#well most of them are targs so it counts

[navree]

Your headcanons for the personalities types (MBTI) of the characters of the dance and the conquest?

OK so fair warning I don't really know a lot about MBTI types, like next to nothing at this point, I don't even know mine (I had to take the test for a college prep seminar in high school for some???? reason???? and then immediately forgot it because it wasn't important at all) so I'm basing this off of articles that tell me what these things are like (also for the Dance I'm going with show version if they've been introduced in the show, since those characters are more developed)

DANCE

Rhaenyra Targaryen - ESTP, The Persuader, out-going and dramatic, can be insensitive at times, capable of relatively quick decision making (at least in her youth), can be impulsive, energetic and ready to go, desirous for adventure.

Alicent Hightower - ISFJ, The Protector, sensitive, protective of others, caring and compassionate and kind-hearted, represses emotions, warm and nurturing, neglectful of personal needs, not a fan of change.

Daemon Tagaryen - ENFP, The Champion, charismatic and charming, energetic, capacity for great leadership, a dislike of routine, strong people skills, disorganized, struggles to follow rules, needs external validation, spontaneous, desirous for others' approval.

Otto Hightower - ENTJ, The Commander, strong verbal and leadership skills, well-organized, stubborn, highly logical, capable of being insensitive, can get aggressive, good at making decisions in crisis, outspoken and assertive and self assured, a good planner and rational, goal oriented, not very good with inner emotions.

Viserys Targaryen - INFP, The Mediator, idealistic, can see the bigger picture, overlooks details and loses sight of the little things, can take things personally, sensitive, can be overly idealistic, wants to make the world better according to their vision.

Criston Cole - ISTJ, The Inspector, loyal, orderly and organized, can be judgmental, principled and a stickler for rules, values traditions and laws, tendency for self-blame and recrimination.

Aegon Targaryen - Whichever one stands for "huge fucking mess" jk jk. Probs INFJ, The Advocate, highly sensitive, values close relationships with others, stubborn, can be overly sensitive, creative and free spirited, can set expectations too high, places more emphasis on emotions than logic, wants to help ("oh how-" he literally lies for aemond free of charge and was ready to pull out a sword to defend alicent against a dragon shut up), can be difficult to get to know.

Helaena Targaryen - ISFP, The Artist, peaceful, caring and considerate, trouble with the abstract, pays great attention to detail, incredibly reserved, dislikes conflict and confrontation, aware of the environment and those in it, introverted, strong need for personal space, unique values system, enjoys hands on activities based on their interests.

Aemond Targaryen - INTP, The Thinker, (specifically INTP-Turbulent), thoughtful, quiet and reserved, capable of outside the box thinking, difficult to get to know, self doubting, can look at things objectively, likes a small and close knit group, trouble expressing their emotions, deeply loyal and affectionate with loved ones.

Daeron Targaryen - ESFJ, The Caregiver, enjoys helping others, kind and caring, sensitive to the needs and feelings of others, feelings get hurt easily, outgoing, sensitive to change, kind and loyal, approval seeking and needy, dependable and loyal, sensitive to criticism and wants to be liked, intrinsically kind and literally a caregiver.

Rhaenys TQWNW - INTJ, The Architect, self confident, hard worker, willing to put in the effort, overly judgmental, perfectionist, can appear callous and arrogant, good at listening in general and taking criticism, good at reading between lines.

Corlys Velaryon - ESTJ, The Director, take charge personality, goal oriented, inflexible and bossy, self confident, hard working, argumentative, strong leadership skills, organized and structured, unyielding, seemingly insensitive.

Alys Rivers - ISTP, The Crafter, goal oriented, even tempered, reserved, difficult to get to know, aversion to commitment, open to trying new things, self confident and self possessed, difficult to get to know, emotionally detached, level headed and logical and practical.

CONQUEST

(with explanations cuz they don't have a show to flesh them out as much)

Aegon the Conqueror - I would classify Aegon as a pretty firm INTP, The Thinker, given that he was an apparently private person about whose personality we know exceptionally little, that he appears to have been reserved and self possessed and kept things close to the vest and made very few friends, but capable of a fierce and deep loyalty towards people like Orys, an unending love for his sister-wife Rhaenys and his subsequent doting on of their son Aenys. Aegon is also capable of the INTP's propensity for outside the box thinking, as well as a focus on the bigger picture of conquering Westeros (especially if he had grander designs based on his dreams of the eventual war with The Others).

Visenya the Conqueror - I would classify Visenya as either ENTP, The Debater or an ENTJ, The Commander. Visenya clearly valued knowledge and valued learning what she could about the world, as evidenced by her interest in the mystic arts and her travels with Aegon pre-Conquest, and like her little brother she can be incredibly goal oriented, while also being a remarkable leader on the field in her own right and very assertive and outspoken, given how willing she was to talk smack not just to Aegon but to Aenys as well. She also clearly can be argumentative and balks at control, seemingly aggressive and intolerant, and even borderline insensitive (maybe Aenys didn't wanna burn the Sept of Remembrance on the Hill of Rhaenys because it was a symbol of remembrance for his mother Visenya, come on girlie). Visenya might not have been good at emotions but she was a good problem solver, as well as creative in her solutions, and appears to have been one of the more self assured out of her siblings.

Rhaenys the Conqueror - I would classify my most beloved Rhaenys number one queen of Westeros and love and beauty and of my heart as a mix of ENJF, The Giver (specifically the assertive type) and INFP, The Mediator. Rhaenys is described as much more of an emotionally open person than either of her siblings, affectionate with her loved ones and a kindhearted person in general, and she clearly had a wide social circle and a more outgoing personality than stern Visenya and reserved Aegon. She valued her close relationships with friends and family and with Meraxes, was probably as equally involved in the big picture of conquering Westeros as Aegon was and was probably the most persuasive out of all them. She also likely had a certain sense of altruism and idealism, focusing her power on diplomacy to better the realm and being the first administrator in the Targaryen dynasty, and possibly Westerosi history, to enact any sort of law to offer any protections to women, though that idealism likely came at a cost, considering she did think that they could make Dorne submit despite the very clear warning she got from the Yellow Toad, and the consequences for her as a result. And also, in case you forgot, Rhaenys is also perfect, so jot that down. It doesn't have anything to do with MBTI types but it's important to me that everyone knows that anyway.

Orys Baratheon - I would classify Orys as an ENTJ, The Commander, given his strong leadership skills and his incredible prowess in battle, and the problem solving we know he exhibits given that he was able to hold command over armies in hostile territory without things going Too wrong for him (hand-ectomy not included). But we also know that he was an intolerant person when wrong and could easily feel embittered if he felt slighted, like with the aforementioned hand-ectomy and how that left him hardened throughout the rest of his life and desirous for revenge.

[blossomingmoonlight]

⭑ This is more than a sick love story (Pt.2) ⭑

Part 2 to; "The ballad of the raven and the dragon, Part 1.

Pairing: Benjicot ("Davos") Blackwood x targ!princess!reader

Summary: Returning home after that evening was harder than you thought, the risky letters don't help either. Would it really hurt to meet again?

Warnings: NSFW, mdni, +18, heavy yearning, sexting in medieval times, mastrubation, pillow humping, making out, grinding, handjob, oral both m and f receiving. And some fluff <3.

Word count: 3k

POV: Benjicot Blackwood

A mixture of iron and salt coats his tongue, the clashing of swords and screaming of men fills his ears. Yet another man's blood spraying over his face and garbs. House Bracken wanted revenge for their fallen men and when they heard of the princesses departure they made their move. Even Benjicot could taste the cowardice in their blood. At this point the battle could barely be called a battle anymore as house Bracken had already suffered heavy losses. 

Benjicot couldn’t even keep up with the amount of Brackens he killed now, mind in a blur due to the adrenaline and violence. Even the cows didn’t survive. His men killed the remaining of the intruders and the battle was clearly won by house Blackwood. It had only been a week after the princess left and already his heart had a gaping hole which only could be filled by her. She promised she would write secretly, using ravens that would only ever make their way to him. 

The sun began to set as they left the sea of bodies behind them, making their way back to Raventree Hall. Upon arrival the gods had clearly answered his prayers because just when he got off his horse and handed him to one of the stable boys a raven flew towards him. Quickly taking the letter he made his way to his only place of privacy, and just like everyday he passed the dining hall. His cock stiffens every time he’s in or passes that room now, memories of the intimacy he shared with the princess flooding his mind. He finally got to his bedchamber and locked the door behind him once inside. Benjicot didn’t even bother to clean himself first, he ripped the unmarked seal off the letter and rolled it open.

Dear B,

I hope you are well, I wrote this as soon as I got home but I suppose the raven will take a bit to get back to you. The whole way back I couldn’t stop thinking about your handsome face, or your hands tracing my body. You are and will be on my mind until I get to see you again, however the idea of maybe never meeting you again strikes fear into my heart. I never thought that that one evening with you would change me so. I was too afraid to tell you this in person but you are the most fearsome, handsome and astounding man I have ever met. We have to meet again, I would not survive without your touch. Even thinking about that evening now sets my chest aflutter and my thighs soaking. You don’t even understand how badly I need you again. I hope you think of me as well. I hope you use my chemise every night to get off to the thought of me. I have thought long and hard about a place we could meet. I think the Whispering Wood is perfect, it is near enough for you to sneak out to and I can easily hide my dragon along the coast of Iron Man Bay. I hope you write back to me soon. 

Love, your pretty princess.

His mouth was still agape when there was a knock on his door. “My lord shall I draw a bath for you?” He could hear one of his servants' muffled voice. He rapidly stuffed the letter in his pocket, opened the door and let the servant do her work. Once the bath was drawn he dismissed the servant, he always washed himself since he never liked people just watching him be naked. With the door closing he removed the letter from his pocket and smelled. And like he suspected it smelt of ink, smoke and her perfume oil. Benjicot placed the letter on the small table beside the bath and swiftly removed his clothes. His cock already hard and leaking from reading the letter. 

He got in the warm bath with a sigh, he thought for a moment and grabbed the letter from the table next to him. His eyes scanned the words again and he felt his poor weeping cock begging for attention, so he read the letter once again, now grazing his thumb over the leaking slit on the head of his hard member. A mixture of a hiss and groan leaving his lips, he was so horny he didn’t even care if someone heard him. His eyes never leaving the letter he started to roughly jerk off his cock, the words on the paper relighting the memories of their shameful evening. 

His perverted mind only added fuel to the fire by imagining new scenarios with you, gods he’d fuck you on his bed, on his chair, on the settee, on the floor, against the wall, fuck even in the bath. The last image really spurred him on, moaning at the thought, he put the letter down for a moment to massage his seed filled balls as well as fisting his cock. Softly chanting your name through the room. “Please- please- fuck me- ride me baby just like that- ah fuck- I can’t-” 

Seven Hells even his own dirty little words made the fantasy feel real. Your cunt enveloping his hard sensitive cock, water splashing everywhere as both your moans filled the room. He could feel the familiar knot starting to snap in his belly, he fetched the letter from beside him again, thrusted into his fist a few more times and released ropes of his seed all over your letter. The words blurring as his cum covered them. He panted and shuddered at the sight. 

When Benjicot had calmed down from his orgasm he put the letter aside and now actually washed himself, even after he had dried himself off, had hidden the letter, and crawled into bed he still felt aroused. His cock hardening once again he knew his hand wouldn’t do so he threw the sheets of himself, removed his breeches and grabbed his pillow to position it just like he had you bend over the table. 

He then grabbed his again leaking precum member and positioned it against the pillow, the texture on his angry red tip feeling like pure bliss, he started humping against the pillow wishing it was you on his bed instead. Fucking the pillow harder and harder he decided it was better to release in his hand instead. So with a cuss and loud moan he spurted his cum in his hand imagining it was your cunt he was filling instead. After having cleaned off his hand in a basin, pulling his breeches back on he could finally fall asleep.

The next morning he immediately fetched paper and ink and started on a letter to write you back, when he was pleased with it he sent it by raven and hoped it would fall into your hands. Afterwards getting on with his duties as lord of Raventree Hall. 

Your POV:

A raven flew into the open window of Dragon Stone, the sun had set and you were in your chambers reading a book to your brother Joffrey. It had been two weeks since you sent that letter and you were beginning to get worried but relief washed over you at the sight of the raven. The second the raven landed on your settee you sent Joffrey back to his chambers guided by your handmaiden and told her that she was free for the night. She eyed you suspiciously but has always followed you loyally. When they left you grabbed the letter from the raven which flew away again and opened the unmarked seal, heart beating in your chest, you rolled the letter open.

My dear beloved,

Your raven arrived safely into my hands, I had to open it alone which proved to be needed because of your passionate writing. I am well unless you count the way in which you have plagued my mind. I can’t do any work without thinking, ‘what would my love think of this’ or ‘I wish my love could help me with this’. Seven hells, I can’t even walk in or pass my dining room anymore without my cock growing stiff in my pants. Any thought about you turns sinful, you have perverted me and turned me into a monster. Especially now without your touch. Last night when I read your letter, I read it in my bath. And you know what I did? I fucked my hand imagining it was your sweet cunt instead and when I reached my peak, I came all over your pretty handwriting. Your letter made me so horny I later fucked my pillow in bed too. So it is safe to say I need your touch too. So fucking badly. When you get this letter, try to leave as quickly as possible and head to our location. I will be waiting under the ruse of a solo hunting trip. Don’t make me wait too long my love. 

Love your B.

You went to bed with an uncontrollable smile on your face, your skin hot and folds wet at the thought of seeing your Benji again. The next morning you told one of the servants to inform your mother about your “flight to patrol the sea” so you could actually quickly get dressed and leave on dragon back to the Whispering Wood. The entire flight you thought about how meeting him again would go. High above the clouds your mind floods with impure thoughts of Benjicot Blackwood. When you knew you were about to be close to the shore of Iron Man Islands you still stayed high but descended out of the clouds so you could see. And you were right, no one was in sight when you landed with your dragon on the shore. 

So you began your pretty short walk to the Whispering Wood, nerves and excitement reeling through your body. Your walk through the Whispering Wood was different, anxiety started to take hold instead. What if he wasn’t able to come? What if someone caught you? However your fears began to ease when you could see the back of Benji’s hair and body who was standing near a small lake in the middle of the forest.

You walked as quietly as possible, wanting to surprise him. When you were near him you cupped your hands over his eyes and heard him laugh. He removed your hands and immediately turned around. He wasted no time crashing his lips on yours making you moan at his roughness. After some time he finally let go. “I have-” “I missed-” You both laughed at both of your attempts to speak first. So he started instead. “I am glad you got my letter, I can’t bear being without your touch and your voice any longer.” You smiled and a blush creeped onto your skin. “I couldn’t wait either. I don’t know what type of spell you casted on me but I don’t ever want to get rid of it.” He grinned at your words and took you in his arms once more.

“I don’t know if I can let you leave again. It would be too painful.” He confessed, holding your head against his chest with one hand and holding your waist with the other. “I don’t ever want to leave you again either but I don’t know how I would ever tell my family about this. And in the middle of a dragon war too.” He held you tighter and kissed the top of your head. “What did you tell them when you left?” Benji asked. “I told one of our servants to tell my mother that I went to patrol the seas, so I hope she bought it. I didn’t want to face her today.” You explained, your hands wrapping around him tighter. 

Benji held your chin and made you look at him. He softly licked his lips before devouring yours again like he did mere minutes ago. Except now both of your desires were growing strong. You felt like you were in heat every time he touched you. He kissed you like it was his last day on earth. You had kissed before but this time it was different. Who knew when you would see each other again?

He bit your bottom lip so he could let his tongue enter your mouth. Your feverent kiss turned into a full make out as he sucked and licked your tongue. He couldn’t hold his own groan back and let his hand slide to your ass cheeks, which he gripped harshly to pull you against him just like he did on your special evening. Which earned him a moan from you as you grazed his teeth with your tongue. Never did you think a kiss could turn so ravenous. “Benji-” You gasped against his lips when his hand began to massage your ass harshly. 

Making your two fronts grind against each other, his clothed already hard cock hitting your clothed wet cunt just right. He knew exactly what you liked and would do everything in his power to leave you shaking and trembling beneath his touch. “You want this fucking cock baby? You want it that fucking bad?” He pants against your lips, you could only moan a ‘please’ in response. 

He removed himself from you and helped you remove your clothes, you had never seen him this touch starved. He was truly acting like an animal. Benji got on his knees in front of you and swung your right leg over his shoulder for better access to where you needed him so badly. Your cunt was throbbing and almost hurting from how aroused Ben made you, your slick already coating your inner thighs. Benji held you steady and began to lap at your soaked folds, moaning at the taste of your sweet arousal. 

“Benji- please- I can’t take it-” Your want for him made you more sensitive than normal and all you could think about was how good his tongue was fucking you. It was so warm and wet and the way he used it to lap at your clit made you see stars. He took it a step further and entered a finger into your tight hole. It slipped in with ease and Benji grunted at the feeling, his own cock feeling tight in his breeches.

It didn’t take long for your orgasm to take hold of you, with the way he was fingering you and sucking and lapping at your clit, made you dizzy. You could only let out gasps and moans, your entire vocabulary being thrown out the window. With one last scream of his name he let go off you, already removing his pants and breeches ready to fuck you dumb but to his surprise you stopped him. “I want to do to you what you just did to me Benji.” You pleaded already looking up at him with your lashes. He took in a sharp breath and watched you sink to your knees.

Grabbing his leaking cock by the base you decided to lick up the precum and see how he would react. “Fuck- baby do that again. Don’t stop.” He gasped. You did as he commanded and this time sucked at his tip, resulting in him throwing his head back and moaning out of pleasure. The salty precum on your tongue motivated you to swirl your tongue around his tip and continue sucking. His groans and pants and ramblings of your name filled you with need but first you wanted his seed in your mouth again.

You continued to suck on his tip but now took him further in your mouth, earning you quite the explicit and long moan. Finally he looked down at you and softly held your head by your hair, guiding you a bit deeper. “Seven hells, look at you, swallowing my cock like that- You love it don’t you. Me using you as if your a common wench- Fuck- Just like that baby c’mon-” Him talking to you in such a manner made you reach for your clit, which made Benji smile and pant at the sight. Chasing your own release he helped you by guiding your head faster down his cock. Spit and precum drooling down your chin, hair all messed up. How would you even explain that to your family? 

“C’mon baby- I’m gonna fucking cum- You want my spent down your throat- Of course you do- Yes- Yes- Fuck!” The view of you cumming rubbing your clit finished him. You basically drank his cum as he filled your throat all while he gasped for air and moaned your name. When he pulled back from you, you licked your lips and smiled up at him. Never had you felt such power over a man. It felt way to fucking good. He pulled you back up and kissed you again. “You have no idea what you do to me.” He laughed breathlessly. 

“I think it’s about the same as what you do to me.” You smiled. He kissed your forehead before handing you your clothes again. While you both got dressed that heated, exciting and blissful mood turned quiet and solemn. You both knew you had to get back soon. After you were both dressed he sat down on the ground motioning for you to sit on his lap. You giggled as you joined him on the ground, pushing him back so you could lay on top of him, holding each other close. “I think I love you.” He suddenly blurted out. You looked at him with flushed cheeks and grazed your hand across his, over his lips and through his hair. “I think I love you as well.” He sat back up at your words and kissed you deeply. 

“Please, you can’t leave me.” He begged once he removed his lips from yours. “I don’t want to leave you.” You admitted. “You belong to me. You were made for me. I will destroy the world if that’s what it takes to make you my wife.” He rubbed your cheek with his hand as he spoke. “Come with me to Dragon Stone and ask my mother for my hand. If she for some reason refuses, I’ll cut through our guard myself if I have to, and we could run away.” He smiled at that and both of you agreed that he would ask for your hand.

[iamyourdailydoseofbi]

LIKE REAL PEOPLE DO. ( HOTD x READER ) [ Pt. 2 ]

AUTHOR NOTE! Thanks for all the love. <3 pairing: King Aegon ii Targaryen x Niece! Targ! ( Strong ) Reader suggest song to listen to whilst reading: Like Real People Do by Hozier or Never Love an Anchor by The Crane Wives prompt : would you make a part 2 for "like real people do" where after the fight reader gets really depressed and gives up trying to talk to him so he finally realizes his mistakes and tries to be a better person for her. she's still weary of him so doesn't really speak to him outside of formalities which frustrates him. but during that period aemond tries to make a move on her but he's a really good friend and makes her feel wanted and loved so when aegon watches them dance during a feast he kinda snaps and they finally argue talk their feelings out with them making up by the end and maybe if smut if you want to write it??? thank you! word count: 1, 000+ words

You listened to him a little too well, like a loyal pup listening to its Master. You avoided him like he was the Stranger himself. Your once soft glances. The subtle smiles whenever you looked at him. The way your fingers would brush against his. The way you would tend to him. The way you would set out his clothes after a night out in Flea Bottom. 

Everything that you had done for him. It was all over and done. He had ruined it all with his pathetic temper tantrum. He regretted it. He fucking regretted it all as days turned into a fortnight. A fortnight was dragging into a full moon. And he was starting to crave having you around once again. He craved you more than he craved wine. You were now a ghost in his life. Passing by, unseen and unheard. 

He was sure that soon enough you would come back to him. You'd snap out of this little daze. You'd come back to him. You'd coddle him, just like you used to. Everything, everything, everything would be alright. You'd be back and this would be nothing more than a small fight in the past.

