetime of peace or stability, but whatever life I have, I want to spend it with you.”

“Wolffe…” You whispered, your voice barely a breath as you looked over your shoulder at him, meeting his gaze. Tears welled up in your eyes as you took in the unexpected nervousness on his handsome face.

Wolffe swallowed thickly, moving his free hand to brush your hair from your face. “Will you marry me?” He asked quietly.

The words hung in the air, a silent plea for your answer. But before you could respond, you twisted in his lap, throwing your arms around him, burying your face in the crook of his neck as tears of joy streamed down your cheeks.

“Yes.” You whispered, your voice choked with emotion. “Yes, a thousand times yes.”

As Wolffe held you tightly in his arms, relief flooded him at your answer. He buried his face in your hair for a moment, breathing in your scent, before you both pulled back slightly to look into each other’s eyes. Carefully, he slid the ring onto your finger, his touch gentle yet sure. As the metal settled against your skin, a sense of completeness washed over you, like puzzle pieces finally falling into place.

You couldn’t help but marvel at how it caught the fading light. The moment felt surreal as if you were suspended in time, cocooned in the warmth of Wolffe’s embrace and the promise of a future together.

“There, all official.” A rare grin crossed his lips. “Guess I’m stuck with you now.” He grumbled good-naturedly, lifting his hand to wipe away the tears that had rolled down your cheeks.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound bubbling up from deep within you as you leaned in to press a kiss against his lips. “You wouldn’t have it any other way, Commander.” You teased, your heart overflowing with love for the man who had become your everything.

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[themotherofblood]

chapter 6 | river of fire | d.t x reader x r.t | there is much to say

series masterlist | masterlist | previous chapter

a/n: so finally we pick up from where we left off, with some major changes, while I will always love the first original chapter of the brothel scene, i needed to do my girlie some justice

warnings: daemon being kinda gross.

synopsis: daemon returns to the red keep, to find a much grown version of his young cousin and his niece.

The court had finally come to weigh upon Viserys’s shoulders, three parchments, all borne by white ravens. One from the Stepstones, one from Storm’s End and the other from the Old Palace. The missed warmth and wrath were all returning at once.

One rebel posed as his brother, one nuisance his daughter and the other, his wounded pride— his ward.

“Preparations have been made your grace, at the cost to the crown, a feast seems appropriate given the occasion. The Targaryen seat brimming full again.” Lord Beesbury coughed out his accounting.

“In lieu, your grace. I don’t find a feast appropriate upon the way all three of them have disobeyed your wishes.” Otto Hightower interjected, “perhaps the costs could be levied elsewhere.”

“Nonsense! My family is together after many moons, we should celebrate, find a reason to indulge in cups,” Viserys chuckled, looking at Lord Strong for his support.

It was the truth, Daemon begun a war without the direct command of his King, aiding Lord Corlys in his excertions upon the Stepstones. Whereas Rhaenyra, dismissed an entire court of suitors, ending a very heftily paid for tour to an end; three moons and early— then there was you. Fleeing the Capital without the King’s consent, boarding a ship to return to your brother, the cause? Knew no one but one, Alicent and she too shielded the truth of the matter.

And thus the word spread, the dragons had come to roam the streets of King’s Landing again.

Rhaenyra was the first to return, anxiously awaiting the brunt of her father’s disappointment.

You must marry, it is your duty. You must bear heirs, it is your duty.

She had grown tired of what her possible duties would be when she herself couldn’t implement one condition at the Small Council table, a poser amongst the one’s with true power. She felt left out, unseen— and her father believed that marriage would fix her unmoving temper, like a man in her vicinity would make her womanly thinking turn to putty.

Not one, not one of those morons would come near to be a possible husband for her, but more so than that, she wished that her lover would understand so. That for her, you would forever be the true bearer of her unencumbered devotions, her unconditional love. Yet the weight of responsibility had weakened your shoulders too, for you heard the same but one less.

You must marry, you must bear children.

And thus the fight, a terrible arguement between two hearts that always beat as one.

“I would never be your wife! Ever.”

There had been copious tears and then a conspicuous letter, then followed silence and Rhaenyra’s tour.

Her heart wasn’t in this, she cared not if she ever loved her husband, she didn’t want one in the first place. Even beyond Viserys’s advise, a man? A man couldn’t be worth her happiness.

She is a dragon rider, the Heir to the Iron Throne. A measly being possessing a cock wouldn’t cut it.

Her ship’s sails had caught the wind, she stood on the deck, twiddling her thumbs as she laments of returning to a cold half of her apartments. Her ladies in waiting and plenty other friends to keep her company and yet she couldn’t muster an apology to make you return home. More than a year apart, without a word— the agony should have dwindled but it lingered, prickling around her heart every night as she slept alone.

Nyra held hope that she would catch a glimpse of your face once more, run her hands through your wild hair, feel the burning chill of your fingertips and the softness of your full lips. If the world around her was just quiet enough, she could feel it, a ghostly touch pressed to her lips— only to break her heart once more as she opened her eyes.

“Princess?” Criston Cole tore her attention from her wide eyed face staring down at the Blackwater.

“We should make landfall within the hour.”

She hums following with a nod, her lips part with hesitance.

“How do you think he will take it?” She seeks perspective, perhaps to find a lighter response of possibilities than the terrible ones that stirred in her head.

“Do you speak of how curtly you’ve rejected every suitor put before you or how you have abruptly ended the tour with three months remaining.”

Rhaenyra defensively blinks away, understanding the point Cole made but partly from the anxiety of it all, willing Syrax to fly to her and flitter her away to the Summer Isles or far up the mountains in the Vale.

She returned to the storm in her head, hearing the waves and the wind jostle by her ears, the smell of salt and fish in the air and chirping, wild chirping.

Her head bolted to the skies, a noise she hadn’t heard for years.

“Take cover!” Cristin Cole screamed, taking his princess down with him.

However Rhaenyra’s eyes were fixated upon the red creature that flew dangerously close to her boat.

Caraxes… Uncle Daemon.

The smell of this bustled city once again graced Daemon’s nostrils, the cheap mead of the people and the golden painted whores of his cherished brothels all celebrated the return of their beloved Prince.

Armour clad and crowned with his haughtiness adorned in his hip, he swaggered in the Throne Room, the familiar scent of pompous perfumed cunts made him sick and yet, the smirk of victory did not leave his face as he eyed down his brother.

Gods he looks sickly, gloved hands and his body weight leaning upon Blackfyre, a sword once meant to wield the firey might of House Targaryen was now diminished to be an old man’s cane. What had happened to him. They are but four years apart in age, and while one brother stood tall in posture and tore down enemies by the hundreds. The other a King, dressed in fineries to shield the dismantling resolution of his health— he reeked of illness.

He stops in front of his brother’s Kingsgaurd, arm outstretched with Craghis Drahar’s axe at the hilt of his palm, pointing it straight at Viserys’s face. A fine present that he drops by the King’s feet.

“Add it to the chair,” he blankly says before retreating, clutching onto the pommel of Dark Sister.

He could feel it, the plenty of gazes fixated upon the crown of bones and rubies placed on his head, there could only be one king.

While Daemon adored the amusing chaos he brought to court, the unpredictability— they all saw him a monster, he knew so. Defiant, vulgar and a rake through and through. He wouldn’t disrespect his brother, not in open court and not without reason.

Daemon knelt, head bowed as he presented his earned crown to his brother.

“There is only one true King, your grace.”

Viserys looked to Otto Hightower, the cunt, eyeing away at Viserys to reject Daemon’s honour— once more denying Daemon’s adoration for his brother to be a malformation of his envy or ambitions.

Viserys descended the steps, still eyeing his younger brother with contempt, or mayhaps doubt.

“Rise.” He ordered, patting Daemon’s shoulder.

Both of them stiff yet brothers once again untied, Daemon bowed his head, resting on Viserys shoulder as they embraced one another.

Daemon relished the embrace as the court around him erupted in an applause, he heard a distinct voice— whose eyes he had witnessed preening at him as he walked into the Throne Room.

rūs— Rhaenyra.

