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horizon-verizon · 1 year

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I’m the anon who wrote you about Daemon/Nettles and I have to say you and Daemyra shippers are the only ones who deny they were lovers,it’s not only Mushroom who said it,it is in the pro Blacks records and it fits Daemon,it doesn’t even mean he didn’t love Rhaenyra before but he was a womanizer, he loved dragonriders and she was young,he probably looked for some high and joy during the war,it’s not pretty but that’s Daemon,a grey man. The book says it pretty clear,is not a rumor,it also warns the readers that Nettles will cause “problems” to the 7 Kingdoms because Daemon will abandon Rhaenyra’s cause because of her,everybody knows it’s true.

Anon is referring to this POST.

"pro Blacks records" -- care to share, anon, which "records" you are talking about?

It would also be healthy for you to consider what this person says about Gyldayn and his history. It is in line with what I said HERE.

"everybody knows it's true" -- anon, why are you trusting the "everyone's" assessment of Daemon instead of looking at Daemon's actions and context? These are the same people (you don't specify so I assume they are people like Otto and some other courtiers in the Keep) who also believe that if you place an egg in a Targ royal baby's cradle and it immediately or soon hatches, then that child is a "true" Targ. Which is bullshit. Do not take things at face value. Doesn't mean that everyone believes it doesn't mean it's actually true. Use critical thinking and do comparative analysis. Use context, think about the biases that one may have.

The idea that Nettles would cause "problems" because Daemon supposedly was willing to abandon everything for her is both misogynist and inconsistent with how you and DaemonxNettles arguers yourselves characterize Daemon.

It's misogynist because it repeats the idea that a woman's allure (and all women are attractions/repulsions to men) drives a man to distraction--blaming the woman 's very being--away from his societal duties or loyalties. It's Helen of Troy all over again.

Take a close read at Troilus and Cressida by Shakespeare and try a Folger’s edition so you can have footnotes and background info on how Renaissance intellectual society regarded the mythical figures mentioned and what philosophies about human will vs impulse. You will--if you actually think--see what I mean by the traditional misogyny.

Thus this argument is invalid.

He could have flown away with Nettles if he either wanted Nettles more than Rhaenyra, or if he actually thought Rhaenyra was just unworthy of his loyalty. But he didn’t.

If he just wanted to just take advantage of Rhaenyra for himself and his own ambitions or ego, he would not left with Nettles because that would hinder or completely endanger his ability to hypothetically rule behind and control Rhaenyra.

He would not have lived with Rhaenyra for years on end if he did not love her. We see with Rhea Royce that he could never tolerate a marriage he did not enjoy or a person he did not love and/or respect.

He would not have created a plan to murder someone else’s son so that Rhaenyra’s son can be avenged (not his own bio son, this matters in context of these feudal men).

This is where Daemon has his “light”-ness and “dark”-ness.

He does care and fight for his family---this is his “light”. That love and regard for them. (Viserys refused to annul a marriage he despised and there is evidence and strong suggestions of them having multiple heated disagreements. Their relationship was always or mostly contentious.) He is also very clearly a nonconformist in that he does not court customarily or act how Otto Hightower (traditionalist man) wants him to act towards Viserys.

But his family and chosen people are literally all he cares about and he’s totally intolerant of everyone else. His morals are skewed because he prioritizes his family and Rhaenyra above altruism and will use quickly and gladly violence to ensure their survival. This is the core of his “dark”.

The same maester who you maybe say is your “pro-Black record” says this:

Over the centuries, House Targaryen has produced both great men and monsters. Prince Daemon was both. In his day there was not a man so admired, so beloved, and so reviled in all Westeros. He was made of light and darkness in equal parts. To some he was a hero, to others the blackest of villains.

(“The Rogue Prince”, written by Gyldayn)

And it rests on what I said about him being intolerant of those he doesn’t consider close or loved ones.

No one ever said he was a good man or that they wanted him, copy and paste, to exist. (If you do hear them say the latter, run.)

Romances are romances because the story or substory is about how a relationship develops from the existing/developing romantic feelings of the characters. This is the definition of a romance. Nothing more, nothing less.

It’s not about how palatable or how moral and good the people are.

We get nothing suggestive of romance between Nettles and Daemon. But we get a lot from Rhaenyra and Daemon. Go back and read again.

So your other arguments are invalid.

I'm saying you are a misogynist hypocrite who only uses superficial details whenever you need to make an argument but end up always contradicting yourself because you don't form real arguments with reasonable supporting evidence (text and context) for comparative analysis. In case you missed it.

#daemon and nettles #asoiaf asks to me #daemon targaryen #nettles #maidenpool #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #fire and blood ask #fire and blood #fire and blood characters #the rogue prince #asoiaf shipping #daemon and nettles shipping

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lovelipton · 9 months

Text

Chapter 4

Smut warning: Masterbat!on.

It seemed a betrayal to imagine her. It was an unfair thing to lust for.

He grabbed the oil jug from atop his fire place, taking it to his night stand, coating his fingers as he sat down, trying to conjure up any other image.

The blood orange smell had lingered on him, adding to the difficulty of the situation. The tallow oil smelled like her hair. Perhaps he should ask a maid, at least one would be willing. The thought back to their lingering touches and wanting stares during his bath, pretty girls, older than his companion, their pale hands gliding over him with a wet cloth, how his hand slid down the girls back, how the smell could take him back if he gave in.

He stopped himself, mindlessly grabbing his neglected cock with the oiled hand, trying his best ignore his thoughts. He slid his hand, in the same memorized way from his youth and tried his best to be quick.

He thought about his wife, the salt air the first time he had her, a time where it was need and not want, the feeling of her thigh against his hand, her mouth on his. When she was younger, all those years ago in the brothel.

His hand picked up speed, he felt himself building to the needed climax. His head arched back, lost in older memory. He stroked his tip, grunting with his dependence on the budding release.

The stench of stale ale in the air, the mindless interlocked bodies her eyes pulled to. Nettles eyes would pull like that to any new thing shown to her, the ale was polluted with the stale wine.

