#aemon the knight of tears | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

atopvisenyashill · 5 months

Note

connections between naerys and sansa?

There’s plenty! She’s very much in a Naerys/Aegon scenario in ASOS & ACOK, where she has no ability to leave the capital, no one doing anything meaningful to protect her, and a King that is obsessed with sexually humiliating her. There’s a lot of romanticism and chivalry surrounding her character and how other people react to her character, the same as Naerys.

But also, Sansa makes the comparisons to Naerys herself, and she does it before she realizes what kind of person Joffrey is! In fact, it starts with her very first chapter where she compares Joffrey interrupting Ilyn Payne & Sandor Clegane to Aemon demanding a trial by combat against Ser Morgil:

A whole day with her prince! She gazed at Joffrey worshipfully. He was so gallant, she thought. The way he had rescued her from Ser Ilyn and the Hound, why, it was almost like the songs, like the time Serwyn of the Mirror Shield saved the Princess Daeryssa from the giants, or Prince Aemon the Dragonknight championing Queen Naerys's honor against evil Ser Morgil's slanders.

She will compare Joffrey to Aemon and herself to Naerys again later, to Ned:

"Father, I only just now remembered, I can't go away, I'm to marry Prince Joffrey." She tried to smile bravely for him. "I love him, Father, I truly truly do, I love him as much as Queen Naerys loved Prince Aemon the Dragonknight, as much as Jonquil loved Ser Florian. I want to be his queen and have his babies."

(lowkey she’s so fucking funny for that “i only just now remembered” comment, idk how ned kept a straight face for it)

She then uses Aemon (and the Cargyll twins) to make Tommen feel better and dunk on Joffrey:

Prince Tommen sobbed. "You mew like a suckling babe," his brother hissed at him. "Princes aren't supposed to cry." "Prince Aemon the Dragonknight cried the day Princess Naerys wed his brother Aegon," Sansa Stark said, "and the twins Ser Arryk and Ser Erryk died with tears on their cheeks after each had given the other a mortal wound." "Be quiet, or I'll have Ser Meryn give you a mortal wound," Joffrey told his betrothed.

Again, there’s a focus on Aemon’s romantic relationship with Naerys because that's what appeals to Sansa. But when people say "Sansa sees the world through stories" it's not just about how she romanticizes or idolizes knighthood, nobility, and chivalry - she thinks through information by comparing it with similar historical events or stories and analyzing it. She clearly sees the problem with Loras protecting Margaery from Joffrey by comparing him to the Toynes instead of Aemon, and Joffrey (once again) to Aegon the Unworthy:

She is so brave, Sansa thought, galloping after her . . . and yet, her doubts still gnawed at her. Ser Loras was a great knight, all agreed. But Joffrey had other Kingsguard, and gold cloaks and red cloaks besides, and when he was older he would command armies of his own. Aegon the Unworthy had never harmed Queen Naerys, perhaps for fear of their brother the Dragonknight . . . but when another of his Kingsguard fell in love with one of his mistresses, the king had taken both their heads. Ser Loras is a Tyrell, Sansa reminded herself. That other knight was only a Toyne. His brothers had no armies, no way to avenge him but with swords. Yet the more she thought about it all, the more she wondered. Joff might restrain himself for a few turns, perhaps as long as a year, but soon or late he will show his claws, and when he does . . . The realm might have a second Kingslayer, and there would be war inside the city, as the men of the lion and the men of the rose made the gutters run red.

She’s also not wrong in her assessment here because the Tyrells (my guess is Garlan and Olenna) are so worried about this outcome they just murder Joffrey and install Tommen; like Bethany Bracken, Margaery is groomed (with all the implications that are included in such a loaded term) to be sexually available to the King because her father wants power and doesn't care if his daughter is sexually abused to get it. Like Terrance Toyne, Loras is considered attractive, skilled, and has several brothers more than willing to start a war to avenge his death. I think it's incredibly intuitive that Sansa ultimately comes to the same conclusion as two seasoned political players like (presumably) Olenna and Garlan come to, and she makes this judgement call very quickly!

And Sansa also hits on a lot of (correct) similarities when she makes these comparisons between Joffrey's court and Aegon the Unworthy's court; Aegon and Joffrey both have wild, violent temperaments while being notoriously difficult to control. It’s not just Naerys that attempts to get Aegon to stop marital raping her; Aemon’s useless tears aside, Viserys does do the bare minimum here in sending Aegon away so Naerys can heal from her miscarriages, Daeron got shitty with the Brackens about being tacky over Naerys' marital rape and ill health, Baelor fasts himself to death over Naerys’ miscarriages, etc etc. All of the “authority figures” around Aegon think his behavior is wrong but Aegon proves stubbornly difficult to control or kill. Joffrey falls along these same lines - Cersei, Robert, Tyrion, Tywin, and even Varys all struggle to get some control over Joffrey but like Aegon, he knows once he’s of age and has that crown he doesn’t have to answer for SHIT and stubbornly resists every attempt to curb his behavior. Joffrey is a hell scenario waiting to happen because like Aegon, he’s petty and petulant enough to pull the stunts Aegon pulls like pitting his true born kids against his bastard born ones and causing another violent succession crisis. I say this as like, the ultimate Joffrey Apologist here, lmaooo, he has reasons for being a nasty piece of shit but the Tyrells are right to look at him and go “oh that’s trouble” because he is a ticking time bomb. And the crazy thing is, it’s not just Sansa who compares Joffrey to Aegon the Unworthy:

"A king can have other women. Whores. My father did. One of the Aegons did too. The third one, or the fourth. He had lots of whores and lots of bastards." As they whirled to the music, Joff gave her a moist kiss. "My uncle will bring you to my bed whenever I command it." Sansa shook her head. "He won't." "He will, or I'll have his head. That King Aegon, he had any woman he wanted, whether they were married or no."

Joffrey makes the comparison himself. He's a piece of work just like his hero and he is directly threatening to rape Sansa the same way Aegon raped Naerys and poor Bethany Bracken. He is directly admitting he is "unworthy" and practically daring all of KL to overthrow him for it because he thinks they'll blink before he does (and he is unfortunately deadly wrong in this assumption).

And when you extrapolate out from there, you can see other, similar patterns between Naerys' life and Sansa's, beyond the Joffrey-Aegon, Margaery-Bethany, Loras-Terrance, and Sansa-Naerys parallels. Tyrion himself aspires to be a sort of Viserys II type player (see: "It should have been called the Lives of Five Kings" rant he gives to Oberyn); a power behind the throne directing his crazy family to do what's right or smart or proper. There's an interesting echo in Viserys taking direct action in sending Aegon away from Naerys and Tyrion stopping Joffrey in his assault of Sansa - like Viserys, he can see the monster in the king he is raising, makes an attempt to stop it, but fails because he underestimates just how dangerous and erratic his little king has become. Like Viserys, Tyrion is suspected of poisoning his own nephew in an attempt to get closer to power and the throne (and Viserys, like Tyrion, is probably innocent - the sort of fasting that Baelor was doing regularly is hard on the body!).

I don't think any of this is coincidental or accidental either, because of that haunting scene where Joffrey destroys the gift Tyrion got him. Here's the scene, excuse the wall of text, but it's important:

He plays the gracious king today. Joffrey could be gallant when it suited him, Sansa knew, but it seemed to suit him less and less. Indeed, all his courtesy vanished at once when Tyrion presented him with their own gift: a huge old book called Lives of Four Kings, bound in leather and gorgeously illuminated. The king leafed through it with no interest. "And what is this, Uncle?" A book. Sansa wondered if Joffrey moved those fat wormy lips of his when he read. "Grand Maester Kaeth's history of the reigns of Daeron the Young Dragon, Baelor the Blessed, Aegon the Unworthy, and Daeron the Good," her small husband answered. "A book every king should read, Your Grace," said Ser Kevan. “My father had no time for books.” Joffrey shoved the tome across the table. “If you read less, Uncle Imp, perhaps Lady Sansa would have a baby in her belly by now.” He laughed … and when the king laughs, the court laughs with him. “Don’t be sad, Sansa, once I’ve gotten Queen Margaery with child I’ll visit your bedchamber and show my little uncle how it’s done.” Sansa reddened. She glanced nervously at Tyrion, afraid of what he might say. This could turn as nasty as the bedding had at their own feast. But for once the dwarf filled his mouth with wine instead of words... [Joffrey gets a Valyrian sword and figures out a name for it, Widow's Wail, it's a few pages, it's not relevant here] Joffrey brought Widow’s Wail down in a savage two-handed slice, onto the book that Tyrion had given him. The heavy leather cover parted at a stroke. “Sharp! I told you, I am no stranger to Valyrian steel.” It took him half a dozen further cuts to hack the thick tome apart, and the boy was breathless by the time he was done. Sansa could feel her husband struggling with his fury as Ser Osmund Kettleblack shouted, “I pray you never turn that wicked edge on me, sire.” “See that you never give me cause, ser.” Joffrey flicked a chunk of Lives of Four Kings off the table at swordpoint, then slid Widow’s Wail back into its scabbard. “Your Grace,” Ser Garlan Tyrell said. “Perhaps you did not know. In all of Westeros there were but four copies of that book illuminated in Kaeth’s own hand.” “Now there are three.” Joffrey undid his old swordbelt to don his new one. “You and Lady Sansa owe me a better present, Uncle Imp. This one is all chopped to pieces.”

God I love that passage so much. There's a lot there but what's relevant is a) both Oberyn and Garlan are trying to get a measure of who Joffrey is, and have some child murdering plans potentially in the works during this scene. Watching Joffrey destroy a priceless tome of history given as a well thought, well meant, incredibly generous (and pointed) gift from his uncle is more than enough proof for either man to decide Joffrey is not worth the headache, and please note Garlan is the only person to call Joffrey out to his face, and Oberyn is a few pages later the only person to acknowledge this was a fantastic and kind gift from Tyrion that Joffrey reacted absolutely deranged towards for no reason. and b) Tyrion is almost literally saying to Joffrey "I can be your Viserys, I can make it so you're remembered as a great king the way Daeron II or Baelor are, or a great warrior like Daeron I, but you have to understand the reason why I'm worried about your behavior" and Joffrey does the most destructive, unworthy thing he can possibly do - he quite literally destroys priceless, useful historical knowledge and wisdom with his bare hands, in favor of senseless, petulant violence. As Catelyn would say, Joffrey's real bride is not Margaery, but the war he's fighting and the crown on his head.

All of this to say - there's a lot of parallels between Sansa's situation in KL and Naery's life and these parallels are drawn not only by Sansa herself, but also by several people around her. However, I hope for better things for Sansa than what poor Naerys got - I hope for an Aemon the Dragonknight that will do more than just cry while she's raped, but actually step into that room and defend her, or else give her the power to defend herself. Despite the long wait for The Winds of Winter, I also think it's likely we will get some sort of Dragonknight, devoted sworn sword for Sansa and this person will help protect her, and Sansa will have agency that Naerys could only ever dream of.