Daemon turns to her, leading himself out with Viserys as the court begins to disband. Viserys however shoots scorned look towards his daughter, a look Daemon frowned over, in Viserys’s eyes Rhaenyra could do no wrong. His curiosity caught a waft of tension and he wondered. What could his brother’s heir have concocted this time to truly face the wrath of Viserys’s rare occurrence of anger.

It seemed that his worries about him not being welcomed home had been for nothing, Viserys had already a feast awaiting for his brother in the Godswood. Wines and musicians, foods of his liking and women of his taste already lined the halls.

“No no, I will not hear it. You were always mother’s favourite!” Viserys chuckled as he reminisced stories of their shared youth with his young wife in presence.

A gauche scene really, and yet Daemon eyes seemed to have caught another serene sight entirely.

The head of silky silver locks, developing curves accentuated by the low hemmed cream gown and eyes that much looked like his, Rhaenyra, much had truly changed, and perhaps a salacious opportunity.

He wandered over to her, avoiding one droll conversation after the other.

“What have you done?” Daemon nudged her shoulder.

“Rejected every suitor in all of Westeros.” She hummed back, licking the sweetness of the lemon cakes off her fingertips.

“Well done!” He chuckled.

She looked to him, rolling her eyes, “well you have return, the prize of my father’s eyes.”

Daemon chuckled once more, shaking his head. His eyes finding a much familiar necklace adorning her neck, and just so— much had changed but nothing at all.

“You’ve changed.”

“As have you Princess.” Daemon looked around as the crowd in the Godswood dwindled.

“You seem calmer, more content perhaps.”

“You seem besides it.” Daemon countered.

“Well it seems my station provided me with ample— discrepancies.” She scoffs.

He sat there, in an odd sense of familiarity. Once again loved, not in the thrall-ish way he often seems to force it out of the common folk, but truly wanted. In the presence of his family, his only pride and at times joy.

Though one figure he registered had been missing all this while, a little dragon in viper’s clothing. The wild mess of dark curls and hesitant eyes— he’d have thought he’d see you first, and yet you were no where to be seen.

The air pulled against the loose wisps of your done up hair, you leaned against the barricaded balcony of your cabin, feeling the waves sway beneath as your ship sailed into the Blackwster Bay. The muddled dark colour of the ocean taking over the serene blue of The Sunset Sea, the murky waters leading it ugly way to once a place you dearly wanted to return to but were afraid too.

On the horizon you could see Rhaenys Hill, the gates of the city and the Bell Tower. Calling to you as you thought of all the possible earfuls of lectures Viserys was about to grace you with.

“How could you take off with my leave?”

Much had changed since you had left, both in reality and within yourself, you looked more a woman than a child, you had flowered. While showing to court in the robes you had on now would be just a little inappropriate. The Martell that you once pushed away, now towered with you with a spear in hand. Such was the Gods choosing you wondered, while your brother Qoren was the perfect portrait of Martell seed, leaving but just his olive skin a testament to your father. His brownish curls and striking purple eyes called to his Targaryen heritage even as he sat on the Martell seat to rule its lands.

You on the other hand, had paler skin than most of the Dornish kin, wide and expressive hazel eyes and ever since you flowered. Thicker streaks of silver that shone bright within the ample strands of your wild brown hair. A small token of your Valyrian heritage, of your mother Daenerys and her eyes. If one looked closely, a ring of lilac crowned the brown of your pupils.

Just this time as you returned, perhaps born anew to your role in the Targaryen dynasty. You were no longer timid, your tongue as sharp as the shot you could take with your bow and arrow and a mind far wise to irk the pompous men at court. Returning home did you good, as your people would call it. All though you were sure Septa Marlow would do naught but sneer at how mismanaged a young princess could become.

Fuck that.

Even as your ship anchored to a halt, with boats circling to receive you and your party. You couldn’t take your eyes off of the Red Keep. Would it have changed in the past year and half, would Viserys be healthier. You wanted to know this instant and yet no answers were brought to you.

Your old jeweled palaquin sat waiting for you, with four Targaryen guards at each pole hilt, you hiked your soft pink skirts to prevent any dirt staining the delicate fabric as you crouched to enter the vessel.

The city still smelled the same, perhaps worse— but it was home, your childhood. The swaying of the palaquin pulled you further into your thoughts, a sick anxiety twisted at your insides as you readjusted your dupatta.

There was barely a procession levied to your name as you stepped out to the courtyard, you heard Oberya scoff behind you; her arched brows scrunched to portray her dismay to the empty courtyard. You were a Princess after all, a name deserved the gathering of at least the Small Council if not the King himself.

“yahain vapis nahi ana chahiye tha rajkumari.” Oberya shook her head. We shouldn’t have returned Princess.

You sighed, hiking your skirts once more to walk behind the guards escorting you— no doubt to the Throne Room where you were certain you would hear an earful from the King himself or perhaps a monotone warning from Otto Hightower. A chill ran down your spine, imagining the steel purple eyes glaring down at you with the weight of his disappointments.

You stood by the door, reminding yourself to breathe, nice large huffs of breaths to fill your lungs and ease the sinking pit in your belly. You nod your head, letting your party and Oberya disperse to their own duties.

Your sweaty palm pushes against the massive heavy metal doors, the sound of creaking so loud against silent hallways it made your ears ring just a bit. The sight within was something you didn’t expect at all.

Empty, not a soul.

The gallery, the Throne and bleachers. Not a person here to watch you catch an earful from the King.

No one at all but one maid crouched by the statue of Jaehereys, scrubbing away with a sudded cloth.

“Where is everyone?”

She looked up, confused for a moment and then meekly replied.

“The Godswood, milady.”

You hummed, turning to the Throne once more before heading to the west doors.

You thought of all the reason’s as to why the entire court would have gathered in the Goswood, you wondered if Alicent was with child again. It couldn’t be though, when you left she had just announced the quickening of Haelena, it was too soon for her to be with child again.

Perhaps a marriage? Rhaenyra?

You prayed not, you had just returned. You didn’t think yourself capable to feel the burn of jealousy but you did, you imagined whatever lord hoped to wed her and then you imagined something untoward happening to him.

You stopped by the wooden doors, you could hear the bustle of the people in the gardens, the smell of meats and perfumes tickled at your nose.

The guards stood by the door appeared confused by the sight of you, your dressing extravagant enough for you to be a noble but they couldn’t quite place which one. You looked between the both of them as the hunched closer, whispering amongst themselves to place your identity.

“Princess Rhaenys?” One whispered.

“Does she look old to you?”

“It is the Princess of Dorne, now if you may.”

You flinched at the abrupt voice behind you, you turned to find Lord Strong looking down at you.

“Princess.” He greeted “We were not expecting you until tomorrow.”

“The winds were in our favour, I’m afraid.” You explained, smiling at the gentle favour of his hand.

The wooden doors opened as you were greeted to the blossoms of the gardens, many of which now thrived and grew from your efforts over the years.

Then it dawns the reason as to why the court had gathered, two heads of very prominent silver hair stood in the crowd.

You were frozen looking at them and everyone else was frozen looking at you.

In the surprise of it all, Alicent approached you first.

You in all regality, bowed on her approach. “My Queen.”

“Y/N!” She gushed, patting your shoulder as a formality when you’d rather embrace her. The warmth of her palm easing your nerves just a bit. You were home for now.

Daemon froze solid to the ground for a moment, a gentle tilt to his head as he registered who stood a couple feet from him. There were many stale bets he would have placed in his lifetime but he saw this coming from so far away.

Even as a little boy learning to spar over the summer and watching his cousin Rhaenys grow wisps of Targaryen silver with the black of her Baratheon head.

When he looked down at his niece, she shared the confusion he had— her head too finding answers to whatever this creature stood in front of them was.

The truth was in the blood, the magic that people sing about stood in person.

By the gods

The blue gowns changed for a soft summery pink, and the cut of that neckline— torture. So much to see but nothing at all.