If he stopped now he wouldn’t finish, he was a man lost to his urges. His mind flashed to her, half dressed, undressed, licking her lips, laughing and looking up at him, mouth ajar for what ever reason. It felt wrong to imagine, he tried to think to anything else but a memory of her would cloud his mind and judgement for what was right. All he knew was what he needed to do. He was almost there.

He grunted with each stroke, on the brink of his anticipation paying off. He heard the knock at the door and couldn’t answer. He leaned into himself, tugging away mindlessly. The oranges danced with his building sweat. A coating covered him as he drew near than he had been in months, her round breast, revealed itself from her raven coils, he could taste his peak.

He could hear her calling his name, through their door, he didn’t know if he was half conjuring it.

“Daemon?”

His peak came with the swing of their door, a curious call of his name and a strained grunt at her intrusion.

“Sorry, Your Grace.”

Ever quick, she recognized his state, wide eyed to be sure with a quick apology and pulling the door back shut, he was past the point where he could stop himself. He dropped his cock as it spurted over the floor, the immediate guilt and relief flooding him together.

He placed his hands at either side of him, nearly delirious with the relief of his expectation, he steadied himself and recognized where he was, what he had done to get there, almost angered by the new clarity.

He could apologize to her to her enough to justify it, he had to apologize to her now for what happened. The door wasn’t locked on his insistence to his side, he should’ve spoken to send her away. He felt no control over it all, a deep desire settled in his soul over it.

He stood up hazily and got dressed, wiping the sweat off his skin and rinsing away all the musk that had developed in its arrival. He knocked the door of and searched her room to find it empty and unmade. He closed the door and made his way to breakfast through his room, he had no desire to see the state he left his in.

He felt hollow as he made his way to the dinning area, unwilling to face the myriad of emotions he could anticipate from her, he doubted he would look less that guilty at her, her face changing into something more desired now.

He walked in on her, in deep conversation with Maester Norren and Lord Mooton, she’s the first to recognize him in the room.

She stands as he would expect, a glimpse of shyness lingered in her expression, avoiding his eyes entirely, preserving her serious expression as the others join her greeting. He made his way at her side. They all sat together, going into a less intense version of the previous conversation , she refused to meet his eyes.

“You should ask him now that he’s here. Perhaps you’ll listen to him.”

She was never impolite, if she was angry her tone would say but she simply sounded flustered, with the same restrained anger she met him with more often than not.

“What is your request my Lord?” He stared at the fat country Lord, seemingly caught up in the throws of the previous conversation. He looked towards the girl, who focused intently on the porridge in front of her, idling herself by playing with it, breathing deeply to calm herself.

He wondered if she had cared about what she saw, if his worry would even matter after he heard what the Lord said, it didn’t seem to impact her day as much as he had.

“I’m simply curious about the possibility of you both splitting up, to find Vhagar and cover the Riverlands with your protection.”

He could feel his anger rise with the closing of the statement, seeing why there was need for the argument in the first place.

Did he think they sat on dragon back each day to waste time?

That they simply enjoyed the others reactions to the piles of bodies they’d stack every other week?

He felt Nettles heat leave her as he restated what seemed to be the same conversation to him. She was as anxious as she was angry.

The girl couldn’t sleep for so long, at least having someone near her, making sure she would was a comfort. He doubted whether she would eat alone or take care of her self without his insistence. She drank herself to peace just the last night.

His grand plan never made her a causality, he recalled. She’d always go back to Rhaenyra’s side as he went after Vhagar. Even as a suggestion the girl was in danger by herself against Vhagar. No one dragon could stand alone against her.

He gripped the knife in his hand tightly, trying his best to rationalize his anger before he spoke. Did he think the girl was here in jest for company alone?

He felt a warm thing grab his thigh, shifting his demeanor to confusion , he looked down then up at her, a weary expression trying to reassure him, in some small attempt to quell a dragon’s tendency. He could feel himself calm, wondering if she used the same method on Sheepstealer before.

He turned back to the scared Lord, resting the knife down before he responded.

“It would be a useless feat, no dragon alone would stand against Vhagar, even I need someone at my side to make sure I return. Her grace is very adamant on that front.”

She moved her hand back to herself and he felt the warmth leave him, almost hostile in its departure. Her food busied her as the conversation continued, over breakfast, entailing small notes about the following steps towards a quicker end to his nephew.

He checked on her throughout the conversation, sometimes justifying it by making sure she took note of certain places, other times to ensure her presence, just to gage her reaction. By the time they were done he was sure he had paid her more attention, against his better judgment.

“We will leave you both to discuss further, Your Grace.” The Maester stated before departing behind his Lord, it couldn’t have been after nine when he and Netty were finally left alone.

She was wearing a Targaryen red dress, truly made for court, she found a way to make it look like an appropriate dress for the occasion, it dipped low like a King’s Landing style he noted before turning away with he thought, entirely.

“Did you finish?” The question sounded common place out of her mouth , for a moment he felt the air get knocked out of his lungs.

His expression caused her to muffle a laugh, and he found, hearing the air leave her as well. For a moment, they waited for their composure to wash over them before the conversation flowed.

“I seem to have taken to making a fool of myself with you. I owe you my apology.” In a better light, he’d see it as a just remark to make, but even the knowledge that she had helped him to finish seemed wrong. The only comfort was that she didn’t know.

“ I think it is a new talent. You did avoid the notice entirely.” She said, stifling a laugh. He recalled the morning before, and he looked for the cut to explain the blood from a young lady. He seemed to lose his sense around her. He remembered how her voice sounded half fantastical at that time, the expanding of her in his thoughts.

“I was caught off guard, to be clear. Then the last conversation made me see red, I could imagine how you felt.”

The fire her hand stoked had yet to disappear, being around her seemed secretive and new. Her scent seemed alluring, her easy smile entranced him, so surely, he thought, he could breathe her like life itself.

“It’s done now, you have the day to recover.”

It was cruel, he thought, to desire her when he’d barely earned her trust. He only just started to see glimmers of the light Jace had written about. Had it not been for the prolonged and hollow description of her appearance, he would’ve thought the boy had half fallen for her. Now, he understood why the words felt the way they did, appearance or otherwise.

“You and Jace were close?”