#valyrianscrolls #sansa stark #naerys targaryen #aemon the dragonknight #aegon the unworthy #joffrey baratheon #tyrion lannister #margaery tyrell #loras tyrell #olenna tyrell #garlan tyrell #terrence toyne #bethany bracken #courtly and chivalric love #i'm not knocking tyrion for not quite seeing how dangerous joffrey is. *no one* sees it bc Systemic Patriarchy and Feudal Violence.#whether its brienne arya jon bronze yohn fucking podrick i do believe we will get a knight for sansa tho!!!#once again sorry this took so long. i had a lot more to say than i expected.#also. thank you so much for this ask this was sooooooooo much fun to write out. we are analyzing themes babeeeeee #getting on my soap box #knighthood and oath keeping #true knights #fuck i think that's all my tags #i had another section about how the show really styles her to look pale and sickly during season 3 and 4 but i had trouble phrasing it #so i just cut it. but that scene where margaery gives her the red and yellow rose and sansa looks like death? naerys vibes fr!!!#naerys and sansa parallels #jon and the aemons

81 notes · View notes

importantchaosgiver · 1 month

Text

Where Loyalties Lie:

Blood Stains The Saint

Summary: Now she is a Kingsguard, (Y/N) encounters her first problem. A problem that would only further proved Jaehaerys's suspicions...

Warnings: Fighting, descriptive battle wounds, blood, death and canon typical swearing

P.S: Okay, so I did the math and Viserys was fifteen when Aemon died and Baelon fought in Tarth. But, I'm just going to push it forward a couple of years just to fit in with the plot.

******

(Y/N) POV

I gently rubbed Rhaenys's back as she let out silent tears as Jaehaerys looked down with grief. All of the Targaryens felt the weight. Of what? Prince Aemon had just been slain on Tarth by Myrish exiles. We had only just got the news. With this caused an issue for succession as Rhaenys was a woman. So, the line of succession went to Prince Baelon. Unfortunately, he took this loss the hardest. We were told Aemon died to an arrow in the neck, drowning in his own blood. And I had a feeling, the Myrish pirates would feel his wrath. I looked at Viserys who glanced at me. Daemon also noticed my look. "Damn them," Baelon muttered underneath his breath. He stood up abruptly and left. I noticed how he clutched the handle of Dark Sister too. Glancing at Jaehaerys, I jogged to catch up with the prince. As I came out of the Red Keep, I noticed where he was heading. The Dragonpit...

Quickly, I ran down, grabbing Baelon's wrist. He rounded upon me, towering over me with fire in his eyes. Vhagar stirred and lifted her head. "Don't you try and stop me, girl," he said with a low hiss. "I'm not going to, my prince. And I know what you're going to do. I do not fault you for such," I stated, letting go of him. He frowned. "Then, why are you here if you aren't trying to stop me?" Baelon asked. "I want to come with you. To help and to protect," I explained with all the courage I could muster up. Baelon blinked before letting out a disbelieving snort. "You are not serious. Blood will stain the land once I am through with them. This isn't for a girl," he said, crossing his arms. A slight twinge of annoyance nagged at my mind. "Being a knight was supposedly 'not for a girl'. Being a Kingsguard is supposedly 'not for a girl'. Even wielding a sword is supposedly 'not for a girl'. I do not care! I want to help you! I want to protect you! And I can fight, damnit!" I shouted. I was sick and tired of the patronising comments I heard around the court. Until, just then, I realised what I said and gulped, looking at him and expecting a verbal lashing back.

But, Baelon just stood there with a look of indifference. Then, a small smile cracked upon his face. "You really are something new, aren't you lass?" he said with a soft chuckle. "Alright then, I'll admit you may be a girl but you've got balls. But I'll tell you this once. You will walk into this a girl, but emerge a woman. You will not be the same after you take a life," he warned. I just held my head up high. This wasn't up for discussion, I was going with him. "Alright then. Come," he said, walking up to Vhagar who leant down. "Pardon?" I asked nervously as he climbed atop the might beast, getting into the saddle. "Come. There's only one way we're getting to Tarth without taking so long," Baelon said, holding out a hand. I gulped softly and looked at Vhagar's eyes. Then, I slowly and carefully began climbing onto the dragon's back, swinging a leg onto the saddle, settling behind Baelon. "Hopefully you don't hurl," he said as he secured the riding chains. Before I could ask why, Vhagar began flapping her wings and took off in flight. Quickly, I wrapped my arms around Baelon's midsection as to not get flung back.