Watching you and Aemond dance together, Aemond was so gentle with you, his hands and gaze never strayed into another inappropriate. Aemond was a true gentleman, he would never dare to dishonor you. He always treated you with such respect and kindness. Brushing it off as nothing more than a cordial dance between a brother and sister-in-law, Aegon takes a sip of his wine, turning his back to the two of you. 

Hearing soft laughter come from behind him, he snaps his head back towards you too in an instant, eyes sharp. He did not care. In the weeks of your avoidance, he was fine! He was fucking fine! But, why the fuck did you look so happy with him? You looked happy with Aemond, of all people. You looked really happy with Aemond. Happier than he had ever made you in the years of your marriage together. 

“They look happy together.” Helaena smiles, “Do they not, Aegon?”

“They do.” He grumbles, scowling deeply. 

“I am happy to see her so happy once again.” Helaena nods mindlessly, “She was so upset before.”

“She was?” He raises a brow. 

“Yes, she was. Aemond though, he was very kind to her. They spoke a lot. She has been smiling since she had spoken to him. Tis’ good.” Helaena smiles, unaware of her words.

Narrowing his eyes at the sight of you and Aemond dancing, he shifts in his seat, tightening his grip on his chalice. He wasn’t upset. He wasn’t fuckign upset in the slightest. Why the fuck would anyone get upset at such news like this? He wasn’t. He wasn’t. 

“What of?” He asks, masking his displeasure. 

“Dragon’s.” Helaena smiles, “Other things. But, most of dragon’s.”

“Dragon’s?” 

“Mm-hmm, she has always had an interest in dragon’s. Specifically Vhagar.” Helaena shakes her head, “She thinks that Dragons and their riders can share memories of Old should their bond be so tightly intertwined.” 

“Well that’s stupid.”

“I do not think so. If dragon dreams are true, tis’ no surprise if such a thought could be true.” Helaena argues, “If you spoke to her, you would know of this.”

Clenching his jaw tightly at Helaena’s subtle jab, he trails his eyes back onto you, seeing just how happy you looked with Aemond. His heart clenched tightly. It should be him in Aemond’s place. He should be the one getting you so happy and comfortable. He should be the one listening to the stupid thoughts. Not Aemond. Chugging all of the wine in his chalice, he slams the chalice down hard on the table, standing up from his seat. 

No. Nope. Not a chance. Not a fucking chance. Aemond would not take his place. He could not, no he would not be replaced by his younger brother. You were his wife. You were supposed to be his little pest. You were supposed to be his. Running a hand through his hair, he stalks towards the two of you, keeping a calm facade for your sake. He would win you back. If he could seduce whores in Flea Bottom, he could seduce you back. 

“If you do not mind, I would like to have my wife back, dear brother.” He cuts in, his voice smooth with a hint of iciness.

“Oh..” You murmur, the smile on your face dying in an instant. 

“If the Lady wishes, then I shall end our dance.” Aemond glares at him, “After all, she may be tired of dancing.”

“She is my wife.”

“Yes, she is. But, we’ve been dancing for so long.” Aemond argues, “Mayhaps, you should ask her if she wishes to keep dancing or if she would like some wine.”

Seeing the subtle glare his brother gave him, he puffs his chest up in defense, attempting to intimidate him. He was the King and your husband. He had every right to be around you and ask you for a dance. Narrowing his eyes hard at him, Aemond motions to you with his eye, trying to make him understand. What the fuck was he trying to say? Clenching his jaw in confusion, it suddenly clicks in his head what Aemond was suggesting. A way for him to speak to you. Aemond was not attempting to steal you

“Um, Y/n, would you like to dance with me?” 

“Oh, um, no thank you.” You softly shake your head, “I have had my fill of dancing.”

“Then, may I suggest you join me at our table for some wine and fresh air?” He offers again, attempting to find some middle ground with you. 

As tempted as he was to sling you over his shoulder, he knew that it would only worsen the distance between the two of you, and maybe earn him a hard punch to the nose from Aemond. He had to be smart. He had to be the complete and utter opposite of himself. Looking at you a little hopeful, he holds his hand out for you to take, praying that you would at least grant him that. 

“I thought you wished for me to leave you be?” You murmur, “Twas’ hard to not understand that when you were shouting at me.”

“Mayhaps, I was wrong.” He gulps, suddenly feeling nervous. 

“But, you said to me⎯” 

“I want to be alone, but alone with you.” He stutters, “Um, that is if you will allow it to me.”

Cowering slightly as you stare him down, he retracts his hand, now aware of Aemond’s lack of presence. It was just you and him. Though, it was not a comforting thought. Clasping his hands behind his back, he slowly looks you over, eyes trailing down your gown.

It was purple with pearls sewing into the skirt. You always wore green to match with him. His gut churns painful, now aware of just how much distance had brewed in the weeks apart. You used to be so intertwined with him. 

“I do not wish to be around you any longer. Tis’ clear my presence is a bother.” You argue, staring him down like he was your prey. 

“No, I do not wish for that any longer.” He mumbles, like a petulant child.

“You do not?” 

“I do not. I wish for us to act like real people do. To not be like how we once were.” He explains, “I wish to change. For there to be no distance.”

“Bold words do not move me, Aegon. Tis’ actions that do.”

Nodding his head in agreement at your words, he knew that he had royal fucked up. Hell, even his own dragon refused to look at him for what he had done, siding with your dragon. He had to earn your respect. But, he was willing to do it. Swallowing his pride, he looks at you shamefully, seeing the hate within your eyes.

You now looked at him with the same hate that everyone else in the Realm did. It was not as pleasing or comforting as he had wanted or though it would be. It felt shameful. It felt heartbreaking. You were supposed to look at him with love, not hatred.

“I..”

“You what, Aegon?” You snap back, annoyed.

“I…Tell me what you wish for me to say and do. Tell me what man you wish for me to be, and I shall be him for you.” He pleads, using the same words you had said to him weeks ago.

----

[drakoneve]

A Dragon's Wrath

Request: hello hello, how are u? Idk if u write for Harwin Strong, but I'm obsessed with this man, so if you're not taking requests for him, forgive me for being rude. So I wanted to make a request where the reader is the younger sister of Rhaenyra Targaryen, also daughter of Aemma and Viserys. She married Strong, and lives a dream life with him (they love each other very much, so please, Rhaenyra's children are not his 🫠) and the legitimacy of their children was questioned, of course the queen would never imagine that Harwin had a birthmark, which none of his brothers inherited from Lyonel, he being the only one to have it and ALL THE CHILDREN OF HARWIN AND THE PRINCESS HAVE THAT SAME BRAND, JUST LIKE THE FATHER'S. Maybe I went on too long and was stupid, sorry, you can do whatever comes to your brilliant mind, I just really wish the legitimacy of the children of the OC was proved by legal means and gave no right to be questioned even by the queen. Thank you for your attention, I understand if you don't want to do it 🤍.

pairing: harwin strong x targ!fem!reader

word count: 3k

warnings: mentions of childbirth, alicent being snakey

a/n: first harwin fic, harwin girlies lmk what you think!! for the sake of this fic, Rhae's children have Targaryen silver hair

In all the years the pair were married, King Viserys and Queen Aemma were blessed by the Mother with only two healthy, living babes. First born has been your elder sister Rhaenyra, whom you followed two years later.

Growing up the two of you remained close through your lessons and dragon riding, but as Rhaenyra grew older she would end up spending more and more time with her lady in waiting Alicent Hightower. Rhaenyra and Alicent being two of the only other girls your age in the Red Keep and their refusal to have anyone join them in their activities, you felt somewhat dejected by your sister's budding friendship.

This is what led you to find solace in the Red Keep's training yards. Day after day you watched knights, and knights in training, battle it out in the yard while you worked on your studies. It was there in the yard you saw him for the first time- your future husband, Ser Harwin Strong.

At the time you had no idea you would end up marrying him, of course, but you should have.

You'd heard all about Ser Harwin Breakbones, son of Lyonel Strong, one of your father's most loyal council men. Harwin's reputation truly preceded him and was rightfully earned.

You hadn't noticed it at the time, but you'd abonded your books and parchments in the stands by your supervising Septa as you approached the rail separating the stands and the training yard in an attempt for a clearer view.

Harwin stood taller than his opponents, shoulders back, sword in hand ready to defend himself. He watched his opponents carefully, calculating their next move. His short brown curls were halfway pulled back out of his face with a tie, exposing Harwin's jawline, much to your own enjoyment.

That afternoon you watched Harwin take down man after man without so much as a proper blow to his own body. He wielded his sword as if it were an extension of his arm in fluid, rushing movements.

When he had finally finished for the evening you applauded him, finally grabbing his attention as he had held yours.

"You are quite the swordsman, Ser Harwin!" you call out to him. "I feel much better knowing there are knights as skilled as you protecting my home."

Harwin grinned largely at your praise, twirling his sword in his hand for show as he approached the rail you supported yourself on. "I mean only to ensure you are safe at all times, my princess."

You smiled down at him now that he was almost right below you. "Well I have no doubts of your capabilities, Ser. I have a feeling you will do great things here, should you wish."

"You are too kind, princess," he chuckles. Then he looks up at the sky, towards the sun on it's way to set. "It is getting quite late, princess. Shall I escort you back to your chambers?"

The excitement and hopefulness in his face brought butterflies to your stomach.

"I would like nothing more, Ser."

After that night it was scarce the two of you weren't side by side, which all but pushed your fathers to wed the two of you.

Now you stood in those same stands, watching Harwin in the yard yet again, but now he's joined by your two eldest sons. Maevor has just passed his tenth and second name day, and Daeragon his ninth. Your two youngest babes, however remained with you and your maid and close friend, Malina.

Malina had first been assigned to you after your marriage to Harwin, and she'd stood loyally by your side as you birthed all of your children.

Malina's elder brother Ellion, a knight of the City Watch, stood closeby on the order of Harwin. He'd been one of Harwin's best men as you'd heard him compliment the younger knight on many occasions in the past. Being a Targaryen princess and wife of the Lord Commander in such uncertain times in the house of the dragon could be dangerous, and Harwin meant only to protect you and your babes.

Your first daughter, eldest of your month old twins, Naelora cooed softly in your arms as she played with the loose sleeve ends of your dress. You indulged her for a moment, raising your arm to lift the sleeve from her reach to tease her.

She gurgles in laughter, stretching her chubby little arms to grasp your sleeve once more.

The moment is over by the approach of Queen Alicent's lady in waiting, Talya.

"My apologies, Princess," Talya bows to you first. "But the Queen has requested Malina's presence for this afternoon."

Why would the queen need Malina specifically? Surely she could find another maid within the Keep to aid her?

Malina looks to you, pale brown eyes silently asking to stay. This isn't the first time something like this has happened, of course. After giving birth to your second son Daeragon, Queen Alicent began requesting Malina's presence more often.

Still sore from your labors, Harwin had taken the day off to aid you and watch over Maevor to allow you to rest.

You watched happily from your spot on the bed as Harwin held little Daeragon, to introduce him to his elder brother. Maevor, a boy of three years, stood as high as he could on his toes to get a peek over Harwin's bulk of an arm to get a glimpse of his brother.

Then your chamber doors open and Malina returns to your side after serving the queen all day. She approaches the foot of your bed, hands clasped together in front of her with her eyes cast slightly downwards.

"Malina, you needn't worry about me," you begin to dismiss her kindly. "I'm sure the Queen-"

But Malina shakes her head, brown curls following her, still refusing to meet your gaze. "I need to speak with you, Princess. And you, Lord Harwin, in privacy."

You share a concerned look with Harwin, who's joyfulness has been replaced with worry. In the time she's served you Malina had never been afraid to look you in your eyes.

He wastes no time escorting Maevor to his chambers just off your own, and placing little Daeragon in his crib next to your side of the bed. Harwin returns and stands dutifully on the other side of you as if protecting you.

"What is it?" you ask, and pat the bed in front of you for Malina to sit.

Malina makes no move to sit on your bed. "My princess," her voice wavers nervously. "I have served your for near half a decade now, and I know you to be the most true and kind person I have ever had the pleasure of serving-"

"Malina," Harwin interrupts sternly. "Speak it plain, what have you heard of my wife?"

Your heart thudded hard in your chest as you instinctively reached for Harwin's hand. He intertwined his fingers with your in an attempt to comfort you.

Malina takes in a deep breath before finally looking up to meet your gaze. "Queen Alicent requested my presence after your labors today for questioning."

"Questioning?" you tilted your head slightly. "About what?"

"Your sons," she answered swiftly. "She... She wanted to know if this babe looked like Harwin or..."

Harwin pulled his hand from yours, placing it on the hilt of his sword. "Or who, Malina?"

"Ellion," Malina whispers. "The Queen seems to believe that you spend too much time with Ellion, princess. She asked if I knew of any relations between the two of you, but I swore to her you are deathly loyal and would never-"

You move from your spot on the bed to bring yourself to stand. Harwin aids you as you steady yourself, then reach for Malina's forearm.

"You needn't explain yourself to me, Malina," you assure her. "I know you to be true to me, and you are one of the kindest ladies I know. You should go, retire for the night. We shall do the same."

Malina apologizes the whole way out your chamber doors despite your assurances. Harwin begins to strip his armor as you settle yourself back into bed.

Daeragon's crib sat just off the side of your bed, close enough for you to have a view of the newborn's little face.

Harwin soon joins your side clad in his nightclothes. You can feel his gaze on you, but you refuse to meet his gaze. Emotions ran rampant through you. You knew it must be the strain and high emotions of you and your new babe surviving the day, but you couldn't stop the rush.

It's when the tears begin to fall from your lilac eyes that Harwin wraps you up in his arms and pulls you back against him.

"My love," he cooes. "Sweet girl, do not worry yourself with the opinion of a misguided, jealous woman."

He raises his right hand to show off the inside of his right wrist, showing off the small, discolored patch of skin he inherited from his father, Lord Lyonel. A small, almost missable, seemingly insignificant patch of skin both Maevor and Daeragon had inherited.

Harwin leans in close, placing his lips against the shell of your ear. "We know I have fathered your sons, my love. Do not worry yourself with this, it is not worth it."

"You're right, husband," you hum, settling into your husband's arms for the night. "I'm just glad he's here, and healthy."

He kisses your temple softly. "You did that. You made him the healthy babe he is."

As you promised Harwin that night, you did your best to ignore the rumors pursued by Alicent. In the years following Daeragon's birth you'd heard more whispers within the court questioning your son's parentage, though you said nothing.

You tried your best to pay them no mind, other days they really got to you. But for now you simply obliged to the queen's wishes.

"Ser Ellion," you motioned your friend forward with one hand. He looked much like his sister as they shared the same nose, and brown curly hair, though Ellion's eyes were an elegant green. Still, no man in the Seven Kingdoms could come close to Harwin in your eyes.

"Would you mind taking my sweet Raemor from your sister? I'm afraid I cannot tend to both babes at once."

Ellion nods and leans down slightly to make a peaceful transition from his sister's arms. He wore an awkward grin on his face as he cradles the blanket wrapped babe the best he could in a full suit of armor. "It is an honor, Princess. Though I'm not certain he will be comfortable against such steel."

Malina bows and takes Talya's arm in her own. You know Malina's dislike for the woman, and you can only guess she's done this to ensure Talya is led away from you and your family.

You shake your head in response to Ellion yet keep your attention on your daughter in your arms. "It is no issue, Harwin holds them in his armor every day. He has with each of them."

A moment passes in silence and you look up to your husband and eldest children. Maevor's brown curls are just long enough on the top to be tied back while leaving some down thus his hair is relatively tame. Daeragon's, however, is tousled and absolutely untame.

Both boys are breathing heavier now, their cheeks flushed. But the beautiful, pure look of excitement on their faces melted your heart. They knew their father was Lord Commander of the City Watch, and that Harwin worked hard for his family at his very important job, and they treasured their father for it.

After taking them to see Harwin train with some of the new recruits of the City Watch two fortnights ago had been a mistake on your part for the boys had not shut up about training themselves. At first you had been hesitant, of course other Targaryen princes had been taught to fight years before your boys, but you were afraid of the things they might encounter so instead you encouraged them to spend time in the libraries and their respective dragons.

As a result the boys were extremely well read and years ahead of their pupils in their studies. Maevor is practically fluent in Valyrian now, and Daeg is not far behind.

Their insistent pleading had wore on you though, and you gave in to them with Harwin's reassurance he would personally oversee their training. In the end, Maevor and Daeg's immediate joy at being granted permission made it worth it in the end.

Harwin and the boys were cleaning their training gear and putting it away.

Ellion clears his throat, pulling your attention from your family. "I fear something is happening, Princess."

"What do you mean?" you ask, standing from your seat and brushing your skirts with one hand.

"I have been approached twice now," he explains carefully, watching who was sat in the immediate area. The closest people sat on the complete opposite of the training yard in those stands. "Once by a fellow knight, and then by Talya herself. I only mention this as a warning, Princess."

Harwin and the boys are nearly there and you don't want the boys to hear such slander.

"Thank you, Ellion," you force a smile to give him. "And I apologize for what has been whispered around court these last years, but I plan now to make it right."

Harwin approaches you then, slinking one arm around your waist as he presses a kiss to your temple. "Come, my love, the boys need to bathe and our littlest ones must be ready for their nap."

Maevor perks up, "Mother, may I carry Naelora back to your chambers?"

Your hearts melts at the question, Maevor ever the doting older brother. You grant your son permission, gently reminding him to hold her head carefully.

"And I shall take Raemor from you, Ellion. I thank you for your services for today."

He bows respectfully, "Tis my duty, and an honor."

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Once the twins are down for their naps and the older boys off to the bathhouse with Malina you informed Harwin of everything that had transpired this afternoon while he trained with the boys.

His thick brows furrowed almost immediately, angre written upon his face. Harwin had shed his armor by now, settling for more comfortable leathers for the evening. His sword however, stayed attached to his hip with one hand gripping the hilt.

"I am sick of hearing your name and reputation tarnished by fools!" Harwin seethes, angrier than you've ever seen him. "I have half a mind to slay them all down for even thinking such things of our children, of you."

You shake your head softly, approaching him to cup his face. You press your forehead against his own, something you've always done to comfort him.

"I have a plan, my dutiful husband," you assure him. "I happen to have a wonderful relationship with my father by law, if you must know. And I just so happen to know that a Small Council meeting starts in mere minutes."

Harwin eases a little, but now he's wrought with confusion.

"What have you planned, my love?"

You smile mischievously and press a sweet kiss to your husband's lips. "Just you wait husband, I first require our Maevor."

The boys are back from their baths by now as you can hear them bustling about Daeragon's chambers, which is the adjoining room to your own.

You knock before you enter as you always do, to the sight of your boys on Daeg's bed, books sprawled open before them.

"What have we there, byka zaldrīzoti (little dragons)?" you ask as you join them on the bed.

Daeg pulls the leather bound book to cover his lap to show you. "The Histories of Old Valyria!" he chimes. "Maevor was reading it to me in Valyrian."

You stroke Daeg's plush cheek with one hand, still able to see the babe he used to be in his face, and take Maevor's hand in your other.

"He's smart, your brother," you 'whisper' to Daeragon. "I would study hard, my Prince."

Maevor breaks his hand away to rustle his brother's brown curls. "Muña's teasing, Daeg. You are smarter now than I was your age."

You swoon, heart melting at the relationship between your boys. "Oh my sweet Maev," you kiss his temple. "Might I borrow you for a awhile, I have something important to discuss with the Small Council and I need your help."

Maevor's brown eyes widened slightly, "Of course, mother."

"Have no fear, sweet boy, I have a plan."

And you sure did. Once you explained what you could to Maevor while sparing his innocence best you could, he'd been more than willing to join you.

You squatted down to be closer to your son's level, Harwin by your side. "You are special, Maevor," you explain to him. You grab Harwin's right hand and Maevor's to put them side by side. Both birthmarks were near identical save for Harwin's being larger and slightly darker than his son's. "Each of my babes have this mark, all from Harwin, who inherited it from your grandsire, Lyonel. Do you understand?"

He nods, but says nothing. Harwin crouches down next to you, reaching to cup his eldest son's face.

"I wish we did not have to burden you with such a task, my boy," Harwin admits grimly. "I want you to know we are only doing this because we love you children, and I love your muña too much to let people speak of her in such a way any longer."

So the three of you set off, accompanied by Ellion as Malina had stayed behind to watch the twins and Daeragon.

Despite the Kingsguard outside the meeting room of the Small Council, you march right past them and push the doors open yourself.

Each member of the council turns to you now silenced. Otto sat up straighter in his seat as he looked towards his daughter. Alicent looked shocked to see the group of you, and you noted her visible nervousness.

Lyonel stands and comes to Harwin's side, demanding answers most likely. Harwin begins whispering in his father's ear, explaining the situation.

"Sister," Rhaenyra stands, hand placed over her round stomach. "What is wrong?"

You cross your arms over your chest, eyes blazing as you glare at the Hightowers at the table. "Since the birth of my Daeragon I have endured vile slanders against not only myself, but my marriage, and every one of my children."

Alicent shifts uncomfortably in her seat.

"Princess," Otto pokes in. "I can assure you-"

"Assure what?" you snap, slamming down on the table to lean towards the Hand. "Alicent has been the one to pull my ladies from me just after giving birth to insinuate my babes have been fathered by knight of the City Watch who is not my husband. Even now, a month after having my twins, I am approached with more blasphemy. No more."