He regretted it the moment he asked. He saw the way she transformed at the mention of his name, seeing her reaction to it, like someone had stabbed her through the heart. She dropped the spoon for her food and rationalized the question. He wished he could move from it all together.

“He looked out for me, more than he did for the others.” Her voice lacked any emotion, like she was keeping a secret about them from him. Had he known either of them else, he would’ve thought he stumbled onto an affair.

“That was nice of him. He wrote fondly about you.” He held the goblet of watered wine to his lips as she gazed off to the side. He wanted to go back to the people they were before.

“He liked to care. One of the better traits he had. He’d get angry like you. That was a worse one.” He heard the hint of a smile, but her words hit him hard now. Jace was argumentative, never really taking to him like a father, more so a ward, more so an uncle, he supposed.

They had a shared grief over him over Viserys, and even as she seemed to close herself off from the emotion it caused, she cared enough to allow for the understanding. He knew he had taken to all the children in her own strange way, but even now, it seemed the first time he shared his grief rather than felt it alone. It had torn at Rhaenyra, he recalled, a mention of what they had lost would take her away from court, a sentiment he couldn’t share with her.

“I should go check on the dragons, I’m sure they’ll be glad for the break.” She stood up, distant and monotone, excusing herself without his response, walking away with the warmth. She left him cold and almost desperate.

He’d heard from the shepherds that she’d whistle to call Caraxes. In another light, it seemed as though they were singing through the whistling. She wouldn’t miss a day without feeding her dragon, flying or not, dragons bend easier when fed.

Perhaps they understood each other better than he could imagine, they’d understand being hungry, he supposed, from her eating habits, it was a way to show love, to bond with such a new relationship. The first rider of an eighty year old dragon was a big feat for such a small girl.

The rest of their day was spent apart until dinner. She had gone to Jonquil’s pool, a famously dangerous place for Targaryens, stopping by to announce it and then disappearing altogether for the evening period.

He lost himself in the letters, distracting himself from what now seemed like his worst impulse, responding to Lords who wished for protections, Lords who needed aid and the Lords at court who seemed to worry about the Queen, succession and all the things he was less glad to be away from now.

He was mapping out the route for them to take in the following days, when he heard the mouse of her presence. He called out twice to no response before their door eased open, an unkempt head of hair meeting him before her eyes did, a glimmer of light meeting him after the daunting day.

“How are you?”

He asked, looking at the blue evening dress coming into view, hugging her frame as she made her way to him. He preferred her in red.

“It was fine, no murder attempt.” The ease from before still had yet to take back her voice, a trend he hoped wouldn’t continue in his presence. One he hoped he’d gain

“I should’ve gone next week, with the full moon.” In passing, she’d mention something akin to a superstition she held. He didn’t think she prayed to the seven, judging from the Septa’s reaction to her she didn’t intend to but some small beliefs held in her.

“You pray to moon gods?” He asked passively, drawing out a trivial conversation , just to stay with her for a while, before they went back to the day to day.

“A little faith is always good. I suppose Targaryens would believe in themselves.” He looked up at her, comprehending the jab before returning to the map across his table.

“Then you should try it, unlike other Gods, your dragon will never disappoint you.” Unlike her Dragonstone bred peers, she never clung to the idea that she was a Targaryen. Unlike Addam and Alyn, she never claimed to be Laenor’s spawn or a Velayron.

She was simply a dragon rider, almost insulting the legacy of Targaryens with the refusal. It seemed more interesting than ill meaning, to him at least. What girl did not want to be a Targaryen?

“I wouldn’t prefer it, you’ve grown around men for too long, it makes the faith less believable.”

He smiled down at his map, trying his best to avoid her quick remark towards his suggestion. He decided to deflect from it all together.

“You should sleep better tonight, or you can have the maester make you a sleeping drought.”

He could feel his heart rise at the mention. She still hadn’t told him about her lack of sleep. Her history at Maidenpool with Milk of The Poppy or the sleeping drought wasn’t more than a secret understanding he could never uncover. Thankfully, she seemed unconcerned with the suggestion.

“I slept a while last night, I’m sure it’ll be better tonight.”

He recalled the dark bags under her eyes, the redden gaze that met his, the dirt from the day caked on her until this morning. He wondered if she would lie to him so carelessly, he glanced at her to see a look of understanding on her face. Perhaps she had forgotten, like with the Poppy milk.

“You didn’t look well rested?” He quirked an eyebrow to her, wanting to absolve her of the misunderstanding.

“I had a bad dream. I got up and couldn’t go back to sleep, hence the wine and tired look.” She fumbled with her hands, avoiding his look with the newly revealed information.

“The wine isn’t acceptable, I’d prefer the drought.” He sounded like his father the first time he visited Dragonstone after his wedding to his first Lady wife.

“ It wasn’t to sleep, I just..” She stopped herself, drawing his full attention to her now, this was a new conversation they had gone too.

“I just wanted to get rid of the thought of the dream, to lose some control over hearing the same thing repeatedly.”

She sounded like him when he justified his drinking to his grandmother after the wedding. He should wait, he knew he shouldn’t push to far with her, he’d get less understanding if she closed off entirely. The thought that she could be opening up was too tempting to ignore through, the hope she’d put the trust in him was pulling him like a tide to follow the conversation.

“What was the dream?”

He sat down looking up at her, she seemed delicate with the candlelight around her. She was water in his hands, he was scared to let go of her, for the first time they were as close has they had been because of her.

“ Nothing truly, I’m just a stupid girl who can’t quiet the stupid questions in her mind.”

Corlys had guessed that she was no older than ten and six, according to his ship mistress, she was a child on Driftmark with the others. He still had never heard her call herself a girl, now, she never seemed to capture the word well. He guessed she’d been an adult for longer that she was a child on the streets Addam claimed she resided on.

“What could be so bad?” It was half a plea to her, half a question for himself, what had plagued her thoughts so bad she’d need to escape her mind.

“I’ve been like the people we aid longer than I’ve been a dragon rider.” His shock from her answering the question couldn’t be concealed but she barely looked at him as she confessed her plight, he could only listen.

“They drop like flies, while I’m hunting the largest dragon alive, it doesn’t seem likely that I survive it.”