The wind whipped past us as we flew, blowing my hair back, my cheeks and nose stinging a little at the cold. I didn't dare look down in fear I'd panic and fall off. But with Vhagar's impressive size, she was fast too and we reached Tarth in what felt like no time at all. We saw the Myrish exiles down below as Vhagar's shadow passed over them. As we got lower, Baelon looked over his shoulder at me. Okay, deep breaths. I unsheathed my sword, standing up on the saddle and looking down. I'll survive this. "Leave some for me, lass," Baelon said over the noise of rushing wind. With that, I leapt from Vhagar's back. At the same time, I heard Baelon shout, "Dracarys!" and from Vhagar's scaly lips and jagged teeth, she breathed her dragonfire. I felt the heat illuminate my left side as I fell. With a battle cry, I descended upon the Myrish pirates. With a single swipe, three lost their heads instantly. I felt the blood splatter across my cheek and I could feel the bile rise in my throat. But this wasn't a time to be squirmish, this was a time to fight. I could hear the screams and the crackling fire. For Aemon, I thought as I readied by bloodied sword and looked at the masses of pirates before running forward and into battle...

~~~

"Lass?! Girl, where are you?!" Baelon shouted as I looked upon the masses that laid at my boots. He wasn't wrong... the soil was stained with blood and small fires. "Here," I said. He emerged through the thin smoke and saw me. "Thank the seven," he whispered, putting a hand on my shoulder. "Lass, are you alright?" he asked. I nodded soundlessly. "If you're sure. Come, let's go home," Baelon said gently, pulling me over to Vhagar. He was right. I went into this a girl... and emerged a woman...

No One's POV

When Vhagar landed back in the Dragonpit, the cheering of the people in King's Landing was heard loud and clear. Jaehaerys, Viserys, Daemon and the others came outside upon seeing the dragon return. Baelon dismounted Vhagar and was given a firm pat on the shoulder by Jaehaerys as Baelon's sons hugged their father each. But then, (Y/N) came down and stood before them, the end of her white cloak splotched in blood, a splatter of the red substance was on her cheek as her sword dripped the thick liquid. Everyone paused as they looked upon the young woman. "Ser (Y/N)?" Rhaenys said softly, stepping forward. "I think, after today, that sword deserves a name," Jaehaerys said gently, putting a hand on (Y/N)'s shoulder. She looked at her king and then downwards at her bloody blade. Then, after a few moments of contemplation... she had an answer. "Red Saint. That is what I will call it," she said. That name gave everyone goosebumps. "A fine name," Viserys muttered, giving his knight a smile. Jaehaerys gave a soft smile to her. His dream... it was coming into fruition. And whilst he may not live to see her truly become the White Saviour, he could die knowing it is her destiny. But, of course, there is a fine line between destiny... and fate...

******

Two parts in one day! I hope it's alright. I'm still trying to get the whole thing lined up chronologically. Next part will be a series of events as (Y/N)'s time as a knight until we come to the main event. Enjoy!

#alicent hightower #daemon targaryen #house of the dragon #otto hightower #rhaenyra targaryen #viserys targaryen #viserys x reader #fantasy #westeros #baelon targaryen #king jaehaerys #asoiaf

23 notes · View notes

lunarmoonanons · 1 month

Text

The Red Mother

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕

Jaehaerys and his children take a trip north. In crowd of people YN sees a familiar face.

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕

Masterlist

During a bright morning in 72 Ac, King Jaehaerys flew with two of his children across Westeros. His oldest son, and his favorite daughter. Though YN was not of his blood, she was his daughter and his most beloved child. He would never say it to his other children, whom he loved, but he adored YN the most. He longed for her to call him ‘father’ and for her to stay with him for the rest of his life.

This was one Jaehaerys’ many incursions across his kingdom. He wanted to show the people his strong family, his children he was so proud of, and especially YN his dragon caller. The people needed to see their dragons and their valyrian ancestry and magic. To know that their king and his heirs were strong.

Besides which, Aemon had just claimed Caraxes so he could follow his father and sister on his own dragon. YN rode behind him on Balerion, the dragon she would always choose. Yet nowadays she would refrain from flying as much due to the dragon’s old age. Jaehaerys knew she adored the black dread. How she adored all the dragons, and had this connection to them that he could never fully understand. That was beyond him, yet he never loved her any less because of it.

Soon they arrived in White Harbor, the only port city in the North. Where house Manderly sat and would welcome the King. Soon he and his children would fly to Winterfell and the wall, but here was where the most population was. They landed in a clearing, a necessary feat since Balerion was so large. Their entourage of knights and noble lords arrived quickly behind. The City greeted them with applause and cheers. YN smiled and waved and looked her best, though her heart was not in the mood. Jaehaerys had noticed the smile not reaching his daughter’s eyes, but he focused his attention on the head of House Manderly who greeted him warmly.

YN found herself staring at the mothers and daughters in the crowd. Today was particularly hard for her since today is the anniversary of when her mother left her alone in this foreign land. A small girl of six years all alone, the last image of her mother being that of red eyes and red hair. Whispering about her brother whom she said was in the north, the north of north where ice burns like fire. She missed her mother, she missed the shadow city, and the dark mountains where she was from. She even missed the fire and abstract shadows on the wall.

“Your mind is elsewhere.” Aemon chastised and nudged her slightly.

YN composed herself and nudged him back. “And your mind is on your wife, so you focus on that firstly.”

“I can focus on two things. And so can you. Pay attention or father won’t let us fly anymore.” Aemon replied and turned his head back to his father.

YN looked at the crowd and for a moment the breath left her lungs. She saw someone in the crowd. Red hair and red eyes hidden behind others. She remembered the last image of her mother and could swear that this was her. She felt the urge to run away from Jaehaerys’ entourage and go to this figure. But before she could fathom the thought any further Aemon tugged her arm and she was brought back to the present.

“Come, your majesty. We have prepared a feast for you and your men. You shall be well looked after.” The head of the house welcomed and led her father toward his home.

YN took one last look at the crowd but the woman was gone. She felt tears prick at her eyes but blinked them away before any others could see.

The Manderlies did know how to take care of their guests. There was dancing and loud talking, music and food, and all of it could not distract YN from what she saw earlier in the day. Jaehaerys and Aemon sat to her right talking and not paying attention to the 18 year old girl. The head of house Manderly took a look at the girl and then to Jaehaerys and complimented the king on his daughter.

“Forgive me my King, but as beautiful as your daughter is, she does not share the same beauty as your and your son share.” The Head asked. “I am not familiar with the story of how you came across such a lovely girl.”

“I found her on the King’s road as it was being constructed. She conducted a miracle and called the Black Dread to her side and proved herself to be of the Dragon’s blood. As my family and I are.” Jaehaerys smiled at the memory. “I was blessed with her. And I will not have anyone else take her from my side. She belongs with me.”

“She is his favorite.” Aemon joked and nudged his sister. When she did not react he turned fully to her and looked at her faraway gaze. “YN?”

“I have to get some fresh air.” YN stated and stood from her seat. She kissed Jaehaerys on the cheek and found her way outside the main hall and to the stables.

Her mother was on her mind and her home memories flashed about her. She missed home, she missed her brother, she missed everything. The only person she felt she could talk to was Balerion, but he was sleeping or flying high above. Most likely sleeping. He was home but he was her first home.

“I’ve missed you my love.” A whispering voice floated upon the air, making YN look up and freeze upon the sight in front of her. Her mother, not red but in the image of what she looked like before she placed her strange necklace upon herself. YN was shaking as she stepped forward slowly, then quicker. And though she was not far away YN felt herself going miles before she wrapped her arms around her mother.

“Mama.” YN cried and hugged her tighter. She felt relief as her mother wrapped her arms around her daughter and stroked the girl’s black hair.

“My daughter. My sweet girl. Have you remembered what I’ve taught you?” She asked and pulled back. Without her necklace, which made her look young, YN saw the age on her mother’s face. She did not look like a crone, but YN memorized the lines on her face and the thinness in her cheeks.

“I want to go home. I want to go back to the shadow city. Mama please.” YN begged and looked for comfort in her mother’s face.

“I know. I know my love. You must have so many questions for me. But now is not the time.” Her mother dropped her arms and placed a kiss on her daughter’s forehead. “I cannot stay.”

“No! Please. I need you. Where have you been? Why did you leave me? Why did we leave home? Why does fire not burn me? I need you to answer my questions! I need you.” YN demanded and tried holding on tighter. But her mother pulled away and gave her one last gentle touch to her tan cheek.

“I know. But you must be left here. I cannot stay.” She stepped away, whispering something that made YN fall to the ground on her knees and stare helplessly at her mother.

“Mama! Mama please! I want to go home! I want to go home please!” YN begged and sobbed but to no avail. Her mother turned and disappeared into the nightly shadows. Wrapping her strange necklace around her neck and letting her hair turn red and young again.

YN sobbed and hit the ground. Praying to someone, anyone, but no one would hear her. No one but Jaehaerys, who found his daughter on the ground sobbing and hitting the ground. He rushed forward, dropping to the ground with her and taking her in his arms. Shushing her and holding her tightly.

“My daughter. My YN, what has you crying like this?” He asked and looked around but no one else was there, he bade his men to stay back and not look upon them.

“My mother. My mama. She was here. She was here and she left me.” YN cried and cried.

“My girl there is no one here.”

“She was here. I wanted her to take me.” YN looked at him. Jaehaerys who had a concerned and worried look on his face.

“Take you? But my girl why would you want to leave?”

“I wanted her to take me home. I want to go home.” YN whimpered and looked at the sky. “She left me. She left me again. I have no one.”

Jaehaerys sighed and kissed her forehead. “You have us. You have me. I cannot replace your mother but I cannot let you go. I love you dearly. My child. My girl. Come let's go inside. I’ll have you lie down. Then you can tell me everything.”

YN finally stood and let him guide her to a room. She knew she shouldn’t have said so much to Jaehaerys. But she couldn’t help it. She loved her adopted family. She loved Jaehaerys but he couldn’t be her home. She no longer had her mother. She ached for her mother. She ached for home.

She wished she was home.

#house of the dragon #house targaryen #yandere targaryens #yandere targaryen #jaehaerys targaryen #yandere jaehaerys #aemon targaryen #the dragon dancer

26 notes · View notes

backjustforberena · 2 months

Text

So, I have a theory. It's just a theory, it's probably not true, but it's mine and it's not disproven by the text and it fits within the text so I'm taking it.

I think Aemon didn't have any more children in order to safeguard Rhaenys's claim. I think Baelon moved to have lots of children to safeguard the Targaryen line.

Both of these can be impacted by other things, such as Baelon and Alyssa wanting lots of kids, plus we don't know specifics on whether or not Jocelyn could have had more children or how the labour was for her. And there's always the asterisk of this all being a faux history book so it's all conjecture and even when it isn't, it's because a writer said so, rather than anything truly biological or logical.

But when it comes to the succession, this theory makes perfect sense. Baelon and Aemon were thick as thieves. They loved each other. And they had parents who were strict and stringent about having as many kids as possible and as many heirs. They were both smart men. Aemon, particularly, seemed to be an ideal heir: he wasn't shirking his duties, he was Master of Law. He would know how weak his line was, no matter how strong a candidate Rhaenys is, tragedy occurs (he has witnessed the deaths of siblings), and the ideal is always to have many issue.

“I will leave the making of law to you, brother,” Prince Baelon declared, whilst drinking to Prince Aemon’s appointment. “I would sooner make sons.”

So, how can you propagate the Targaryen dynasty whilst also not making the daughter of the heir's succession a potential minefield? Easy. Don't give her brothers. Give her cousins. All being well, Aemon would have become King and formally installed his daughter as heir. Rhaenys would have then had children of her own and the line would have been concrete, clear and unassailable.

But, what if something happened to Rhaenys? Aemon couldn't be left without an heir. They needed somewhere else to go, as well as other ways to strengthen the Targaryen rule just in general.

Aemon is to be king, Baelon most like will be his Hand [...]

Enter his best-buddy Baelon. Baelon would become his brother's heir, in the event that Rhaenys died, and so then his children would come after him, provided Rhaenys had no children. Baelon needs to have as many as possible because Aemon, if he wants to safeguard his daughter's claim and have her succession be without conflict, cannot have any more children.