You turned their way, eyes fixated on Rhaenyra for a moment and then around her before you turned to greet the rest of the Small Council members.

There was commandment, a tantalizing graze to how the shimmery fabric moved as you did.

It wouldn’t be appropriate, Rhaenyra knew it but her impatience grew as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

A year and a half— too long, too fucking long.

She was waiting to hear every footstep coming her way, from the jangles of your payal. The sway of your skirts coming to a stop a foot away from her and Daemon.

“My Princess,” you acknowledged “My Prince.”

There stood a moment of awkward silence between you and Rhaenyra until you turned to Daemon.

“I must congratulate you for your valiant victory in the Stepstone, cousin. One can only hope the poets sing about it till the end of time.” You smile at him.

That’s when he sees them, twinkling against the soft glow of the sun, the purple hiding behind the brown of your eyes. He never could place it, even as he fucked false silver haired whores in brothels, the image of Targaryen seed trampling the viper blood in your veins gave him so much joy.

Rhaenyra still remains silent, pulling the strings in her head to conjure up words.

In the Common Tongue, in Valyrian— just speak please!

Viserys however interjects, Alicent following behind him “What joy, my family; whole again!” He smiles with his teeth barred.

The smile persists cheek to cheek as he looks at Alicent, then to his brother and then you. Though as her turns to Rhaenyra, his eyes fall to disappointment. Reminding Rhaenyra yet again of how much trouble she was in.

Alicent with much grace however, shifted the conversation.

“Perhaps Prince Daemon would like a tour to the tapestries gifted to you by Novos and Qohor?” an innocent suggestion.

Viserys’s face scrunches for a moment as he slaps his hand around Daemon’s shoulder.

“Tell me, would you like to see the tapestries?” He breaks in to an ugly cackle.

Daemon, though oftentimes expected to be the one devoid any manner contains himself for the sake of his young sister by law. He hated her father, not her.

“Well I, would love to see them.” Rhaenyra sheepishly chimes in.

“Well then you should not deprive yourself, daughter.”

The curt sting could be felt from a mile away as she hangs her head in defeat.

“I would love to see them, care to escort me cousin?” You turn to Rhaenyra, smiling at her with an arm extended.

The two of departed from the court, rigidly walking hand in hand to the galleries. She couldn’t say anything out fear that you were still angry at her and her uneasiness amused you.

When the doors to the Grand Gallery finally closed she turned on her heel hastily.

“Forgive me, everything I said. I take it back.”

You looked up at her, this time tilting your head to the side, eyes purposefully stern. You held her hand and began pulling her to the closest wall and pushing her against it.

“I’m sorry.” She repeats.

“Shush.”

You pressed your lips against hers, taking her aback as you grab at the cotton fabric around her waist as you pulled her closer.

She hums, relishing the taste of your lips before finding her footing and turning you around— pressed up against the very lovely tapestry sent by Essosi envoys.

Only painted eyes in witness as you took your liberties with your lover.

“A dozen chambers,” a sing song voice tore the two of you out of your trance.

A deep pit of fear flutters in your belly as you pull yourself away from Rhaenyra.

“Haven’t I taught you better?”

Daemon stood at the door with his palm questioningly pointed at the two of you. His mind found a new source of amusement and by the gods he was going to enjoy toying this time.

THE NEXT CHAPTER IS SMUTTTTTTT. Lemme know if you wanna be on the taglist.

Comments and reblogs are appreciated!!

[theforgottenmcrmy]

Storms (Ser Harwin Strong x Reader)

᯽ Part 1 of this story, “Safety”, can be read HERE.᯽

᯽ Part 2 of this story, “Captivated”, can be read HERE.᯽

Pairing: Ser Harwin Strong x Tyrell! Female Reader

Warnings: GOT typical sexism, canon divergence, violence, references to a sick parent, death of minor characters.

Word Count: 7,800 ish.

Summary: A royal wedding should be a joyous occasion for the realm- but there’s something ominous in the air. Dark clouds linger over the royal family, and the rest of Westeros. Even you may not be able to make it through what lies ahead unscathed... Fortunately, you’ve found someone who you know you can count on to always be by your side.

A/N: Y’all... I’m still shooketh over here.🥲🖤 I really appreciate all the support so very much. I’ll keep writing for this as long as I have ideas and as long as there’s a want for it. If anyone is interested, I highly recommend listening to The Green Dress score while reading the second half- it’s what I did while writing it. The score is just *chef’s kiss* and sets the tone for the whole feast so well. I hope you all enjoy, and please feel free to let me know what you think!

PS, before you come after me because of the little time jump, I politely ask that you keep reading... I didn’t skip over *the scene*, I promise!😂

The winds of change had come to blow through Westeros.

Princess Rhaenyra’s tour of the Seven Kingdoms in search of a future King Consort had abruptly come to an end. Though the death of one of the suitors during Lord Boremond’s host at Storm’s End would have put a tainted mark on the remainder of her tours to come, the Princess had declared the tour over herself shortly thereafter… Despite the two months of traveling that remained.

Prince Daemon had finally returned from his war in the Stepstones, and presented King Viserys with the crown he had been bestowed upon him following his victory. The two Targaryen brothers reunited in a touching scene witnessed by most of the Court. He was welcomed at Court once more… until one day, he wasn’t.

Following an incident that you did not know the entire truth of, though you wouldn’t have spoken of it if you did know, the King had exiled him again. You could tell Princess Rhaenyra grieved the absence of her uncle once more, but then Ser Criston Cole had been suddenly much more attentive to her…

King Viserys had dismissed Lord Otto Hightower from his duties as Hand of the King, an event that had not only generated a large amount of whispers among the Reach, but among the other kingdoms as well. The King had appointed Lord Lyonel Strong in his stead.

Following Princess Rhaenyra’s denouncement of the tour, King Viserys had arranged the marriage for her with Ser Laenor Velaryon. Like a few others at Court, you had heard rumors of her cousin’s… preferences, and were worried, though it was not your place to offer up your opinion on. Eventually, she noticed your reservations, and had subtly, but full-heartedly, assured you that she and Ser Laenor had reached an arrangement. Besides, King Viserys’ mind was made up, and Princess Rhaenyra did not try to change it. Despite your initial hesitation, you shared the opinion of King Viserys- the match was a good one. Uniting the two branches of the Targaryen House and healing old wounds could only bode well for the dynasty.

From then on, you threw yourself into your work even more, supporting Princess Rhaenyra in any way you could with the royal wedding preparations. It kept you very busy, but you were grateful for something else to focus on.

After many weeks of planning and preparation, the week of the royal wedding celebration had finally arrived.

You and Princess Rhaenyra stood on a balcony amongst the far end of the palace gardens, looking over Blackwater Bay in the distance. Though Ser Criston Cole may have accompanied you previously, he had not chosen to this time. He’d been standoffish lately, and regarded Princess Rhaenyra with much more formality than you were used to seeing him display. Something had happened between them, you deduced… but, much like the circumstances that led to the sudden exile of Prince Daemon, you knew better than to ask unless the Princess spoke of it first.

Both of you watched in comfortable silence as ships, almost all of them bearing the Velaryon coat of arms, sailed toward King’s Landing. The vessels spanned as far back and across the water as your eyes could see. The fleet appeared to be moving slowly- but you knew that to be a fallacy. In what would be no time at all, the Princess’ betrothed, his family, most of their household, and various bannermen and members of the guard would make land.

An odd whistling noise ran out from the sky. You tilted your head upwards, as did Princess Rhaenyra, and three large, majestic beasts broke through the clouds up above. The three dragons and their riders flew downwards, their wings skimming the water between ships before flying up ahead.

Princess Rhaenyra pointed to one, then another, and finally, the third. “There’s Seasmoke… Meleys… and of course, Vhagar.”

More whistling could be heard as the dragons flew over the castle, rustling the trees and shrubbery around you with the wind. They descended from the sky before finally disappearing from view- presumably landing in the periphery of the Dragon Pit.

Dragons were fascinating creatures, but they were still terrifying. Unlike many others throughout the Seven Kingdoms, you were glad not to have been born a Targaryen… No one had ever heard of someone being burned or eaten alive by roses.

