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yourstruly-sephie · 2 years

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𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍

𝐃 𝐫 𝐚 𝐠 𝐨 𝐧 𝐃 𝐫 𝐞 𝐚 𝐦 𝐬

𝟐𝟕𝟖 𝐀𝐂 | 𝐆𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐧’𝐬 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐭

Air. Air. I need to breathe. Were the words that ran through Nyrella's mind as she hit the surface of the stagnant lake. The impact was painful–burned even, despite her entire body fully submerged in the cool waters. Her breath ripped from her lungs, and quickly swelled up with a choke full of the bitter liquid. She tried her best to hold the remaining air in her mouth, but it was close to nothing. Her eyes jutted open to see the surface feets away from her, reflecting the world she was desperate to breathe again.

She clawed her hands through the water, using her legs to kick herself up to the illuminating light, but she only found herself sinking deeper and deeper into the darkness. Her eyes burned with no choice but to close them. Her ears popped at the pressure of the depth causing them to ring painfully in irritation. She was desperate, desperate for the surface.

It was this desperation that made her panic boil over. With everything she's got, she frantically pushes and kicks through the water, reaching her hands as far as they can reach. The remaining air in her mouth slowly escaped through the corners of her lips with every stroke. As if the lake were alive, it did not want to let her go. The water grew heavier with every resistance she made. The water gripped around her limbs, pulling her into the confines of the deep.

Her chest felt like caving-in, pulsating painfully with the rhythm of her heartbeat, that seemed only to get louder and louder as she sank. She wanted to scream. Do anything to get out. But as she opened her eyes again, she was farther away from the surface than when she first opened them. The hope in her mind of escape dwindled like the breath in her lungs.

Then, she thought about them. The people she cared about, who were waiting at the surface of the lake. She wondered if they knew she was drowning, and fighting to resurface and be with them once again. She wanted to feel their warmth, not the cold embrace of the desolate lake. She prayed with every being of her soul that they realized something was wrong. But, they could not see her, hear her, or anything else. She was in too deep.

There was only one thing she could do...wait.

Nyrella instinctively wrapped her hands around her throat, trying desperately to hold her breath for longer. Her body craved the sweet savor of oxygen. It was enticing, alluring like the song of sirens in fairytales and myths. She knew better not to listen to her grieving mind, denying the prospects, but she was hanging on a loose thread. She wanted a breath, to taste her own version of ambrosia, the nectar of the gods.

And she did. Her hands became limp as she took a deep, deep breath. Yet, there was no satisfaction. The hunger for oxygen did not curb as she continued to inhale large amounts of water. She felt the liquid burn her throat all the way to her lungs. The feeling of water filling her lungs was a heavy pain like pushing a rock up a steep mountain. In the end, the weight of water pressed inside her hurt badly.

As she inhaled more and more, her mind became muddled with vertigo. Her senses could not tell the difference between the feeling of the slow moving water or the freeness of the surface. Slowly, her mind became less of her own and leaned more to the darkness. She soon became calm—mind and body. She was cathartic, an out of body experience as she felt her soul slowly ascend her body, all in the while she sank to the depths of the lake's darkness.

She was too weak to fight anymore, opting to take comfort with the calm of her mind. With the little strength she had, she tilted her head back to the surface above. She felt her tears mold with the water and the pit of her stomach was deeper than this hole she was in. Hope made everything worse. She took another inhale of water to drown the worst of her thoughts. She welcomed the calmness because it was a step before death.

Her vision started to spot with black dots, then she started to hear them. Voices were calling out to her. It was soothing, their voices gentle and captivating. They were telling her to sleep, to close her eyes and find them in the comfort of darkness. And if she listened closely, she could hear the voices of the people she loved most, the ones above the surface.

Nyrella took another inhale, blacking out. Her body floated through the water, her limbs at a natural rest, and her face at peace. Yet, she was not entirely gone. In her mind, she was still alive, barely holding on to a strip of consciousness. She had found herself locked in a dream.

She stood at the shores of her birth place, Dragonstone. Dark clouds surrounded the island, the noise of thunder ringing throughout with a loud clash. She willed herself to move forward, feeling the crunch of sand underneath her boots. As she walked further and further, she could smell something burning, smoke and ash filled her nostrils. Fire, she said to herself. She walked a little fast, a jog in her steps. As she turned the corner of the beach, she found herself stopping abruptly. Her mouth gaped open, eyes bulging open, and breathlessly in shock.

Standing in the middle of the beach was a dragon, a dragon with three heads. The huge beast was staying still, its three heads looking down at a woman in front of them. A woman shared the same silver-blonde hair of the Valyrians. Nyrella took meek steps towards the figures. She observed as the woman reached her hand out to affectionately caress the heads of the frightening creature. A dragon rider, Nyrella whispered to herself but it reached the ears of the Valyrian woman and her dragon. The figures turned towards Nyrella, their demeanors changed to expressions that told her to come no further, a warning. Nyrella froze, holding her breath.