And, no doubt, the sons hope that their children will be as close as they were. That Viserys and Daemon will shield Rhaenys's back and make their House strong, as well as carry on the name and the blood and all of that. They would be there to protect her from anyone who might ferment rebellion at the idea of a ruling Queen. Even if Rhaenys had died in childbirth to an heir, Viserys and Daemon could safeguard that child until they came of age - they can ensure Aemon's legacy.

[...] for in Prince Aemon and Prince Baelon His Grace had the proverbial “heir and a spare,” and seldom has the realm been blessed with two more able princes. In 62 AC, at the age of seven, Aemon was formally anointed Prince of Dragonstone and heir to the Iron Throne. Knighted at seventeen, a tourney champion at twenty, he became his father’s justiciar and master of laws at six-and-twenty. [...] Though [Baelon] and Aemon enjoyed a healthy rivalry, no man doubted the love that bound them. The succession appeared solid as stone.

Aemon and Baelon just never thought that Aemon would go first. In that, the plan falls apart. They never saw this tragedy coming. Not only that, but rather than elevate Rhaenys and keep the family close... Baelon, Viserys and Daemon would be gifted her Crown and tear the family apart.

#aemon targaryen #baelon targaryen #rhaenys targaryen #fire and blood

20 notes · View notes

alienoryva · 5 months

Text

��QUEEN OF LOVE AND BEAUTY—

🪻Princess Daenerys Targaryen :

named by Ser Simon Dondarrion in the journey celebrating the completion of dragonpit in 55 AC (cr by: dalbe)

🪻Queen Alysanne Targaryen :

named by Ser Ryam Redwyne in the 10th anniversary tourney in 58 AC (cr by: Elenya.art)

🪻Princess/Queen Rhaenyra i Targaryen :

named by Ser Criston Cole in a tourney staged in 104 AC (cr by: Magali Villeneuve)

🪻Queen Naerys Targaryen :

named by Her Brother Prince Aemon The Dragonknight, Who was disguised as a mystery knight known as The Knight of tears (cr by: Hylora)

🪻Princess/Queen Rhaella Targaryen :

named by Ser Bonifer Hasty (cr by: Bella Bergolts)

🪻Lady Lyanna Stark :

named by Prince Rhaegar Targaryen at the tourney at Harrenhal (cr by: louvie Haller)

🪻Lady Lynesse Hightower :

named by Ser Jorah Mormont at the tourney at Lannisport (cr by: blackbettyes)

🖇️

unknown daughter of lord ashford at the opening tourney at ashford meadow in 209AC.

unknown daughter of lord Walter whent and lady Shella whent at reigning Queen at the opening of the tourney at harrenhal.

51 notes · View notes

alaynasansa · 1 year

Text

Her empathy

Sansa was too well bred to smile at her sister's disgrace

The rasping voice trailed off. He squatted silently before her, a hulking black shape shrouded in the night, hidden from her eyes. Sansa could hear his ragged breathing. She was sad for him, she realized. Somehow, the fear had gone away.

The silence went on and on, so long that she began to grow afraid once more, but she was afraid for him now, not for herself. She found his massive shoulder with her hand. “He was no true knight,” she whispered to him

Of course, Jeyne had been in love with Lord Beric ever since she had first glimpsed him in the lists. Sansa thought she was being silly ; Jeyne was only a steward's daughter, after all, and no matter how much she mooned after him, Lord Beric would never look at someone so far beneath him, even if she hadn't been half his age.

It would have been unkind to say so, however, so Sansa took a sip of milk and changed the subject

She had always imagined the Night's Watch to be men like Uncle Benjen. In the songs, they were called the black knights of the Wall. But this man had been crookbacked and hideous, and he looked as though he might have lice. If this was what the Night's Watch was truly like, she felt sorry for her bastard half brother, Jon

“I'm certain your father is well,” Sansa told her when she had finally gotten the dress buttoned right. “I'll ask the queen to let you see him.” She thought that kindness might lift Jeyne's spirits

Sansa dried her own tears as she struggled to comfort her friend. They went to sleep in the same bed, cradled in each other's arms like sisters

They all laughed then, Joffrey on his throne, and the lords standing attendance, Janos Slynt and Queen Cersei and Sandor Clegane and even the other men of the Kingsguard, the five who had been his brothers until a moment ago. Surely that must have hurt the most, Sansa thought. Her heart went out to the gallant old man as he stood shamed and red-faced, too angry to speak

Sansa heard herself gasp. “No, you can't.”

Joffrey turned his head. “What did you say ?”

Sansa could not believe she had spoken. Was she mad ? To tell him no in front of half the court ? She hadn't meant to say anything, only... Ser Dontos was drunk and silly and useless, but he meant no harm

Sansa found herself possessed of a queer giddy courage. “You should go with her,” she told the king. “Your brother might be hurt.”

Joffrey shrugged. “What if he is ?”

“You should help him up and tell him how well he rode.” Sansa could not seem to stop herself.

Prince Tommen sobbed. “You mew like a suckling babe,” his brother hissed at him. “Princes aren't supposed to cry.”

“Prince Aemon the Dragonknight cried the day Princess Naerys wed his brother Aegon,” Sansa Stark said, “and the twins Ser Arryk and Ser Erryk died with tears on their cheeks after each had given the other a mortal wound”

Halfway along the route, a wailing woman forced her way between two watchmen and ran out into the street in front of the king and his companions, holding the corpse of her dead baby above her head. It was blue and swollen, grotesque, but the real horror was the mother's eyes. Joffrey looked for a moment as if he meant to ride her down, but Sansa Stark leaned over and said something to him. The king fumbled in his purse, and flung the woman a silver stag

“I want the man who threw that !” he shouted. “A hundred golden dragons to the man who gives him up.”

“He was up there !” someone shouted from the crowd.

The king wheeled his horse in a circle to survey the rooftops and open balconies above them. In the crowd people were pointing, shoving, cursing one another and the king.

“Please, Your Grace, let him go,” Sansa pleaded.

“If I'm not betrayed by my own guards, I may be able to hold here for a time. Then I can go to the walls and offer to yield to Lord Stannis in person. That will spare us the worst. But if Maegor's Holdfast should fall before Stannis can come up, why then, most of my guests are in for a bit of rape, I'd say. And you should never rule out mutilation, torture and murder at times like these.”

Sansa was horrified. “These are women, unarmed, and gently born”

“I will remember, Your Grace,” said Sansa, though she had always heard that love was a surer route to the people's loyalty than fear

Sansa went to Ser Lancel and knelt beside him. His wound was bleeding afresh where the queen had struck him. “Madness,” he gasped. “Gods, the Imp was right, was right...”

“Help him,” Sansa commanded two of the serving men.

One just looked at her and ran, flagon and all. Other servants were leaving the hall as well, but she could not help that. Together, Sansa and the serving man got the wounded knight back on his feet. “Take him to Maester Frenken.” Lancel was one of them, yet somehow she still could not bring herself to wish him dead

The Hound had turned craven, she heard it said ; at the height of the battle, he got so drunk the Imp had to take his men. But Sansa understood. She knew the secret of his burned face. It was only the fire he feared

How can I let my sister marry Joffrey ? she thought, and suddenly her eyes were full of tears. “Margaery, please,” she said, “you mustn't.” It was hard to get the words out. “You mustn't marry him. He's not like he seems, he's not. He'll hurt you”

She did not want Margaery to suffer as she had, but she dreaded the thought that the Tyrells might refuse to go ahead with the wedding. I warned her, I did, I told her the truth of him. Perhaps Margaery did not believe her. Joff always played the perfect knight with her, as once he had with Sansa. She will see his true nature soon enough. After the wedding if not before. Sansa decided that she would light a candle to the Mother Above the next time she visited the sept, and ask her to protect Margaery from Joffrey's cruelty

When Sansa turned, the little man was gazing up at her, his mouth tight, his face as red as her cloak. Suddenly she was ashamed of her stubbornness

He is as frightened as I am, Sansa realized. Perhaps that should have made her feel more kindly toward him, but it did not. All she felt was pity

Sansa had been wary of Tyrion's squire at first ; he was a Payne, cousin to Ser Ilyn Payne who had taken her father's head off. However, she'd soon come to realize that Pod was as frightened of her as she was of his cousin

He had not been dead when she left the throne room. He had been on his knees, though, clawing at his throat, tearing at his own skin as he fought to breathe. The sight of it had been too terrible to watch, and she had turned and fled, sobbing

Robert did not need to know that, though. He was only a sick little boy who'd loved his mother

Robert had spindly arms and legs, a soft concave chest and little belly, and eyes that were always red and runny. He cannot help the way he is. He was born small and sickly. “You look very strong this morning, my lord.” He loved to be told how strong he was

A few moments later and the big man sprawled dazed in the dust with his helm askew. When his squire undid the fastenings to bare his head, there was blood trickling down his scalp. If the swords had not been blunted, there would be brains as well. That last head blow had been so hard Alayne had winced in sympathy when it fell

Ser Wallace reddened. “I am no more a s-squire, my lady. My n-nephew knows full well that I was k-k-kni-k-k-kni—”

“Dubbed ?” Alayne suggested gently.

“Dubbed,” said Wallace Waynwood, gratefully

After that Ser Roland Waynwood swept her up and made her laugh with mocking comments about half the other knights in the hall. His uncle Wallace took a turn as well and tried to do the same, but the words would not come. Alayne finally took pity on him and began to chatter happily, to spare him the embarrassment

Sansa Month 2023 : day thirty - your favorite sansa trait

#sansa stark #alayne stone #source: a game of thrones #source: a clash of kings #source: a storm of swords #source: a feast for crows #source: the winds of winter #sansamonth2023 #sansastarkappreciationfest2023

130 notes · View notes

goodqueenaly · 1 year

Text

It’s like poetry or whatever but the Knight of the Laughing Tree and the Knight of Tears as fascinating parallels of and inverses to one another.

In both cases, the goal of the mystery knight is to make an objective point, without the details of their respective identities muddling or neutralizing the message. Indeed, one potential advantage of an individual donning the disguise of a mystery knight is the ability to send such a message to the competitors and/or attendees of any particular event, pursuing a goal otherwise unobtainable or complicated by their persons. Yet where other mystery knights may have wished simply to convey their individual worthiness to compete irrespective of their identities (as, perhaps, Baelon Targaryen did when he tilted as the “Silver Fool” to win his spurs at Old Oak, or as Jonquil Darke did when she entered the War for the White Cloaks as the “Serpent in Scarlet”), Prince Aemon and Lyanna Stark were not interested (or, at least, entirely interested) merely in jousting for the sake of jousting; their victories in the tilt mattered less than their motivations for doing so.

Instead, for both Aemon and Lyanna, their points attempted to correct wrongs which inextricably linked the personal and the political. Aemon’s personal love for his sister (complicated as it might have been by his devotion to the vows of the Kingsguard) was clear, and on those grounds alone he might well have resented the preferment of his brother’s mistress over his beloved sister. Yet the insult did not end at mere familial (or even potentially romantic) closeness between Aemon and Naerys. By publicly attempting to snub the present queen for his current mistress, Aegon IV was declaring to the assembled courtiers and aristocrats that his wife - the only woman he could, at least openly and officially, have a publicly approved romantic/sexual relationship with - was not the fairest woman in the land (or at least among the tourney attendees). Beyond being a major breach of courtly etiquette, such a move could suggest greater ambitions on the part of the king to remove Naerys from her place as queen - no empty threat, when Aegon IV had (likely) already used Morghil Hastwyck as a proxy to accuse Naerys of adultery and when the Brackens had schemed to replace Naerys with Barba. Aemon, himself the champion for Naerys against Morghil and one of the voices to call for Barba’s dismissal, would thus again take up the defense of his sister-queen to an insult at once personal and political.

Likewise, Lyanna framed her rescue of Howland from the bullying squires in terms at once familial and feudal. Howland was, so Lyanna declared him, “my father’s man”, the most fundamental expression of the political order which obligated her, as a member of the liege family, to protect the liege’s vassal with her own power. Just as Lyanna cared for Howland herself following the attack (“t[aking] him back to her lair to clean his cuts and bind them up with linen”, in the tale told by Meera Reed) and welcomed Howland into the bosom of the Stark household at Harrenhal - again emphasizing the personal responsibility of her as a Stark to look after a Reed of Greywater Watch - so Lyanna recognized her role as redeeming the honor of young Howland. It was her duty as a resident Stark to personally take up arms against the master of those squires and defeat them (albeit in a play-combat context), much as Lord Rickard would have been expected to do should anyone have made war on any of his vassals. The insult to Howland had triggered Lyanna’s personal obligation to him as a Stark; here was her opportunity to do as her Stark ancestors had done for generations, caring for and defending the people under Winterfell’s protection.

Yet Aemon and Lyanna diverged in the means by which they conveyed their respective messages, placing them on opposite ends of a symbolism spectrum. For Aemon, the proper moniker to demonstrate his point was the Knight of Tears. Even without the specifics on his shield’s device, the designation conveyed Aemon’s sense of grief at the humiliation of his sister. While the disguise may have subtly recalled the history between the siblings - when Aemon had, so the songs relate, wept to see his sister wedded to their brother - its main purpose was, I think, to communicate the objective shame of the king’s proposed action. If the king himself would forget (or actively refuse) his social duty to his lady wife, Aemon would remind him - not as his brother (whom then-Prince Aegon had ignored in their quarrel at Aegon’s wedding to Naerys), nor as his Kingsguard (since Aemon would, at least in his mind, owe the king his unquestioned loyalty), but as the representation of a chivalric ideal. To so great an insult, Aemon’s guise suggested, any true knight must surely weep - and only such a true knight could redeem the honor of a queen so disparaged by her king.