You would have been content to stay there and watch the incoming ships sail into the bay with the Princess until the sun set, but you knew you both had duties to attend to elsewhere. You looked over at her with an apologetic look.

“We should return to your chambers soon, Your Grace. The earlier you are dressed and ready, the better.”

It went without saying that Princess Rhaenyra being late to the welcome feast would simply be unacceptable.

“We will, shortly,” she promised distractedly, her focus having returned to the bay.

You felt sympathy for her. You had a feeling that, would it have been possible, Princess Rhaenyra would have had heirs for her line whilst forgoing marriage altogether. Alas, not even the Targaryens were that magical, and a King Consort would be needed for some things.

“Princess Rhaenyra… Lady Y/N.”

The pair of you turned around to face the third party who had joined you.

“Ser Harwin!” Princess Rhaenyra gleamed, before looking at you with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “To what do we owe the pleasure, My Lord?”

Ser Harwin smiled patiently. “A messenger informed me that you had requested my presence, Your Grace.”

“Did I?” Princess Rhaenyra feigned, looking at you with mock confusion. “Well, I simply cannot recall why I may have done that… My sincerest apologies, Ser Harwin.”

“No apologies needed, Your Grace,” Ser Harwin assured her cordially.

His eyes drifted calmly over to you. In a flash, you caught a wink he sent in your direction, causing your eyes to fall to the dirt path beneath you.

“Well,” Princess Rhaenyra said then, taking a few steps away from the balcony and back into gardens. “You are absolutely correct, Lady Y/N- I should return to my chambers and get ready for the feast at once.”

“Would you like me to go with you, Your Princess?” you asked her, though you already knew her answer.

Princess Rhaenyra came to a stop beside Ser Harwin and vaguely waved you off over her shoulder. “No, no, no. Take your time. The girls will assist me until you arrive.”

Ser Harwin looked amused.

“As you wish, Your Grace,” you called to her, smirking.

“Princess,” Ser Harwin nodded her respectfully as she proceeded to walk away and head back towards the Red Keep.

Such had been a little “game” of hers as of late. The Princess seemed to take far too much amusement out of summoning the knight nicknamed Breakbones, finding a convenient reason to excuse herself, and leaving the two of you alone. Though her game had the potential to create quite the scandal for the pair of you, should you be spotted together in a compromising scene without any escort, you knew without a doubt that Princess Rhaenyra meant no harm. In fact, you were rather grateful for her meddling ways.

Once the Princess was out of earshot, Ser Harwin took a step forward, closing the distance between you. He nodded to you in greeting, but when he spoke this time, his tone was far more tender than it had been just a few moments before.

“My Love.”

You tilted your head upwards to look at him better. The mere sight of him caused you to smile so widely that it felt as though your face might go numb from the joy you were trying to contain. “Dearest.”

Of all the changes that had been occurring in Westeros, none had bore more of an impact on or immersed as much as your newfound courtship with Ser Harwin Strong.

“You look breathtaking today, as usual.”

Your cheeks burned. “Thank you, My Lord.”

You still weren’t used to Ser Harwin’s praises, but part of you hoped you never would be. The fluttering you felt in your stomach upon hearing the sweet words reminded you just how much you cared for the man in front of you.

You attempted to joke, “If you think of me as beautiful now, you should see me in the gown I am to wear to the feast.”

Ser Harwin happily took the bait. “I assure you, I have been counting down the hours until my eyes are blessed with the sight.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from smiling any wider. You took a moment to glance around you, ensuring that the two of you were alone. Once you were confident that you would not be heard, or overseen, you took another step closer towards the man that held your heart, extending your hands outwards to him as you did so.

Ser Harwin took his hands in your own hands with practiced ease. His hands were calloused from years of training and fighting, but you wouldn’t have changed that. The feel of your intertwined hands was grounding… and you needed to be grounded whenever you spoke with him lately, as his words tended to leave you bogged in an enamored daze.

His eyes, which looked upon you with nothing but the utmost care, tended to cloud your mind terribly, too.

“You look particularly happy today,” you noted, an unspoken question lingering in your tone.

“Seeing My Lady does tend to uplift my spirits,” Ser Harwin admitted playfully, his thumbs running lightly over the back of your hands.

You gave him an equally playful stern look. “My Lord,” you chided, laughing once. “You are a charmer, I will grant you that… But you know that is not what I meant.”

Ser Harwin gently raised one of your hands to his lips, placing a gentle kiss upon it. The action would normally have caused you to nearly swoon, but you pushed onwards, desperate for an answer to your question.

“Harwin,” you plead, lowering your voice as you addressed him informally, in the hope that it might cause him to focus. It worked- something shifted within his eyes, and suddenly, he looked more alert, more attentive.

“Please tell me,” you asked of him, “Has there been any news?”

The news which you sought was that of your impending betrothal.

Much had happened in both of your personal lives since Derron Tyrell’s visit to King’s Landing some time ago. Ser Harwin Strong’s letter that he’d written to your father had compelled your brother to travel to discuss the matter with him, and his father, Lord Lyonel, in person. Upon his arrival, your brother’s first inquiry in the matter was as to whether a betrothal to Ser Harwin was something you truly desired.

The Strongs were a noble family, and Harrenhal was the largest castle in all of Westeros, despite the ghastly tales. It was also worth mentioning that Harwin was now son to the newly appointed Hand of the King. But you were the only daughter of Lord Larris Tyrell, Defender of the Marshes, Lord Paramount of the Reach, Warden of the South… and all those other titles. You were from the Great House of the Reach, and Ser Harwin, while the oldest son and heir, was of a smaller noble house from the Riverlands. Not to mention that the Hand of the King was not a position that guaranteed any permanency.

Your father and brother had long since decided that they would choose a suitor for you, but they had also made no promises about denying you a suitor who they deemed as unworthy. They both wanted reassurance that this marriage would bring you true happiness, and not one arranged merely because Ser Harwin Strong had been the first to make an offer. After all, there were more advantageous matches for you that could be made… and there had been a mention of a certain Lannister or two.

You attempted to tell your brother about how your attachment to Ser Harwin, and his to you, had developed. You hoped it might explain why Ser Harwin had been compelled to write such a letter.

“Am I to understand this is a love match, then?” your brother had asked then, hopefully.

It most certainly was.

You could still recall the scene in your mind…

…

Your heart pounded in your chest. You had sent word through a personal messenger, one whom the Princess used frequently for her own devices when subtlety and discretion was of the utmost importance.

Ser Harwin must have gotten your message, as he was already waiting for you out in the castle gardens, in the exact secluded spot where you had requested to meet with him.

“Lady Y/N… I heard the Red Keep welcomed a visitor from the Reach today,” he jested, visibly nervous once more, just as he had been when you had spoken with him last. “Perhaps they are an acquaintance of yours?”

You wordlessly withdrew the letter, which you had clutched tightly in your fist, and presented it to him. “This letter… This letter that you wrote to my father. What does this mean?”

“Have you read it?” he asked, eyeing the parchment with an emotion you couldn’t quite place.

“Please,” you begged. “I have spent the better part of my memory believing that you were taken with and about to be betrothed to another. My heart simply cannot take any more jests or delays at its expense… Speak plainly, My Lord. What does this letter mean?”

Upon the seriousness of your tone, which was a far cry from your usual playful banter and jovial attitudes the two of you had exchanged, Ser Harwin fell quiet, and his nerves immediately dissipated. You heard his jaw close, and for a moment, as he looked down at you with gravity in his eyes and upon his face, you feared he might not speak at all.

When he did, he spoke in a very calm voice.

“I can make my intentions very plain to you, My Lady,” he vowed. “If you will grant me permission to do so.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, and you were slightly off put by his choice of phrasing. “Of course, but-”

Ser Harwin silenced you by leaning down and capturing your lips with his own.

You froze, unsure of how to react to the foreign gesture. Before your brain or heart could fight for control of your next move, Ser Harwin withdrew from you, leaving you stunned, and, to your mild embarrassment, gawking up at him.