You usher Maevor forward, who happily extends his right arm before you have to ask. Harwin joins you, followed by Lyonel, both of whom put out their wrists as well.

Alicent's mouth widens in shock before she grits her teeth. Even Larys' wears a look of shock as he checks his own wrists, coming up with nothing.

"I am tired of my children being put under scrutiny," you say finally. "And of my loyalty to my husband being questioned. Now, if you all do not mind, I would like to enjoy the rest of the day with my family undisturbed."

You step back from the table to leave when Rhaenyra wraps you up in a hug. "I am so sorry, sister," she whispers.

You assure her with a simple kiss to the side of her head before reaching for Maevor's hand.

The boy is practically bouncing on his feet as the two of you make your way back to your chambers, both Harwin and Ellion following close behind.

"She is very scary, your wife," Ellion admits to Harwin lowly. "I would to want to be on the receiving end of her wrath."

He only chuckles, "No, nor would I."

[peterparkersnose]

A Tale of Two Eyes

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x f!reader

word count: 2.8k

warnings: trauma, mentions of suicide, mentions of Helaemond, toxic marriage, reader has established relationship with Aemond and they have children, reader is pregnant, marriage of convenience, political marriage, arguing, undertones of an abusive relationship, selfish Aemond, hate on the Blacks (love Rhaenyra tho, just for the story themes)

a/n woah I wrote?!?! Happy birthday Ewan ily mwah

summary Aemond's son and heir just met the same fate as he did all those years ago with Lucerys.

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read time: 10 mins 11 seconds

That afternoon was a blur. Everything for Y/N has moved so quickly, yet so slowly at the same time. She had asked Ser Criston to fetch her sons, ten-year-old Daeron and six-year-old Aerion, for dinner. They had been playing out in the courtyard for a few hours. She had her three-year-old daughter, Visenya, sat and prepared to feast for the evening meal. Visenya wiggled in her seat, anxious for her brothers to join her to feast. The morning was rough on Y/N, as she was currently seven months pregnant with her fourth child with Aemond. Visenya had been a terror as well, as she has now taken to escaping her caretakers and seeking out Y/N specifically. Y/N was speaking to Visenya, trying to distract her from her hungry stomach and practicing her vowels when her mother-in-law, Alicent, came rushing into the dining room. The Dowager Queen looked frantic as she quickly came to Y/N’s side. 

“It’s Daeron,” she spoke, out of breath. “Daeron?” Y/N asked. Alicent motioned for her to follow her, as she did not want to alarm Visenya. Y/N immediately left Visenya with their nanny and followed her mother-in-law quickly down the castle halls.

“What has happened?” Y/N asked, holding her stomach with one hand and walking as fast as she possibly could. “Aegon and Viserys…” Alicent paused. The names of Rhaenyra’s last two surviving sons. They have always quarreled with her and Aemond’s sons, and now she truly feared the worst. 

“They have taken Daeron’s eye just as Lucerys did to Aemond years ago.”

Y/N abruptly stopped in the hallway, grabbing the wall for guidance.

“Excuse me?” she blinked a few times, angered at her mother-in-law for just dropping this knowledge on her. For the sake of her unborn child, she tried not to let her emotions run rampant.

For her first child, her first son, heir to the Iron Throne, and the beginning of the new Targaryen age has just been permanently maimed or killed. 

Aemond never attended dinners anymore. The man Y/N knew when they were first betrothed was long gone after the results of the dance. Aemond could barely deal with the grief of his siblings, niece, and nephews. Y/N had always speculated a secret love affair with her husband and his now-deceased sister, Helaena, but she never approached the subject. He was never the same after Helaena’s suicide. Aemond had been a broken man since, even though he was living out his dreams. He was now the King. The Blacks were defeated, only leaving Rhaenyra’s two legitimate sons with Daemon, as they were too young to understand the effects of what they were born into. Alicent took them in against her better judgment. 

So now, he sat in his office alone like he did most nights. The candlelight was dim and his wine glass was almost emptied. He sat hunched over letters, writing them to various Lords around Westeros. Aemond often filled his time with work so he could escape the horrors of his true life. It was pitch black outside and pouring now, as it had been hours since dinner was supposed to have happened. He heard a knock on his office door.

“Enter.”

He didn’t expect his wife. He straightened his posture and took off his reading magnifier from the bridge of his nose. He took in her essence. She was beautiful, he had to admit. Their marriage wasn’t ideal, but she had been essential for the success of the Greens in the dance, as their marriage brought House Targaryen together with one of the most powerful houses in Westeros. Aemond took a deep breath.

“My lady wife–”

His words got caught in his throat when he saw the blood on her hands. “Is the child all right?” 

Y/N nodded eagerly to assure him that this wasn’t a complication in her pregnancy. “What has happened? Is someone hurt?” Aemond eagerly asked, standing up from his desk and striding over to her. “I-It’s Daeron…”

“Daeron?” Aemond replied, relief running over him that the issue wasn’t the child. Yet he worried for his heir. Y/N was shaking, Aemond grabbed her hands. “You mustn't freak.” she asked of Aemond. His brows furrowed. “Calm yourself, woman. Explain what happened.” 

“Him and Aerion… got in a scuffle with Aegon and Viserys.”

Aemond’s grip tightened on Y/N’s hands. If it weren’t for the grace of her and Alicent, Aemond would have had those two children’s heads on spikes before they were old enough to realize their parents' crimes. “What prompted the fight?” he asked angrily. Y/N shrugged. “That–that is to be determined. I don’t want you to freak–”

“Do not tell me what to do. What is of Daeron?” he raised his voice to his wife. “He–”

Y/N took a deep breath and paused. She didn’t know how to approach this with her husband correctly and not trigger him from his past. Her hand moved to her husband's cheek, her fingers moving over the strap of his eyepatch slowly. “Do you remember?”

Aemond scoffed.

“Of course, I remember. You don’t need to remind me.” his lips pursed as he closed his remaining eye momentarily and sighed. “Why is this relevant?”

Y/N had no clue how to tell her husband this. She was expecting him to have the same reaction she and Queen Alicent were having. 

“Our son just met the same fate.”

Aemond pondered for a moment, then turned around and brushed Y/N’s hand off his cheek. He returned to his desk. He felt sick, he had to sit down. Aemond didn’t fully understand the situation yet but feared the worst. He was silent for a great moment, hearing a small sniffle coming from his wife brought him back to reality. “What happened to Daeron? Do you mean to tell me he’s lost his eye? Don’t tell me he’s dead…”

“He isn’t. But Viserys scraped it out like Lucerys did to yours.”

Aemond slammed his fist on the desk, making Y/N jump. Aemond seethed in anger, thoughts running rampant in his head. After a long pause, he spoke. “And did you tell my mother yet?”

“She is with him as we speak.” Y/N replied, anxiously waiting to see where her husband's emotions ran at that moment. “Where is Aerion? Is he harmed?” he asked of his spare, who could likely become his heir at any moment. “Aerion is fine just… traumatized. He tried to go after Viserys but Criston pulled him away when he got to the scene.”

Aemond seethed, then suddenly threw his wine goblet to the wall. It smashed and scared Y/N. “Aemond–”

“Send Daeron to my mother’s chambers. Tell her I’ll be along shortly, I have letters to write.”

He didn’t even look up at his wife as he put his spectacle back on. 

“What?” Y/N held her stomach with one hand, the other on her hip. She was confused. “You’re returning to your work?” She didn’t even get another word in before Aemond snapped. “Send Daeron to my mother's room at once!”

She was utterly shocked. How could he? Work? His son needed his father. The only person who could relate and help Daeron through this terrible time in his life… and Aemond chose to work? “Your son needs you!” 

Aemond growled. “I’ll tend to him later. He’s going to survive, and I have work to do.”

Y/N was flabbergasted. 

“You’re the only one who can help him understand. The boy is ten and just lost his eye! That is your son!”

Y/N knew she was fighting in a losing battle. But she had to plead for her son. He had been requesting his father for some time now. Aemond abruptly stood, walking to his door. He didn’t look at her once. “If you think talking to him will do him any good, I’ll do it. I’ll write my letters and come when I can,” he mumbled. When Y/N realized this was the best she was going to get, she decided to leave. As she was exiting the door, the child kicked in her womb roughly. She groaned and Aemond looked up to her, seeing her clutching her stomach. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Y/N said coldly. He watched her exit. She wasn’t expecting another word from him. 

She could hear him before she saw him. Y/N entered Alicent’s chamber to see her son sobbing, clinging to his grandmother. Alicent brushed his hair softly with her fingers, her stare distant. Y/N could tell that Alicent had seen this story before, and she didn’t like the ending. The look of vengeance plagued the middle-aged woman's face. As Daeron heard someone enter the room, he spoke.

“Father?” Y/N’s heart simply broke then. Daeron was truly in a state of shock, he barely paid attention to anything but the throbbing sensation of the worst pain he had ever felt in his life on his face. “No, sweet boy. Your father…” Y/N caught herself. She couldn’t tell her son that his father refused to see him. No. It would simply break his heart and his spirit more than they already were broken. “I could not find him. The guards will notify him shortly when they find him.” Y/N moved to the bed, and Alicent moved so Y/N could comfort her son Daeron. Alicent gave her an honest nod and stepped into the hallway. Y/N embraced her ten-year-old in her arms, and he rested his head on the fleshy part of her arm. He was still holding a rag over his wound, so Y/N took the rag from his hand and switched it with hers so the boy’s arm wouldn’t grow tired. 

“What happened to me, mother?” Daeron spoke softly. He tried to look up at her but failed to do so. Y/N held back tears. “It wasn’t fair, my love. Viserys will pay. I will make sure of it.”

Daeron shook in her arms. “I-I’m scared.” he admitted to her. A sob finally came from the boy again, and he stopped crying when she entered the room. He was trying to stay strong for his mother. He was already showing such promising signs of a good King, even at such a young age.  “What will I do without my eye, mother? Do I still have a future, will the girls still like me? They’ll think I’m gross for sure, I just know of it–”

“My son.” Y/N cut off his rambles. “Of course not. We shall not worry about this now. You are a handsome boy, and already a great warrior.”

“But–” Daeron began again. Y/N shushed him. “No. Shh. You must remember your father has the same wound as you. And is he a great warrior?” 

Daeron nodded. “And is he married?”

Daeron nodded again. “My sweet son, my heir. Do not worry. You will be the greatest Targaryen that ever lived.” Y/N spoke. She moved closer to her son. “Don’t tell your father or siblings I said that,” Y/N whispered, managing a small smile trying to bring some humor to the boy. He desperately needed it. But it quickly faded, as the child inside of her kicked again. 

“Mother?” Daeron asked. Even in his pained state, he cared for his mother. What a good boy she had raised. “Do not worry. The babe is just wild during this time of night.” 

Y/N ran a hand over her son's bloodied hair which had now dried. She held him close until he fell asleep. Aemond never came. 

During the very early hours of that morning, Y/N had failed to find sleep. She paced her shared chambers with Aemond. He had yet to return. She grew angrier and more frustrated by the minute. And finally, as she was re-lighting the candles that should have been blown out hours ago, she heard the door of her chambers click open and then shut. She turned to her husband, who looked cowardly now, with an angered glare. “Where have you been?”

Aemond shrugged. Y/N scoffed. “Do not play this game with me right now.” Y/N approached him, he smelt of dragon sweat and the salty sea. “Did you just take Vhagar for a ride?” 

Aemond sighed. “Yes.”

Y/N couldn’t hold back the angered laugh. “You’re kidding me right now.” Aemond threw his boots from his feet against the wall. “I have my own ways of managing my–”

“Your son has lost an eye. Have you no heart?!” Y/N interrupted him. Aemond seethed silently, pausing. He then threw his jacket on the back of the couch. “I will see him in the morning.” Aemond answered tiredly. Y/N stared at him in shock. “I have no words for you.” 

Aemond ignored his wife, moving to the closet. He changed into his nightly gown and his robe. He tried to get into bed, but Y/N was already sitting on the bed when he returned. “No. Not tonight.” she said sternly. Aemond scowled. “And why not?” Aemond asked with a sharp tongue. He was almost at his breaking point with her. Couldn’t she not understand his duties? His trauma from his past? How selfish of her… 

“Why not?!” Y/N yelled “Your son has just been maimed for life and you refuse to see him! What kind of father are you?” This statement set Aemond off. All the anger, hurt, and hatred boiled over within him. He tried to keep it in for the sake that he did truly love his wife, but she failed to understand him over the years like this. Aemond took a deep breath. “Don’t you get it? I have been struggling for fucking years! Do you think I want to see my son, bloodied and broken as I once was at his age? No, you daft woman! I wish to be alone. You are incessantly bothering me and I am sick and tired of it!” he lashed out at his wife. Y/N sat in bed, tensed at his words. She didn’t know how to reply. The realization that the reason Aemond didn’t visit their son sank in; he simply did not know how to. “I cannot look at the mirror of my old self in him! For Gods sakes, he already is a copy of me! Now with this…” 

Y/N took in his words. She saw him tearing up. “Aemond–” she attempted to speak. He cut her off. “I will have that child sent to the wall along with his blasted brother,” he spoke angrily. “Do not try to talk me out of it either. I am King and I have made my final choice. I have spared their lives when they should join their bastard brother Lucerys in Vhagar’s belly.” 

“But your son–” “He will live. You cannot coddle the boy. He must grow strong.”

“How could you say that?” Y/N answered. Aemond shrugged. “My father did the same, and I will follow.”

Y/N couldn’t believe her ears. Viserys was a terrible father to Aemond and his siblings, favoring Rhaenyra. “You know damn well that if Viserys still lived, he would pardon Rhaenyra’s son and blame Daeron somehow–”

“THAT ISN’T THE POINT!” Aemond snapped at her. He knew how terrible Viserys was. He knew how damaged his father had made him. But he was the man he was now because of Viserys, and he would never be the same happy little boy he was before the loss of his eye. And now that the same had just happened to his son, his heir, he couldn’t deal. Y/N watched him in horror as he turned to violence, smashing one of the vases in the room. She held her stomach, fearing her husband in his rage. After Aemond realized what he had done and how he had scared his wife, he stopped. Aemond’s yelling turned into sobs. He collapsed on his bed. Y/N warmly opened her arms to embrace him, despite being terrified of him seconds ago. Aemond clung to her and her baby bump for dear life. 

“I’m sorry, I-I’m sorry…” he whimpered, burying his face in the crook of her stomach under her breast. He was shaking. Y/N was too stunned to speak, but she spoke softly. “I know.”

She was furious at her husband. But the effects of the dance had ruined him. This wouldn’t have happened twelve years ago when they wed. They both had to re-learn each other–him with his trauma, her with her dedication to being a mother and a Queen. They struggled too often. But at solemn moments like this, when Aemond calmed down, they just held each other. The truth was, they were just two scared kids in this world. Thrown into the grasp of something neither of them wanted or intended. And that is how they stayed the rest of the night–trembling in each other’s arms, afraid of what the future held for them. 

[the-common-cowgirl]

Greater of Two Evils

Summary: Your brother is a powerful man and so is Aemond Targaryen. You’re caught as a pawn between the two men. You have to chose between two evils and unfortunately for you, you chose wrong.

Rating: Explicit, Minors Do NOT Read, 18+

Word Count: 4.3k

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Warnings: DD;DNE, Non-Con/Dub-Con, Choking, Rough Sex, smut (p in v, fingering, oral sex (f receiving) jealousy , possessiveness, incest-y vibes from brother, unwanted creampie, breeding kink, coercion, mentions of birth control/emergency contraception not being allowed/available to reader, Aemond wants reader pregnant, men being dicks, degration, praise, Capitalism and the Elite, swearing

A/N: This is a spite fic dedicated my first hate comment. I hope you wait even longer now. 💋

Not yet proofread.

Your brother was a powerful man. One of the most powerful in Westeros. Many say he didn’t deserve his position, both of you coming from near nothing, but your brother was born with a gift your parents would often say was a “creative and hungry mind.” He was 10 years old when he started a small lawn care business in the Riverlands that grew to a full-fledged company at 14 he (and your parents due to his age) ran. At 16, he sold that company, got an internship at River’s Corp. When he freshly graduated University in Oldtown as the top of his class, giving a speech that would be remembered as one of the best speeches Oldtown Univeristy had ever the opportunity of hearing, he asked if you would like to move to Dorne with him, get out of the Riverlands and have an opportunity at Sunspear University. Seeing the chance at freedom and knowing your brother would most likely be paying for your schooling (since he had just been offered a high ranking position at Sunspear Industries) you took his offer and moved in with him a week after you graduated high school in the Riverlands.

That was three years ago. Your brother is now CFO of Rhoynar Industries and you’re in your third year of University at Sunspear studying Political Science. When you first moved in with your brother, the first two months were happy and spent everyday in your high-rise apartment’s swimming pool. But your brother had changed, or maybe, he was finally able to let his true self free during his college days as many young adults often do and his personality shift just took you longer to notice. His controlling behavior started innocent, nagging at your to keep the house tidy, then turning into commenting on what you wore out, turning into full blown comments about your appearance, weight, hair color. He made you dye your hair color black, to match his own natural color. Long gone were your auburn waves but you didn’t notice it then, well you did, but you weren’t as disturbed by it. Telling yourself he wanted you to look the part of perfect sister.

But then, halfway through your first semester, he told you that your Early Education major wasn’t good enough for him. He demanded you change it and when you tried to argue, he simply took your laptop, reminding that he bought it, and emailed your academic advisor that you’d like to change your major and wanted to meet with them first thing tomorrow morning.

That should’ve been the straw that broke the camel’s back, you should’ve left that night. Packed your things and went back home to the Riverlands; be with your parents.

I’m every aspect of your life, you always fell short of the greatness of your brother: courage was not exempt.

That next morning, you went with puffy eyes to your advisor’s office and changed your major, dropping out of your current courses and signing up for secondary 8-week courses for your new major that would, in your brother’s words “thankfully start next week.”

You could easily summarize your life in Dorne these past few years: the Seven Hells.

All of this leads you to this moment. Your brother and you were invited to King’s Landing by the head of Targ Corp for an annual celebration they held for their most loyal alliance corporations. It was easy, your brother and his team of associate executives played a simple game: play nice with each other and keep everyone else from rising above. Being around these people made you want to vomit. These posh-assholes were some of the most dangerous and hateful people you’d ever laid eyes on, all wrapped in clothing that were one of their low-level employee’s entirely yearly salary. You didn’t want to be here, not a single bit, but your brother held the carrot stick of Univeristy tuition and free-housing over your head so you played along like the good sister you were expected to be.

You had just gotten out of the shower when you brother came barging into your hotel room without knocking, holding a garment bag.

“Hey!” You shouted, covering your naked self with a towel, “Can you knock next time?” You briefly wondered how he had gotten in, you made sure you locked it twice, then you saw the keycard he had kept for your room sliding back into his pant pocket.

“Wear this tonight,” he disregarded your fluster and laid the garment bag down on the bed you were sitting on.

Your brows furrowed, looking at your own brother with trepidation. He knew you had brought one of the black dresses you had picked out a month ago and he had agreed to it then. Why had he changed his mind so suddenly?

You slowly opened the bag to reveal a dark green, dress that showed off entirely too much skin than you were comfortable with around these vampires.

You began to shake your head, “No, I don’t want to wear this one. It’s cold out and I want to wear the black, long sleeve one I-“

You were cut off with a harsh hand grabbing your jaw.

“Wear it or we’ll see how long you can pay for that expensive schooling on your own.” He spat into your face harshly.

Once he let go, you brought your hand up to rub at your jaw where there might be bruises now. Your skin was sore and your bone ached. “You know what, maybe I don’t want to even get this degree. Maybe I’ll move back in with mom and dad and just fucking live my own life again.”

As you sat on the bed angrily with tears of resentment brimming your eyes, you could feel your brother’s stare on you, boring holes into everything he deemed imperfect about you.

“Do this for me,” his voice was softer, “And I’ll give you anything you want.”

You finally looked up to him, disbelief in your eyes.

He kneeled to reach your eye level, you wrapped the towel around you tighter, “There is a man here I need you to impress. Do this for me and I’ll give you anything you want. I mean it.” His hand came up to brush your nude knee, you moved away instinctively.

You swallowed your unease. “What’s his name?” Your voice was so small.

He smiled at your acceptance, if you willing to work with him on something, if you giving in. “Aemond Targaryen,” he stood, returning to his business-like self. “He’s the son of the CEO, Visery’s. Aemond is a year older than me and he’s in politics. We-“ he paused, smiling at a memory, “We met in University…..He never really liked me.” He looked to you, “He’s the last legislator we need on our side for this deal that Roynar Industries and Targ Corp. are working up.”

“He’s against Targ. Corp?” You sounded flabbergasted, wondering why a Targaryen, the most infamously loyal family in the country, is an against his family’s own interests.

Your brother nodded and laughed, “Yeah, he fucking hates his dad.” He chuckled to himself some more before, “I just need you to win him to my side.”

You heard the implication and you skin began to crawl, stomach turning, “You seriously want me to fuck him?”

Your brother shook his head and chuckled as if you were crazy, “Just win him to our side.” He walked up to you again, towering over you as you sat, uneasily at the edge of the bed. He raised a hand and tapped the side of your head three times, “Use that political science knowledge I paid for.”

And then he left, making you feel like a tool.