Her confession felt like someone had slapped him, she was almost mouse like now, quite in the space she held, dimming her own light, allowing the darkness to shine.

“I promised you..” He began forming some response, some sense of understanding in what she said, a comfort he’d given himself at the thought of her in danger, in that situation.

“ Yesterday, men clung to me begging for their lives to end, fathers and sons alike. Bigger and stronger than I’ve ever been. Terrified and dying because of the only thing that makes them not like me.”

Her voice was distorted with the anger and sadness that possessed her, he couldn’t remember the last time someone had been so open with him.

He’d give her whatever he could. He was never more sure that she’d never fight Vhagar.

“It was too much , all at once but I’m fine now.” He hadn’t hidden his demeanor, the divisive anger that guided his action. He had just wed at her age, she had a lifetime ahead of her, like Jace and Luke, like Viserys. She had children, chaos and adventures , written in her spirit.

It seemed a cruelty for her to doubt it.

“I meant my promise to you, Netty.”

He stared at her, catching her fallen gaze before it met his, staring past her, if she could trust him, even for a moment now, all would be well worth it.

“You’ll have a lifetime for yourself, I swear on Caraxes.”

She chuckled at the implication, seeing it as no more than a false comfort to pull her out of her doubt. She probably had a lifetime of promises from men just like him. He had never meant anything more though, he could feel the promise seal into his very bones.

“It is all well now, Daemon. No need to drag Caraxes into nightmares.” She was joking, he felt as though he’d gotten too serious now. She’d retract the new position she held him in if he pushed anymore, he’d settle for her contentment now. His plan seemed to settle more together than ever now.

“Very well.” He stated as she sat down next to him. He informed her about their mission to Pink Maiden, then to track where he might go from there to try to ambush him. She was quiet for the rest of the conversation.

They ate in his room that night, a simple meal of Acorn soup , with small conversation about packing between them. He felt almost mad looking for a difference in her demeanor with him, waiting to see if the confession had changed anything between them, with a resounding no by the end. She was content with it between them and moving along as though it hadn’t existed at all. He felt trapped in a desert with no water around him as they finished.

She wished him a good night and closed the door behind her shortly after the meal. He was a deranged man he thought. The thoughts left him half mad, devouring him until he had to put it away.

Tomorrow would be a new day for him hopefully.

#house of the dragon #hotd #daemon targaryen #fanfic #netty #nettles #nettles asoiaf #maidenpool #hotd fanfic #from eden ff #daemon targeryan x nettles #dragonseeds #daemon x nettles #nettles x daemon

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wpmorse · 2 years

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Jaime took one look and burst into song. "Six maids there were in a spring-fed pool . . ." Jamie III - Page 285

Our heroes travel through Maidenpool and see more carnage, most notably its famous pond being polluted by corpses. Naturally, Jamie has to open his big mouth.

It took me some time to decide how to do this picture before decided to have Jamie, Brienne, and Cleos riding in the foreground. Regrettably, there wasn't much room to show Maidenpool. It might be just as well. My best reference for medieval villages has been the paintings of Bruegel, and his villages are intact.

#asoiaf #a storm of swords #brienne of tarth #jamie lannister #cleos frey #pen and ink #illustration #maidenpool #the riverlands

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ippolita324 · 2 years

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Beautiful places in Westeros - part ii

White Harbour - The Arbor

Lannisport - Gulltown

Horn Hill - Maidenpool

#game of thrones #house of the dragon #westeros #the reach #house redwyne #house manderly #house tarly #house lannister #house mooton #maidenpool

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kellyvela · 2 years

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Sansa Stark - Love songs & Chivalric stories: Florian and Jonquil.

"I love him, Father, I truly truly do, I love him as much as. . . Jonquil loved Ser Florian. I want to be his queen and have his babies." —A Game of Thrones - Sansa III

She pulled a chair close to the hearth, took down one of her favorite books, and lost herself in the stories of Florian and Jonquil. . . —A Game of Thrones - Sansa IV

The songs about Florian and Jonquil were her very favorites. —A Clash of Kings - Sansa II

She called for the heroes from the songs, for Florian. . . but no one heard. —A Clash of Kings - Sansa IV

He sang of Jonquil and Florian. . . They were beautiful songs, but terribly sad. Several of the women began to weep, and Sansa felt her own eyes growing moist. —A Clash of Kings - Sansa VI

. . . He sang of . . . of fair Jonquil and her fool. . . —A Feast for Crows - Sansa I

#Sansa Stark - Love songs & Chivalric stories #asoiaf #sansa stark #florian and jonquil #florian the fool #fair jonquil #maidenpool #making medieval illuminations into asoiaf art #(florian is a little bit creepy spying naked ladies without their consent...)

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muadweeb · 2 years

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im pretty sure ive made a post about this mf before but manfryd mooton is my favourite character in the dance of the dragons! this guy is literally the most pragmatic, realistic person EVER. he switched up like every single second, changing teams left and right according to whichever dragon landed on maidenpool. he is so very normal. he is just A Guy. also he has a fucking heart. he didn't just follow orders and kill an awesome child (nettles)...also he took like 6 singers (for entertainment) with him to return an elephant to the sealord of braavos on a diplomatic mission. relatable king.

#manfryd mooton #dance of the dragons #fire and blood volume i #fire and blood spoilers #fire and blood #house mooton #maidenpool #nettles #daemon targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #greens vs blacks #hotd #house of the dragon #i hope they add him in HOTD #hotd spoilers #valyrianscrolls #the blacks #the greens

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oneirotect · 3 months

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“You wouldn’t happen to have myrish fire on hand, would you?”

“Just wine.” Gwyn answers, “Wine and two skins of muddy water from the Blackwater rush.”

(Ser Oswick Crakehall, an NPC from our Blackfyre Rebellion era ASOIAF ttrpg)

#my art #Oswick Crakehall #ASOIAF #a song of ice and fire #SIFRP #dnd art #ttrpg art #infection almost took him out in session 2!! an ironborn clipped him in the leg something Fierce #and the party had to stay with him in maidenpool for 2 weeks while he rested up

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bohemian-nights · 7 months

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Rhaenyra is the most politically inept person on the Dance and she showed it on the way she wanted to get Nettles killed.