“You have captivated me, and stolen my heart right out from my chest. I know I have wronged you by not admitting this truth to you first, as I had intended. As punishment, know that my heart is yours to do with as you see fit… Though I would dare to beg you for mercy, Y/N. If you feel the same for me as I do for you, I ask that you grant me an honor which I most likely do not deserve, but will strive everyday for the rest of my life to be worthy of… I ask that you pledge yourself to me, and become my wife.”

…

How could the truth have been right in front of your eyes for so long, and yet you had mistaken it for something else entirely?! It was a folly you would not soon let yourself live down, that much was for certain.

“And, should you not feel the same,” Ser Harwin continued, noting your silence, “and I have now wronged you in more ways than one, you need only say so. I shall leave you at once, and without a word. We shall never speak of this aga-”

With a newfound sense of courage you did not know you possessed, you stood up on your toes, and kissed the man you loved right back.

It was Ser Harwin’s turn to be silenced.

There was no telling how long the pair of you stayed out that night, tucked away from the rest of the Red Keep and all of King’s Landing, just enjoying being in the presence of each other. But there was one more moment you recall definitively.

“I love you.”

“And I love you.”

“Also, my answer is yes.”

“I… hoped as much, My Lady.”

 …

You almost let out a wistful sigh. The memory of that night was still clearly visible in your mind’s eye, just as clear as Harwin was now, standing before you.

Had you both been commoners, you would have already been wed. Ser Harwin had admitted as much, and you agreed. But as both of your families were of the nobility, the two of you were forced to wait as your fathers negotiated the finer details of the exchange instead.

After your brother had learned the truth of your feelings, and after having a private conversation with Ser Harwin shortly after, Derron met with Lord Lyonel to begin the discussions. But, as your father was to be made privy to every detail, the negotiations had not been complete by the time your brother was due to return to Highgarden.

Lord Lyonel Strong had presented your brother with the details of his most recent offer, and shortly after, you returned to Highgarden with your brother to see your father. You were glad to visit him, and to learn that his health had improved from what you had last heard and feared. Your father was happy to see you too- not only as a faithful and dutiful servant to Princess Rhaenyra, but also as a woman who was soon to be wed to her love, an honorable knight who was more than capable of providing for and protecting her.

Your father reviewed the offer made by Lord Lyonel, and wrote his own counteroffer. You presented it to Lord Lyonel upon your return to King’s Landing, and the waiting began. Since then, for a long few weeks, ravens flew from King’s Landing to Highgarden and back, many, many times, as the negotiations continued.

The issue of your dowry proved to be a significant hurdle. At first, Your father couldn’t help but be a little suspicious of the Strongs’ motives with the proposed alliance. Throughout all the Seven Kingdoms, the Tyrells were second in wealth only to the Lannisters. You knew that acquiring wealth was the last thing on Ser Harwin’s mind when confessed his feelings to you, and he’d said as much several times since. But eventually, a dowry amount was settled upon that was found to be acceptable for both families. There was an additional stipulation- all of the funds were to go towards repairs to Harrenhal and its surrounding grounds. The hope was that doing so would make the castle safer for you and your husband… and eventually, your children.

Since then, the negotiation points had been of little concern to either of you: where the wedding would take place, who would pay for what parts of the celebration, where you would spend parts of the year, and what surname your children would have. It was all trifling. Both you and Ser Harwin just wanted the negotiations to conclude, and the sooner, the better.

“Unfortunately, I have no news for you today, My Lady,” he informed you, his thumbs still tracing lightly over the backs of your hands. His gaze lifted from your intertwined hands, and he looked deeply into your eyes. “But my father assures me that they are close to reaching a final agreement.”

You didn’t have the heart to point out to him that he had already been telling you that for quite some time. “Let us hope.”

Ser Harwin looked about your surroundings briefly, confirming that you were still alone. In consolation to your disappointment, he leant downwards, and placed a soft kiss upon your forehead.

Despite your frustrations, and his own, it could always be said that Harwin never hesitated to do whatever he could to reassure you that the match between you was one worth waiting for.

“You look beautiful, Your Grace.”

Princess Rhaenyra turned her head over her shoulder and smiled at you as you entered her chambers. Two ladies- who happened to be none other than Ser Harwin’s younger sisters- attended to her. One smoothed out the skirts of her dress while the other was putting some adornments in her silver hair.

After their father had been appointed Hand of the King, the two girls had only recently been chosen by the Princess to serve as her junior ladies in waiting. They were a few years younger than you and the Princess, but old enough to have some scrutiny and tact about them, and they were eager to please. Both were already dressed and prepared for the welcome feast.

You looked over the Princess’ appearance with mock scrutiny, but ultimately smiled. “The two of you did such an excellent job… I fear I shall no longer be of service soon.”

Princess Rhaenyra rolled her eyes playfully. “Come now, Lady Y/N- how ever would I get on without you?” One of the girls presented her with a hand mirror. The Princess looked over her appearance for a moment before giving a small nod. “This will do. Thank you very much, My Ladies.”

The girls smiled, giddy with her praise.

“You two should head on over to the throne room,” Princess Rhaenyra dismissed them. “I’ll have Lady Y/N attend to whatever is left.”

The girls nodded in understanding, curtsied, and promptly left the Princess’ chambers.

Princess Rhaenyra picked up the small mirror again, and apprised her appearance once more. You caught a glimpse of her face in the reflection from your place a few feet away, and it was with a twinge of sadness that you realized how downtrodden she looked.

“Are you well, Your Grace?” you asked her quietly, subtly offering her an opportunity to speak about whatever was on her mind.

Unfortunately, the Princess did not wish to speak of whatever was troubling her. She put the mirror down and turned to face you. “Yes, all is well,” she answered, though her tone still left you questioning the sincerity of her words. She smiled at you teasingly, and inquired, “Is everything alright with you, Lady Y/N?”

You pursed your lips, fighting off a smile.

“Has there been any news?” the Princess asked, eargerly and expectantly.

Though you still were in her service, Princess Rhaenyra had become a true friend and confidant of yours. She was knowledgeable of the negotiations stalling your marriage to Ser Harwin, and was sympathetic for you.

“Not yet,” you answered, unable to disguise the disappointment in your voice.

“I am sorry to hear that… But the night is still young,” Princess Rhaenyra noted optimistically. “I bet that by the end of the week, another betrothal announcement shall be made.”

You certainly hoped so, but didn’t want to get your hopes up.

“You should get ready for the feast,” she said then, giving you something else to focus on. “The seamstress put the finishing touches I asked for upon your dress, and left it over there.”

You walked over to the bed, where Princess Rhaenyra had gestured to. Your eyes immediately spotted the gown in question. The Princess had requested that all her ladies wore similar gowns, all of the same color, for the welcome feast. Your gown was a little bit more… revealing, than what the Strong ladies had been given, but it was more suitable for each of your ages that way.

“The color matches the jewels in your hair,” you observed with a smile.

Princess Rhaenyra returned the smile, pleased that you found the gown as gorgeous as she did.

The welcome feast had begun.

The esteemed guests from all across Westeros who had traveled to King’s Landing for the festivities were announced one by one, before paying their respects to the King and Princess.

The Queen had yet to arrive.

You were the only representative of House Tyrell to attend, and conveyed your apologies to King Viserys on your family’s behalf. Your father had taken ill once more- another factor that had played a role in the pace at which the marriage negotiations were taking place- and your brother Derron had no choice but to stay in Highgarden to help him manage affairs.

Since you were alone, you had no one immediately obvious with which to sit for the meal. Your betrothal to Ser Harwin was not yet official, so you had been assigned a seat beside the Hightowers and other noble families of other houses from the Reach. You knew most of them well enough to be able to carry out polite conversation, to accept well wishes for your father, and to inquire as to the state of their own houses and health.

But you couldn’t help it as your eyes drifted forlornly down towards the opposite end of the table, where Ser Harwin was seated with the majority of his family. You caught his eye every now and then, and when you did, the two of you played an unspoken game to see which would be the first to break and look away.