Lyanna, for her part, also sought to shame the men who (indirectly) humiliated the person she sought to defend, but in a way which more directly mocked the knights in question. The Blount, Haigh, and Frey knights she challenged may not have directly or publicly insulted Howland Reed as Aegon IV attempted to do to Naerys, but their squires’ harassment of Howland reflected none too well on the knights themselves as ostensible instructors of honor and chivalry. The laughing weirwood thus mocked the pretensions of both the knights and their squires to the outward appearance of chivalry. Where the squires had failed in honor by attacking a young and much smaller man, their knights would fail in the public demonstration of knighthood, being roundly defeated by the Knight of the Laughing Tree. This mystery knight, and openly bearing the symbol of a non-Andal, non-Seven-worshiping land and people (and thus without inherent ties to the Andal tradition of knighthood), would humble the knights whose squires had acted so unchivalrously. That Lyanna was of course no knight herself only underlined the joke intrinsic to the choice of device: she could not be the chivalric ideal as Prince Aemon (himself one of the most publicly celebrated knights of all time) had been as the Knight of Tears, but she could secretly advertise that these knights would be unhorsed by a teenage girl with no formal knightly training.

In turn, both Aemon and Lyanna found (or likely found, in Aemon’s case) in the outcomes of their tourneys reversals of their chosen disguises. Aemon might have symbolically wept to see Naerys so insulted by their brother, but in emerging victorious in the tilt, Aemon perhaps restored a smile to Naerys’ face. In being presented with the crown of the queen of love and beauty, Naerys had been publicly acknowledged as the fairest woman in the land (at least in the context of the tourney). Too, that it was a mystery knight who presented her this honor (supposing Aemon was still disguised when he did so) may have only underlined the triumph in Naerys’ mind; to all onlookers, this was not a brother playing favorites against their loathed eldest sibling, but a true representation of knighthood defending the position of the queen. Aegon IV would not cease his attempts to humiliate and undermine his wife after this event, but in at least this instance, the queen and not the king’s mistress (or the king himself) would have the last laugh, thanks (with no small sense of irony) to the Knight of Tears.

By contrast, while Lyanna had chosen a laughing device for her tourney stunt, the end of the tourney of Harrenhal was “the moment when all the smiles died”. If Lyanna had succeeding in (literally) beating honor into the knights whose squires had so abused Howland Reed, she then found herself on the opposite side of the knightly dynamic, the unexpected recipient of the crown of the queen of love and beauty at the hands of Rhaegar Targaryen. Where his great-great-great-great-great-granduncle had refuted an attempt to honor the king’s mistress and instead acknowledged the queen as the rightful queen of love and beauty, Rhaegar likely seemed, to the attendees of Harrenhal, to do precisely the opposite - grossly publicly insulting his own present wife (and the future queen) for the sake of a would-be mistress. Not for Lyanna the power or desire of a Prince Aemon, to follow through on crowning a queen of love and beauty, and so not for Lyanna the ultimately happy outcome promised by her weirwood’s laughing face; hers would be that “sadder story” alluded to by Meera Reed, one more full of tears than Aemon’s tourney victory.

#asoiaf meta #knight of the laughing tree #lyanna stark #aemon the dragonknight

111 notes · View notes

sapphire-writes · 1 year

Text

Paring: Aemond Targaryen x Baratheon OC

Summary: An insight into Aemond's feelings. Elyse receives gifts from a suitor. Aemond and Elyse connect over literature.

Warnings: none – eventually smut

previous chapter ---- next chapter

Chapter 7: Chivalry

Aemond Targaryen loathed the idea of falling in love.

Love destroyed people, love had brought kings to their knees.

His father was a weak, foolish king. Blinded by the love he had for his eldest daughter, ignoring her treachery. Ignoring his other children. Ignoring his wife.

Love was what haunted King Viserys. It was the ever-present ghost in the room, breathed into life with the name Aemma .

Aemond had heard how his father spoke of his first wife, how he searched for her in his firstborn’s face. Rhaenyra must have been the spitting image of her mother.

Aemond often thought about how he would make a better monarch than his father. Better than his half-sister. Better than his brother.

In another life, Aemond might have been a knight, beloved and cheered for at tourneys.

He might have enjoyed it, basked in the love of the common folk. He might have had his pick of beautiful women who enjoyed a Targaryen prince with a handsome face. He might have been kind, he might have sung songs.

Aemma Arryn was not the only ghost that haunted the halls of the Red Keep.

Aemond could taste copper in his mouth as he remembered the events of Driftmark. Though the wound had healed a scar remained, jagged and aching.

That was the day he claimed Vhagar, the oldest and largest dragon in the world. It was the day his eye was taken from him. It was the day he truly realized his father had never cared for him much at all.

The pain had been as though a red hot poker was thrust into his eye socket, as though Luke had split his face entirely in two. Lucerys Velaryon had done more than take an eye. He had murdered the dragon knight that Aemond might have been.

Aemond remembered that his justice was denied. Denied due to the love his father had for Rhaenyra. A love he never shared with his other children.

It infuriated Aemond and left a hollow feeling in his chest as blood dripped onto the floor. As he laid his head against his mother’s chest to comfort her. His mother was the only person who cared. The only person who spilled blood on behalf of Aemond’s loss.

When he was a boy, he had felt the stirrings of childhood enchantment when Elyse Baratheon arrived from Storm’s End. It was hard not to be mesmerized by her.

She was unlike anything Aemond had seen before. A mess of dark curls and wide blue eyes, a wicked toothy grin always on her face when she was with Helaena.

He remembered as a child seeing her burst into tears when a caterpillar was trampled beneath her foot. She was an interesting creature. Her softness surprised him.

Fiercely loyal and headstrong, Elyse had protected Helaena from any jests of court. Aemond enjoyed the way her brows furrowed when she was angry, the way her nose would scrunch.

He had even asked his mother if they would someday be wed.

Queen Alicent had smiled at him, a kind look on her face for her second son.

“You shall marry someone, someday a long time from now. Whomever duty requires of you,” Alicent had told him, stroking his hair.

Aemond ached to make his mother happy. His mother was the only person who mourned for him. The only person who desired justice for the wrongs against him.

His mother had suffered due to love. Aemond had watched as she had suffered. Watched as his father became weaker and weaker. Watched as his brother drowned himself in depravity.

If that was what love was, Aemond desired no part of it.

He desired to be a calculating man of duty, knowledge, and the sword, and that was solidified within him after the taking of his eye. He was content to deny himself of other carnal desires in exchange.

That was until he saw Maceon Tyrell’s hands on her waist. The laugh he had stolen from her lips.

It had ignited a burning rage within Aemond he didn’t know resided.

Aemond had felt like a true dragon that night, fire made flesh.

His eye had followed her as she danced, gazing over the cup of wine he held to his lips.

He became a man possessed, rising from his seat; a hunter stalking its prey.

Aemond thought of the Tourney of Fire, and how easy it would have been to cut Lord Tyrell down then. His fingers twitched as though he had a blade strapped at his waist.

He should have leaped from the balcony then when Lord Maceon had asked her favor and cut him from his horse, presenting Elyse with his severed head. He wanted him dead, pieces of him scattered across the Seven kingdoms so that even the gods wouldn’t be able to put him back together again.

The closer he crept toward Elyse, he could see her happiness and the look of ease that disappeared when he stood in front of her. The fire in her eyes, the parting of her lips. Ours is the fury, were her words.

It reminded him of the night he claimed Vhagar.

A mere boy presenting himself before divinity.

Though Rhaena had accused Aemond of stealing Vhagar, he knew that was not true. If Vhagar did not find him worthy, she would have incinerated him that night in the dunes. She had claimed him as much as he had claimed her. They had taken to the skies as equals that night.

Standing before Elyse Baratheon made him feel like he was taking his first flight again.

Seven hells, he couldn’t stand it. The warmth of her palms against his, the feeling of holding her body against him.

The intoxicating scent of lavender on her skin as he moved his mouth against her neck, whispering to her, taunting her.

How easy it would have been for him to sink his teeth into her soft flesh, to slide his hand up the bodice of her dress.

To claim her, and make her his in the middle of their dance.

Aemond imagined the sounds he could coax out of her pretty mouth.

But that was love; that was lust.

Aemond Targaryen was not a lustful man.

Aemond Targaryen was not a loving man.

Autumn crept slowly, a cool breeze here and there. Autumn took ages to arrive and pave the way for winter. It would be a long while before summer breathed its last breath.

Elyse had returned to her room that night frustrated after the ball, sitting in the bath until her fingers turned pruney and the water turned cold. She had sat, teeth chattering, for a long time trying to remove the feeling of fire from her skin.

No matter how hard she scrubbed she couldn’t get rid of the feeling of Aemond’s lips on her neck, his hands on her body as they danced.

She had never felt this way before, and she tossed and turned the entire night in her bed, something deep within her awoken with desire.

She had little knowledge of the romances between men and women. Though she had talked to Helaena several times about her experiences with Aegon. Nothing seemed truly pleasurable for a woman in the marriage bed.

This was discouraging for Elyse. She felt as though there was an itch inside of her that was unable to be scratched.

Elyse stayed true to her promise to Lord Maceon Tyrell. She had sent a raven to Highgarden upon his departure from the Harvest Feast.

She had begun to write to him again at the hour of the wolf, and now golden light flowed into her chambers. Her desk was neat. Letters from Jacaerys had been packed away tightly and placed under the bed.

She was trying to move on. This was the direction she must focus on. Sooner or later marriage would be thrust upon her. It was better she get ahead of it now while she still had some agency. Elyse found herself feeling momentarily grateful her father was less than preoccupied with her.

This was how it should be, she told herself. Write to Lord Maceon, and be happy.

The quill in her hand steadied, the parchment blank before her.

She could write of her childhood with Helaena, their adventures in the gardens, and exploring the Red Keep.

Or maybe of the books she enjoyed, and how she yearned to visit the Free Cities and devour different music and arts outside of King’s Landing. Things she would want a future lord husband to know about her.

Suddenly, it all seemed very foolish to write about, though she had written to Jace about it several times over the years.

She frowned at the page.

Later, perhaps.

Lord Maceon had not written to Elyse since his departure, but he did call on her in other ways.

Several days after the Harvest Feast, several deliveries of flower arrangements had been delivered to the Red Keep.

Each day a new bouquet, full of golden roses, blood-blooms, dragon's breath, goldencups, and moonblooms.

The flowers had overtaken Elyse’s chambers, perfuming the room so much it was nearly inhabitable.

Jahaera enjoyed the deliveries the most. The stoic Targaryan child stared up in wonder at the knights who delivered them, lilac eyes wide. She enjoyed picking the petals off of the golden roses and watching them scatter on the stone floor. Helaena had scolded her, but Elyse did not mind.

“You’ll be a terrible lady of Highgarden,” Helaena had teased, “allowing your children to pick the flowers clean.”

Elyse had gifted most of the dragon’s breath to Jaehaera, as the dark red flower complimented her silvery complexion.

Most of the residents of the Red Keep thought the gifts were excessive, including Queen Alicent.

“Another?” she would say, an exasperated expression on her face, but she stroked Elyse’s dark hair with affection.

“He is taken with you, my love.”

One bouquet contained fire-plums which Aegon had helped himself to without asking. “Sweeter than a Lyseni whore,” he had said between bites, out of earshot to anyone but Elyse. Aegon had winked at her, causing her stomach to lurch.

Elyse found herself wandering the Red Keep early this morning, unable to write and having not slept well yet again. She had taken to wearing a cloak most mornings, as the air had started to have a slight chill with the promise of autumn.

Partially due to the abundance of flowers. That was what Elyse had decided must be the problem. Certainly, not the one-eyed dragon prince.

It seemed sleep was impossible for her to find these days. She had decided she may need the maester to brew her some dreamwine if this continued.

Though she appreciated the romantic gesture, it was becoming a tad ridiculous. Soon she wouldn’t have room to sleep, and the perfumed air seemed to suffocate her. So she found herself breathing in the cool morning air of the training yard, perched on an overlooking balcony.