She asks lord Mooton to kill Nettles in her sleep and violate her Guest rights (literally the worst crime you could ever commit in Westeros, second only to Kinslaying). It's an insult to ask for something like that in the first place, it's basically asking a noble house act as your cutthroat. It's no surprise they immediately took down her banners and declared for Aegon after that. She won't allow even a fake trial for a dragonrider from her side,no, Rhaenyra planned a whole Frey Red Wedding with Nettles

Miss Maegor was a big(racist) dummy. Like there are so many ways she could’ve handled the situation(could’ve told Daemon to just stop sleeping with her since she was fine with him cheating, but I guess just not with a Black girl), but nope, her stupid a** went straight to murder.

(Luckily) her plans backfired on her and she ended up overplaying her hand in the worst way possible:

#anti rhaenyra targaryen #she thought nettles meant nothing #turns out she meant everything to her husband #no wonder why she went raging when she found out what had happened at maidenpool #bnasks #bnask #daemon targaryen #nettles

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ride-thedragon · 2 months

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The gifts of Maidenpool.

Against that we have The Testimony of Mushroom…and in this case, the Chronicles of Maidenpool as set down by Lord Mooton’s maester. Maester Norren writes that “the prince and his bastard girl” supped together every night, broke their fast together every morning, slept in adjoining bedchambers, that the prince “doted upon the brown girl as a man might dote upon his daughter,” instructing her in “common courtesies” and how to dress and sit and brush her hair, that he made gifts to her of “an ivory-handled hairbrush, a silvered looking glass, a cloak of rich brown velvet bordered in satin, a pair of riding boots of leather soft as butter.” The prince taught the girl to wash, Norren says, and the maidservants who fetched their bath water said he oft shared a tub with her, “soaping her back or washing the dragon stink from her hair, both of them as naked as their namedays.”

#hotd #house of the dragon #nettles #nettles asoiaf #netty #a song of ice and fire #daemon targaryen #daemon x nettles #dettles #daemon and nettles #maidenpool #nettles x daemon

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tronodiferro · 1 year

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House Mooton of Maidenpool

GameOfThronesFanatic-Knjiga

#House Mooton of Maidenpool #House Tully #Westeros #George R. R. Martin #ASOIAF #A Song of Ice and Fire #Game of Thrones #House of the Dragon #asoiafart #GOT #HOTD

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visenyaism · 1 month

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what triggered the daemon riverlands suicide bender again? like did he have a falling out with rhaenyra?

well the book doesn’t say a ton about what happened between them and it’s all made more confusing by the fake historical perspective and weird misogynistic characterization of rhaenyra and mysaria but. fire and blood unserious as it is establishes basically this sequence of events:

-once daemon and rhaenyra get to king’s landing he brings mysaria to court. they’re fucking every night which rhaenyra is seemingly fine with (surprisingly this bit is not a mushroom quote)

-rhaenyra makes a plan to end the war that includes daemon and nettles going and finding aemond in the riverlands to go kill him. unclear whose idea this was or whose idea it was to bring nettles also.

-daemon and nettles hole up in maidenpool because they can’t seem to find the worlds largest dragon actively terrorizing the countryside anywhere. they are weirdly close. because he’s grooming her. they cannot find aemond so theyre stuck like this for weeks. in my mind this is where daemon starts to lose the plot and just not have an exit strategy.

-two of the other dragonseeds betray rhaenyra and join up with daeron the not appearing in this narrative to sack tumbleton. rhaenyra reacts by charging up about 5% of the bastardphobia within the heart of the average team green twitter user and is like okay they are treacherous and base due to their bastard nature they all have to die right now.

-including nettles. rhaenyra sends a letter to the lord of maidenpool saying hey you have to kill this child my husband is obsessed with who is living under your roof i don’t care about guest rite i don’t care about him retaliating against you for this i am literally the king you gotta do it. don’t kill daemon though. xx rhaenyra

-this alienates daemon from rhaenyra permanently though he does take the time to call mysaria a whore and blame her for this too. what an upstanding guy.

-anyways the next morning nettles takes off out of the narrative on her lonesome and daemon tells the lord of maidenpool “this is the last you are ever going to see of me. tell aemond i’m at harrenhal” we can tell at this point there is no exit strategy but for:

-daemon engages in murder-suicide with his nephew who thinks they’re having a fight.

what do we learn about daemon from this? well that he has problems and also doesn’t ever have a long term plan

#i don’t understand the ‘she was like his daughter’ anti-grooming defense because like. yeah he has a thing for younger female relatives #a 16 yr old peasant girl going on an unsupervised indefinite field trip with a 50 yr old prince is what we would refer to as a problem #asoiaf #hotd spoilers #(?)

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horizon-verizon · 1 year

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What do you think of when Nettles' execution letter is discussing between the lord and the guards, as to how to kill her, kill Daemon or not, etc. One thing that always bothered me about this scene for the nature of the relationship between Nettles and Daemon (although no, I don't believe they were lovers at all) is when the guard says Daemon is sleeping next to Nettles.

It can be confusing. But he doesn't say that Daemon sleeps with Nettles, but next to her, which may just fit within their adjoining rooms. And the lord of the place says they won't kill guests in their beds, so plural.

But it also says "may Daemon wake up to find her dead", which may or may not be interpreted as him sleeping with her, but that doesn't necessarily mean that either.

But I always wondered whether or not that scene meant that Daemon really slept in the same bed as Nettles. A doubt is posed in the way all this is formulated.

Many Daemon x Nettles stans argue that this must be the case, thus saying that Norren actually contradicts himself with the relationship he has established as paternalistic. (although sleeping in the same bed isn't something that necessarily relates to sex or lovers) That there's no way they're so scared that Daemon will intervene if he's not sleeping not with Nettles in bed directly.

Except we're talking about the same people who think Daemon could face 40 men alone and get away with it, even with a goddamn sleeping pill. Daemon is the best warrior there is, and their rooms with him and Nettles are connected by a simple door. If he heard any suspicious noise, I'm sure he would wake up and intervene.