House Velaryon was the last to enter the throne room, and the attention of everyone else in the room was commanded by the sight. As House Velaryon strode over to the high table, which was positioned just in front of the Iron Throne, thunderous applause rang out. Though Lord Coryls had been no stranger to the Court during King Viserys’ reign, his wife, the Princess Rhaenys, and their children were not so often seen. Everyone was eager to lay eyes upon the future King Consort, Ser Laenor, and his sister, Lady Laena.

The princess rose from her seat to greet her betrothed, and shortly thereafter, the Velaryons and the rest of their household were seated. Everyone else in the room followed suit, save the King, who looked over the crowd. You looked over towards King Viserys and waited for his speech to begin.

But suddenly, the King’s cheerful face fell, and muffled whisperings around you filled your ears. You followed the King’s appalled look over to the entryway, where none other than Prince Daemon was making his way into the throne room. Ser Harrold did not bother to announce him- he was probably as shocked as most everyone else in the room.

The whispers did not cease as Daemon approached the high table calmly, acting as though he had not been exiled by the King, again, not too long ago.

You looked over at Rhaenyra and tried to gauge her reaction to the uninvited guest. If she had known about her uncle’s impending return for the wedding, she had not told you of it- though you honestly could not say whether she would have. The pair of you had a special bond, but the bond between her and Prince Daemon would always be stronger.

Thankfully, the Princess looked just as surprised to see her uncle as everyone else, though she was much better at concealing her facial reaction than the King. Once Daemon was before the high table, you thought King Viserys might call for his head right then and there. But instead, after a moment of thought, he beckoned for a chair to be brought out for him. Prince Daemon was seated beside the Hand, Lord Lyonel, and the room began to settle from the interruption.

King Viserys smiled once more, though it was more strained than genuine, and began his welcoming speech. Unfortunately, he was not able to get very far into it, before it was disrupted once more.

All eyes in the room once again turned towards the entryway. Unlike with the previous tardy guest, no whispers erupted this time. Instead, the room was overcome with a bone-chilling silence.

Queen Alicent had finally arrived. But what was more shocking than her blatant disrespect of King Viserys was the outfit she had chosen instead.

She wore a bright, emerald green gown.

Those seated rose respectfully as she made her way over to the high table. Despite those who you were seated with- other members of House Hightower being seated just a few seats down from you- your eyes involuntarily narrowed as the Queen passed you. Just what point was she trying to get across with her choice of garment?

You’d never seen the sight with your own eyes before, only having read about it in books and having heard it in tales from your father. But you knew, very well, what color the beacon in Oldtown glowed when the Hightowers called their banners to war.

Green.

Once the Queen was seated, the King was finally able to finish his speech, and dinner was served. You still snuck glances at Ser Harwin as often as you dared, though the looks you gave him now were probably laced with little else but concern.

Once the meal was over, you were grateful for the dancing to begin, for it gave you a perfect excuse to stand and socialize with other guests whom you were not immediately seated by. Princess Rhaenyra and Ser Laenor were the first to take the floor, as was the tradition, but once the dance was complete, the other guests slowly but surely joined in the fun.

You rose from your seat and walked over towards the end of the table, joining the group of nobles who had gathered there to observe those already on the dancefloor.

“Lady Y/N.”

You turned, and were pleasantly surprised to find Lord Lyonel Strong standing beside you.

“My Lord,” you greeted him with a smile.

“Are you enjoying the feast so far, My Lady?” he inquired then.

The question was innocent enough, but difficult to answer truthfully. Your eyes darted over to Queen Alicent, and then Prince Daemon, who were both still seated. Well aware of the fact that you could be overheard, you simply answered, “This feast will be remembered for quite some time to come, I am sure.”

“I do not disagree,” Lord Lyonel said knowingly, having noted whom you had glanced at. Lord Lyonel, on the surface, gave the air of an uncomplicated man. But you were beginning to suspect that there was more to him than one might assume. A lord from a small noble house in the Riverlands didn’t become appointed Hand of the King by mere chance.

“Lady Y/N,” he said then, in a much quieter tone that grabbed your attention immediately, as was its purpose. “I do want to thank you for your patience as this business with Highgarden is negotiated.”

Lord Lyonel’s statement was decently vague, but you knew immediately what he was referring to. “Thank you, My Lord. I understand that such matters are necessary, though I would deny that it has not begun to feel tedious at times.”

Lord Lyonel gave you a sympathetic smile. “Perhaps you are right. Even so, I will be glad once everything has been settled. I must admit, I was, and still am, pleased by the proposition. I think all parties involved stand to benefit greatly… specifically, my son. I am grateful that House Tyrell has considered him to be a worthy business partner.”

He approved of the match; that the subtext of his cordial words. But even more so, Lord Lyonel was pleased that the match contributed greatly to the happiness of his son.

“There is more to Ser Harwin than his nickname,” you said decisively. “I believe Lord Tyrell and my brother simply needed some guidance in order to see that.”

Lord Lyonel nodded courteously.

As if he had known he was the topic of your very conversation, Ser Harwin made his way through the onlookers. He came to a stop before the two of you, and nodded to Lord Lyonel in greeting. “Father.”

Then he turned to you. He looked remarkable, dressed in finer clothes than what he typically donned, and a significant section of his hair had been pulled up and tied back, revealing the handsome features of his face. You were so lost in the sight of him, you almost didn’t register that he had spoken to you.

“Lady Y/N,” he greeted, giving you a charming smile. Said smile was offered to many, but it never was accompanied with the twinkle in his eyes that shone now. That had become exclusively reserved for you, a thought that both made you feel humble and filled you with pride. “I think it to be an insult that you have not been asked to dance thus far. Could you find it in your heart to grant me the honor?”

You looked towards his outstretched hand, and attempted to minimize the love-sick expression you undoubtedly wore. “It would be my pleasure, Ser Harwin.”

With one last glance at Lord Lyonel, you took Ser Harwin’s hand and allowed him to escort you to the dance floor.

You seldom had the opportunity to spend such time with Ser Harwin in public, and you reveled in every minute of it. The incredible ease you felt with him, whether it was while dancing, talking, or simply being in the presence of each other, was one that had yet to be matched.

As the pair of you went on about the dance, turning and spinning and stepping about as the song dictated, you conversed quietly.

“You truly are a vision tonight,” Ser Harwin complemented, causing your cheeks to burn both with mild embarrassment and in pain from your amused smile. “Better than I even dared to dream of.”

“Thank you, My Lord. … But now, I wonder- do you dream of me often, Ser Harwin?” you jested, taking his hand and twirling once.

Once you had turned around, you nearly came face to face with his broad chest; the two of you were suddenly much closer than before.

“Since you asked,” Ser Harwin said, leaning down so as to speak directly into your ear, “There are few nights that you do not haunt my dreams, My Lady.”

Before anyone could notice the inappropriate distance between yourselves, you each took a step back, and continued the dance smoothly.

You were taken aback, but pleasantly so. “Haunt?” you echoed. “Am I a ghost, plaguing you with nightmares?”

“I assure you,” he said, suavely stepping beside and turning to you in time with the music, “Not all ghosts are bad. Nor could any sight of you gracing my mind whilst I am asleep ever be considered a nightmare.”

Before you could think of something charming or witty to respond with, you noticed someone making their way onto the dance floor. It was with dread that they were headed directly towards you.

“I fear our time together is about to be cut short,” Ser Harwin announced, also making note of it.

You forced a smile as you greeted the interrupter of your lovely moment. “Lord Loreon.”

Loreon Lannister merely nodded cooly to Ser Harwin in his own way of greeting. The gesture made you want to give him a verbal lashing for his impoliteness, but since you were surrounded by others, and it was not yet socially acceptable for you and Ser Harwin to show any sort of attachment to the other, you were limited.

Ser Harwin knew just as much, too. He politely refused to acknowledge the disrespect, and greeted the other man anyways. “My Lord.”

“Might I cut in?”