Some servants were walking past, likely beginning their mornings before the rest of the castle awoke.

The sound of clashing steel surprised her this early.

Peering over the edge of the balcony, she draped her arms across the wooden ledge leaning forward to see.

Ser Criston stood clad in armor, sword in hand, sweat pouring down the front of his face. He shook his head, moving his dark hair from his eyes and causing sweat to fall from his brow.

Elyse’s eyes moved towards his opponent.

Aemond crouched before him in training leathers, sword in hand. Sweat gleamed on his forehead, his good eye wide and alert.

He spun expertly when Ser Criston struck, defending himself and maneuvering out of harm’s way, long silver hair fanning out behind him.

He was lithe and agile, his movements smooth and calculated.

Elyse had never seen him like this. Here in the training yard, Aemond Targaryen was a true predator.

And it excited something inside of her, a feeling of nervousness curled in her belly.

Aemond’s tongue darted out, tasting the sweat on his upper lip. Elyse felt her pulse quicken, the memory of his lips near her neck causing a blush to bloom on her cheeks. She sucked in a sharp breath.

Suddenly, his blade was aimed toward Ser Criston’s neck.

“Well done, My Prince,” Ser Criston said, breathless from the fight.

Elyse regained her composure, standing upright. Aemond’s eye caught her movement. Ser Criston followed his gaze.

“My lady,” he called politely.

Elyse nodded, cheeks darkening as Aemond watched her.

“Good morrow Ser Criston,” she called down, “My Prince.”

Criston turned back to Aemond.

“Another round, My Prince?” he asked, but Aemond had already sheathed his sword.

“Later,” Aemond said, leaving the training yard.

Elyse knew he would find her before he did, as she headed back into the castle. The knowledge caused her heart to pound and her cheeks to stay flushed. She looked down, smiling, as she increased her pace, the anticipation of being caught by him tingling through her. This was a new game they seemed to play, the doe being chased by the dragon.

“I do not see you in the training yard often, my lady,” he called, suddenly in her stride.

“I could not find sleep,” Elyse told him, attempting to remain composed.

Elyse could see Ameond nod from the corner of her eye as he continued to walk with her. They made their way past the great hall and towards a courtyard. Elyse nodded to some lords and ladies they passed.

“I have been desperate for something new to read,” she found herself saying suddenly, filling the silence.

“Have you visited the library?”

“Not today, my prince. Is there something you recommend?”

Aemond paused for a moment.

“What do you enjoy reading about?” he asked, and Elyse was touched by his thoughtfulness.

“Anything,” she answered, earning a small chuckle from him.

“Anything in particular?”

Elyse pursed her lips, taking a moment to think before answering.

“I enjoy reading philosophy, and of the Free Cities. Of anywhere, truly. I have not known much life outside of these walls,” she confessed.

“Have you read Ruined Cities, Stolen Gods?” he asked and Elyse shook her head.

“It details the Fall of Sarnor. Fascinating, truly,” Aemond mused.

“I shall make it my next read then,” Elyse assured him.

The two were silent for a moment.

“Any news from your betrothed?”

Elyse looked down, trying to hide the smile on her face. Aemond had begun to make a point of always asking about Lord Maceon. It was a point of contention between them. And though he tried to hide it, she could sense his desperation to know what was going on between them.

“He is not my betrothed as of yet, my prince,” she told him, hoping he would find pleasure in this.

“Are several hundred flowers not enough of a marriage proposal?”

“They are generous gifts,” Elyse insisted.

“He intends to claim you,” Aemond said, as a fact and Elyse scoffed.

“I am not a dragon.”

“Yet his intentions are the same. He wishes to marry you.”

“Perhaps. I suppose we shall see what he intends,” Elyse told him, as they walked towards the gardens. Elyse glanced at him sideways. Aemond stood tall, his face giving away nothing.

It was a tedious game they played, but Elyse continued to play nonetheless. She found the days Aemond recently plagued her to be the most pleasurable ones.

“Does your father wish you to marry?” Aemond asked her.

Elyse blinked. She hadn’t written to her father as of late, and when he replied to her it was often in very short, hasty sentences. It was said her father longed for a son, a true heir for House Baratheon.

Surely, Lord Borros would want her to marry at some point. Elyse knew she had a dowry put away for when the time came. Lord Borros was prepared, but he did not express his love and wants for his estranged daughter with the written word. Panic sliced through her momentarily at the thought of Lord Maceon writing to her father about a betrothal.

“I have elder sisters, my prince, who have flowered and remain unwed,” she told him, “they are of priority before myself I am afraid, lest someone goes out of their way to approach my father.”

Elyse felt the statement was more reassurance to herself than to the prince.

Aemond simply hummed in response.

“And you think this flower lord will do so?”

“I cannot say, my prince. Though, the other ladies of the court agree he is seemingly taken with me.”

“It is rather obvious.”

Elyse stopped and turned towards him, suppressing a smile. Aemond’s lips were pursed in an expression of annoyance.

“It is kind of him to make such a grand gesture.”

“It is madness.”

A laugh bubbled from Elyse’s lips, and Aemond’s eye widened with surprise. The sound rang in his ears like music. He had never made her laugh before.

“He may have gotten a bit carried away-”

“A bit?”

Elyse turned her face from him, her hand reaching up to cover her smile. Aemond’s face seemed to soften for a moment.

“I enjoy hearing you laugh,” he murmured, his voice a velvet caress.

Elyse looked up at him, surprised by his confession.

“It is a rare sound around me.”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

The dragon and the doe held each other’s gaze a moment more. Aemond cleared his throat, the hardness returning to his features when suddenly he grimaced.

He cried out softly, hand going towards his eye, as pain slashed across the left side of his face. Stars blossomed behind his good eye as a red-hot, deep throbbing settled behind his sapphire-filled socket.

Elyse’s surprise turned to concern as she watched Aemond’s body tense.

“My Prince,” she said, bringing a hand to his arm, but he shook her off.

“It is nothing,” he said through his teeth, shame washing over him. Pathetic, he was pathetic.

“I shall get the maester.”

“No!”

Elyse froze. Aemond shook his head, the pained expression still on his face. The humiliation began to settle in his bones, the taste of copper filling his mouth.

“It shall fade,” he told her.

“Surely some milk of the poppy-”

“I shall be fine.”

His tone was harsh and Elyse clamped her mouth shut. She wanted to continue fighting him, but she knew her efforts would be fruitless.

“Shall I walk you to your chambers?” she asked and Aemond scoffed.

“I am not some maiden in need of an escort,” he snapped, but he could taste how pathetic the words sounded.

Elyse ground her teeth together but did not object.

“As you wish,” she told him and Aemond swiftly departed leaving her standing alone.

Nearly fully blind as tears filled his good eye, Aemond made his way to his chambers collapsing onto the feather bed.

His limbs twisted into himself as he cried out again as pain sliced through the left side of his face.

Tears spilled down his cheek as he tore the eyepatch from his face. Dexterous fingers massaged the scarred tissue, occasionally bumping the cold sapphire eye.

He ground his teeth together as he massaged relief into the wound, head ringing.

Aemond had taken milk of the poppy the night his eye was taken from him. He had dreamt that his mother had carved out her eyes in her fury, presenting them to him on a bed of coals as though they were dragon eggs. Aemond had woken up covered in sweat, screaming.

He had never drunk it again.

Read more on AO3

#aemond fic #aemond x oc #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond x original character #aemond targaryen x fem!oc #aemond targaryen fic #aemond the kinslayer #aemond one eye #prince aemond #house of the dragon aemond #house of the dragon fic #hotd fic

118 notes · View notes

agentrouka-blog · 2 years

Note

Margaery had associated Princess Naerys and Aemon the Dragonknight with herself and Loras(though in platonic) indirectly hinted Joffery to be Aegon. Sansa knew that Loras could kill Joffery if he hurted Marg. Loras himself compared to Aemon for joining kingsguard at 17. Cersei think that Marg will not have her Aemon(Loras) when she needs him because Loras was severely wounded. It reminds me of Jon who is LC at 17, claim to be Aemon and likely dead.

Hi there!

That's actually a fun contrast.

While Cersei briefly projects her own incestuous relationship onto Margaery and Loras, Marge emphasizes the brotherly aspect of the comparison to Aemon and Naerys, and so does Sansa:

"I shall have the finest knight in the Seven Kingdoms protecting me night and day, as Prince Aemon protected Naerys." (.....) Aegon the Unworthy had never harmed Queen Naerys, perhaps for fear of their brother the Dragonknight . . . (...) (ASOS, Sansa II)

Loras and Marge are textually the furthest thing from lovers, they are true siblings, and in her first marriage, it was the king with whom the young kingsguard was in love, not the queen.

Sansa, meanwhile, associated the role of Aemon primarily with romantic love for herself, without touching on any of the other aspects, neither incest nor protection - not even the little fact that Naerys was not Aemon's queen but Aegon's.

"I love him, Father, I truly truly do, I love him as much as Queen Naerys loved Prince Aemon the Dragonknight, as much as Jonquil loved Ser Florian. I want to be his queen and have his babies." (AGOT, Sansa III)

Joffrey compares himself to Aegon the Unworthy while dancing with Sansa at her wedding:

"A king can have other women. Whores. My father did. One of the Aegons did too. The third one, or the fourth. He had lots of whores and lots of bastards." (ASOS, Sansa III)

So if Joffrey is not Aemon but Aegon, who is the real Aemon in that picture? Naerys' "brother" who cried when she was bound to Aegon?

Sansa, two years older, drew the crown prince, Joffrey Baratheon. (...) Jon trembled. "I will never father a bastard," he said carefully. "Never!" He spat it out like venom. Suddenly he realized that the table had fallen silent, and they were all looking at him. He felt the tears begin to well behind his eyes. He pushed himself to his feet. (AGOT, Jon I)

Hmm.

"Prince Aemon the Dragonknight cried the day Princess Naerys wed his brother Aegon," Sansa Stark said (...) (ACOK, Tyrion IX)

Look at Sansa always side-stepping the incest aspect of this romantic couple.

Jaime and Cersei, obviously, combine both: the incestuous sibling relationship, the queen and the kingsguard, even the (disputed) allegations of adultery.

"And the Dragonknight?" She flung the bedclothes aside and swung her legs to the floor. "The noblest knight who ever lived, you said, and he took his queen to bed and got her with child." (AFFC, The Soiled Knight)

Jaime and Cersei are the mirror and foil to Aemon and Naerys, the way Margaery and Loras are not for all that they are sometimes compared. Margaery escaped her Aegon, her brother is not her lover, and while he readily would, Loras cannot defend her against any defamations because he is gravely injured.

Meanwhile Jaime and Cersei are shameless in their incestuous adultery, their willingness to murder for it, their bastard children, and at the same time Jaime has never lifted a finger to defend Cersei from anyone, no matter what Cersei claims he would do. And his reputation is rather different from that of supposedly noble Aemon.

Sansa and Jon have the potential to be the same mirror and foil in a very different way. Siblings (but not), queen and celibate sworn brother (but not), tragically separated by death (but not), adulterous lovers (but not), parents to bastards (but not)...

"Sweet one," her father said gently, "listen to me. When you're old enough, I will make you a match with a high lord who's worthy of you, someone brave and gentle and strong. This match with Joffrey was a terrible mistake. That boy is no Prince Aemon, you must believe me." (AGOT, Sansa III)

Much like Ned's promise to Sansa, Cersei's sarcastic advise is phrased as a future event:

"True knights." The queen seemed to find that wonderfully amusing. "No doubt you're right. So why don't you just eat your broth like a good girl and wait for Symeon Star-Eyes and Prince Aemon the Dragonknight to come rescue you, sweetling. I'm sure it won't be very long now." (ACOK, Sansa V)

We'll see, we'll see.

#margaery tyrell #cersei lannister #sansa stark #foils #mirrors #aemon and naerys #jonsa

79 notes · View notes

green-ajah-aes-sedai · 1 year

Text

Prince Aemon Targaryen

"The Dragonknight"

#aemon targaryen #aemon the dragonknight #aemon son of viserys ii #aemon the knight of tears #the dragonknight #the knight of tears #house targaryen #asoiaf edits #asoiaf moodboard #got edits #got moodboard #hotd edits #hotd moodboard #asoiaf aesthetics #got aesthetic #hotd aesthetic #my edits

30 notes · View notes

wodania · 8 months

Note

What are some of your favorite quotes from the main series? And what are some from Dunk & Egg?

A lot of the asoiaf quotes are gonna be A Storm of Swords because it’s the book I read digitally the most, meaning I was actually highlighting as I went along. So lots Storm representation oops. Rule of five per series so I don’t get carried away.

Dunk and Egg (this one is long because I love discussing these novellas):

Something something the wealthy huddle beneath lavish roofs and tents and leave the poor to sleep in the rain and mud, but the wealthy have created for themselves gilded cages while the poor can watch the stars fall and claim the gift of luck that comes with it. Thanks George I eat stuff like this up like I’m a starving man.

Feel like we need to mention a dragon dream if we’re discussing Dunk and Egg. My favourite dragon dream in the D&E series. Everything about it is correct: Dunk will be a Kingsguard, he’ll be famed throughout the land, he’ll live for nothing but to serve his King. Though Daemon gets one big thing wrong and that’s that he is not going to be King. Second hand embarrassment. As Bloodraven put it, “The fool just got the colour wrong.” Literally Daemon’s entire character. Spitting facts but he can’t tell red from black.