You dressed yourself in the green gown, put on simple yet elegant makeup, and wore your dyed black hair up with a silver sun pin that your brother had picked out in his words, “to honor Roynar Industries.” You only felt branded.

Making your way down into the large event room of the hotel in which Targ Corp had set up for the celebration, you were handed a glass of something in a flute glass. The waiter had told you, in truth, but you were too nervous and occupied with looking elegant that you hadn’t really heard.

You spotted your brother across the event space standing with someone Martel from Roynar Industries that has offered for you to go ride on his yacht with him at least three times. Then you could see he was with some silver haired man, probably from Targ Corp. The Targaryens were known for their loyalty, ruthlessness and silver hair. Targ Corp. was the most powerful company in Westeros, they had their hand in everything and could turn anyone’s head the way they wanted. Coming it second was Roynar Industries and the old saying, “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer,” was prevalent in the relationship with the two corporations. They worked together in most large projects in Westeros and you knew the each of them was waiting for the other to fall.

You walked the perimeter of the event, scanning the crowd for someone you knew or the person you were after. Although, you had heard Aemond Targaryen’s name before you had no idea what he looked like. You used your context clues though and assumed he had silver hair, he was probably tall and lean like all Targaryen men are and most likely flirtatious.

“Great,” you breathe, remembering a girl from Sunspear a few years ago that recalled a horrible relationship with an older man by the name of “Aegon Targaryen.” One in which he not only expected sex from her, he cheated when she refused. You briefly wondered how Aemond was related to this Aegon.

“Are you looking for me?” A deep, soft voice sounded beside your ear. You stopped dead in you tracks and turned like a scared bunny to the stranger.

The stranger. The silver haired stranger who checked nearly all your boxes for the stranger you were searching for. Had he been right?

You gathered your composure quickly, “And you are?”

“I’m assuming the man you’re looking for if you’re his sister,” he pointed behind you to your brother who was not chatting up a dark haired lady and a curly haired man with a cane.

You gave a quick, nervous laugh and stuck out your hand, “Nice to meet you, Aemond. I’m Y/N.”

Aemond looked down at your outstretched hand between the two of you, his his eye flicked up to you. You realized then, only one moved, however, the other, the one that intercepts his scar, is quite realistic. He ran his fingers slowly across your palm before grasping it gently but not shaking. The act was sensual and strange, you tried to pull away but he quickly snaked his hand up your arm and wrapped his large hand around your bicep, pulling you closer to him. He leaned in, “Aren’t you tired of being a pawn for your brother?”

You pulled back to look at him square in the face, at his perfect, angular face that was so sharp. “What the fuck do you mean?” You whispered, wondering what all he knew and how.

“I think you know exactly what I mean.” He whispered into your ear. If you had not been in the edge of the event, you two would be quite a spectacle to behold but someone, this man, this stranger, had planned this. He had to. You were both in the shadows, the outskirts, not to be seen unless looked for and Gods, you hoped someone would look for you. He made you uneasy, uncomfortable, and warm in places you shouldn’t be given the circumstance of your situation. He looked down to your cleavage, “Tell me, did he pick out this dress? This color?”

You furrowed your brows, trying to figure out how Aemond knew this. “Wha-“

“Did he tell you that him and his colleagues have a bet if we’ll fuck tonight or not?”

You looked back to your brother who was laughing with some of his associates from Roynar Industries. “How do you-“

“I have eyes and ears everywhere, I’m two steps ahead of him and always have been. He has such a problem being number two doesn’t he?” His voice was thick with hatred and his grip on your arm was bruising.

“Get the fuck off of me!” You just about screamed, pushing from Aemond. He let go and took a step back, look at you up and down. He resembled a wild predator, maybe that’s what he was. You smoothed your dress, “Fuck you, you stupid bitch,” you spat angrily, adjusting a strap of your dress. “I was just told to be friendly with you. I’m not a sex worker you ass! I wouldn’t fuck you in a million years.” You downed the alcoholic liquid in the glass before setting it on the ground at your feet. Aemond only watched you with a newfound amusement. It made you angrier. “I’m only helping my brother out until I graduate then it’s fuck this place, fuck Westeros and most of all….” You looked him up and down, finally realizing that he was goddamn handsome, dangerously so, if his personality wasn’t so off-putting, “fuck you.”

You stormed away before he could say anything back. You didn’t want to be here anymore, you wanted to return to your room and cry into your pillow until you fell asleep. You were angry and hurt. How could your brother set you up like this? How could a complete stranger be so fucking brash and horrible? How could you be so stupid to believe your brother’s hunger for power would never come to this? Setting you up for his own benefit?

You’re certain your brother saw you in your way out of the venue, he always has tabs on you, but you knew he wouldn’t rush to your aid or to scrutinize you in front of people he wanted to look good for.

You slam your hotel room door and sink against it, hands over your face, crying on the floor. You sit like that for some time before a knock vibrates against your back and rings in your ears.

“Go away,” you try to say through sobs.

The knock comes again.

“I said go away!” Your shout this time is uncomely for a young woman you could hear your brother say in your head but you don’t care.

“It’s Aemond,” come the voice from the other side of the door.

The raises a fire in your heart as you angrily fling the door open to see the posh, pissy man from before. Mascara is running down your cheeks and your hair is falling out of its updo but you don’t care. “Go away,” you remind him dangerously, beginning to slam the door he puts his foot in the way and hand stopping you from breaking his foot ever so casually.

He pushes the door open with ease and steps into the room, making you step back and further. “We both have a problem and I’m here to propose a deal.”

Your brow quirks and your arms cross, “A deal?”

“A deal,” he echos. “I propose that you and I team up, I’ll offer you whatever he did, you offer me information to take your brother down and out.” He takes another step toward you and you take a step back in response, feeling the back of your legs hit the bedside.

“Why would I agree to that? I’m already getting my college paid for and a place to stay during. Why would I agree to everything I have in turn for you to ruin my brother? He’s horrible but I still love him.” You shook your head, “He’s done a lot for me-“

“I can offer more.” He moved in closer, making you lean uncomfortably against the bed.

“I don’t know you-“

“I will offer you more. You can get to know me, we can form a partnership. A friendship you could call it.” His voice was suggestive.

“Your offer of more is a friendship? I don’t need-“

“I can fuck you, can he?”

His words slapped you across the face. “What?” You mumbled like a dumb baby, confused and shocked. Maybe a little turned on.

Aemond brought his hands up your side and pushed you down to sit on the bed, he kneeled down and kissed the inside of your knee. Everything felt so wrong but he looked so goddamn handsome, you wanted it even if you said you wouldn’t fuck him.

“They have a bet, they want us to fuck.” He explained, “Let’s do it, prove we are into each other. You feed me information on him and the legalities of Roynar Industries.” He kissed your other thigh, you leaned back slightly involuntarily, it had been so long since a man had touched you, your brother wouldn’t allow you to date. “And I’ll slowly give you an out.”

Your breath hitched as his long, slender hand reached under your silky dress and trailed its way toward your core. “Slowly?” You questioned him breathlessly as his his thumb found your clothed clit on contact and began working against it. You could feel wetness pooling as he worked you open and your thighs began to move accommodate him as he moved closer and his other hand slid the dress higher and higher.

“Yeah sweetling, it’ll start with dates, then you staying at my flat in King’s Landing, then moving in.” Your dress was high enough to show off the lacy, black panties you wore and Aemond groaned, making you clench and buck your hips up to meet his ministrations.

“Sounds-sound like,” you were breathless and drunk on the attention he was giving you, “you want more than a fucking spy.” You fully laid back and lifted your hips so Aemond could pull your panties down your legs and off.

He ran a dexterous finger though your folds and watched it disappear into you with ease as you moaned. “Yeah maybe,” his voice was husky, “maybe I like putting your brother in his place. Second to Aemond fucking Targaryen. Always has been, always will be.”

He added a second finger, moving dangerously against your g-spot and the coil in your lower abdomen began to tighten. You lifted your back off the bed in a silent scream as he added a third finger and his mouth sucking at your clit. The intense and sudden pleasure gave way to a sharp, nearly painful orgasm and Aemond fucked you right through it.

When the wave of pressure came down, Aemond lapped at the wetness he expelled from you on your cunt and on his own fingers, moaning at the taste.

You laid on your back, trying to regain your senses and trying to remind yourself you were fucking a complete stranger, you should stop here before it was too late but you snapped out of your senses as he rose, half nude already and unzipping his black dress pants, pulling them and his underwear off in one swipe to reveal the longest, thickest cock you’d ever seen. The idea of taking such a thing inside you made you nearly swell with pride and excitement at the opportunity.

Aemond saw the look on your face and gave his hard cock a quick stroke. “Are you on birth control?”

You shook your head, “He wouldn’t let me, said the side effects are too dang-“

“Well I don’t have a condom,” he said, climbing atop you and pushing you up the bed, not giving you a choice, another reason to get the fuck out now. “I’m clean,” he offered before biting your collarbone then kissing the bite mark.

“I’m-I’m clean.” The voices in your head telling you to get out now.

He moved to the other side of your head and kissed your neck sensually, “You want me to fuck you raw?” Practically growling into your artery as he thrust the tip of his hard cock to your clit, making it harder and harder to say no.

“Uh, just, uh, pull out?” You squeaked as he did it again. You just wanted the fucking thing in you already, stretching you out in the way you wanted.

You felt his smile against your skin, “sure thing sweetling,” it sounded unconvincing.

You felt the tip breach you slowly then push forward even slower. Aemond raised to watch himself split you apart, groaning as you pussy sucked him in with a need unknown to you.

When he finally bottomed out, jutting painfully against your cervix he gave you a sound to adjust and gods, was he fucking endowed. You felt his cock throbbing with need and you wanted to please him, to let him know you were worthy so you bucked you hips against his and let out a moan at how fucking full you felt.

He only chuckled darkly and began his rough assault on your cunt. Pounding without warning or abandon into your heat, pushing your thighs to your chest and bending you in half, positioning you in a way that had him hitting your spot over and over until were moaning his name and your pussy began to flutter.

“Slow-slow down,” you pleaded, it felt like too much.

“Oh, poor little sister can’t fucking take it?” He once slammed extra hard after his demeaning question, it made you shriek. “Poor baby,” he wiped a tear forming in your eye with a sarcastic worry. “She played with the big dogs and didn’t know what she’s in for-“ he grunted, “you should be lucky I’m not fucking you in the ass.”

He pulled your dress down, ripping the shoulder straps to reveal you tits. Smiling like a wild man, he grasped them both harshly before sticking his tongue out and licking each nipple back and forth, making you squirm and tighten around him. “Fuck,” he groaned.

Then, as if a lightbulb went off, he pulled out and flipped you over, pulling you to your knees and ripping your dress and destroyed bra from your body. He entered you harshly again and pulled your back to his chest. His mouth on your ear, nibbling then biting, “I need to make you mine. Announce your brother who you belong to- who owns you now.”

His hand traveled down your belly to the bulge of his cock outlined in your lower stomach. “Do you feel me? Do you feel me up there? Feel me practically in your womb?”

You could, it was painful the way he bullied your cervix but the way he pleasured your sweet spot made you clench and fight off an orgasm that waited to burst.

He laughed into your ear, “Fuck, cum on this cock, I know you need to. Come on me and I’ll give you what you need.”

What the fuck did he mean what you need?

But that didn’t matter, he brought his hand to play with your clot as his pounding continued and you couldn’t fight off the orgasm anymore. Your body tightened and the coil snapped, pulsing around his cock, milking it, you screamed his named and he pinched your nipples as you came on his cock.

I’m your haze, he slowly let you fall to to bed as your ass remained up, his hands firmly handing you in place. “Such a good girl. A better girl than I’d thought you’d be. Oh, a perfect girl for me.” His pounding was relentless as he chase his own high.

You barely registered him saying, “Oh gods, we’ll be perfect together,” before you felt him still behind you, then the pulsing of his cock as warmth flooded you. He let out a groan, a triumphant groan, as he came inside you.

A shaking sob left you as you realized you’d been tricked, betrayed again, used again.

He stayed inside you for some time before pulling his softened cock out and putting on his clothes. You collapsed onto the bed, feeling the evidence of his orgasm slowly slide from your body. You grabbing the pillow ahead of you and hid your face in it. That was, until you felt his hand caress your nude back and the bed shift with the weight of him sitting beside you.

“Hey sweetheart, it’s okay. Don’t cry. I need to know you’re gonna remember our agreement.”

You furrowed your brows, “Fuck you, there is no agreement anymore. You lied to me.”

Aemond chuckled and pushed a strand of hair from your face, “Think of it as the lesser of two evils. Marry me and have everything you’d ever wanted or keep being a pawn for your brother.”

“You’re nuts if you think I’d marry you after a single fuck.”

He looked back down to your thighs, where his seed slowly seeped out, then back to you with a smug grin. “I think your brother would kill you if it was all over the press that you suddenly fell pregnant and unwed. We all know he’s a religious freak now.”

You furrowed your brows, “I’m buying emergency contraceptive as soon as you leave this room.”

He chuckled, “I’m not leaving then.”

“Who said I’ll get pregnant anyway?” You were angry, so angry you couldn’t make sense of his hand sneaking up your neck, holding it tightly.

“My father owns the press. If they say you are, then you are. Imagine what your mother would think, your father? Oh, your reputation would be ruined and your brother would be embarrassed of you.” He grit through his teeth, “And I’ll have people watch you, I already do. They give me updates, they follow you, they’ll know, I’ll know if you are. And then,” he let go of your neck, “You won’t have a choice. I won’t give you one.”

“You’re a fucking psycho.”

He chuckled, running his fingers along your arm, “I’m the easy choice. I’ll give you everything, just give me yourself.”

[novaursa]

The Price of Fire (2)

- Summary: In the shadows of the Red Keep, the daughter of the Mad King, Princess Y/N Targaryen, finds herself caught between duty, love, and survival. As her father’s madness deepens and political intrigue swirls, she seeks solace in a forbidden romance with her sworn protector, Ser Arthur Dayne. With King Aerys plotting to use her as a pawn and her brother Rhaegar maneuvering to shield her from their father’s grasp, Y/N must navigate a web of deceit and desire. As tensions rise, secrets ignite into fierce passion and dangerous alliances, where the wrong move could mean the end of them all.

- Paring: targ!reader/Arthur Dayne

- Previous chapter: 1

- Next chapter: 3

- Note: For more of my works such as this, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Explicit 18+ (All flags are up for this one, Aerys is warning just by himself)

- Word count: 7 000+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @lightdragonrayne @onlyrealjoy

The sun is beginning its slow descent, casting the gardens of the Red Keep in hues of deep gold and amber. The gentle breeze carries the scent of blooming roses, a rare sweetness in a place often filled with tension and whispers. You walk quietly beside Ser Arthur, your protector once more after a week of uneasy distance and formalities. His presence, as always, is reassuring—a steadfast anchor in the churning sea that is the court.

Arthur’s eyes are ever watchful, but he takes comfort in these moments with you, even if they are draped in silence. His hand rests casually on the hilt of Dawn, though there is a readiness in the way he carries himself, as if anticipating a shadow from around every corner. But today, it is not shadows that emerge from the hedges, but a figure of gold and red.

Ser Jaime Lannister strides toward you, his golden armor catching the fading sunlight in brilliant flashes. His confident smirk is in place, the usual gleam of mischief dancing in his green eyes. He slows his approach as he reaches you, offering a courteous nod to both you and Arthur, though his smile is more of a challenge when it lands on the latter.

“Ser Arthur,” Jaime greets smoothly, a touch of amusement in his tone. “It’s good to see you back at your post. You seem particularly diligent today.” His eyes flick to you briefly, as though implying something without needing to say it outright.

Arthur remains composed, offering a polite nod. “Ser Jaime. It’s important to maintain vigilance in these times, as you well know.”

Jaime’s grin widens, the air of casual arrogance that he’s so known for slipping into his tone. “Indeed. Especially when guarding someone as valuable as our dear princess.” He glances at you again, his expression unreadable. “My sister, Cersei, will be arriving in King’s Landing soon. She’s eager to reacquaint herself with the court. I imagine the city will be even more lively with her around.”

There’s something veiled in his words, a subtle probing as if gauging Arthur’s reaction. Jaime’s relationship with his sister is no secret, nor is the reputation that Cersei Lannister brings with her—a sharp mind wrapped in beauty, one capable of weaving webs as intricate as any spider’s. Arthur’s grip on the hilt of his sword tightens slightly, but his expression remains controlled.

“I’m sure the court will be most… entertained by her presence,” Arthur replies, choosing his words carefully. He knows better than to be drawn into Jaime’s games, especially with you so close by.

Jaime chuckles, a low, amused sound, as if satisfied with the exchange. “Let’s hope for entertainment, then.” He offers you a more genuine, almost charming smile before turning back to Arthur. “Take care, Ser Arthur. It seems you have a most important charge to attend to.” With a mock bow, Jaime takes his leave, strolling away with the swagger of someone who knows the weight of his own importance.

Once Jaime is out of sight, the tension lifts, leaving just you and Arthur alone again, the soft rustle of leaves the only sound between you. You can sense the subtle shift in Arthur’s demeanor, the guarded mask he often wears cracking just slightly now that it’s only the two of you.

You glance up at him, something playful yet deliberate in your gaze. “The court is growing busier by the day, it seems,” you remark, your tone carefully measured. “It makes it more difficult to find… moments of peace.”

Arthur’s eyes flick to you, and though his expression remains serious, you can see the faint spark of understanding in his gaze. He’s learned to decipher your carefully chosen words, to pick out the meaning beneath them. There’s a brief pause, the tension between you both a taut string ready to snap.

“Moments of peace are indeed rare in this place,” he replies, his voice low, almost conspiratorial. “But not impossible, if one knows where to look.”

You take a small step closer, the distance between you shrinking until it’s barely appropriate. “And if one knew where to look, they might find themselves in the company of someone they trust.” The words are bold, but they hang in the air with an unspoken invitation.

Arthur’s breath hitches almost imperceptibly. He’s already tasted what it’s like to break free of the chains that bind him, and the thought of indulging once more, of stealing another moment away from prying eyes, is almost too tempting to resist. He knows it’s a dangerous game—one that could unravel everything he’s built—but the way you look at him now, with that mix of hope and daring, pulls at him with a force he’s powerless to deny.

“There’s a place,” he says quietly, his voice almost a whisper. “Hidden away, where no one goes at this hour. We won’t be missed for a short time.”

You nod, your heart racing with anticipation as you give him the smallest of smiles—a shared understanding that words are no longer needed. The decision is made, the line crossed again. This time, there is no hesitation, no fear of consequence, just the promise of something both of you have craved.

Without another word, Arthur takes a quick glance around to ensure the path is clear before gently taking your hand, guiding you away from the main walkways and deeper into the maze of hedges and winding paths. The sounds of the bustling castle fade into the background, replaced by the rustle of leaves and the soft crunch of gravel beneath your feet. He leads you through a narrow passageway, past thick vines that have grown wild and unchecked, to a secluded alcove hidden from view by tall hedges.

The space is small, intimate, with ivy creeping up the stone walls and the golden glow of the setting sun casting long shadows. Arthur turns to you, his eyes searching yours, and in that moment, the world outside ceases to matter. There’s no court, no king, no duty—just the two of you and the undeniable pull that draws you together.

You step closer, your hand still in his, feeling the warmth of his skin through the cool metal of his gauntlet. There’s a tension in the air, thick with anticipation and the shared understanding that this stolen moment is yours alone. Your heart pounds in your chest as you reach up to cup his cheek, your touch familiar yet electrifying in its boldness. His breath catches, and you can see in his eyes that he’s already lost, just as you are.

“Lead me,” you whisper, the words barely audible.

Arthur’s eyes darken with the weight of his desire and the knowledge of what is to come. His hand tightens around yours, and he draws you closer, his breath warm against your ear as he whispers back, “Follow me.”

And with that, he leads you deeper into the shadows, where neither duty nor watchful eyes can find you. 

In the hidden alcove, where the shadows cloak you from the world, all pretense shatters. There’s no need for words, no need to maintain the roles you’ve been forced to play. The air is thick with the tension of what’s about to happen, and you both know there’s no going back once the dam breaks. Arthur’s gaze is burning now, the weight of his desire unmistakable as he takes in the sight of you, as if he’s memorizing every detail for the dark days when this memory is all he’ll have to hold onto.

Without hesitation, his hands find your waist, pulling you close, pressing you against the stone wall behind you. The cool surface contrasts with the heat radiating between you, a shiver rippling through your body as he leans in, his breath warm against your ear. “I can’t hold back this time,” he murmurs, the strain in his voice betraying just how much he’s been fighting this need. “Tell me you want this—tell me I’m not alone in this madness.”

“Arthur,” you breathe, your voice trembling with anticipation and longing. You reach up, your fingers curling into his hair as you tug him closer, your lips brushing against his with a teasing whisper. “I want you. I need you—now, more than ever.”

The last thread of restraint snaps. Arthur’s mouth crashes against yours, the kiss fierce and consuming, all the careful control gone, replaced by raw hunger. His hands are quick, practiced as they strip away the barriers between you, fingers deftly unlacing your bodice just enough to expose the bare skin he craves. You tug at his cloak, his surcoat, your movements frantic and filled with the same urgency, until only the bare essentials remain.

Arthur’s breathing is ragged as he lifts you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he presses you firmly against the wall. The feel of him so close, the tension of what’s about to happen, sends a shudder of anticipation down your spine. There’s no gentleness this time, no patience—only need.