Ser Harwin had no choice but to allow Lord Loreon to do so, and he knew that. The little weasel.

“I hope you enjoy the rest of the feast, Lady Y/N,” Ser Harwin said to you.

“And I you, My Lord.”

You watched with mild sadness as your love wandered off the dance floor before disappearing amongst the crowd of nobles watching on the outskirts.

A new song began, and you forced your feet to move, engaging in a dance once more.

Lord Loeron, though a few years your junior, had grown into a man since you had last seen him. However, he was still a young one at that, and you had your suspicions that the passing years made him no more wise. The boy- young man- had always lacked some tact. You’d hoped his father, Lord Jason Lannister, had instilled some sense in him, as Loreon was his only son and heir. But from what Princess Rhaenyra had shared with you regarding Lord Lannister’s own behavior and choice comments as of late, you severely doubted it.

“You’ve grown since I last saw you, My Lord.”

“Perhaps,” Lord Loreon granted. “Though I am afraid that I am nowhere near the size of Breakbones.”

You frowned in displeasure at his insinuating comment.

Your courtship with Ser Harwin while your fathers worked out the details of your marriage was not exactly a secret. But, other than Lord Jason on the occasion, Lannisters had been sparse at Court as of late… You concluded that the walls must have had ears. You only hoped that they did not have eyes as well.

“I am surprised by your choice of gown, Lady Y/N- I thought you might wear green, as it is a color of your House.”

And also the color with which Queen Alicent had chosen to draw a metaphorical line in the struggle for power.

You answered, “Princess Rhaenyra deemed it fit that all her ladies should wear gowns of Targaryen red tonight.”

“A wise decision by the Princess,” Lord Loreon declared. “I’m sure you look just as lovely in gold, as it is the other of your House’s colors... Though, perhaps a gown of red and gold would suit you best?”

You paused briefly, before forcing yourself to continue the steps. You feigned, “I’m afraid I do not understand what you mean, My Lord.”

“No, I suppose you do not. Perhaps my father shall arrange to meet with yours, and they can sort it out for the two of us. We would not dare spend any longer than necessary on negotiations. We know how much a marriage to the daughter of Lord Tyrell is worth, just as I am sure you know how valuable the marriage to the son of Lord Lannister is.”

You let out a small sigh, your patience for pleasantries completely diminished by his goading words. “If that is your way of proposing marriage, My Lord, it seems there is still vast room for improvement to be had in ways of your eloquence and common sense.”

Lord Loreon narrowed his eyes at you, but did not cease his dancing. In a threateningly low tone, he demanded, “You dare insult me?”

As suspected, time had not made him more wise. Lord Loreon’s pride was wounded just as easily as it always had been.

“It is I that has been insulted, My Lord. Asking for my hand so crudely, and during the wedding feast for the future Queen, no less?” you countered swiftly. “I think my father would be most displeased with House Lannister if he heard of this, not to mention the King.”

Lord Loreon finally stopped partaking in the dance. He looked very cross. He opened his mouth to retort, but was cut off by several loud, piercing screams.

Immediately, the dance floor descended into a state of chaos. Initially, you were shoved backwards, as some sort of altercation took place in the middle of the dance floor. You could not see the individuals throwing fists, but you heard the sickening thuds of their punches landing mercilessly upon the other, despite the commotion of the crowd.

You looked back over towards Lord Loreon, only to discover that he had taken the moment of distraction to abandon you. However, you had expected no less of him.

Suddenly, the tune of the crowd changed. Encouraging shouts as the brawlers went after one another turned into horrified screaming. Guards flooded the room and attempted to make their way towards the middle of the crowd.

As the crowd shifted with the movement, you were unceremoniously shoved backwards and down onto the ground. The legs of others nearby as they shuffled backwards and out of the way were encroaching upon you rapidly.

Despite your position, you heard Princess Rhaenyra cry out, “Laenor!”

A horrible thought struck you. The Princess had been on the dance floor as well- you had seen her not but a few moments before. Was she still entangled somewhere in all of this mess? You had to help her.

You tucked your chin, and used the chair you had fallen up against as leverage to hoist yourself up and off the ground. Your eyes searched the crowd, and you felt dismayed when the Princess was not immediately in sight. “Princess?!”

Before you could decide on your next move of action, someone promptly picked you up, and threw you over their shoulder.

In the midst of everything going on, you were unable to get a good look at your sudden captor. You shouted protests and fought back, kicking and punching the man who had decided to take advantage of the situation as he proceeded to push his way through the crowd and away from the dance floor.

“Y/N,” a very familiar voice huffed, before gently placing you back on your own two feet.

It was Ser Harwin.

He hadn’t been your captor, no- but rather, your savior.

You watched in a stunned silence as Ser Harwin quickly looked you over with concern, putting his hands on your shoulders to get your attention. “Are you alright?” he demanded, gently but urgently. “Are you hurt?”

“No, no,” you replied quickly. “I’m fine.”

He’d placed you near the high table, where his father, and the rest of the royal family, even Queen Alicent, looked onwards towards the fight that the guards were still attempting to break up.

“Where’s Rhaenyra?” you heard the King ask, his increasing worry audibly evident.

“The Princess!” you said, suddenly recalling what you had set out to do before Ser Harwin had whisked you away- find Princess Rhaenyra, and make sure she was alright. You looked up at him pleadingly, before gesturing over from whence you both had just come. The Princess was still nowhere to be seen. “I heard her, right over there!”

Ser Harwin looked from where you had gestured and up towards his father. Lord Lyonel, also looking concerned, nodded over to the chaos as a silent go-ahead.

Ser Harwin fought his way back into and through the crowd, and you watched with bated breath as he did so. As much as you were concerned for the Princess’ safety as the seconds passed, so were you worried for him, as he quite literally punched and pushed his way through the half rioting and half panicking crowd.

Some ways away, he bent down and disappeared beneath your line of sight. Just as quickly, he stood once more, with Princess Rhaenyra over the top of his shoulder, as he had done to you. He couldn’t make his way back through the crowd quick enough.

Ser Harwin deposited Princess Rhaenyra down on the ground beside you, and you fussed over her immediately.

“Your Grace!” you exclaimed worriedly. “Are you hurt?”

Thankfully, Princess Rhaenyra looked more upset than physically injured. “I’m fine, I’m fine… What in Seven Hells is going on?!”

“Rhaenyra!” Her father beckoned her over to him, and she did not hesitate to heed him. With one last glance at you, she thanked Ser Harwin before joining the King.

The shouting silenced abruptly, drawing your attention back to the fight.

The crowd parted down the middle, revealing a gruesome scene. Ser Criston Cole was laying fatal blows upon another man, who laid practically motionless beneath him. You could not recognize the man from here, but you recognized the colors he wore as someone who was likely to have attended the feast with House Velaryon. The crowd stepped back further still, forced to do so by the guards who had finally managed to intervene. Then, the room went still.

Ser Criston, bloodied, and with a look upon his face that had been numbed with pure rage, halted his blows.

The man beneath him was dead.

Like wildfire, the crowd dispersed, fleeing the throne room. Nothing good would come of this- at the very least, the feast would not be able to continue. A member of the Kingsguard had just punched a man to death!

“Go, you two,” you heard the light but commanding voice of Lord Lyonel from behind you. To Harwin, he added, “See to it that Larys and your sisters make haste as well.”

You looked over at Rhaenyra, who was watching the results of the madness unfold with a sombered look on her face. But you had no time to decide whether or not to try and console her, for Ser Harwin had already begun to guide you out of the throne room. As instructed, he corralled his brother and sisters and made certain that they headed towards the exit too.

“Don’t,” he told you quietly as you passed the dead man’s body, evidently having read your mind. “I wouldn’t look.”

You were thankful that Ser Harwin had strategically placed himself between you and the body as you walked by, for it had been your gut reaction to do just that. You gripped his arm as he escorted you that much tighter, thankful to have been spared from seeing such a ghastly sight.

As you passed under the threshold, the anguished sobs of Ser Laenor echoed off the walls behind you.