Finally, what do you think of all this? Would Daemon have shared Nettles' bed, or not? This passage really disturbs me and the only thing that has ever really put me in doubt.

*EDITED POST* (12/16/23)

First, This Post Got a Bit Long, so Bear With Me.

The Direct Quotes

The section of Fire and Blood anon is referring to starts on page 497 in "Rhaenyra Triumphant". It starts with: “Long leagues to the north, in a castle overlooking the Bay of Crabs”.

[…]‘the prince and his bastard girl‘ supped together every night, broke their fast together every morning, slept in adjoining bedchambers, that the prince ‘doted upon the brown girl as a man might dote upon his daughter,‘ instructing her in ‘common courtesies’ and how to dress and sit and brush her hair, that he made gifts to her of ‘an ivory-handled hairbrush, a silver looking glass, a cloak of rich brown velvet bordered in satin, a pair of riding boots of leather soft as butter. […] and the maidservants who fetched their bathwater said that he oft shared a tub with her, ‘soaping her back or washing the dragon stink from her hair, both of them naked as their namedays.

AND

“Six men or sixty, he is still Daemon Targaryen,” Lord Mooton’s brother objected. “A sleeping draught in his evening wine would be the wiser course. Let him wake to find her dead.”

AND

“This thing is easily done,” said the captain of his guard. “The prince sleeps beside her, but he has grown old. Three men should be enough to subdue him should he try to interfere, but I will take six to be certain. Does my lord wish this done tonight?”

AND

“The queen has forbidden any harm to come to him,” Lord Mooton reminded them, “and murdering two guests in their beds is twice as foul as murdering one. I should be doubly cursed.”

(Fire and Blood; Rhaenyra Triumphant)

Answering the Actual Question

Basically, I still think it’s doubtful he slept with Nettles.

What’s at Stake

The reason why Daemon x Nettles fans/shippers care so much about them sharing a bed versus them having separate bedrooms where they “definitely” slept separately decides whether or not they were having sex with each other. They would have -- or feel they do -- have a stronger reason to claim that Daemon slept with Nettles and cheated on Rhaenyra with her while he was supposed to just be finding Aemond with her (the mission and reason why they are at Maidenpool in the first place). For them, this would show how evil or power hungry or misogynist Daemon is for not respecting Rhaenyra or treating her as his equal.

Answer

You’re right, anon, that the language alone leaves it very open to its readers whether that Daemon could have either slept in bed with Nettles or whether he just slept in a room next to Nettles, or even whether it is the 2nd and they would just have sex with each other. It is simultaneously one of the most fun, the most frustrating, and one of the most indictive of how realistic medieval history telling that GRRM mimics for Fire and Blood’s in-universe writer, a maester named Gyldayn.

But we don’t consider language by itself when reading any text.

Who is reporting or observing Daemon and Nettles here? It is:

the maidservants

Maester Norren writing about those maidservants

Maester Norren writing what Lord Manfryd Mooton, the captain of his castle guard, his unnamed brother, and Ser Florian Greysteel (the lord’s personal champion) said

those 4 men

We, the readers, can have an understanding that these people and the entire castle knew that Daemon and Nettles had a close relationship and interacted more intimately than they would expect a famous lord and some random peasant girl with culturally-considered-unattractive features to interact.

Immediately, we have to suspect these people because of what I just said: “interacted more intimately than they would expect a famous lord and some random peasant girl”.

These people would not have liked or that Daemon would act out of his class character by even paying friendly, platonic attention to her. And they would already see Daemon as one whose past with seeking virgin sex workers proves that he looked to Nettles for sex and sexual intimacy. Or they could have been so surprised at his and Nettles’ “audacity” that they then find it easier to believe that Daemon would have sex with Nettles.

(Besides him liking and sticking with Mysaria, Laena, and Rhaneyra for an extended time with no mention of having extramarital sex with his marriages with the last two...and all of whom who would not have been virgins for different reasons).

Example: If Gyldayn/Norren don’t tell us how many times the servant(s) actually saw Daemon bathe Nettles and be naked while doing it and if Daemon were teaching Nettles to bathe herself properly once or twice and that was all, then when the servants/a servant came in witnessed him bathing Nettles, is it not feasible to think that they would talk, gossip, and/or exaggerate? Was Daemon even naked, then, when he would bathe Nettles? How frequently does he actually bathe Nettles when only once or twice would get her to understand so she does it herself? Is this the case of a tall tale? Castles and the work servants do are monotonous and hard-- what better topic of conversation and fun than a sex-perverse prince possibly sexing up a lowborn, brown-skinned girl?

Even Gyldayn gets into an investigation for how Daemon couldn’t have had an affair with Nettles...but he rests his argument on how he believes that she wasn’t a “unattractive” because of her looks but also how he believed she couldn’t possibly be a virgin (being a low classed girl who had to fend for herself) AND how Daemon refused to allow her to be executed despite Nettles (by implication) not mattering.

In other words, Gyldayn is thinking like a classist and a misogynist and his bias is putting more into a situation than needs be. And these sort of readings really do not tend to reveal real truths but a heavily biased interpretation of events.

But, I already point out how this suspicion first comes to Gyldayn, or Gyldayn first mentions it through citing Mushroom as a source. I go further to into Nettles’ characterization HERE. I mention the bathing in on of these posts.

Basically there is this repetition of “teaching” and the attractiveness of virginity and what that may have meant for Young Daemon vs Daemon at the Dance/Maidenpool. (By the way, this notion of sexual teaching came from Mushroom, see my post about it [above]; it overlaps with Daemon platonically teaching Nettles how to groom herself.)

He began by giving her kissing lessons, if Mushroom can be believed. From there the prince went on to show his niece how best to touch a man to bring him pleasure, an exercise that sometimes involved Mushroom himself and his alleged enormous member. Daemon taught the girl to disrobe enticingly, suckled at her teats to make them larger and more sensitive, and flew with her on dragonback to lonely rocks in Blackwater Bay, where they could disport naked all day unobserved, and the princess could practice the art of pleasuring a man with her mouth. At night he would smuggle her from her rooms dressed as a page boy and take her secretly to brothels on the Street of Silk, where the princess could observe men and women in the act of love and learn more of these “womanly arts” from the harlots of King’s Landing.