He positions himself, his grip on your hips firm as he looks into your eyes, as if searching for any hint of hesitation. But all he finds is the same burning desire reflected back at him. With a low, almost desperate groan, he thrusts into you, his body claiming yours with an intensity that steals your breath.

The sensation is overwhelming, a mixture of pleasure and urgency as he fills you completely, pushing deep with the kind of desperation that only comes from holding back for far too long. You gasp, the sound escaping your lips before you can stifle it, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you cling to him, your own need mirroring his. “Arthur—”

He swallows your cry with another searing kiss, his pace relentless from the start. There’s no time for slow exploration, no room for gentle caresses. This is pure, unrestrained passion—a fierce joining of bodies and souls that’s been denied for too long. The world fades away, leaving only the feeling of his body against yours, the friction, the heat, the way he moves inside you with an urgency that borders on desperation.

Your nails rake down his back, urging him on, needing more—needing all of him. His name slips from your lips in breathless moans as he sets a rhythm that’s fast, demanding, each thrust sending jolts of pleasure through you that make it impossible to think of anything but him. “Don’t stop,” you whisper, your voice ragged as you cling to him, your head tipping back against the stone. “Please—don’t stop.”

“Never,” he growls, his voice thick with emotion, his lips brushing against your neck as he continues, faster, deeper, driven by the same hunger that gnaws at you both. His hands roam over your body, possessive, like he’s trying to claim every inch of you, to etch the memory of this moment into his very soul. Each thrust, each moan, each gasp builds toward something explosive, a crescendo that’s as fierce as it is inevitable.

The rhythm between you is wild, the push and pull of your bodies synchronized in a dance that feels both frenzied and natural. You can feel him trembling, holding onto the last vestiges of control, and it only spurs you on, your body tightening around him as you move together, chasing the edge of oblivion.

“Arthur—” you gasp, your breath hitching as the pleasure coils tighter, threatening to snap. His response is a broken groan, his face buried against your shoulder as his pace becomes erratic, the urgency of his thrusts matched by the rising heat in your core.

When the wave finally crashes over you, it’s blinding—pure electricity surging through every nerve as you cry out, your fingers clutching at him desperately. The pleasure rips through you, leaving you shaking, clinging to him as your body pulses with the aftershocks. Arthur follows a heartbeat later, his grip tightening, his own release tearing a raw sound from his throat as he buries himself deep within you, the last of his restraint shattering completely.

For a moment, there is nothing but the sound of your mingled breathing, the quiet aftermath of your shared passion filling the hidden alcove. He holds you close, neither of you moving, both of you caught in the hazy bliss of the moment. It’s fierce and tender all at once, the intensity of your connection still humming between you, a silent promise that this is far from the last time.

After what feels like an eternity, Arthur gently lowers you back to your feet, his forehead resting against yours as he catches his breath. “We shouldn’t keep doing this,” he murmurs, though there’s no conviction in his voice, only the lingering echo of desire.

You smile faintly, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “Perhaps we shouldn’t… but neither of us wants to stop.”

He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, the conflict clear, but so is the quiet resolve that underpins everything he does. “No matter what happens, I’ll protect you.”

“And I’ll keep finding ways to be alone with you,” you reply, your voice soft yet determined.

The sun dips below the horizon, casting the world in deep blues and purples as night falls. But in this hidden place, time seems to stop, leaving just the two of you in a moment that feels like it could stretch on forever.

But as much as you both wish it could, you know you can’t linger. There are duties, responsibilities, and prying eyes to return to. Yet, as you both carefully straighten your clothing and prepare to return to the world outside, there’s a new understanding between you—an unspoken agreement that this secret will remain yours, a stolen joy in a world filled with shadows.

Arthur takes your hand, pressing a lingering kiss to your knuckles before leading you back through the winding paths and into the light of the Red Keep once more. The world waits for you beyond the garden, but what you’ve shared here will remain—a fierce, unbreakable bond forged in the most hidden places of your hearts.

As you and Arthur make your way back through the darkening gardens, the world outside begins to bleed back into focus. The warmth and intimacy of the hidden alcove fades into the cool, looming shadows of the Red Keep. You adjust your clothing, smoothing out any creases, while Arthur ensures his cloak falls back into its pristine folds, the white fabric swaying as he walks beside you with his usual measured grace. Despite the shared intimacy of moments before, the tension in both of you remains, a lingering awareness of how close you are to dangerous exposure.

The winding path narrows as you approach one of the side entrances of the Keep, the high stone walls casting long, slanting shadows in the dim evening light. You can feel Arthur’s unease beside you, a tightness in his movements that betrays his ever-watchful vigilance. It’s a precaution both of you know too well is necessary—secrecy is the only armor you have in this deadly court.

But as you near the final turn leading back toward the keep’s more public corridors, a figure steps into view from the shadows, his sudden presence nearly making you stumble. Ser Arthur’s hand instinctively moves to the hilt of Dawn to draw it, but he freezes when he recognizes the figure—Varys, the Spider, dressed in his flowing robes, his hands tucked into his wide sleeves, his expression calm and unreadable.

“Ser Arthur, Princess Y/N,” Varys says with a smooth, almost musical tone, inclining his head in what appears to be a respectful gesture. “Out for a stroll in the gardens, I see? How charming—especially on such a fine evening.”

You tense, every muscle in your body going rigid as you exchange a brief, worried glance with Arthur. The Spider’s presence here could be pure coincidence, but in King’s Landing, nothing Varys does is by accident. His sudden appearance makes your skin crawl—this is a man who has eyes everywhere, and if he’s found you here, it means he’s already pieced together more than either of you are comfortable with.

“Lord Varys,” Arthur replies, his voice steady but with an unmistakable edge. “What brings you here at this hour?”

“Oh, merely doing what I do best—keeping an ear to the ground, listening to the whispers carried on the wind.” Varys’ eyes flick between the two of you, sharp as a razor despite the practiced softness of his smile. “It is fascinating what one hears when one knows where to listen.”

You can feel Arthur’s tension spike, but he remains calm. “And what whispers have you heard, my lord?”

Varys sighs softly, his expression almost sympathetic. “The sort that would concern those with deep ties to the crown.” He glances at you, his tone dropping to something almost confidential. “Prince Rhaegar has been seeking you, my princess. He was rather distressed when he discovered you were not in your chambers. He fears for your safety—and his concern has not gone unnoticed by certain watchful eyes.”

Your heart skips a beat, the weight of Varys’ words pressing down on you. Rhaegar is looking for you? The thought of your brother’s concern twisting into suspicion is a chilling one. Arthur’s grip tightens subtly, his knuckles whitening beneath his gloves. “We were just returning,” Arthur says, careful to maintain an even tone. “The princess needed some air after spending so many hours confined indoors.”

“Of course,” Varys replies smoothly, his eyes narrowing just slightly in what could almost be mistaken for amusement. “It would do no one good for the princess to be stifled, especially in such turbulent times.” His gaze sharpens then, a flicker of genuine warning in his tone. “However, I would advise you both to be more cautious. The prince’s concern could draw attention to places where discretion is required.”

You swallow, your pulse quickening as you process the implication. Varys is warning you—not out of kindness, but likely because he sees value in whatever game you and Arthur are playing. If Rhaegar’s alarm becomes too pronounced, questions will be asked, and in this court, those questions rarely remain benign.

“What are you suggesting, Lord Varys?” you ask, your voice steady despite the unease swirling inside you.

The Spider’s smile widens, but there’s no warmth in it—only calculation. “Simply that the prince must be reassured. It would be best if you returned swiftly, and perhaps even spoke of a walk or a visit to the sept. Anything that could calm his concerns. After all, it would be a shame if more eyes than necessary began watching where they shouldn’t.”

The subtle threat isn’t lost on either of you. Varys is giving you both a chance to cover your tracks—but make no mistake, he’ll be watching, waiting to see if you falter. The game he plays is one of survival, and your slip could become a weapon in his hands if you aren’t careful.

Arthur gives a curt nod, the tension between his brows deepening. “We will heed your advice, my lord.”

Varys inclines his head once more, his voice a soothing purr. “I’m sure you will, Ser Arthur. And remember, I am always a friend to those who understand the value of discretion.” With that, he turns and glides back into the shadows, vanishing as swiftly as he appeared, leaving only a lingering unease in his wake.

The silence stretches between you and Arthur for a moment, thick with unspoken worry. He finally turns to you, his expression troubled. “We need to return immediately. If Rhaegar’s been looking for you, it’s best we don’t give him—or anyone else—reason to believe there’s more to this than an innocent walk.”

You nod, your heart still racing. “I’ll tell him I felt restless and decided to walk the gardens for some air, but I got lost in my thoughts. He knows I do that sometimes.”

“Good,” Arthur agrees, though his eyes are still scanning the shadows, wary of unseen eyes. “But be careful. We can’t afford to draw any more attention.”

You reach out and squeeze his arm, a gesture of reassurance, though both of you know the precariousness of your situation. “We’ll be careful,” you say softly, but there’s an underlying resolve in your voice. You both have too much at stake now to let anything ruin it.

Arthur nods, then gestures for you to lead the way, allowing you to move ahead with him close behind, his posture rigid, his eyes alert. As you approach the entrance to the main corridor of the Keep, you take a deep breath, steeling yourself for the performance ahead. It’s just another game within the court’s endless dance of secrets and lies, but now, more than ever, you have something to protect.

As you make your way back to your chambers, you can’t help but cast one last glance over your shoulder. The shadows seem to shift, but there’s no sign of Varys. Still, you know he’s watching—always watching.

With Arthur close by, you square your shoulders, preparing to face whatever awaits inside the Keep.

You and Arthur make your way through the winding corridors of the Red Keep, the tension between you both thick enough to cut with a knife. The stone walls seem to press in closer as you approach the royal wing, where the shadow of the Iron Throne looms over every decision made within these halls. The evening light has faded into the deep blues and purples of twilight, and the flickering torchlight casts long, ominous shadows.

When you reach the familiar archway that leads to the Great Hall, you spot Rhaegar standing at the end of the corridor, his tall frame bathed in the glow of torchlight. His silver hair gleams, and though his posture is calm, you can see the subtle tension in his shoulders. He’s been waiting—and not patiently. 

The sight of him sends a wave of anxiety rushing through you. You’ve always been close with Rhaegar, but you know better than to underestimate his perceptiveness. His violet eyes are sharper than most give him credit for, and when it comes to matters involving those he loves, he leaves little room for doubt or evasion.

As you draw nearer, you see his eyes fix on Arthur, then briefly flick to you. There’s no accusation in his gaze, but there’s something more—a quiet demand for answers. It’s a look that makes your heart skip a beat.

“Brother,” you greet softly, slipping into the formal politeness that the court requires. “I didn’t realize you were looking for me.”

Rhaegar’s expression softens slightly as he turns to you. “You were not in your chambers. I grew concerned.” His voice is even, but there’s an edge to it that reveals the depth of his worry. “You know how unpredictable these halls can be after dark.”

You nod, lowering your eyes slightly in an apologetic gesture. “I’m sorry, Rhaegar. I was restless and decided to walk in the gardens. I lost track of time.”

There’s a pause as Rhaegar studies you carefully, as if searching for any sign of deceit. For a brief, nerve-wracking moment, you’re certain he can see right through the thin veil of your excuse. But then his gaze shifts from you to Arthur, and something in his expression changes—hardened resolve mixed with guarded suspicion. The two men lock eyes, and the unspoken tension crackles between them.

“Ser Arthur,” Rhaegar says, his tone polite but firm, “I would speak with you privately.”

The words hang in the air like a command more than a request. Arthur’s jaw tightens almost imperceptibly, but he gives a short, respectful nod. “As you wish, Your Grace.”

Rhaegar turns back to you, his expression softening just enough to reassure you. “Sister, return to your chambers. I’ll be with you shortly to discuss matters concerning Father’s plans.”

You dip your head in acknowledgment, though there’s a knot of worry tightening in your chest. “Of course, Rhaegar.”

Before you turn to leave, you allow your eyes to meet Arthur’s briefly—just a flicker of a glance, a silent exchange of concern and understanding. But it’s enough to ground you.

As you walk away, you can feel Rhaegar’s eyes on your back until you disappear around the corner. Once you’re out of sight, you let out a shaky breath. The game you’re playing has grown more dangerous, and Rhaegar’s suspicion is a formidable obstacle. But you trust Arthur, and you trust your brother’s love for you, even if it’s clouded by the weight of his duties.

In the shadowed corridor, Rhaegar turns back to Arthur, waiting until your footsteps fade into the distance. The prince’s gaze hardens, a rare steel in his violet eyes as he crosses his arms over his chest. The silence stretches between them, heavy and deliberate, before Rhaegar finally speaks.

“Arthur,” he begins, his voice low and measured, “you’ve served me and my family with unwavering loyalty for years. I trust you as much as I trust anyone in this world.”

Arthur remains still, his expression as unreadable as always. “I live to serve, Your Grace.”

“I know.” Rhaegar’s eyes narrow slightly, a calculating gleam in them. “But there are rumors swirling through the court—whispers of things that could be dangerous if left unchecked. I need to know that those closest to me have nothing to hide.”

The implication is clear, and Arthur’s heart hammers in his chest, though his face betrays none of the turmoil beneath. He meets Rhaegar’s gaze directly, refusing to flinch under the weight of the prince’s scrutiny. “I am your sworn sword, Rhaegar. My only concern is your safety—and that of your sister.”

Rhaegar’s jaw tightens, his expression softening slightly, though the edge remains. “You’ve always been protective of her. I appreciate that, Arthur. But I must ask… do you think it’s wise to allow her to wander the gardens alone at night?”

Arthur’s eyes flicker, a momentary crack in his stoic demeanor, but he quickly regains his composure. “She needed a moment of peace. The court is suffocating at times, even for one as strong as the princess.”

Rhaegar’s gaze remains fixed on Arthur, his silence drawing out the tension until it’s nearly unbearable. But then, he lets out a long sigh, his posture relaxing just slightly. “I don’t blame her for seeking solitude. This castle is a prison in many ways.” He pauses, then adds, more quietly, “I only hope that solitude is the only thing she seeks.”

Arthur feels the weight of those words, the veiled question that hovers beneath them, but he holds his ground. “She seeks what any of us do, Your Grace—a moment free from the chains of duty.”

Rhaegar studies him for a long moment, as if trying to pierce through the carefully maintained armor that Arthur wears. But finally, the prince nods, his expression softening. “Very well. I’ll take your word for it, Arthur. But know this—if there is anything, anything that might put her in harm’s way, I expect you to tell me. I will not tolerate secrets when it comes to my sister’s safety.”

Arthur bows his head respectfully. “You have my word, Rhaegar.”

The prince’s expression remains tense, but he finally lets out a breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “Good. That’s all I needed to hear.”

Rhaegar turns away, signaling that the conversation is over. He begins walking down the corridor, leaving Arthur standing alone in the shadowed hall. As the prince’s footsteps fade into the distance, Arthur releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

For a moment, the silence is deafening. The game has grown more perilous, and Arthur knows that Rhaegar’s suspicions are not easily dismissed. But as he stands there, the memory of your touch, your whispered words, linger in his mind like a soft caress.

The flickering candlelight dances across the walls of your chambers as you wait for Rhaegar, your nerves strung tight as a bowstring. The warmth of the room, usually a comfort, now feels stifling as the weight of anticipation presses down on you. You’ve spent the last few minutes pacing the length of the room, your thoughts a whirlwind of fear and uncertainty. The tension between you and Rhaegar has been growing, and you know that tonight’s conversation could be the tipping point.

Your eyes flick toward the door every few seconds, your heart thudding in your chest each time you hear footsteps in the corridor beyond. You force yourself to remain calm, to banish the worry gnawing at your insides. Whatever Father’s plans are, you have to be prepared to face them—and, more importantly, to navigate them in a way that keeps you and Arthur safe.

Finally, the door creaks open, and Rhaegar steps inside, closing it quietly behind him. His expression is grave, the shadows beneath his eyes darker than usual, a sign of the many burdens weighing on him. He crosses the room in a few long strides, his silver hair catching the light as he moves with his usual grace. But tonight, there’s a heaviness in his demeanor that puts you on edge.

“Brother,” you greet softly, trying to keep your tone neutral, though the worry beneath it is unmistakable.

Rhaegar meets your gaze, and for a moment, his face softens—a glimpse of the brother you’ve always known, the one who would play you songs on his harp to calm your restless heart. But that warmth is quickly overshadowed by the tension in his eyes.

“Y/N,” he says, his voice tinged with concern. “We need to talk.”

You nod, moving to sit by the small table where the candle burns, casting an intimate glow over the room. Rhaegar follows, taking the chair opposite you. He doesn’t waste time on pleasantries, diving straight into the matter at hand.

“Father’s madness is growing worse,” he begins, his voice low, as if even the walls have ears. “His paranoia is reaching dangerous levels, and his fixation on you… it’s become increasingly unsettling.”

A shiver runs down your spine at his words. You’ve known for a while now that your father’s attention toward you has shifted, becoming less about family and more about control, about keeping you as a tool for his own twisted ambitions. “What is he planning?” you ask, keeping your voice steady despite the anxiety tightening your chest.

Rhaegar hesitates, as if weighing how much he should reveal, but then he leans forward, his gaze locking with yours. “He’s been speaking of a marriage arrangement for you. He wants to use you as a way to solidify alliances and strengthen the Targaryen bloodline. But the options he’s considering… they’re not chosen with your happiness in mind.”

You clench your fists beneath the table, dread curling in your stomach. You knew this day would come—knew that your father would one day try to use you as a pawn in his game—but hearing it confirmed by Rhaegar makes it feel all too real. “Who?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper.

“There are whispers of Lord Qarlton Chelsted and even worse—rumors that he’s considering someone from the Crownlands, a man known for his cruelty and ambition. Father believes that binding you to such a figure would keep you loyal and under control, a way to ensure your compliance.”

The room spins slightly, your breath catching in your throat. You can feel the walls closing in, the chains tightening around you. This isn’t just about a forced marriage—it’s about trapping you, cutting off any hope of freedom, of love.

Rhaegar reaches out, his hand covering yours on the table. “I won’t let that happen, Y/N. You’re my sister, and I refuse to let Father destroy your life the way he’s destroyed Mother’s.”

His words are a comfort, but they do little to ease the fear gnawing at your insides. You force yourself to focus, to think clearly despite the rising panic. “What can we do? Father’s grip on the realm is still strong, and his word is law.”

Rhaegar’s jaw clenches, his eyes darkening with determination. “There are ways to maneuver, to stall him. I can push for an alternative match, something that would satisfy Father’s desires while giving us time to find a more permanent solution. But that’s only a temporary fix. In the end, we need to be prepared for anything.”

You know what he’s not saying—that if it comes to it, he’s willing to defy your father outright. But you also know how dangerous that would be, both for him and for you. Aerys’ wrath is unpredictable, and his paranoia would see betrayal in even the smallest act of defiance.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself. “I trust you, Rhaegar. But if Father becomes too insistent, if there’s no way out… I won’t let him dictate my fate. I’ll find a way, even if it means—”

“Don’t say it,” Rhaegar interrupts sharply, his voice laced with fear. “Don’t even think about doing something drastic. I’ll find a way to protect you, I swear it.”

There’s a silence that stretches between you, heavy with the weight of all the unspoken fears and desperate hopes. You’ve always trusted Rhaegar, always relied on his strength and wisdom, but this time, you’re acutely aware of how limited even his power is. The game your father plays is one of madness, and the rules change with every passing day.

Finally, Rhaegar lets out a long breath, his expression softening as he looks at you. “For now, keep your head down. Don’t give Father any reason to turn his attention toward you more than he already has. And stay close to those you trust.”

You nod, understanding the subtext of his words. Stay close to Arthur. He’s the one constant in this storm, the one person who knows how to navigate the dangers as well as you do.

“I will, Rhaegar. Thank you.”

He stands, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, a rare gesture of affection. “We’ll get through this, Y/N. I promise.”

As he leaves your chambers, closing the door softly behind him, you’re left alone with the flickering candle and the oppressive weight of the future hanging over you. Your father’s plans are a looming threat, one that could shatter everything you’ve dared to dream of. But as fear gnaws at the edges of your thoughts, a spark of defiance ignites within you.

You won’t be a pawn in your father’s twisted game. Not if you can help it.

Whatever it takes, you’ll find a way to forge your own path, even if it means embracing the shadows and secrecy that the Red Keep is built upon.

The air in the small council chamber carries the scent of old parchment and the faint tang of wine. Flickering torches cast long, wavering shadows across the polished stone floor, making the room feel more like a den of conspirators than the heart of the Seven Kingdoms’ governance. King Aerys II sits at the head of the table, his gaunt figure draped in heavy robes of black and red. His violet eyes, wild and gleaming, flit around the room with erratic focus, a dangerous gleam in their depths.

The members of the small council are seated around the table—Lord Tywin Lannister, cool and calculating; Varys, the ever-watchful Spider; Grand Maester Pycelle, feigning wisdom with every stroke of his beard; and a few other lords who are all too aware of the precariousness of their positions in this court.

Ser Arthur Dayne, Ser Barristan Selmy, and Ser Jaime Lannister stand at attention behind the king, the white cloaks of the Kingsguard pristine and still. Arthur’s face is a mask of calm, but beneath that surface lies a coiled tension, ready to spring. He’s been dreading this meeting, knowing that your name has come up more frequently in recent weeks, and that it’s only a matter of time before the King’s attention turns back to you.