The heads of the dragon rose higher, their nostrils flaring and their sharp teeth making an appearance. The woman walked in front of the dragon, standing tall and mighty, she walked a couple of feet towards Nyrella. She stopped a good distance away, leaving enough buffer for the women to see and hear one another.

"Where am I?" Nyrella asked the woman.

The dragon rider scoffed, "you know where you are."

"Dragonstone, but why?" Nyrella furrowed her brows together.

The woman took another step forward. She extended her closed hands forward. Nyrella focused her attention on the woman's hand, curious of what she was to reveal. "Be careful what you wish for," she wanted Nyrella.

As she lifted her top hand, Nyrella was hit with disgust. In the woman's hand, she held glittering rubies swimming a puddle of melted gold and the deepest shade of red blood. The molten gold and blood dripped through the gaps of the woman's hand, landing on the dry sand. "The dragon must have three heads," the woman told her.

Nyrella took a step back as the items in the woman's hand turned into a black goo. Her head snapped towards the three-head dragon, their heads leaning forward as their mouths opened wide. Then, she looked back at the woman, who wore sad eyes like she was mourning someone's death. Her lips parted, "Dracarys."

.・゜゜・♛・゜゜・.

"Come on, Nyrella," Arthur gritted his teeth as his arms pushed down on her chest. He had lost track of time as he pressed her chest, praying to the Seven for her to awake from the slumber of darkness. A few seconds felt like an eternity.

"Arthur..." Richard reached out to touch the Kingsguard's shoulder, but Arthur turned his body away from his friend.

"Don't you say it Richard!" he yelled at his friend as he stayed in tune, compressing Nyrella's chest.

"She's gone, Arthur, stop it now," Richard told his friend. "It's been minutes, there is no–"

"No! She's still here, she is still–"

Rhaegar laid his hand on Arthur's hands, stopping his friend, "Arthur. She's gone. She does not have a heartbeat anymore."

Arthur looked into the Prince's eyes, finding truth in his friend's gaze. It was everything Arthur was afraid of. At that moment, he felt the string holding his hope snap apart. Arthur fell back on the ball of his feet, a stream of hot tears escaped his violet eyes. He scanned over Nyrella's still cold body. There was no life in her, no rising chest nor heartbeat. He hated the silence. He wanted nothing more than to fill the void with the sound of her laughter. He wanted to hear her sing songs and lullabies. He wanted to hear her say his name. He wanted her back.

She took her limp hand in his, rubbing his thumb over her skin. "I'm so sorry Nyrella," his voice meek and his words wavered, "I failed you." His tears fell on her cold skin, sliding down to the stony pebbles that she laid on. He held onto her tightly, not having the will, the strength to let go. Not yet.

Suddenly, Arthur felt a squeeze from her hand. Then, a gasp.

"Nyrella! She's awake! Help her! Nyrella!" Everyone was shouting over each other.

Nyrella snapped open, a heap of water escaped her mouth. "Nyrella! You're okay! Cough it all up!" Arthur assured her as he continued to hold her to her side. Arthur quickly turned her to her side, patting her back with his open palm. She was coughing the water from her lungs along with the bits of contents from her stomach.

Nyrella took a long deep breath of air, she laid back on the pebbled shore. Rhaegar rushed to embrace his sister, holding her close to his chest. He found himself sobbing again. Nyrella was disoriented, lost in the situation. Arthur observed as she blinked her eyes a few times, adjusting to the brightness of the surface. She then found his gaze, "Arthur, I'm cold."

Immediately hearing Nyrella's words, Rhaegar let go of his embrace. He looked towards the other people in his company, giving them commands and directions to get help. In the meanwhile, Arthur grabbed a blanket close by, laying it on top of Nyrella's shivering body.

"You're going to be okay," Arthur told her as he cupped her face. "I've got you," he squeezed her hand.

.・゜゜・♛・゜゜・.

Days had passed since the day Nyrella almost drowned at the lake. Everyone was not the same ever since, filling the castle of Griffin's Roost with guilt, sorrow, and regret. There was not anything anyone could do to remedy the awful feeling that loomed over them. The thought of losing the Princess, their friend, was a dreadful thought that had a heart wrenching feeling in the chest. Everyone present at the lake that day felt responsible for causing such a disaster to happen in the first place.

Rhaegar, Jon, and Arthur were spending their time in one of the many drawing rooms of the castle. There was a silence among the three men as they did their best to fill the void conversation with tasks. The Dragon Prince has his head in an old book, so old that the binding threatened to come apart with every page turn. Arthur was attending to his great sword, Dawn, polishing the milky blade with a cloth, keeping the beautiful steel shining brighter than the stars at night. Jon stood in front of the glass window, looking out into the distance of the ocean, his mind spacing out as he thought of nothing yet everything. The three men were like this for sometime now.