(Fire and Blood; A Question of Succession)

If you are wont to believe that Daemon wants to go after girls who we’d rule as underage and children just because they are children that he wants to use their childness against for domination, then you are going to be inclined towards DaemonxNettles. If not, but are still disturbed, read as if this is a different world with its own rules (and as this is a fantasy world modelled after European medieval societies, you’d already have to) and throw HotD out the window.

Just like in my questions/posts about the bathing and how other people have argued against the idea that bathing together = sexual dalliance, the sleeping in the same bed vs rooms next to each other don’t really matter to me because sleeping in the same bed is itself not an immediate indication or reveal of true sexual activity.

So what if they did sleep in the same bed? If you are inclined to read the passage of him teaching Nettles and giving her very practical gifts for the sake of her becoming more “human” instead of a real courtship -- which why would he need or bother to, if he’s so evil and powerful as to just rape her? -- then you will see him as him more as a mentor and caretaker than someone sexually interested in her. thus he lets her sleep in his bed or he goes to hers for physical, platonic comfort. Because he literally is taking care of her:

“the prince and his bastard girl” supped together every night, broke their fast together every morning, slept in adjoining bedchambers, that the prince “doted upon the brown girl as a man might dote upon his daughter,” instructing her in “common courtesies” and how to dress and sit and brush her hair, that he made gifts to her of “an ivory-handled hairbrush, a silvered looking glass, a cloak of rich brown velvet bordered in satin, a pair of riding boots of leather soft as butter.” The prince taught the girl to wash, Norren says, and the maidservants who fetched their bath water said he oft shared a tub with her, “soaping her back or washing the dragon stink from her hair, both of them as naked as their namedays.”

(Fire and Blood; A Question of Succession)

Daemon could have slept with Mysaria back at King’s Landing and that was talked about. If there tales about him and Nettles, why do they only come up when he’s at Maidenpool, where no one but servants and the Lord and his men would be looking at how Daemon interacts at Nettles and be hella disapproving?

Again, I personally still call bullshit.

How people will read this will depend on how they already think about age gap relationships, them in a medieval/fantasy setting and in real history, their own biases/background/history, and Daemon. These will shape how they read the text.

#asoiaf asks to me #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #nettles' characterization #daemon's characterization #daemon targaryen #nettles #daemon and nettles #maidenpool #lord mooton #lord mooton of maidenpool #fire and blood writing #manfryd mooton #florian greysteel #characterization #fire and blood characters #fire and blood comment #fire and blood sources

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sollsmith · 4 months

Text

Fire in the Flesh

Chapter One

Daemon Targaryen x Original Female Character

Words: 1.9k

Warnings: n/a

Summary:

After five years at war in the Stepstones and the death of his first wife, Daemon Targaryen returns to court embroiling himself, and his niece and heir to the throne Rhaenyra, in chaos and scandal. Daemon's actions cause Viserys to give him the one thing he has always wanted. A Valyrian bride. Just not the one he had in mind.

Daella grips Maelor’s hand tighter as they enter the large hall. Her hand has seldom left his since they docked the ship in Maidenpool. She was surprised he had let her in the company of so many strangers, back home in Volantis he would have pawed her off him, telling her to go play with her dolls or called for a maid to take her from him.

This trip was different it seemed, as they arrived at the dark and ruinous castle she had heard her brother call ‘Harrenhal’, and stepped from the strange hathay, Maelor had offered her his hand and let her keep its hold since.

Hundreds, if not thousands of men and women lined the hall. The roof was partly caved in, letting some light shine down against the seemingly never ending slate floors. Daella leaned closer into her brother's side as she observed the people around her. She still wasn’t quite sure why her father had sent them both to Westeros. The endless conversations and planning that she witnessed between her father and brother over the last moon were all a little much for her four year old brain to handle.

In fact the only thing she really took from it was that her mother was a princess, and by default she believed that made her one too which she took some delight in.

As they made their way to the end of the hall, Daella was aware of the eyes on her and her older brother. She was aware of the whispers. Some she could understand, others she couldn’t due to the queer accents of the people. One older woman had gasped lightly when she saw the two silver-haired children walk past, grasping her husband by the arm, forcing him to look at them.

“Gods, it’s the very image of the king”.

Maelor didn’t give anyone a single glance. Daella knew he could hear and see what she did, but he simply held his head high and firm, and continued walking towards a large ground of men situated at the very end of the great hall.

Maelor, a young man of ten and four, was born in Lys shortly after their mother fled Westeros from Oldtown. He was tall for his age. Slim, but was strong enough and was continuing to build his strength, training with his fathers personal guards twice a day. His silver-hair, with soft curls, sat neatly at his shoulders. He had worn his best black and gold surcoat for the occasion, as well as the new boots and sword father had bought him before they left.

Their father, Alios, a wealthy sea merchant from Volantis, was a fiercely ambitious man. Before his two children were born, Alios had only one ambition to complete in his long list of endeavours and it seemed to be the only thing his wealth could not buy him. A home behind the Black Walls. Built by the Valyrian Freehold when Volantis was no more than an outpost of their empire, the Black Walls were considered the heart of Volantis, and only scions of the Old Blood able to trace their ancestry to Valyria are allowed to dwell there.

Alios, a freeborn Volantene, with his dark hair and lightly tanned skin was clearly not that of the Old Blood. So when docking in Lys in 85 AC, to trade his silks and sweet beets, and he heard the rumours of a silver-haired Valyrian princess in a pleasure garden, Alios saw his one way ticket to the ultimate dream. At first he had just planned to offer his hand to the girl, free her from the pleasure garden and offer her a life of riches and indulgence. But on their first meeting, it became clear to Alios that the girl had already found her freedom in the pleasure garden of Lys.

So he remained in Lys for the next month, visiting the brothel every night, and putting his coin down for the night on one girl. The silver-haired novice of the Faith. Princess Saera Targaryen, the ninth born child of the King of Westeros, Jaehaerys Targaryen. For if Alios was not to obtain a bride of the Old Blood on this visit to Lys, he was to father a child of it. After two months in the city, Alios left only to return eight months later to collect what would be his greatest treasure from his many years of travel.