Defending myself by saying this isn’t a dragon dream. Uhhh so! King Aegon V was killed in a massive fire that burned down Summerhall on the night Rhaegar was born. Duncan the Tall, the Lord Commander, died trying to save both King Aegon and the other party guests from the fire. In this scene, Dunk dreams that he’s digging a grave and people, dead or alive, are appearing in it and speaking to him. The last to appear is Egg, who is buried in the sand even though Dunk tries to pull him out. Dunk falls into the grave and suffocates in the sand. It’s obviously supposed to represent the smoke at the fire of Summerhall. Literally wtf George?

The context is pissing contests by the way. Ignore the pissing part there’s a metaphor there I promise. Dunk is super interesting to me because his raising of Egg makes Egg the small-folk loving King that later rules Westeros. Dunk is wise in his life experience, yet he knows nothing of the struggle of women in both noble and peasant settings. Rohanne let’s him know just how difficult it is for a woman to claim any power or influence in Westeros, using the metaphor of a pissing contest, that classic male bonding activity (a woman needs to piss twice as hard).

This does a really good job of putting into perspective how notable Aegon’s kingship was. “Kings do not heap honour on the likes of you and me,” yet King Aegon V named Dunk his Lord Commander and solidified Dunk’s place as a legendary knight. By ASOIAF, Dunk is spoken about admirably. Another King might not have ever given a man like Dunk the opportunity, but Aegon did.

Asoiaf (shorter because I feel like these have been talked about way more):

Daenerys Targaryen:

Makes me tear up. I feel like it’s obvious why. Also after this she tells Jorah that the people will not hurt her, for she is their mother. And then she rides her Silver throughout the crowd while laughing because she’s so happy and in love with the world!!! This is probably one of the only quotes here that isn’t going to be miserable.

Beric Dondarrion:

“Are you my mother, Thoros?” propaganda I think about this quote so much. Beric and Thoros aren’t even on my top ten list but their conversations and dynamic is absolutely heartbreaking. Beric omg how you rot my brain.

Catelyn Tully:

Not “Ned loved.” Instead, “Ned loves.” Because perhaps in her grief and panic, she forgot her husband had even died. I’m dead.

Jon Connington:

He’s so doomed. He’s so bitter and angry. He loves his son so much and that’s exactly why he’s so doomed. Because he refuses to give his son anything but the best, even though the best is going to kill them both.

Maester Aemon Targaryen:

I am a loyal Egg girl so this killed me nine different times :)

#my asks

11 notes · View notes

lya-dustin · 1 year

Text

Someone will remember us

Chapter 78

Cw:mentions of past sexual assault, incest.

Gif by @veinereastath

Taglist: @stargaryenx @mercedesdecorazon

Aemond, unlike his wife, is not good with children let alone infants.

He held Helaena’s children ---Aegon may have sired them, but he somehow paid less attention to his children than father did--- once or twice and gave them gifts and sweets, but that was it.

Aemma at nine knew she wanted to be a mother after spending hours caring for and holding one of her Velaryon cousins.

Aemond at age ten knew he wanted to be the father to Aemma’s children when he wanted to set Tyland Lannister's solar on fire for suggesting himself as a groom for his Aemee.

Laenor had caught him and instead of stopping him, showed him a much more discreet way to vent his anger at Lannister.

‘If you want, I can put a good word for you with your sister, valonqar.” Laenor had not laughed at his words and instead affectionately had ruffled his hair. ‘I wouldn’t mind you as a goodson.’

Aemon takes after him, his soft skin shades lighter than his mother and grandfather’s, but eyes that are a deep purple like Laenor’s and a thick white curls with more silver than gold.

Aemon is not bothered by his eye like other children, reaching with his clumsy little hands to touch the scar and the eye patch.

The sapphire had been removed lest it cause infections on his eye. Had he been wearing it; he would have let his baby son tear off the eye patch and see him marvel over the shiny rock where an eye should be.

“Ke-pa.” Aemond says the word slowly just like he had seen his sister and Aemma do it.

Aemon’s babbling is coherent sometimes, and as deserving as Aemma is of having ‘mama’ be their son’s first full word, Aemond wants to make up for lost time.

“Pa, pa, pa.” The boy repeats half the word excitedly and the prince, no, king consort, takes it as a victory even if Aemon has not mastered the first syllable nor the correct use of the word.

If anyone saw him like this, they would think he has been unmanned.

He lost his dragon and half his supporters the moment they heard Aegon lives.

Not that they lived to join him.

Roddy the Ruin had led his Winter Wolves into ambushing them down the Kingsroad.

Butcher’s Ball, they called it.

“The first time you said father, you said it to me, your grace.” There is a nostalgic look in his father figure’s face that makes Aemond think the worst is over.

“I suppose even as an infant I knew you were more deserving of the word.” Aemond quips as he stopped Aemon from leaning forward and trying to take the eye patch off again.

Cole had stayed, sworn himself to them and then asked that once the war was won, he may be sent to the Wall to atone for his crimes.

‘Geld me if you wish, your grace, I am at your mercy.’ He had said alluding to the full extent of his crimes.

“If it makes your grace feel better, he neglected Rhaenyra just as much when she was a girl. She was fond of thinking her father would not have treated her that way had she died instead of her brothers.” Cole admits.

He never speaks of his time as Rhaenyra’s sworn shield, pretended it never happened.

“Why did you never tell me about your past with my sister?” Aemond asked knowing this was the one chance he could get a straight answer.

They had been in love, he took her maidenhead and offered her a life on the run when she was betrothed to Laenor.

Rhaenyra, still in possession of some sense, had refused and Criston turned whatever love he once had for her into ardent loathing.

This Aemond had found out through Aemma who had brought up a hypothetical of him hating her like Cole hates her mother.

Aegon had found out because Mushroom had told him one time they got drunk together and told Helaena.

Helaena had only responded with, ‘at least her first time was fun’.

“Your lady mother forbade it.” The knight and interim Hand of the Queen answered. “Not that I wished to speak about it, in the first place.”

It was the knight’s greatest secret, a secret that would have had Daemon cutting his manhood off before removing his head from his shoulders.

“Must have been the worst of tortures seeing her marry and find happiness with someone else.” Aemond is never this empathetic towards others, he supposed nearly dying days ago has changed him.

Made him more like Aemma, he thinks.

Aemma who would have empathized with Cole and won him over because of her sheer goodness.

“It did not mix well with strong wine.” The knight allows himself to look at the child who shares the blood of the two women he once loved.

“And now you are the closest thing to a grandfather my children will have.” The young king silently gestures for him to take the boy and hold him.

And he does, carefully with a gentility you would not think Cole was capable of, Criston Cole comes to hold the one thread tying him to Rhaenyra’s and Alicent’s line forever.

“I do not deserve this honor, your grace.” The knight says and Aemond dismissed his words.

“Neither do I.” once he would have said he was deserving of everything because he was worthy of it all.

Now he has lost his dragon, his sword and his greatest feat was owed to nature.

His old self would have died from the shame.

How do you tell the man who has only felt romantic and sexual attraction to one woman that said woman felt a similar connection to another man even as brief as it was?

How do you tell your husband that you kissed your brother because you had felt lonely and unloved when you were told he had fucked a woman older than his mother mere weeks after he pledged to love you in this life and the next?

“I have not been honest with you.” She begins and he thinks it will be something trivial like burning his clothes in anger, or something good like suspicions of a second pregnancy.

“Cole has had to threaten your maids to keep it quiet. I know how you hate people intruding on your privacy.”

Aemond thinks she is with child because her menses have not come, but he is not aware that as long as she is nursing Aemon, she will likely not have them for a few more months.

Oh gods, how does she break this news to him?

“I kissed my brother when I was told you have been disloyal to me.” She said and avoided his eyes with her great shame.

They had not fucked and sure, she let her hands wander under his shirt and Addam was a good kisser, but really she feels as much guilt as she had.

Gods.

Fuck.

“What?” his eye looks at her confused as to why she feels guilty. “Joffrey, seven-year-old Joff who you kiss goodnight when you tuck him in?”

“No, my bastard brother---” that should clear it up, she thinks.

“They are a---” he is losing his patience and she gives him a look reminding him about how she hates him saying that.

Given her father was not dead at the time of the marriage, Aegon and Viserys were also illegitimate.

In fact, Aemma is Rhaenyra’s only legitimate child.

“I suppose you mean Addam Waters.” His amusement ends there and looks at her angry. “Did he force himself on you?”

Aemma shook her head. “I kissed him when he comforted me when I was told you had taken Alys Rivers as your mistress.”

“You believed those accusations.” This angers him more than her considering being disloyal to him. “Who told you those fucking lies, Aemma?”

“Daemon’s spies, one of them is a chambermaid who cleaned up the mess the next day. I had my doubts on the authenticity of their words, but I, — she stops short, she cannot even think of how to say it.

“You were weak and vulnerable. So weak and vulnerable you believed their fucking lies, dear wife?” He almost spits the word wife, and she doesn’t blame him.

He, who has never doubted her devotion to him. He, who had a woman force herself on him when she drugged him and made him think she was Aemma.

“Not truly, but I felt hurt by it, nonetheless. Just the idea that mere days after you married me a second time you had let another woman into your bed while I was forced to stop nursing our baby to end the war your fucking family started, was enough to wound me, Aemond.”

“So, you went and sought comfort in your father’s supposed bastard?” he asks coldly, trying to keep his voice quiet to avoid it having spread through the castle. “Some fucking comfort he gave you.”

“He happened to be there, he wanted to return a spinning top I gave him when we were nine and I kissed him because I knew he has feelings for me, and I wanted to hurt you for hurting me.” She admits.

She had never admitted that, not even to herself.

But Aemond is as much her as she is him.

Aemma has always known Addam desired her since they danced in that festival in Hull three years ago.

He had almost kissed her, and she had been disappointed when he didn’t.

His own sweetheart had left in a huff because he did not stop trying to get near her again.

She knew he would give in to his feelings and kiss her because of that.

And she hates herself for it.

“Mission accomplished then.”

#aemma velaryon #someone will remember us fic #aemond targaryen x velaryon!oc #ocappreciationtag #fyeahhotdocs

15 notes · View notes

istumpysk · 2 years

Text

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

AFFC: Samwell II (Chapter 15)

Sam soon found himself clutching tightly to the gunwale and watching the sweep of the oars. The way they all moved together was somehow beautiful to behold, and better than looking at the water. Looking at the water only made him think of drowning. When he was small his lord father had tried to teach him how to swim by throwing him into the pond beneath Horn Hill. The water had gotten in his nose and in his mouth and in his lungs, and he coughed and wheezed for hours after Ser Hyle pulled him out. After that he never dared go in any deeper than his waist.

There's a familiar name!

Getting another look at Hyle Hunt from another person's perspective seems intentional.

+.+.+

"Looking for mermaids, Slayer?" asked Dareon when he saw Sam staring off across the bay. Fair-haired and hazel-eyed, the handsome young singer out of Eastwatch looked more like some dark prince than a black brother.

Funny that you say that. . .

Notice Samwell has never called Jon handsome? Because he's not! Stop trying to make handsome Jon happen.

+.+.+

Sam did not know what he was looking for, or what he was doing on this boat. Going to the Citadel to forge a chain and be a maester, to be of better service to the Watch, he told himself, but the thought just made him weary. He did not want to be a maester, with a heavy chain wrapped around his neck, cold against his skin. He did not want to leave his brothers, the only friends he'd ever had. And he certainly did not want to face the father who had sent him to the Wall to die.

It was different for the others. For them, the voyage would have a happy ending. Gilly would be safe at Horn Hill, with all the width of Westeros between her and the horrors she had known in the haunted forest. As a serving maid in his father's castle, she would be warm and well fed, a small part of a great world she could never have dreamed of as Craster's wife. She would watch her son grow up big and strong, and become a huntsman or a stablehand or a smith. If the boy showed any aptitude for arms, some knight might even take him as a squire.

+.+.+

Maester Aemon was going to a better place as well. It was pleasant to think of him spending whatever time remained him bathed by the warm breezes of Oldtown, conversing with his fellow maesters and sharing his wisdom with acolytes and novices. He had earned his rest, a hundred times over.

+.+.+

Even Dareon would be happier. He had always claimed to be innocent of the rape that sent him to the Wall, insisting that he belonged at some lord's court, singing for his supper. Now he would have that chance. Jon had named him a recruiter, to take the place of a man named Yoren, who had vanished and was presumed dead. His task would be to travel the Seven Kingdoms, singing of the valor of the Night's Watch, and from time to time returning to the Wall with new recruits.