Aerys’s fingers drum on the armrest of his chair, the sharp clicks echoing in the silent chamber. “So,” he hisses, his voice grating like the rasp of steel against stone. “The matter of my daughter remains unresolved.”

The words hang in the air like a noose tightening around the room. Tywin’s eyes narrow just slightly, the ghost of a smirk playing at the edges of his mouth. “Your Grace,” Tywin begins smoothly, “it is a delicate issue. The princess is, after all, of vital importance to the future of House Targaryen.”

Aerys’ lips curl into a twisted smile. “Indeed. She is my blood, my treasure—my weapon. But you all seem to think you know better what to do with her.” His voice rises, laced with the biting edge of madness. “Perhaps I should remind you that she is mine to command, just like the rest of you.”

Varys inclines his head, his hands folded serenely within his wide sleeves. “No one doubts Your Grace’s wisdom,” he says with a silken tone, “but it is precisely because of your unmatched foresight that we must tread carefully. A hasty decision regarding the princess’s future could cause unrest—or worse, embolden those who would seek to weaken your rule.”

Tywin’s amusement is barely contained. “Wise words, Lord Varys. The girl’s value is undeniable, but placing her in the wrong hands could be a disaster.”

The King’s eyes flash with irritation at their cautious diplomacy. “Disaster?” he sneers. “There is no disaster that I cannot crush. If her marriage does not suit my needs, I will simply take her back—and if an agreement cannot be reached, then perhaps…” He trails off, a sickening smile creeping onto his face. “Perhaps I’ll take her as a second wife myself. Who better to keep our blood pure than I?”

The chamber falls deathly silent. Even the ever-controlled Varys stiffens, though he quickly schools his features into his usual calm mask. Tywin’s green and golden eyes flick toward the king, his expression unreadable, though the faintest hint of distaste lingers in the curl of his lip.

Rhaegar, who has been sitting quietly, suddenly straightens, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. “Father, that is unacceptable.”

Aerys’s eyes snap toward his son, the glimmer of paranoia igniting as he fixes his gaze on Rhaegar. “Unacceptable?” he hisses. “You dare question my judgment?”

Rhaegar doesn’t back down, his expression firm but calm, the prince everyone in the realm knows—a man of honor and composure. “You’re right to value her so highly, Father. She is of Targaryen blood, and that blood should remain within our family. If a match must be made, it should be one that strengthens our House.” His eyes flick briefly to Varys, as if anticipating the Spider’s next move, but then return to his father with renewed determination. “I propose that she marry me.”

The words slam into the room with the force of a thunderclap. Even Tywin, who rarely shows surprise, raises an eyebrow. Jaime’s grin broadens, barely concealing his amusement at the chaos brewing before him. Ser Barristan’s gaze shifts subtly to Arthur, who remains statuesque, though inside he feels as though his world is unraveling.

Aerys blinks, processing his son’s words, before he lets out a bark of laughter—sharp, mocking, and tinged with the edge of madness. “Marry her? You would take your sister as your wife?” He leans forward, eyes gleaming with twisted delight. “Oh, you have a dragon in you after all, despite your meekness. But why now, Rhaegar? Why show such sudden interest in your sister’s fate?”

Rhaegar meets his father’s gaze without flinching. “She is of our House, our blood. If she must be wed, it should be to someone who understands what it means to be Targaryen, who will protect her as fiercely as she deserves.” His voice remains level, but there’s an underlying edge of protectiveness that Arthur recognizes all too well. Rhaegar is trying to shield you from the king’s madness, to keep you close and safe where others cannot reach you.

Aerys’s smile grows more predatory. “Or perhaps you simply want her for yourself, just like I do. What’s to stop me from taking what is mine, even from you?”

The tension in the room is unbearable, the silent war between father and son playing out before everyone’s eyes. Ser Barristan’s grip tightens slightly on the hilt of his sword, his gaze flicking to Arthur, who remains deadly still, his face a mask of stone. Inside, however, Arthur’s mind is racing. This is a dangerous gambit, and while Rhaegar’s intentions are clear, they are fraught with risk. Marrying you to Rhaegar may protect you from your father’s more sinister designs, but it also ties your fate to the bitter struggle between father and son—one that could end in blood.

Jaime leans slightly toward Arthur, his voice a low murmur that only Arthur can hear. “You should see your face, Dayne. It’s almost as pale as your cloak.”

Arthur doesn’t respond, refusing to give Jaime the satisfaction. The Lannister knight’s amusement is clear, but this is more than just a twisted game of court intrigue to Arthur—this is about you, about everything he’s tried to protect. He swallows down the bitterness rising in his throat, his eyes fixed on the confrontation before him.

Varys clears his throat delicately, cutting into the tension with his usual oily charm. “Your Grace, Prince Rhaegar raises an interesting point. A marriage between the princess and the prince would indeed strengthen the bloodline and quell any potential unrest among those who wish to see the Targaryen dynasty remain undiluted.”

Tywin’s lip curls, the displeasure clear even as he speaks with measured calm. “It would also prevent certain… alliances from being forged, alliances that might have been useful in securing the loyalty of key houses.”

Aerys’s eyes narrow as he looks between Rhaegar and his councilors. “You all speak as if my daughter is some tool for your ambitions. She is mine to command, mine to use as I see fit!” He glares at Rhaegar, the madness twisting his features into something almost monstrous. “But perhaps… perhaps you’re right, my son. Perhaps a marriage between you and your sister would serve our House well. Or perhaps it would merely give you more power to defy me.”

Rhaegar’s jaw clenches, but he doesn’t back down. “I have only ever served our House, Father. I would do whatever is necessary to keep it strong.”

The tension simmers as the King contemplates, his mind twisting through the layers of paranoia, desire, and control. Ser Barristan’s eyes remain fixed on Arthur, a silent warning in his gaze: Be ready. Jaime stifles a laugh, his amusement at the situation barely contained, while Arthur forces himself to stay still, his every instinct screaming to protect you from the madness unraveling before him.

Finally, Aerys leans back in his chair, a sickening grin splitting his face. “We shall see,” he says softly, the menace in his voice unmistakable. “For now, I will consider it. But make no mistake, Rhaegar—your sister’s fate is still mine to decide.”

With that, the King’s attention shifts back to the matters of state, as if the terrifying exchange was nothing more than a passing amusement. The council members slowly return to their discussions, but the tension lingers like a dark cloud, heavy and threatening.

Arthur remains at his post, his mind racing even as he forces his body to remain still. The implications of what just transpired are profound. Rhaegar’s bold move may have temporarily deflected Aerys’s darker intentions, but it’s clear the King won’t let go of his hold on you so easily. And for you, the danger remains ever-present—caught between the ambitions of men who see you as both a prize and a threat.

The torches lining the dim corridors of the Red Keep sputter and hiss as the three Kingsguard knights escort King Aerys back to his chambers. In the air was a thick and oppressive weight pressing down on each step. Aerys mumbles to himself, his hands twitching restlessly as his eyes dart around, catching at shadows that seem to dance in his mind rather than the walls. His sudden bursts of shrill laughter echo off the stone, sending a shiver down even seasoned knights’ spines.

Ser Arthur Dayne walks on the king’s right, his hand resting lightly on the pommel of Dawn. Ser Jaime Lannister takes the left, his golden curls almost glowing in the low light, while Ser Barristan Selmy brings up the rear, his every movement measured and deliberate. They all remain silent as they guide the Mad King through the winding passageways, each of them lost in their own thoughts.

When they reach the king’s chambers, Aerys spins abruptly, his eyes narrowing suspiciously as he looks at each of his Kingsguard in turn. “They’re all plotting,” he hisses, his voice like brittle glass. “Even my own blood—plotting, scheming to take what is mine.” His gaze lingers on Arthur for a moment, and for an instant, Arthur feels the full weight of the king’s madness bearing down on him. But just as quickly, Aerys waves them away with a dismissive gesture, his mind already wandering to some new paranoid fantasy.

The door closes behind the king with a heavy thud, and silence falls in the corridor. For a brief moment, the three knights stand in quiet, letting the oppressive atmosphere of the encounter bleed away.

It’s Jaime who breaks the silence first, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. “Well, that was quite the show. I almost feel sorry for the princess, being fought over like a bone between two mad dogs.” His tone is laced with mockery, his green eyes gleaming with amusement as he shifts his attention to Arthur. “Tell me, Dayne, how does it feel to be caught in the middle of all this? Your precious princess, at the mercy of whichever dragon has the sharpest claws.”

Arthur’s jaw tightens, his grip on his sword hilt turning his knuckles white. Jaime’s words cut deep, slicing through the control Arthur has struggled to maintain. He knows Jaime delights in poking at people’s weaknesses, but tonight, with the stakes so high and the emotions so raw, it’s too much.

“Watch your tongue, Lannister,” Arthur snaps, his voice low and edged with a dangerous growl. “This isn’t a game, and if you ever speak of her like that again, you’ll regret it.”

Jaime’s grin only widens, unbothered by the venom in Arthur’s voice. “Oh, touched a nerve, have I? The Sword of the Morning has a soft spot after all. I thought you of all people would know better than to get too attached.” His tone is teasing, but there’s a glint of something darker behind his eyes—a challenge, daring Arthur to lose his composure.

Before Arthur can respond, Barristan steps between them, his stern gaze locking onto both knights. “Enough,” he says firmly, his voice brooking no argument. “We’re not here to bicker like children. Our duty is to protect the crown, whether we like it or not. This is not the time for petty squabbles.”

Arthur clenches his jaw, forcing himself to take a breath and step back. He knows Barristan is right—letting Jaime’s provocations get under his skin is exactly what he shouldn’t be doing. But the thought of you, of what you’re being put through, makes it hard to swallow the anger simmering in his chest. “You’re right, Ser Barristan,” he says, his tone clipped as he fights to regain his calm.

Jaime shrugs, still smirking but letting the matter drop for now. “Of course, Ser Barristan. Far be it from me to cause trouble.” His voice drips with sarcasm, but there’s an edge of curiosity in his gaze as he looks at Arthur, as if he’s trying to puzzle out just how deep Arthur’s feelings truly run.

Barristan turns to Arthur, his expression softening slightly. “You should return to your post, Arthur. The princess may need your protection more than ever now.”

Arthur gives a curt nod. “Thank you, Ser Barristan.” Without another glance at Jaime, he turns and strides down the corridor, each step carrying the weight of his thoughts. His mind races as he makes his way back toward your chambers. He can’t let the situation slip any further out of control—he can’t let Rhaegar’s plan or the king’s madness put you at greater risk. 

When he reaches your chambers, he takes his position by the door, the familiar comfort of his duty settling over him like a cloak. But tonight, it feels different—more charged, more urgent. He’s never been more aware of just how precarious your situation is, nor of the delicate balance he must maintain between protecting you and keeping his feelings hidden from the vultures circling in the court.

Inside the room, he hears the faint rustle of fabric, the soft sound of your breathing as you move about. The mere knowledge that you’re there, close but out of reach, is both a comfort and a torment. But it’s a torment he would endure a thousand times over if it means keeping you safe from the darkness closing in.

As he stands guard, his thoughts return to the bickering with Jaime, the tension with Rhaegar, and the king’s twisted plans. He vows silently to himself that no matter what happens, he will protect you—even if it means facing the consequences of a broken oath, even if it means losing everything.

In the flickering torchlight, Arthur’s resolve hardens into something unbreakable. He may be just one knight in a web of lies and power struggles, but for you, he would stand against the world.

[amaltheas-garden]

tbh i don't think rhaenyra's phrase regarding haelena was said in a malicious way. as rider of the one of largest dragons alive rhaenyra probably supposed that if healena was to fight she would have already entered the conflict physically, probably with aemond at rook rest instead of aegon. i mean tb didn't know that aegon wasn't supposed to be here, so in their mind is more logical for healena to be with aemond instead of the king himself (also bc sunfyre is smaller than dreamfire) and because of her absence rhaenyra assumed that she will not fight with her dragon. i think rhaenyra's affirmations was linked to riding in battle and not in general

I think if we only take show context into account, then that's a reasonable interpretation of that line. Helaena is never shown riding and seems more timid than the other Targs. However, we also have to examine why that line is in the show. It's mostly there to reinforce for the audience the idea that Helaena is not someone who would willingly ride to battle on dragonback, and seems to have a disdain for dragon riding overall as we're never shown her connection to Dreamfyre, similar to how Aegon and Sunfyre's relationship was so heavily downplayed. But in the source material, we're told Helaena claimed Rhaena the Black Bride's dragon Dreamfyre at 11 (or possibly younger), in the section dedicated to Aemond's claiming of Vhagar, which details how dangerous it is, even for a Targaryen, to claim a dragon. Which brings me back to the main point of the line, why would a girl who at 11 years old claimed an adult dragon be unwilling to fly Dreamfyre, even if it meant saving her entire family. Well, F&B already answered that: Blood and Cheese. Arguably the most important outcome of that event was that it completely traumatized Helaena to the point she could no longer ride her dragon. But hotd is very intent on A. downplaying anything bad that happened to the Green characters and B. whitewashing any event that could make Rhaenyra look bad. Rhae's husband is the reason her half-sister went mad with grief and can no longer ride her dragon/be a player against Rhaenyra. Hotd instead went the route of b&c having no effect on Helaena, and the reasoning for her not riding Dreamfyre being because she... doesn't want to? Rhaenyra similarly was broken by the grief of her sons and allowed Jace/Corlys/Daemon to run most of the war effort in her absence, and rode Syrax a grand total of one time in the entire Dance, in the short trip from Dragonstone to King's Landing after Alicent surrendered the city. Yet this season is full of Rhae and Syrax scenes for no other purpose than the showrunners wanting the audience to know who the "real" dragon queen is (they literally invented mini side quests just to have an excuse to put more Rhae/Syrax scenes in). They made Helaena not want to ride into battle solely because they did not want to address the immense psychological harm Rhae's faction inflicted on her innocent sister, and downplay the greens' connection to dragons as it makes them seem just as Targaryen as their rivals, and the showrunners are not interested in a story without clear good and bad guys. The book makes it quite clear the only reason Helaena isn't on Dreamfyre is because of b&c:

"... only two mature dragons remained to defend King's Landing... and Dreamfyre's rider, Queen Helaena, spent her days in darkness, weeping, and surely could not be counted as a threat"

"... and Dreamfyre's rider, Queen Helaena, was a broken woman; the city had as well been dragonless"

"... and Dreamfyre, beloved of Queen Helaena"

"Helaena Targaryen was a broken creature who posed no threat to Her Grace"

(& from GRRM's Not A Blog) "... Helaena’s greatest joy in life is to take to the skies on the back of her dragon Dreamfyre"

[axelsagewrites]

Jace Velaryon*Cocky

Pairing: Modern!Frat!Jace x f!reader

Summary: While originally being fast friends Jace ditches the reader to become part of the in crowd at university only to end up right back where he started. TW: Jace being a douche but redeeming himself, swearing, and stoner Heleana ig?

A/N: I saw headcannons for cocky Jace and my mind ran with it so I present cocky Jace.

Word count: 4240

Masterlist Here

Jace Velaryon was almost a legend at Kingslanding University. All his family were alumni of the school who were always making donations and appearing at university events. One of the student halls was named after his dad’s family, the Velaryon Court, and the Dragonstone library was funded by his grandfather and was engraved with his mother’s maiden name. No one was shocked when he pledged to The Fraternity of the Seven or when he became the youngest captain of the rugby team, a position nearly always held by a Targaryen or Velaryon. His cousins were also on the team and Jace, Aegon, and Aemond were always the talk of the school. The only reason he even went to university was to study business so he could take over the family business after his mother. The company that basically employed half of Westeros. It was no surprise that people wanted to be in with the Velaryon-Targaryen Crowd, but you had quickly learned it was far better to avoid them than share their company.

In first year, you shared quite a few classes with Jace and the other Targs, as everyone called them, and at first, he was nice. Hell, you were even kind of friends. He sat next to you in High Valyrian 101 and freshman English and every class he would text you first to see if you wanted a coffee from the canteen. He would genuinely try in class and attended your study sessions you held in your dorm with friends, and he was always the one who would bring the most snacks for people to share.

It had been his father that had encouraged him to join the family frat but even when he first joined it Jace was a normal guy. He didn’t brag when he made the rugby team or when he got into his frat. Something changed though halfway through freshman year. He stopped showing up to study sessions and instead just asked you to send him your notes. You were fine with it at first, figuring he was just busy with all his new activities. Until you realised his new activities was a girl called Sara Snow who made fun of you and your friends at every opportunity. Jace had known this but clearly, he didn’t care as he sat in class with her tongue halfway down his throat.

It only got worse over time. He basically dropped all of the friends he had made when he started and instead hung out with the senior in crowd who were happy to get a Velaryon in their mix. He stopped eating at the Canteen, turning his nose up at the coffee and insisting on ubering Starbucks to class. He was still passing his classes somehow, but you had stopped replying to his texts asking for notes and realised it was the only thing he still asked you about. The down to earth humble guy had died, and a new frat boy cocky athlete had taken its place.

Unlike Jace you had stuck with your first-year friends and now in senior year you were still best friends with them all. Alysanne, Arra, Lynara and you had formed a strong friendship group whom all shared a mutual hatred of the Targs. Well except for one. Heleana Targaryen was nothing like her brothers or cousins and had joined your group a couple of years ago. At first, she seemed so innocent and shy, but you soon realised she was just a massive stoner who had a special interest in bugs and women.  

The five of you were sat in the canteen eating lunch when Alysanne brought up the upcoming rugby game, “I have to go so you all have to go and we have to look cute.”

You rolled your eyes knowing exactly why she and Arra wanted to go, “You have an unhealthy obsession with Cregan you know?” you said nodding at the pair who were scrolling through Alysanne’s phone looking at outfits. “He’s not gonna see you when he’s mid game,”

“Maybe but,” Alysanne said with a smirk, “He’s been messaging me. So now we have to go support him and I have to look cute for when I not so accidentally bump into him after when he’s all sweaty and glowing from his win,”

“Aren’t they going up against the Dornish Academy? Aren’t they liking the ones who won the whole thing last year? Or was that someone else. Its hard to keep up when they talk about this crap at dinner,” Heleana said. You couldn’t imagine what it’d be like to have to put up with her family all year round.

“Yeah, but this year’s Jace is captain, so they’ll be way better than last year. Marston Waters was such a loser. And a creep,” Despite her obsession with Cregan, Alysanne did genuinely enjoy and followed the rugby team, something you couldn’t understand why. “He actually seems to know what he’s doing,”

“That’s only cause he’s a Valerian. No offence Hel,” you added, and she just shrugged, “If he wasn’t born with that silver spoon up his ass no one would care about him,”

“I mean yeah he can be douche,” Arra jumped in, “But he’s hot and he’s fit, and he can run really fast,”

You gasped in fake surprise, “Don’t tell me you’re falling for a Targ Arra,” you said as you clutched her arm, “Are you ill? Are you dying?”

Arra swotted your hand away as Helena chuckled to herself, “You’re just mad you fancied him in freshman year and he ditched you for Sara Snow,” Arra said.

You hated that she was right and sighed as you took your hand away. He had gone from being so kind to you to pretending he didn’t know you existed. Or maybe he really forgot about you. It didn’t help that Sara smirked at you every time she passed you in the hallway, clutching onto his arm even tighter the whole of first year.

All of this was clearly new information to Heleana since you had sworn them all to secrecy after freshman year. “You used to like my cousin? That’s so gross,”

“Tell me about it,” you muttered before quickly changing the subject, “So how mandatory is it we go with you tomorrow, Aly?”

“Like 100%. He’s invited me to the after party and told me to bring you all,”

“Cregan Stark knows who we are?” Helena asked.

Lynara snorted at her words, “Dude he’s, my cousin. Plus, everyone knows who you are Helena even if you wanna be a stoner loner so bad,” Helena rolled her eyes but couldn’t even argue with her since her last name was all over campus, “Plus Arra and Alysanne went to high school with me and Cregan. No clue how he knows you though,” she said nudging your shoulder.

“He’s probably just seen me hanging around you guys before or something,” you assumed which seemed to satisfy everyone’s curiosity, “Can’t we skip the game and just go to the party?”

Shock and offence plastered Arra and Alysanne’s faces, “Why do you hate me being happy?” Aly asked and you rolled your eyes, “Do you want me to die old and alone and surrounded by 15 cats?”

“Why 15 cats?” you asked, ignoring her question.

“Oh my god will you just please come to the game? If you come, you can be maid of honour and Cregan and mines wedding?” she offered prompted Arra to shout her protests.

You laughed as Arra continued her rant about how she was supposed to be maid of honour before interrupted, “Fine you have a deal. But know. im only doing this to piss her off,”

“You suck,” Arra deadpanned causing you to laugh more, “But as revenge I get to pick your outfit,” you groaned but not wanting to argue allowed it.

Shockingly her outfit choice for the game was fine but it was the outfit for later you worried about. Instead of worrying you tried your best to ignore the sinking feeling whenever your friends brought up the after party and actually tried to enjoy the game to appease Aly.

When the game was over everyone began to rush either on the pitch to talk to the players or out the stadium to get ready for the after party. You and your friends however were stuck trying not to get knocked down by the crowds as Aly swooped in for the kill. You watched her obvious flirting and hair tossing and arm grabbing. Arra was doing the same with a guy from the sulking Dornish team, but her eye lash batting seemed to put a smile on his miserable face. You watched in awe, “How do they do that?” You asked.