A small pale haired, lavender-eyed baby boy. His ticket behind the Black Walls, a son, one directly from the last line of living dragonlords. Ten years later, when Saera moved her business to Volantis, she visited her son and his father. The meeting went well, and nine months later, Alios’ family grew when another small silver-haired, violet-eyed babe was left at the entrance of the Black Walls for him. A small note accompanied the girl; Daella, after my sweet sister. For you will take greater care of her than my father did of us.

When they finally reached the end of the hall, Daella scanned the various men that sat behind a long wooden table. Most of the men were old, some in long grey robes with chains around their necks, others wearing surcoats with various different colours and symbols on them. When scanning the right side of the table, a flash of silver caught Daella’s eye. In the middle of a small group of armoured knights, two young men with silver hair and eyes just like herself and Maelor stood speaking with some of the armoured men quietly. The plumper, kinder looking one caught Daella’s eye back, eyebrows raising and moving to elbow his taller, leaner and harder companion in the ribs to get his attention.

“Daemon look,” He whispered, smiling softly. Daemon turned to look at his brother, eyes following him to the two children that were now standing in front of the council of men.

“More of Saera’s bastards?'' Daemon laughs, watching as the young boy begins to address Maester Cassel to declare his claim.

“Seems so. Gods, they're a little young don’t you think? The girl can’t be much older than my Rhaenyra” Viserys replied, smiling widely at the little Valyrian girl whose eyes were locked on him and his brother. She smiled back before turning to her brother, pulling on his hand softly.

“Maelor, look!” Daella whispered, trying to get her elder brother's attention.

“Not now Ella! Sorry my lord, as I -”

“But they look like mothe-” Daella stopped as Maelor grabbed her by both arms and kneeled down her height.

“Not now hāedar. I’m busy, so please…” Maelor looks around, locating a small wooden bench. He quickly raises to his feet and take Daella’s hand leading her to the bench. He lifts her softly and places her on the bench, kneeling to her height once again.

“Kesā umbagon kesīr. Kesan māzigon se jiōragon ao istin iksan tetan. Gaomagon daor henujagon kesīr. Gaomagon ao shifang?” He whispers, smoothing the girl's soft curls sweetly and offering her a smile.

“Kessa, lēkia” Daella replies, swinging her feet now that they do not touch the ground. She watches her brother leave, returning to speak to the men at the tables, apologising for his little sister’s interruption. She plays with the lace hem of her dress. A gift from her father before they took sail to Maidenpool. Daella wasn’t impressed with the dress, it was made of black wool much like her brother's surcoat, and embroidered with golden leaves. A black lace bordered her neck, sleeves and skirts and the buttons along her back were embellished with pearls. She much preferred her dresses back home of pastel silks and cotton.

“Ao ȳdragon Valyrīha?” A voice asks, with a small hint of disdain. Daella whips her head up to see the younger of the silver haired men standing in front of her. He’s looking down at her, a stern expression on his face. Daella doesn’t answer because she is too scared to speak. Both her father and brother have warned her about speaking to men she does not know, and the horrors that have happened to little girls that do.

“Daemon stop it, you’re scaring the poor girl.” Viserys appears from behind Daemon, still smiling kindly. He kneels before Daella, looking up at Daemon before looking back at her.

“Pay him no mind, little one. Courteousness has never been my brother’s strong suit.” Daemon scoffs, rolling his eyes as Viserys addresses the girl.

“What’s your name?”

Daella remains quiet, staring wide eyed at the moustached man. Viserys laughs.

“I’m Viserys.” He says. Leaning towards Daella he whispers softly, but loud enough for his brother to hear, “the scary one is Daemon.” Daemon is once again rolling his eyes and scoffing in protest at Viserys interaction with the girl, but cannot help but let out a brief but small smile when he hears the girl giggle sweetly at Viserys words.

Daella glances towards her brother, seeing he has now finished with the council and is now engaged in conversation with a singular man. She turns back to the brothers in front of her.

“My name is Daella” She says, deciding the man can be trusted.

“Fuck me” Daemon snorts, “giving them our family names. Couldn’t they be more subtle about it?”

“That’s a lovely name” Viserys says, ignoring his brother's outburst.

“My mother named me. After her sister, they were princesses” Daella begins to overshare, deciding she likes her new friend Viserys. Viserys laughs as he looks up at Daemon who also can’t help but laugh at the little girl's outburst.

“Ella!” Maelor barks as he approaches, “Skoros gōntan kepa se nyke ivestragon ao nūmāzma vali gaomā daor gīmigon?” Viserys rises to his feet as he approaches, helping Daella down from the bench as he does so. Daella moves to her brother, placing her hand in his once more.

“Vaoreznuni. Pōnta jurnegon hae muña” Maelor finally looks at the men, first at Viserys and then at Daemon. Realisation suddenly comes over him, and moves forwards to bow lightly, “My condolences for the loss of your father princes. Please forgive my sister, she can be curt, she hasn’t begun her lessons on how to be a lady yet.”

“No, she was quite the delight. If anything, my brother here was the curt one.” Viserys booms. Maelor smiles, looking at Daemon. Daemon gives him a look of distaste before addressing him directly.

“I assume you are leaving then?”

“Daemon!”

“We leave for Volantis in the morning. I hope coming here has not insulted you. My father requested I make my claim known. That I have done, it has been rejected and now we will return to where I belong. I wish the best with your claim Viserys.” Maelor replies, eying Daemon as he does so.

“Thank you…” Viserys trails off, realising he does not know the boy's name.

“Maelor”

“Gods!” Daemon snorts again.

“An honour to meet you both, but we must get going if we want to make it to Mainpool before dawn. Thank you for entertaining her” Maelor says, wanting to escape this conversation as quickly as he can. He can sense the younger prince's growing agitation with their presence. He turns pulling Daella with him. Her feet just about keep up with him, before she and Maelor make their descent back down the hall, she sees a man watching them. The man and Maelor lock eyes, giving a small head nod to one another before continuing down the long hall.

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