(Lol, love that we're getting a reminder that Dareon probably shouldn't have been sent to the Wall.)

+.+.+

The voyage would be long and rough, no one could deny that, but for the others at least there would be a happy end. That was Sam's solace. I am going for them, he told himself, for the Night's Watch, and for the happy ending.

+.+.+

He tried to bolster Gilly's courage and give her what cheer he could, but that proved hard. She would not come up on deck, no matter what he said, and seemed to prefer to huddle in the dark with her son. The babe liked the ship no more than his mother did, it seemed. When he was not squalling, he was retching up his mother's milk.

Psst, Sam.

"Dalla's boy. He cries when he wants the teat. Mine . . . mine hardly ever cries. Sometimes he gurgles, but . . ." Her eyes filled with tears. - Samwell I, AFFC

+.+.+

"I was not born blind," he reminded them. "When last I passed this way, I saw every rock and tree and whitecap, and watched the grey gulls flying in our wake. I was five-and-thirty and had been a maester of the chain for sixteen years. Egg wanted me to help him rule, but I knew my place was here.

It's not every Aemons place though.

+.+.+

He sent me north aboard the Golden Dragon, and insisted that his friend Ser Duncan see me safe to Eastwatch.

Ser Duncan in the north! This trip happened long after he was kissing slender brown-haired girls, yes? I apologize, I don't know my history.

Then there came a brown-haired girl slender as a spear who stood on the tips of her toes to kiss the lips of a young knight as tall as Hodor. - Bran III, ADWD

+.+.+

No recruit had arrived at the Wall with so much pomp since Nymeria sent the Watch six kings in golden fetters.

Wow, something other than ships. I'm speechless.

+.+.+

Egg emptied out the dungeons too, so I would not need to say my vows alone. My honor guard, he called them. One was no less a man than Brynden Rivers. Later he was chosen lord commander."

"Bloodraven?" said Dareon. "I know a song about him. 'A Thousand Eyes, and One,' it's called. But I thought he lived a hundred years ago."

Welcome to the story, Evil Mentor #3.

How would a singer know to name the song that?

"I have been many things, Bran. Now I am as you see me, and now you will understand why I could not come to you … except in dreams. I have watched you for a long time, watched you with a thousand eyes and one. I saw your birth, and that of your lord father before you. I saw your first step, heard your first word, was part of your first dream. I was watching when you fell. And now you are come to me at last, Brandon Stark, though the hour is late." - Bran II, ADWD

Also, can't help being reminded of something.

They passed under the arches of a carved stone bridge, decorated with half a hundred kinds of fish and crabs and squids. A second bridge appeared ahead, this one carved in lacy leafy vines, and beyond that a third, gazing down on them from a thousand painted eyes. - Arya I, AFFC

Figuring out whether it's Bran or Bloodraven spying is going to drive me mad. It's more fun to pretend it's always Bran.

+.+.+

Even so, it was a better voyage than the last one Sam had taken. He had been no more than ten when he set sail on Lord Redwyne's galleas, the Arbor Queen.

[...]

Lord Redwyne's twin sons had despised Sam on first sight. Every morn they found some fresh way to shame him in the practice yard. On the third day Horas Redwyne made him squeal like a pig when he begged for quarter. On the fifth his brother Hobber clad a kitchen girl in his own armor and let her beat Sam with a wooden sword until he began to cry. When she revealed herself, all the squires and pages and stableboys howled with laughter.

Sam and Sansa deserve to make fun of Horror and Slobber together.

+.+.+

It was not until they were back at Horn Hill that his mother told Sam that his father had never meant for him to return. "Horas was to come with us in your place, whilst you remained on the Arbor as Lord Paxter's page and cupbearer. If you had pleased him, you would have been betrothed to his daughter." Sam could still recall the soft touch of his mother's hand as she washed the tears off his face with a bit of lace, dampened with her spit. "My poor Sam," she murmured. "My poor poor Sam."

The Brienne is loud in this story.

+.+.+

It will be good to see her again, he thought, as he clung to Blackbird's rail and watched waves breaking on the stony shore. If she saw me in my blacks, it might even make her proud. "I am a man now, Mother," I could tell her, "a steward, and a man of the Night's Watch. My brothers call me Sam the Slayer sometimes." He would see his brother Dickon too, and his sisters. "See," I could tell them, "see, I was good for something after all."

Hey, you know what I noticed? Samwell keeps saying Dickon's at Horn Hill when he's not. 🤔

His own mother was a thousand leagues south, safe with his sisters and his little brother Dickon in the keep at Horn Hill. - Samwell I, ASOS

+.+.+

Or so he thought, until Blackbird left the land behind and struck east across the bay for the shores of Skagos.

The island sat at the mouth of the Bay of Seals, massive and mountainous, a stark and forbidding land peopled by savages. They lived in caves and grim mountain fastnesses, Sam had read, and rode great shaggy unicorns to war.

Sounds like Rickon will fit right in!

+.+.+

Skagos meant "stone" in the Old Tongue. The Skagosi named themselves the stoneborn, but their fellow northmen called them Skaggs and liked them little.

lmfao.

+.+.+

Only a hundred years ago Skagos had risen in rebellion. Their revolt had taken years to quell and claimed the life of the Lord of Winterfell and hundreds of his sworn swords. Some songs said the Skaggs were cannibals; supposedly their warriors ate the hearts and livers of the men they slew. In ancient days, the Skagosi had sailed to the nearby isle of Skane, seized its women, slaughtered its men, and ate them on a pebbled beach in a feast that lasted for a fortnight. Skane remained unpeopled to this day.

This is only world building, right?

Imagine Rickon recruiting the Skagosi in the fight for Winterhell, hahaha.

+.+.+

"If the captain is good, we won't come that close. The currents are treacherous around Skagos, and there are rocks that can crack a ship's hull like an egg. But don't you mention that to Gilly. She's scared enough."

"Her and that squalling whelp of hers. I don't know which of them is noisier. The only time he ever stops crying is when she shoves a nipple in his mouth, and then she starts to sob."

Psst, Sam.

"Dalla's boy. He cries when he wants the teat. Mine . . . mine hardly ever cries. Sometimes he gurgles, but . . ." Her eyes filled with tears. - Samwell I, AFFC

+.+.+

The next day the rains began, and the seas grew rougher. "We had best go below, where it's dry," Sam said to Aemon, but the old maester only smiled, and said, "The rain feels good against my face, Sam. It feels like tears. Let me stay awhile longer, I pray you. It has been a long time since last I wept."

Cold rain will not give you pneumonia, but this is still stupid.

+.+.+

She rose at once, and together they got the old maester out of his wet clothes and buried him beneath a pile of furs. His skin was damp and cold, though, clammy to the touch. "You get in with him," Sam told Gilly. "Hold him. Warm him with your body. We have to warm him up." She did that too, never saying a word, all the while still sniffling. "Where's Dareon?" asked Sam. "We'd all be warmer if we were together. He needs to be here too." He was headed back up top to find the singer when the deck rose up beneath him, then fell away beneath his feet. Gilly wailed, Sam slammed down hard and lost his legs, and the babe woke screaming.

The next roll of the ship came as he was struggling back to his feet. It threw Gilly into his arms, and the wildling girl clung to him so fiercely that Sam could hardly breathe. "Don't you be frightened," he told her. "This is just an adventure. One day you'll tell your son this tale." That only made her dig her nails into his arm. She shuddered, her whole body shaking with the violence of her sobs. Whatever I say just makes her worse. He held her tightly, uncomfortably aware of her breasts pressing up against him. As frightened as he was, somehow that was enough to make him stiff. She'll feel it, he thought, ashamed, but if she did, she gave no sign, only clung to him the harder.

Samwell and Victarion competing for most inappropriate erection in AFFC.

I'm not spoiling it, you'll have to wait.

+.+.+

The captain broached a cask of firewine to fortify the oarsmen. Sam tried a cup and sighed as hot snakes wriggled down his throat and through his chest. Dareon took a liking to the drink as well, and was seldom sober thereafter.

Drinky, drinky.

+.+.+

As Blackbird rounded the south coast of Skagos, they spotted the wreckage of a galley on the rocks. Some of her crew had washed up on the shore, and the rooks and crabs had gathered to pay them homage. "Too bloody close," grumbled Old Tattersalt when he saw.

We'll hear about this galley again.

Jon feared for Sam and Maester Aemon. Cotter Pyke had written from Eastwatch to report that the Storm Crow had sighted the wreckage of a galley along the coast of Skagos. Whether the broken ship was Blackbird, one of Stannis Baratheon's sellsails, or some passing trader, the crew of the Storm Crow had not been able to discern. - Jon V, ADWD

I think it belongs to Salladhor Saan? I'm not sure. Seems like it might be important though.

The galleys Oledo and Old Mother's Son had been driven onto the rocks of Skagos, the isle of unicorns and cannibals where even the Blind Bastard had feared to land; the great cog Saathos Saan had foundered off the Grey Cliffs. "Stannis will be paying for them," Salladhor Saan had fumed. - Davos I, ADWD

+.+.+

Exhausted as they were, his rowers bent to their oars again, and the ship clawed south toward the narrow sea, till Skagos dwindled to no more than a few dark shapes in the sky that might have been thunderheads, or the tops of tall black mountains, or both. After that, they had eight days and seven nights of clear, smooth sailing.

Then came more storms, worse than before.

Was it three storms, or only one, broken up by lulls? Sam never knew, though he tried desperately to care.

It's three, but one is worse than the other two.

+.+.+

Gilly was sobbing. The babe was shrieking. And up top he could hear Old Tattersalt bellowing at his crew, the ragged captain who never spoke at all.

Psst, Sam.

"Dalla's boy. He cries when he wants the teat. Mine . . . mine hardly ever cries. Sometimes he gurgles, but . . ." Her eyes filled with tears. - Samwell I, AFFC

+.+.+

Sam was at his wit's end by then. He had almost gotten used to the smells, but between the storms and Gilly's sobbing he had not slept for days. "Isn't there something you can give her?" he asked Maester Aemon very softly, when he saw that the old man was awake. "Some herb or potion, so she won't be so afraid?"

"It is not fear you hear," the old man told him. "That is the sound of grief, and there is no potion for that. Let her tears run their course, Sam. You cannot stem the flow."

How can one man be so smart, and so stupid at the same time?

+.+.+

"Sam," the old man whispered, "you have two good eyes, and yet you do not see. She is a mother grieving for her child."

I guarantee there's some theory out there that Aemon and Syrio Forel are the same person.

+.+.+

It took Sam a moment to grasp what Aemon was suggesting. "That couldn't . . . she wouldn't . . . of course he's hers. Gilly would never have left the Wall without her son. She loves him."

"She nursed them both and loved them both," said Aemon, "but not alike. No mother loves all her children the same, not even the Mother Above. Gilly did not leave the child willingly, I am certain. What threats the Lord Commander made, what promises, I can only guess . . . but threats and promises there surely were."

"No. No, that's wrong. Jon would never . . ."

"Jon would never. Lord Snow did. Sometimes there is no happy choice, Sam, only one less grievous than the others."

Yeah, and thank you for giving us Lord Snow, grandpa.

+.+.+

No happy choice. Sam thought of all the trials that he and Gilly suffered, Craster's Keep and the death of the Old Bear, snow and ice and freezing winds, days and days and days of walking, the wights at Whitetree, Coldhands and the tree of ravens, the Wall, the Wall, the Wall, the Black Gate beneath the earth. What had it all been for? No happy choices and no happy endings.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to howl and sob and shake and curl up in a little ball and whimper. He switched the babes, he told himself. He switched the babes to protect the little prince, to keep him away from Lady Melisandre's fires, away from her red god. If she burns Gilly's boy, who will care? No one but Gilly. He was only Craster's whelp, an abomination born of incest, not the son of the King-beyond-the-Wall. He's no good for a hostage, no good for a sacrifice, no good for anything, he doesn't even have a name.

I love how incensed he is.

Samwell communicating to the reader that Melisandre might burn Gilly's son has to be a good thing, right? Would George reveal the swap, then immediately tell you what's going to happen? I don't think so. It all has to be a cover-up for Shireen, yes? Sacrificing a baby and a child is so unnecessary.

+.+.+

The wind was in the sails, and to the north Sam could even see a scattering of stars, and the red wanderer the free folk called the Thief. That ought to be my star, Sam thought miserably. I helped to make Jon Lord Commander, and I brought him Gilly and the babe. There are no happy endings.

There are happy endings!

Today I learned the Thief is mostly likely Mars, or the ASoIaF equivalent. I have nothing else to say.

+.+.+

"No." Sam wiped his nose, and pointed south with a fat finger, toward the gathering darkness. "There," he said. No sooner had he spoken than lightning flashed, sudden and silent and blinding bright. The distant clouds glowed for half a heartbeat, mountains heaped on mountains, purple and red and yellow, taller than the world. "The worst isn't done. The worst is just beginning, and there are no happy endings."

"Gods be good," said Dareon, laughing. "Slayer, you are such a craven."

I love that he points at lightning right before saying that.

(and right before someone calls him craven.)

Final thoughts:

Please give me a Samwell x Gilly happy ending. Please?

-> return to menu <-

#operation stumpy re-read #affc #samwell ii

49 notes · View notes