Lynara shrugged and tore her eyes off the rugby boys, “Flirt?” she asked, and you nodded, “I don’t know you just like do it,” she said to which you rolled your eyes at her unhelpfulness, “Its hard to explain. You touch their arm, butter them up, act like an idiot while batting your eyes. All the cliches really. Laugh at all their jokes. That kinda thing,”

“What if they’re not funny?”

Helena snorted as Lynara almost face palmed, “This is why your single,” Helena said, and you swotted her in response, “You can’t just talk to a guy about the history of Valyria and expect him to know that means you wanna fuck him,”

“All you do is talk about bugs,” you said as if it was some kind of defence for your own helpless love life. “Is that why you don’t get any?”

“I don’t get any because I don’t want anyone here,” she corrected, “But clearly you do so spill,”

“No, I don’t!” the warm blood rushing into your cheeks did little to convince the pair who started to laugh at your fluster, “This is why I hate rugby,”

“I’m wounded,” a voice said from behind you, and you quickly spun around to see your least favourite Targs standing there. Jace walked to stand in between you and Helena, draping his arm over both your shoulders but you quickly shrugged his sweaty arm off. “If you hate it, why were you cheering for me?” He grinned, not caring about the rejection or the way you wouldn’t even look at his stupid perfect grin.

“We came for my cousin,” Lynara said, and you’d never been so grateful to have a stark on your side.

Jace looked down at Helena, “What about your auntie? You here for him too?”

She snorted, “Please im here to watch the Dornes tackle my brother,” you couldn’t help but laugh as you looked over to where Aegon was getting checked over by the school nurse for concussion. The boy charged into everything blindly and you were shocked he still had any braincells left.

Jace laugh made you stop yours however, but his attention eventually turned back to you, “So if she came for her cousin and she came for her brother. Who were you cheering for?”

Before you could come up with a response or come back Arra and Aly returned with Cregan in tow, “I was just telling Cregan how we turned you into a rugby fan,” Aly grinned as she brought her future husband over.

Jace’s arm returned to your shoulder and a massive grin on his face, “Oh really!” he beamed, “I thought you hated rugby?” he batted his eyelashes like an innocent child, and you did your best not to hit his perfect face.

Shrugging off his arm yet again, and receiving a questioning look for Arra in the process, you scrambled for a response, “I guess its not as bad as I expected,”

Cregan’s smile unlike Jace’s felt genuine and not mocking, “Hopefully we can turn you into a mega fan by the end of the year. Are yous coming tonight? Who can turn down free punch?” and with that your friends committed you to an evening of drinking, fun, and rugby guys much to your dismay.

You tried your best not to ruin Arra’s and Aly’s moods as you all got ready for the celebration, but Lynara was texting you to make sure you were okay. You didn’t know why the whole thing with Jace still bothered you, but it did. And seeing him act so casually flirty and friendly today out of nowhere didn’t help.

Despite it all you stood outside the Fraternity of the Seven with your girls as you waited to get into the party. This was your first official Frat party, so Arra had insisted you looked the part with a tight short black leather skirt, tights, and long sleeve top. Aly’s had done you hair and makeup to match and it had felt good to get ready like this in the dorms. Despite the modesty of the outfit, you felt exposed as the frat boys at the door let yous in and your good mood was soon diminishing.

Aly’s was gone within seconds to join Cregan at the opposite side of the room and Arra was soon to leave as well to join some other guys. Lynara linked her arm with yours and began dragging you to the drinks table. “Beer or punch?” she asked as she grabbed you a cup and filled it with your choice before handing it to you, “You’ll feel better after you drink something,”

“Or I’ve got weed if you prefer,” Helena offered causing Lynara to roll her eyes.

You laughed as you began to drink the cheap alcohol, “Im good but thanks Hel. Im at least going to try and enjoy this,” and you did. You ended up sitting with Baela, who you still struggled to understand how she was related to Hel, and some of her friends.

You were sat on the arm rest of the couch facing the group with your legs resting in Hel’s lap. You did your best to join in conversation, but it was mainly just a couple words here and there not really knowing what to say so to keep your mouth busy you kept sipping your now third drink. As you were laughing at one of Baela’s stories you felt someone’s toned abs lean against your back. “What’s so funny?” Jace asked and you felt your body tense as he draped his arm over your shoulder.

Baela, who was still laughing filled him in on the story and Jace kept up with the conversation, not even acknowledging the position you were both in. Hel gave your foot a squeeze and looked at you as if to ask if you were alright and you nodded, knowing the scene she would cause if you hadn’t. Jace moved his hand to rest on your other shoulder, essentially locking you in place, and you could feel his smirk burning into the back of your head, but you refused to look at him. With Jace behind you you could feel so many eyes on you and you hated to think what they were thinking. Aly looked over and gave you a puzzled look but got distracted by Cregan as quickly as she looked.

At this point your mind was wondering, thinking of what to do or what was happening when Jace interrupted your thoughts, “You want another?” he said as he took your now empty cup from your hand.

“Huh? Oh yeah sure thanks,” you said and for a second it almost felt like freshman Jace getting you coffee again.

“Be back in a beat sweetheart,” and the thought died as quickly as it entered your head.

As soon as he had walked away Lynara had jumped up from her chair, grabbing your arm and pulling you off the couch with Hel following in tow. “Quick lets escape,” Lynara said as she dragged you to the other side of the room. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, im fine I was just like you know,” you said, and she nodded in response, “Isn’t he just gonna come find me?”

“Jace has the attention span of about 10 seconds,” Hel said and for whatever reason it only made you feel worse, “If you want, we can find Aly and Arra and ditch?”

“Nah its fine. I don’t wanna kill their vibe because of freshman stuff,” you said but your eyes were on Jace who was now making his way back to the couch with two cups and a very cutely confused look on his face. It almost made you wanna walk back over but when he looked up and you made eye contact you spun around to face the girls, “Let’s dance or something?”

“You wanna dance?” Lynara said shocked but quickly grabbed your arm dragging you to the dance floor before you could change your mind.

For a few minutes it actually took your mind off it all especially when Arra and Aly’s joined, finally ditching their guys for the evening. You lost track of how long you had been dancing but you were starting to regret not getting another drink, “Im gonna grab a drink be back,” you told Hel who just nodded before continuing her questionable robot dancing.

Once you arrived at the table you quickly poured your drink before deciding to down it and pour another. “Thirsty?” you snapped your head to the side to see Jace who must’ve only just came over. he stood beside you as he poured his own cup, “You wouldn’t have been so thirsty if you had waited for me to get back,”

“Lynara wanted to dance. I got distracted,” The lie slipped easily off your tongue as you began to drink your next drink, to increase the buzz you already had, “I didn’t think you’d mind,”

“I might be a Valerian but even we get offended when girls run away from us,” he said with his cocky grin but this time your buzz made you scoff in return, “What? You think we don’t have feelings?”

you rolled your eyes and briefly debated whether to just walk away but the cheap alcohol had obviously lowered your senses. “No, I think yous are all rich douchebags,” you said and Jace’s jaw slackened as his eyes widened. “Yous are all the same,” you continued despite any logic but you knew your freshman self would be proud, “Your daddy donates a few grand to the school, has your name plastered all over campus, and suddenly you think your mommy’s money somehow makes you the shit,” Jace went to say something but you didn’t stop, “So you ditch all your friends and skip all your classes and pick the bitchiest girls to date. Like seriously yous all chose the same mean girl in a different font its insane. Then you become rugby or football captains and spend all your time partying then take over your family business instead of the people that actually work for it,”

“That’s not fair,” Jace snapped when he could finally get a word in. his face was red, and he looked angrier than he had than during the whole rugby game. “Your barley knows me- “

“No but I do,” you cut him off, “Because you are all the same. And it’s a shame really cause you used to be really cool then you joined this stupid frat and started hanging around with Aegon fucking Targaryen and ditched all your friends to fuck Sara Snow,”

“I didn’t ditch you guys,”

“Im shocked you even remember us,” you snapped, and a silence fell between you both.

You turned back to your drink as Jace stewed in silence, “I didn’t mean to ditch you I just got busy and I-”

“I don’t really care what your excuse is Jace,” you cut him off as you sat your empty cup on the table, “It was fucking hurtful okay? You came to this school normal, and you turned into some Aegon Targaryen 2.0. We weren’t cool enough for you, I get it,” tears began to prick your eyes and threatened to spill but Jace just stood silently with his head hanging down. “I can’t believe I used to like you,” you said, and he suddenly looked up with his eyes wide and a confused look on his face, “Yeah, I know. Trust me to fall for the asshole. I shouldn’t have come tonight,” you said as you started to walk away.

You heard Jace say wait but instead you speed up and pulled out your phone to text Helena that you were leaving because of a sore stomach and began to walk home.

When you were halfway down the street you heard someone running behind you and glanced over your shoulder to see Jace had followed you. You tried to speed up, but he ended up in front of you, “You shouldn’t walk home alone drunk. It’s not safe,”

“Im not drunk,” you said, moving past him.

Jace only followed though, easily keeping pace with you, “Still. I don’t want you to get hurt,”

You snorted, “That’s ironic. What do you just wanna make fun of me? Is that why you were talking to me today? To laugh with your friends about it?”

“Gods you can’t think im that much of an asshole surely?” he asked but you stayed silent, “Look im sorry okay. I shouldn’t have just ditched you it was just like I- “

“You what? You started dating Sara Snow then suddenly I was invisible to you?”

Jace sighed and grabbed your shoulder, forcing you to stop walking despite your protests, “I only started dating her cause you kept rejecting me,”

This baffled you. You felt your head spinning and your whole world being flipped, “I never rejected you? You never even asked me out? What the fuck?”

“Are you serious?” Jace asked and you just shook your head confused. Jace let out a laugh and began to look around, “Oh my gods you’re an idiot,” you went to protest but he cut you off, “I was constantly flirting with you. Like the whole of first year. I got you coffee like every day,”

“Didn’t you get everyone coffee?”

“No!” Jace said and now you were both confused, “I got you coffee and always wanted to hang out and id come to your dorm all the time, but you kept inviting other people with,”

“We were studying!”

“I was trying to flirt with you!” Jace practically yelled as he flung his arms in the air, “I thought you were trying to let me down easy, so I started dating Sara to make you jealous and you didn’t care!”

The weight of it all mixed with the alcohol had hit you like a bag of bricks. “II just wanted you to be happy. I didn’t know,”

“You seriously didn’t know?” Jace had stopped yelling as well and suddenly it was as if his freshman self was standing in front of you. “And if you did know? would it have changed anything?”

It took you a long moment to answer, “I liked you too Jace. I always did. That’s why it hurt when- “

“I know,” Jace stopped you, stepping forward to hold your arms and force you to look at him, “But if you did know. if I had asked you out. Would you have said yes?”

The frat boy was completely gone now. Jace’s eyes bore into yours with a mix of sadness and hope only a puppy could have. His eyes scanned your dumbstruck face for any kind of answer. You didn’t know what to say. Instead, you leaned in without even thinking.

Your lips crashed onto his. It took a moment for Jace to realise what was happening but when he did, he was quick to catch up. His hands slid from your arms to the small of your back to hold you closer. You brought your own arms up to his shoulders holding on to keep your balance as his mouth danced with yours. You couldn’t help but shiver either from the cold or the kiss you couldn’t tell. When you finally broke apart his heavy breath fanned your face, and the heat made your skin tingle.

“I would’ve said yes,” you finally whispered back, and a smile began to tug at Jace’s lips.

He kissed your lips again, this time softer and only for a moment, “I’m sorry for- “

“Being a cocky lil shit?” you chuckled and Jace laughed this time at your insults, “I suppose you deserve to be a bit cocky,”

“Oh really?” Jace asked with a grin as he pulled you in closer, neither of you caring who could see you “Whys that?”

You hummed as your hands moved to his neck to pull his head closer to yours so you could whisper in his ear, “You’re the best kisser at this school,”

“That’s where your wrong love,” Jace corrected you as he moved his hand to your chin to pull your lips close to his so when he spoke, they brushed against yours, “I think you’re thinking of yourself,”

“You wanna have a contest?” You offered and without answering Jace closed the gap yet again. There you were shamelessly making out with the Rugby captain in the middle of the street while a bunch of frat boys started to cheer their captain on from the house. But they didn’t matter. You finally had the real Jace back.

[chicken-wayng]

If Rhaenyra was truly a Valyrian supremacist she wouldn’t have had three kids with Harwin Strong. Also her mother is half Andal just like her siblings.

She’s not a supremacist like Daemon but I do think she’s a narcissist, genuinely believing the world revolves around her. That’s what made the rift between her and Alicent inevitable imo, she expected Alicent to want to be nothing more than her dutiful lady in waiting for the rest of her life with no ambition or desire of her own.

Rhaenyra does mellows down when she’s older, mainly because Jace keeps calling out her bs but you can’t truly change who you are. Even in 2x03 although she desperate for peace a part of her was still expecting Team Green to simply give up rather compromising because the idea of either her or Jace stepping down was incomprehensible.

So prev anon was right that 2x08 only worked because Alicent has degraded herself back to her bare bones, she’s exactly how Rhaenyra wanted her to be 20 years ago: the dutiful handmaiden who will wait on Rhaenyra and her sons, no wants of her own.

I disagree. I don't think Nyra sleeping with Harwin (+ having his children) is enough evidence that she wasn't also a Targ supremacist. I grew up in Arkansas, where racism is still very much alive. Yet all of those racist fucks would still get down dirty with a black Mamacita because they're attracted to her (but just don't respect/view her as a person, which a lot of Arkansans don't see women as to begin with). So it is possible to mess around with someone and literally have not a drop of respect for them. Also - still from what I've seen in Arkansas - it's possible to have a mixed heritage and be racist towards part of it and prefer the other more. In MY OPINION, what I observe from Nyra is similar to this. I especially think after she marries Daemon it becomes worse. I think her Targ Supremacy and Bastardphobia run hand in hand (her bastards are okay because they're Targaryen/her's while others are a sin, type of mindset). Also doesn't she say to Laenor that each time she had hoped they were his? So she hoped she was carrying his children not Harwin's, is what I gleaned from that line (also I'm thinking 3 way but that's a different post). However I do understand what you're saying and I don't believe it's like full racism but more of a casual racism, like I don't think she's fully aware of it.

I do agree that the rift between Nyra and Allie is because of both of their mindsets and I do think Nyra never thought about Alicent's future more than how it would connect to her's. I truly do think if she did think about it she did think Allie was always going to be her's in some way, probably never marrying so Rhaenyra could spend her time with her whenever. I also think that Alicent knew this and that's why she stripped herself of her titles/colors to see Nyra in 2×8. She wanted Nyra to see her as the human she is but seeing that confirmed to Nyra her own supremacy.

Also I absolutely love how they show us Jace confronting Nyra. It reminds me a lot of confronting my mom. My mom has 3 bastards (myself being the most awesome) and she's also racist. It's out of her love for me that she's starting to unlearn a lot of toxic behavior that she's realizing came from her dad. I see a lot of Nyra in this, however Nyra doesn't have a child who believes love is why we were put on this earth and we are all a part of a huge puzzle that only forms it's picture when we share our stories. Plus she's in a world so dominated by the patriarchy even as Queen she has no fucking say. Jace is trying but unable to properly verbalize it cuz he's still a child (say what you want, until someone is 20 I don't fully count them as an adult, plus Jace is like 17 when he dies, right?) and has so much weight put on him. Plus terms like "bastardphobia" aren't a thing, it's just the norm.

Thanksya for sharing your opinion and allowing me to do so as well!! I hope you're having a good day💜

[daenerystargaryen06]

Targ Restoration

I was thinking over the fact, that what if we do have a Targ restoration, but it's not in the way we think it will happen?

My thoughts on this are- we have ample evidence from the books that there can/will be a Targ Restoration, but it won't end with the Targs on the throne.

If we are to even believe what those hacks D&D said- they were told by G.R.R.M that Bran will end up as King, but they weren't given Jon and Dany's ending. It was also stated by G.R.R.M that Jon and Dany are destined to meet; and we are given a lot of subtle cues/foreshadowing/hints of them becoming eventual lovers in the books.

Now, the way I see this working could be... Dany doesn't actively WANT to be Queen. Her goal for the throne is fed on by the fact that she is the last Targaryen left in the world. She wants to help those considered 'lesser' by others. And what Viserys has told her their entire lives. What Dany truly longs for, is home. The house with the red door, the lemon tree outside her window. Something she can call home for herself, to live in peace.

As for Jon, I think that he could want to be King, but might turn away from ruling to have a live of peace as well. What Dany and Jon do most is attempt to help others. Their arcs have leadership, learning to rule, and helping the downtrodden. But it's not necessarily something they want.

A possible ending could be that Jon and Dany do fight the war against the dead, bring Spring, but decide not to rule over Westeros in the end. Allowing Bran to become King instead (if that's even an ending for Bran that G.R.R.M will give, as it was only told to us by D&D, and I hardly trust anything those idiots say about the show).

Instead- Jon and Dany could go to find a true home for themselves, and build a life together.

Dany will have children with Jon (she thinks she is barren, but one thing I do think she will eventually have is a living child of her own born from her. She had a miscarriage in ADWD, and both her and Jon think of having children of their own). I believe her miscarriage will lead into her meeting Jon, them becoming lovers, and together they finally manage to have a child (or children) of their own. Not expecting it, but finding comfort in one another and starting their own family in a home they find together.

I also believe that Dany's dragons will not be their end. There are many ideas (I've seen videos on Tik Tok covering over this) that Viserion is a she-dragon, and has exhibited nesting behavior in Meereen, and will likely have eggs. Though there's also the fact that dragons, in truth, are genderless- they can switch, they're 'as changeable as flame'. Any one of Dany's dragons could lay eggs and bring back more into the world, but I have my ideas on it being Viserion as the one to do so.

The ending for Jon and Dany wouldn't be as rulers, but together as a family. They find their own home, find a place to truly belong, and continue on the Targ restoration and the age of dragons, not as King and Queen, but as a loving, caring family in a home they chose for themselves.

That isn't to say that I wouldn't be happy if Dany and Jon wind up as co-rulers together over Westeros, as I'd love it if they did, but practically speaking- I just want them to be happy, together, and in a place they can finally call their own and feel where they belong. Dany can run barefoot and breathless through soft grass and warm soil with her children, and give them the childhood she had never known. Jon can tell their children stories of the Wall and the Others, and their children can connect with Ghost and the dragons they have. Dany can hold dragon eggs to her belly as she did with Rhaego. Drogon, Viserion, and Rhaegal can be parents and elder siblings to the human children Dany and Jon have together. It would be the 'sweetness' to G.R.R.M's bittersweet ending. But it can also be counted as bitter, as the last two Targaryen's do not wind up ruling on the throne, and their legacy over Westeros ends.

I just want my asoiaf babies to be happy!

[horizon-verizon]

Was the Velaryon family also black in the books?

because I've seen some fans of the show accuse artist or even fanarts of being racist just because they decide to draw/portray the Velaryon being white according to the book canon version, despite the fact there is no description of their skin color.

No, they were not. They were white. Corlys, Laena, and Laenor would have been described as such through darker-dark skin color if so, just as Nettles and the Summer Islanders and Missandei all were at one point or another, but they are not.

(The Dornish are not PoCs, they are "spicy whites", [refer to image below of GRRM's reply ato a fan abt race in ASoIaF and adaptions] and THIS POST I made).

And Ryan point blank said that he/they made the Valryians black for the diversity count and that it was an advantage to have it "obvious" Rhaenyra had kids who weren't Laenor's.

GRRM said he wished he could have made the Valyrians darker skinned. Which tells us that they canonically, typically, are not PoCs/Black.

Not all canon Valyrian/descendants are pale-skinned or white (Nettles, Bellegere Otherys' kids by Aegon IV, Baelor Breakspear [Baelor was not canonically PoC, again, at least he cannot be transferred as the modern def of "poc"]), but the Valyrians are a majority pale-skinned and white in both pre/post Conquest Planetos history.

Of course, it's always possible that some artists choose to ONLY portray bk versions of the Velaryons BECAUSE the bk/orig/canon Velaryons are white...but that doesn't mean ALL artists who refuse to draw HotD characters/actors do so bc they are racist. Sometimes it's because they hate the costumes or simply don't like HotD's story, how they treat actors, etc. Or they simply make so much more F&B/ASOIAF content than the adaptations bc they prefer the orig story and characters.

fkaluis on tumblr/fkadaeneyrs on Twitter was one who first made only art based on strictly what existed for Rhaenyra pre-HotD; Rhaenyra especially almost never is drawn in her HotD costume...bc HotD really dialed back on her extravagance. But fkaluis has alos seemingly decided to do more "merges" of HotD and F&B/ASOIAF but upgrade HotD to resemble more F&B/ASOIAF-familiar imagery with original elements in their work. Laena Velaryon, rhaena of Pentos, and Baela is Black in many, many of their work, but uncommonly wears the HotD costumes we saw her in the show. They also love drawing Black Baela/Rhaena is what their book!selves were described as having worn.