That evening, in a private ceremony witnessed by only the families of those involved, Princess Rhaenyra of House Targaryen and Ser Laenor of House Velaryon were wed. The remaining festivities that had been planned for the rest of the week were canceled. King Viserys decided that, given the events of the welcome feast, the sooner the two were wed, the better.

Despite the sense of gloominess that hung over the Red Keeps in the days to follow, personal good news had presented itself to you the very next morning. A raven had arrived, from Highgarden, no less. Negotiations were complete.

Your betrothal to Ser Harwin Strong was, finally, to be official.

At the end of the week, Princess Rhaenyra and her new husband Prince Consort left King’s Landing for a small post-wedding sailing trip.

Your betrothal was officially announced the following day. You were ecstatic- for now, you no longer had to hide or deny your attachment to the strongest knight in all the Seven Kingdoms. Instead, you could celebrate it. And you would, too- with any luck, the two of you would be wed in less than a few fortnights, a few moons at the most.

The day after the announcement brought another raven from Highgarden. But this time, the news was not the cause of any celebration.

Your father, Lord Tyrell, had succumbed to sickness. 

Perhaps the Maesters had been wrong in their diagnosis of the ailment and ineffective with their treatment… Perhaps your father knew what was inevitable, but had held on just long enough to see to it that you would be looked after once he was gone.

…

The winds of change had come to blow through Westeros. With the winds, came storms.

But with Harwin by your side, you knew that you would be able to weather them all.

᯽ Part 4 of this story, From This Day, Part 1/2, can be read HERE. ᯽

A/N: Thank you so much for reading!🖤 I have (at least) one more part tentatively planned for this, but after started writing this, I came up with another idea... So, how do we feel about seeing the wedding?👀 Cuz I was gonna do another little time jump to the next part, but now I’m not so sure... Let me know what you think!

ALSO... does anyone else wanna talk about last night’s episode?! Because I have so many thoughts... ugh. It was so great. I cannot.

***The masterlist for this story can be found HERE.***

***Information about the taglist for this fic can be found HERE.***

Taglist: @whitetigerlover17 @littlebirdgot @te5s3ract  @nerdboylover @piper570 @ephemeralninon @linkpk88  @kaygilles @hippzella @wicked-hg @thatgaytevinter @nowheredreamer @ateliefloresdaprimavera  @saintspector @thebigbadbatswife @blazinglioness @itevilhag @chlo-feigh @bettybrainrot  @liadamerondjarin @fuckmylifedudee @hippzella @my-dark-prince @sweetestrose569 @kaygilles @lol-im-done @im-married-to-chris-evans​ @chetpuff @venus2eros @wicked-hg @mamamooqa  @prettymingwoo @bxdbxtxh15 @ateliefloresdaprimavera @brbaabs @novazoldyck @hoyaharper @shanzeyxsyed  @microwaveallthedemons @piper570   @fireghost-x @lakamaa12 @holb32 @thesheelfsworld  @inkareds @fuckoffthanos @mortallyspookyglitter  @akinatrix @bingewatche​ @guerraandpaes @nonniecannie @mousse-au-citron @autumnleaves1991-reads @thesithdiaries @potatingpotato-reads @perpetual-exhaustion21  @sinful-wxrld @marvelcriminalhoe2​ @redpool​ @blazinglioness​ @re-enjoy​ @itevilhag​ @jfcreading​ @prettywhencry1234​ @dankpunks​ @justonemore-fic @yonduismarrypoppins @luckyplums1 @logiclies @avoirlu @iunknownveritgo @theflowerpot @anoymousbye @strawbbyjamb @landofdreamsworld @green-beanie @queenofterrasen418 @michovisk @psychwardsiren @green-lxght @smptxx @electric-bloo @acciowolfstar1 @good-night-starlight @never-not-eating @minetticawonderland @idkjj04

[yes-i-am-happyaspie]

⬇ What I've Been Reading Recently! [In No Particular Order]⬇

Rivers and Roads (Rivers Till I Reach You) Series by peterparkersbff @pbpsbff

[Series Description and Notes] Zombie Apocalypse, No Powers AU centered on Peter, Tony, and Rhodey (But if we're being honest, it's pretty Peter-centric)

Updates will likely be posted out of order, but will be reordered so they are in preferred reading order. I'd recommend reading in series order.

Peter Benjamin Stark Series by MoonBoo

[Part 1, Stars Align Summary] Pepper is concerned about Stark Industry's image and organizes a tour for a group of orphans. It's during this tour that Tony meets a five-year-old Peter Parker, who is mute due to the trauma of witnessing Ben and May dying in a robbery, and realizes they're soulmates.

Time Brings All Things to Pass by MsWinifredQuale

Tony feels like he's in a good place right now. He's got a great fiancee, a makeshift but settled little family, and he's even in a fairly ok place with the former Rogues.

So naturally the universe decides to throw him some curve balls, when he gets a call one morning from the police claiming they've just picked up Howard and Maria Stark from the side of the road.

And that's not the only time-related event about to unfold.

Tony really hates time travel.

[Also includes de-aged Peter Parker]

Please obey the signs by Bergen

“This young man claims to have been invited by you personally.” Tony has learned to read Happy’s expressions. That one is disapproval, and it’s highly familiar. “Peter is helping me out in the workshop today.” “Why?” “Uh.” Tony has enough presence of mind not to carelessly throw Peter’s alternative identity around. “He won a competition.” Happy’s expression flickers, grows tense. “I did not approve any competition that included a trip to Avengers Tower.” “Okay. Well. If we had theoretically organized a competition, he would definitely have won it.” - Tony’s life lately has been a perfect storm of incompetence. But perhaps he can get some solid spiritual advice from a mischievous teenager with a secret identity he meets by the side of the road one evening, like a lucky little leprechaun. If only Happy would stop being so paranoid about Tony inviting a random kid into Avengers Tower, sheesh.

The Chill Factor by Tashie

5 Times Peter's thermoregulation caused issues +1 Time Others tried to do something about it.

Broken Thoughts (I Remember Everything) by blackwatchandromeda (avenris)

"Peter, who am I?"

He hesitates. "I'm sorry. I... I don't know."

Peter Parker has been missing for thirty-six days. When Tony Stark finally finds him, he's wandering around New York with no memories, unaware of where and who he is. The missing month is a mystery, and nobody knows what happened to him - least of all the kid himself.

Peter, meanwhile, is trying to piece together who he was. What doesn't help is the big secret he's sure Tony is keeping from him, or the way the man is avoiding him.

Nobody notices how the missing month is catching up to them until everything goes wrong.

(Not Infinity War compliant, but takes place after Civil War.)

When spiders tour their houses, chaos ensues by pirateninja9

"I am very pleased to announce that we’ve been invited for an overnight tour at Stark Industries.”

Join Peter and his Academic decathlon team on a chaotic field trip to the Stark Industries. Featuring a bullying teacher and student, a confused tour guide and many Avengers shenanigans. With luck like his, Peter should have known this would be as far from a normal tour as possible.

Mugs Are A Problem (I Do What I Want) by JAWorley

It’s not usually a problem. Tony doesn’t usually have to work so hard to hide it because Pepper, Happy, and Rhodey know. He can be himself around them. Right after the compound had been built, Tony had been worried about moving in with the Avengers full time… worried they’d notice his tics and figure out his secret. Then Germany had happened and the team had split up before they could fully move into the compound. Tony had had two years where he hadn’t needed to worry about it. Now that the Rogues are back and are living in the tower full time, it’s on his mind again and stressing him out. The problem? Coffee mugs. Well… coffee mugs, and other things and the fact that when he’s stressed out, the tics get worse. But mainly coffee mugs. Coffee mugs are the bane of his existence. OR Tony has Tourette Syndrome and he doesn’t want the Avengers (or Peter) to find out about it. The newly returned Avengers think Tony is just being a jerk when he knocks things off of tables and counters, because they think he’s doing it on purpose. Despite the angsty summary, this is all about the team coming back together and Tony learning that the people in his life can’t accept him as he is until given the chance to know him as he is.