Examples [order: rhaena, jocelyn baratheon, rhaenyra, laenax rhaenyra, lanea x daemon, rhaenyra x laenor, baela x jacaerys, rhaena, baela, baela, laena, HotD young rhaenyra in upgraded and mod version of show costume in epi 4, and finally hotD older Rhaenyra in upgraded and mod version of show costume in epi 8, finally Aegon III w/Daenaera Velaryon]:

See how all the Valyrians/Velaryons/Targs also have purple eyes in his work, while the show doesn't? And Daenaera canonically is described as having skin as pale "as snow":

Rhaena and Baela had "fine features", which code for European white in most white-written literature....as well as here, to distinguish them from the Velaryon boys' "snub" noses:

Laenor, too ("aquiline"):

Of course PoCs and Black people can have "fine" features (stronger nose bridges, thinner lips, etc.), but in literature today as well as for a long time since the late Mid Ages, white people tend to not describe white people's skin unless its to really emphasize their beauty through paleness. Everyone else, to make it clear they aren't white, are ALWAYS told to have olive, brown, dark skin...unless they want to say they've tanned then it gets confusing for PoC/Black readers. then you'd need other clues like the features and how people in the world treat them, even if it seems innocuous or positive.

Which means people have got to do a little investigating or light inquiry to the artist if they can if they really want to discover that the artists is racist.

[scaly-freaks]

Hiiii!! I fell in love with 'until the colours fade' and the end made me think that maybe Aegon was going to commit su*cide? it felt open ended too as if maybe he could work things out with Jae and they could be the family they both so desperately need. I was so angry with Aegon at first because the neglecting hit close to home, but I ended up feeling sad for both of them in the end. It felt like you meant to keep the mother unnamed but was she Amara? i wanted to guess because of the moodboard and the girl with the dark hair.

If you want to reveal anything about their life when she was still alive I'd really love that!! The idea of Aegon mourning her when he found out she died just made me so sad and I didn't even wannt to imagine it because they always feel so joined in my mind

Aaahhhh thank you so much (and thank you for being so sweet with your request omg)

It is open-ended. It's ultimately up to the reader to decide what happens without any input from me. My irls read the fic today and were dragging Aegon over the coals because they refused to accept that anyone once they've become a parent has any excuse not to raise a perfectly normal, well balanced child, which I didn't agree with, but to each their own. Traumatised children grow up to become parents all the time and don't stop being traumatised. All you can do is your best, even if that counts as bare minimum to someone else. To you, that is your best. Your intentions are there.

Aegon definitely didn't mean to let his intentions slip, but after the mother's death, aka someone he obviously relied on heavily in terms of emotional support, he lost his mind a little bit. His family is busy with their own lives, and are also quite neglectful of him because I imagine he's not the success story amongst the Targ-Hightowers. No one came to his house after the funeral to clean up and make sure there was food in the fridge when he got back. That's how they never realised Jae was still there until a week and a half later. He had the excuse (barely) of numbing himself on alcohol and drugs to avoid facing up to the fact that his wife was gone, hence why he forgot her. He let Jaehaera parent herself which was also wrong, and she became a latch key kid pretty much. If the electric bill isn't paid, the washing machine isn't working, and then who's cleaning her underwear? At eleven, she's probably thinking whatever, it's fine i'll reuse it, it doesn't look dirty because no one's teaching her that stuff (can't even say it's common sense because kids will be kids). She hasn't started her period yet, but I imagine Aegon would be a lot more aware of that this time round and actually buy her the stuff before he drags Helaena in to explain it all LOL.

And yes, 'Momma' was in fact Amara. And yuupppp, pulled my heartstrings to think of Aegon losing her. She was a baby having a baby, and then suddenly she was gone and Jaehaerys went with her.

Their life before she died was happy, I must admit. They both obviously struggled massively with mental illness and addiction and whatnot, but the kids were their pride and joy, something they made between them and would go to the ends of the earth for. Aegon was a good dad before she died, which is the most heartbreaking bit. Glimpses of it come through, for instance the glitter shampoo, buying Jae sweets after they fight, running after the ice cream van, but these are all notably things he did when she was way younger and before Amara died, suggesting he's frozen in time. Jae is growing up, and her Dad is failing to keep up. He's sluggish and trapped in memories he wants to return to. He used to put his all into making sure his kids were happy on the little money they had, and that his wife wasn't sinking into her depression again (Amara went through a couple suicide attempts during her post-partum period). She was terrified she'd go through with it one day and that it would never end even once the kids were older, and Aegon was the one who was like I won't let you, I promise, I'll keep you here even if it's not that simple.

The sad irony is she died and it was completely out of both their hands. She didn't want to leave, but she did. He tells Jaehaera no, baby, you're all me to disguise the fact that she has her mother's eyes and those eyes haven't looked at him the same since Amara died. Obviously Jaehaera's lonely and depressed and struggling to cope, so when she looks at her dad, he sees all those things staring back at him. He sees what Amara used to look like in her worst moments, but he doesn't have half the mental and emotional energy he used to in order to help his daughter. Instead, he drowns and watches her drown with him.

Amara is probably somewhere in the afterlife crying over the pair of them and not enjoying heaven I'm ngl 😭

[vhagarswar]

Ranking all Targ males from least scary to most scary for the spooky season! (TV ONLY) and explaining why.🎃🎃

This list was made on who made the biggest impression on me, not ‘’who would win in a fight’’ for we all know it would be mr ‘’i dont want it’’ plot armor. I included both GOT and HOTD here and some men apparently had bastards off-screen but unless i saw one i'm not keeping track of the lot sorry.

I don’t read books so….

16. Daeron. 

I don’t know, he is not even in the show. What is he doing on this list? Oh yeah, he might be in season 2. Well, sir, I hope you bring some serious drama to the screen. Right now I'm not impressed. At all. Because you don’t exist. At all. 

Threat level: -100 (he does not exist at this point imo) method of defeat: Pull his hair? (idk)

15: Viserys I Targaryen.

Viserys is a good kind man, but a horrible father to most of his children. He had a dragon once, but that dragon died. He had two wives and showed himself a righteous, good and kind rare Targaryen who should have given his Green children more love and attention and raised them better as well (I said what I said) That said, Viserys is no real threat to anyone or anything, as he proved countless times that he lets people walk all over him (Corlys, Alicent, Rhaenyra) and that there are no real consequences when it comes to him. 

Threat: -20 method of defeat: Hide his crown or put a whoopy cushion on his throne (Heart-attack)

14. Viserys (Little viserys)

Not really impressed by Viserys so far, or even scared. I think it will depend how the show will continue if we will ever see how Viserys (Daenyra’s son) will grow up. I don’t count it as first appearance points, so he can rise in ranking should he grow up to be as terrifying as his uncle and daddy. 

Threat:0 (child) method of defeat: bedtime.

13. Jaehaerys II Targ (The son of Aegon/Aemond and Helaena)

Nothing that impressive going on either, nothing to be afraid of at this moment as well, aside from the fear that I could accidentally step on his toes or something. We must wait and see if we will see if Jaeh grows up to be as terrifying as his uncle or daddy depending on what you believe.  

Threat:0 (Child) method of defeat: Give him cheese (lactose intolerance)

12. Aegon (Child of Rhae and Daemon)

Again we will see how the show handles his aging, his possible warcrimes and how insane he will become if he ever becomes insane. Ranked above Jaeh because I believe that Rhaes and Daemons children would be more chaotic because Daemon would raise his kids, Aegon ignores them. 

Threat:0 (Child) method of defeat: peek-a-boo.

11. Maelor (Child of aegon/aemond and Hel.)

Once more we need to show how the show handles him. I haven’t seen him burn puppies on screen or rip his sister’s dolls to shreds so we will wait and see if and how Maelor will live up to his namesake. 

Threat: 0 (child) method of defeat: tear his favourite toy to pieces/Tell him his mother loves his brother more.

10. Joffrey (Child of Rhae and Harwin)

Joffery is a child so we havent seen his heights and lows yet, but he does slightly scare me more than most kids. Why? Because he's the youngest. Youngest children are always a bit more spoiled, get away with a lot more (i am a youngest child). But thats all speculation we dont know how this brave strong boy will become scary if at all.

 Threatlevel: 0 (child) method of defeat: Challenge his bravery and manipulate him into doing something dangerous.

9. Jaehaerys I targaryen. 

This is the old king that opens the show, so to speak. We see him sitting at the council. He apparently was a very good king, reigning over nearly sixty years of peace and prosperty. Now that’s rare in the Targaryen family. We applaud him, but we don’t fear the old man. At least I don’t. Not once. He's higher than Viserys because he is older, older people get forgetful he might become as Vhagar and accidentally commit war crimes but we didnt see any of that sadly.

Threat: 3 (but dead) method of defeat: Take him for a stroll/let him explain the targaryen family tree to you (heartfailures)

8. Unnamed bastard of Aegon II

This child is the most terrifying on the list because he grew up fighting and not the kind that the royals do with pretty swords and tourneys he has to learn how to fight for himself or he could die. I was pretty disgusted (by aegon ofc) when I saw this innocent little boy sitting there, without his parents or a guardian in an environment that horrible. A horrible environment makes for horrible people. I hope we will see more of this bastard in season 2.  Threat: 2 (child with fighting skills) method of defeat: Tell him his father will come back after he gets milk.

7. Lucerys ‘’Velyaron’’/Targaryen.

Lucerys proved himself right from the start to be a sweet, kind boy. He could not face injustice and was very small and kinda not that important compared to his brother Jace (imo) until he took Aemonds eye and possibly arguably, and most certainly, played a big part in the start of the civil war that drives that wonderful story. Lucerys was shy, perhaps, a bit too sweet, yes but he was a skilled dragonrider, as was shown in his final moments. (this is not sarcasm, i think most dragons wouldnt have survived vhagar that long) Lucerys proves that even in death he could be a plague to Aemond that he will never be free of, being both ionic and yet sweet to his loved ones.  

Threat: level 4. (but sadly, turned into a dragon meal/dead) method of defeat: Remind him that death comes for everyone/Offer him a dragon-omelette.

6. Jacaerys ‘’Velyaron’’/Targaryen.

Jace. He showed right up when his mother needed an heir, he is loved by many, good, sweet, so boring-I MEAN EH-. Jace is …decent with a sword, he would beat me but so would the children on this list. Jace is a good, kind person that almost equals Jon snow in got. There is not much going on for his darkness or emotions, I think the closest thing he got to being scary was when Aegon hit on Baela, i loved his little speech. BUT: I do hope we see another darker side of Jace, as he now is not really annoying me, but I have this feeling he can be more. There can be more struggle for him as in morally. His brother has just died, so I assume we will get it. I hope to see more scenes of Jace in general, more info on him as well. 

Threat: Level 5 Method of defeat: Say you need a ‘’Strong’’ boy to roll a tv into a classroom/ Hit on Baela.

5. Jon Snow.

Right from the start of the show we see that Jon is a loyal but lost puppy who would never ollow his own dreams and would rather follow someone else’s. We see him as a skilled warrior and that might be terrifying to his enemies, but as a viewer I could see he is a golden retriever, loyal, sweet, kind. The only moment I feared Jon was when he was brought back to life but he was himself so…nothing to fear i guess? Yet we fear him for his plot armor. Threat: 7 (Plot armor king) method of defeat: Remind him that Arya killed the night king, or offer him a throne.

4. Aegon II (Son of Viserys I, Alicent Hightower)

Aegon is a raper, a usurper and he can be terrifying for those two reasons alone. HOWEVER; There is something hiding beneath those little hobo locks and his bright eyes. Aegon is dangerous in another way. He is medicore with a sword, not caring for duty, nor his destiny. But what he does care for is inflicting drama, and he is pretty damn good at it. He is chaotic and sadistic, and does clearly not care who or what he destroys as long as he has his fun. That makes him dangerous. Aegon is luckily too much of an idiot to form a real threat but he does terrify me. 

(Threat: 8 Level of defeat: Chastity belt/Rehab.)

3. Viserys III Targaryen (Son of IDK and IDC)

‘’WHAT?!’’ This man has what we call ‘’First Targ privilege.’’ He is the first male Targaryen I saw on screen. And he absolutely terrified me. I didn’t think he was sexy for it or hot, or anything. I wanted him off my screen asap. But there is more than his privilege. The other Targaryen males in this list struggle perhaps for position, for glory and worth but Viserys III has already lost it all. He is foolish, gullible and imo the inbreeding has gone on longer so therefore he has a higher risk of insanity. Aemond and Daemon are scary for who they are and for who the world made them to be, but Viserys is terrifying for he has lost everything, and is willingly to risk it all to get back what he wants. That makes him scary to me. But mostly also the first part.  Threat: 8 (insanity) level of defeat: telling him he is no dragon and gifting him a pot of gold.

2. Daemon Targaryen (The Rogue Prince)

Daemon is a complicated man. He is put second, many times. He is forced to marry a woman he does not love. But there is more to Daemon than his crimes/tragedy. He is a chaotic man with quite the strategic mind, the resources, the name, the titles and the courage to back up his chaotic plans and plots. He is also quite attractive which he is very aware of. He rides the biggest dragon in the world. I think there were multiple moments Daemon was terrifying. For example his introduction. i didn’t notice at first, but he was sitting the throne. I didnt knew at the time but that is considered high-treason. he was committing sorta treason right when he was introduced. I dont mind though he looked hot sitting that iron ugly thing. Next scene we see him kill his wife, behead a man and eventually we see him even choke our beloved disney princess Rhae-rhae and for that he can burn. But Daemon does prove himself to care about others. He can be capable of emotions, of good will and good deeds….For the right price.

Threat: ten. Method of defeat: Telling him he can’t do something, mock him or win from him.

Aemond Targaryen

Aemond has many flaws and skills that make him as terrifying as Daemon perhaps even more. Daemon is very readable. You can read him and his actions/plots what he does next very well, as he is logical semi-healthy man. Now Aemond? Aemond does not wear his heart on his sleeve and is often hiding that away/

It kinda comes close to what the actor of Aemond said in a interview: ‘’Just because Aemond is smiling does not mean he is happy.’’ He is basically hiding his emotions very well, and even if he is happy he is ready to go for it any moment (his sudden outburst by the baratheons) there is also the matter of his lost eye and how he became a sword man nevertheless. There is something terrifying about Aemond and it's his dedication. To everything: To his duties, to his family, to destroying his enemies and learning. He does not want to be better than the Strong boys, he wants to be the best. He believes himself superior, better, and stronger than Aegon but his sense of loyalty binds him to Aegon. I hope we see more of his war crimes tbf and more of his dark side. We saw a very mild version of his book counterpart (huh but didnt you say you didnt read-) Oh i did read Aemonds parts and It scared me xD. So Aemond is terrifying not because he is stronger than Daemon, but because he is chaotic as Daemon, second born as daemon, never enough as Daemon and Aemond has a score to settle with the rest of the world or whoever he thinks hurt him. 

THREAT: Ten (SAME AS DAEMON!) method of defeat: Give him a hot woman, a castle and an army and you won't see him even if you would invade his home, hold his mother hostage and commit crimes in the city he grew up in.

CONCLUSION

 When I made this list I already knew: It was going to be between Aemond or Daemon, there was no other way for it. I knew I was going to put Jon last and I knew it was going to be controversial af. Yet i hope you enjoyed it. I did my best to make it kinda funny lol.

[esther-dot]

So I was reading a bunch of your anon asks about R/L (not spelling out names so this doesn't show up in searches lol) and I agree with that anon that said the fandom forgets that GRRM is not some woke author. Way too many metas are written on the premise that he wrote this series with the sensibilities of a 20-something millennial and not a 50 year old man who conceived most of these plot points in the 90s. The refusal for certain fans/theorists (not including you in this I find your analysis and critiques very good and thoughtful) to call out and critique Martin's deeply problematic elements frustrates me to no end. It's okay to say certain things did not age well and the R/L/E dynamic is chief among them. Giving R's wife a gratuitously sexually violent death and a gratuitously gruesome death to her baby and toddler did not age well. Then proceeding to shit on her by having her husband's family's loyalists state that she was sickly and not good enough for him did not age well. Then proceeding to spend five books with those same characters depicting R as the Westerosi Prom King/Football Quarterback/Prodigal Son with basically zero substantial or significant pushback did not age well. I keep on seeing people say, 'Well, no it's because it's all a part of George's Big Plan and Reveal and an example of the the POV trap so don't get preemptively mad at him.' The defense of him essentially being 'No, you guys don't get it...he's going to perfectly execute the story that only exists in mine and his head for 12 years and counting and then you will see how he always meant for R to be a POS and for R/L not to be some star crossed lovers romance.' Yeah, no. I'm not giving him credit for an unfinished story and the fact that some of his fans do this is baffling. We're at this point that even if Martin does reveal R was even a little morally grey, a subset of the fandom will continue defending him like their lives depend on it because they are so married to their headcanons because Martin has not provided any actual content in over a decade (the show whitewashing did not help either). I'm not even going to broach the subject of the white feminist pickmes in the fandom that do everything and anything to defend Lily White Lieanna from any accountability and pushback from her complicitness in what happened because that's a whole other can of worms. LOL. End of my rant I guess. lmao.

My aunt who is around the same age as Martin, wanted to watch Saturday Night Fever with me (I had never seen it). She remembered and loved the music, the dancing, the costumes, the pain of these characters who were trapped and looking for an escape. There were all these good things she wanted to share with me, but I was shocked by how casually they threw in a rape, and how cruel the protagonist was to the girl right after it happened. I could not understand how my liberal, well educated, very up with social norms, aunt wasn't as appalled as I was when she'd last seen it. But she had watched that movie when it came out, hadn't seen it since, so her reaction to it had been fixed in that moment. Like a time capsule.

That happened years ago, but anytime a discussion about R/L and what Martin would/wouldn't do comes up, I think about that, and I try to draw a line between my sensibilities and what he actually wrote because as you and my other anon point out, R/L was conceived in a certain moment, in a specific milieu, and it isn't the one we're currently in. So, while I certainly don't think Rhaegar is the guy that Targ fans believe him to be, I no longer believe Martin intends us to take the other extreme.

Rhaegar called the place where he took Lyanna "the tower of joy," and Martin would have to want us to think Rhaegar is a truly sadistic bastard if that's what he called the place he repeatedly, forcibly raped Lyanna. Considering what Martin has said about how he wants to write morally grey characters, how he has written Cersei, Tyrion, the Hound...I just don't buy that that's where he's going, not anymore.

More broadly, I’ve read a lot of literary analysis, I know how easy it is for people to write really, really interesting essays that I love, but in actually, have absolutely nothing to do with the book/poem etc that it’s discussing. It’s a beautiful thing that we each experience art uniquely, but it does mean we have to be careful when it comes to actually believing what we takeaway from something is the same as what they put in. There’s also a danger in thinking loving the art means we understand the artist’s mind. The same mind can produce something I love and something I hate. Experience that enough times and you realize, you can’t put parameters, a would/wouldn’t, on where they’ll take things.

And, even hardcore Martin fans acknowledge the racist issues with his writing, criticize how he sexualizes little girls...I don't think any of us need to defend him. We all know that these are issues with his writing, we may not agree that they will manifest in the worst way going forward, but it's possible. Unfortunately.

[humanpurposes]

i'm dragging you into the depths of talk shop tuesday even though it's wednesday.

what was it that made you want to start writing? was there a particular moment that felt like an "aha!" or was it something you'd always wanted to do?

which of your characters have you found the easiest to bring to life? the most difficult?

What gorgeous questions, thanks so much Alex!

I feel like writing is something that comes very naturally to me, but then it's a skill that's developed over time. As a kid I used to read a lot and write my own silly little stories. I think my "aha" moment was when I was 15 and doing creative writing at school and I would get full marks on everything I wrote, and I was like "hang on... maybe I'm actually ok at this?" For years it's been a somewhat unrealistic dream of mine to be an author, and I tried to write fanfiction (just for myself) and original stories, but I never stuck with an idea for long before I got bored. THEN Episode 8 of HotD happened and I was reading all the Aemond fics I could find, but none of them were EXACTLY what I wanted so I thought I'd try to write something myself. And now I have a word count of 263k on AO3 which is quite cool :)

Straight up, the character I've struggled with the most is Daemon. He plays quite a central role in Chapter 13 of Karma is a God, in the lead up to the Battle of the God's Eye. I had this clear idea about what he meant to (my) Luke and the role he had played in her upbringing, but then trying to figure out his mindset once he left King's Landing to hunt Aemond... I'll be real, I was completely stumped. I think I really couldn't get my head around why he abandoned Rhaenyra. I switched it up a little bit and I think his character in KIAG has his own reasons for why he left King's Landing and how he approached his confrontation with Aemond. In his mind he was doing what he could to defend Rhaenyra while also encouraging Luke to come into her own as her mother's heir. Sort of like that moment in episode 10 when he's showing off to Jace, I think he's trying to install this lesson of ruthlessness and inspiring fear to maintain control.

The easiest character to bring to life? I really love my OCs 🥺🫶 When I have a story in mind for a fic I'll always have a really clear idea in my head of who this character is and the purpose I want them to serve. Once I start creating a backstory and filling in the basics, I get a really good picture of what their personality is like, and once I've immersed myself in that a little bit I find it quite easy to get that across when I write (or at least I hope I do lmao).

And I have to say I feel like writing Aemond comes really easily to me, even when exploring different elements of his personality or different settings. Just the amount of times I've watched those episodes and how well Ewan Mitchell manages to completely embody that role, like with an OC, I like to think I've got a good read of his personality and his thought process as a character. Also because he's soooo me, if I were a Targ I'd be Aemond Targaryen (which I find really funny after reading your response to my ask and what you were saying about understanding characters you don't relate to haha 😭)