Then, a young servant boy came into the room, striding over to the light-haired Prince. He handed Rhaegar a wrapped scroll that had a wax sigil of a stag. Rhaegar thanked the servant boy as he quickly departed. The Prince opened the letter, reading over the fine print of the contents inside.

"What does it say?" Jon questioned as he turned around to face the Dragon Prince.

Rhaegar shook his head, letting out a deep sigh, "It is from Robert Baratheon."

"What does he want?" The taste of disgust is ever so present on Jon's tongue.

"He asks for Nyrella's health on behalf of his father. He wishes to know if there are any accommodations needed for when we arrive at Storm's End in a fortnight. He hopes for a fast recovery for my sister," he explained the contents of the scroll.

Arthur sheathed Dawn away, striding over to Rhaegar's side and snatching the parchment for himself. "Dearest cousin?" The Kingsguard read with confusion.

"He called you 'dearest cousin?'" Jon turned around to show the nasty expression molded on his handsome features.

"You are related to the Baratheons?" Arthur asked Rhaegar.

"Through Rhaelle Targaryen. My grandfather, Jaehaerys' younger sister. Don't let the affectionate title fool you, Robert is only taunting," Rhaegar got up from his seat, walking towards the table of wine. "I was never fond of him and his lifestyle," he added on as he gripped the handle of the flask.

"I heard he fathered a bastard up in the Vale with a common woman, and now that he has eyes to betrothed himself to a northern lady. If I was one of the Seven, I would not have him reproduce offspring. Having one Robert Baratheon is toture enough," Jon crossed his arms over his chest.

"Must be death for you then when you stay at Storm's End," Rhaegar told the redhead, pointing his chalice at him before drinking the sweet wine.

Arthur set the parchment down, "why wouldn't Lord Steffon write himself?"

"Because Lord Steffon wants a betrothal between Robert and Nyrella," Jon responded.

"What?" Arthur turned to Rhaegar with confusion, "you never told me this?"

The Heir of Dragonstone set his chalice down on the table, he shrugged his shoulders, "It's never going to happen. Lord Steffon could try as he might, I am not letting a man like Robert near my sister."

"And is there anyone else that has been trying for her hand," Arthur blurted out.

"Of course," Rhaegar answered. "It won't stop until she is married or at least betrothed, but it seems difficult to wish for something to come hastily. My sister has not expressed any interest in who she wants to marry."

Arthur tilted his head slightly at Rhaegar. "What about Myles?"

"What about Myles?" Rhaegar questioned.

"What about me?" Myles said as he heard his name almost immediately when he walked into the room. The three men turned to the knight with wide eyes, surprised at him in the drawing room.

Rhaegar smiled at his former squire, "Good to see you, Myles. How is Nyrella? Is she faring well with her fever?"

Myles made his way to a nearby chair, "The maester said that her fever is going down, and predicts in a few days she will be let out of bed. But other than that, Nyrella is asking for you three. She wants you all to visit her."

Jon pursed his lips, "Are you sure she said all three of us? She must've only said Rhaegar and Arthur."

The Knight of Maidenpool shook his head in disagreement, "she said to all three, and she wants the visit now if it is possible."

"She is not angry with you Jon," Arthur spoke directly to the redhead, his tone gentle and assuring. "She does not hold what happened against you."

"I think I shall pass the opportunity," Jon sighed, swiping his hand over his hand. "I need to meet up with my steward to talk about the budgetary." With that, Jon nodded towards his friend, striding across the room and out into the hallway of the castle.

Rhaegar watched the lord go, knowing that feeling he must be going through. It would be a lie if Rhaegar said he did not feel the same. There were moments during his days and nights, thinking about what he could have done differently on that fateful day at the lake. It was a guilt that twisted and turned deep inside his stomach, aching terribly.

"Now you two must go," Myles licked his dry lips, he tried wearing a light smile to the duo, "her only request is that she is not left alone."

.・゜゜・♛・゜゜・.

The atmosphere inside Nyrella's temporary compartments was a dull one. The curtains were drawn closed, emitting little sparse light that managed to pierce through the fabric. There were many concoctions and medical instruments laying around the room, sitting on chairs or nearby the vanity and nightstand. And at the center of all was a sickly Nyrella, buried under large amounts of blankets and a wet cloth over her forehead.

Rhaegar slipped to her side, intertwining his hands with her's. A ghostly tight lipped smile formed as he tried to find the strength to speak, "You look better than the other day."

Nyrella smiled back weakly, but a series of coughs trailed after. She covered her mouth with her arm, coughing out the contents in her lungs. Rhaegar grabbed the nearby bucket, pushing it towards his sister's side. Nyrella mumbled her gratitude, spitting the greenish yellow phlegm into the bottom of the container. Once she was done, Rhaegar returned the bucket to its original place.

"That is what the Maester said," she coughed into her arm again. "But I still have a fever and the occasional shivers."

"You will get better," Rhaegar tightened his hold on her hand. "You have the blood of the dragon in you," he told her as he rubbed his thumb over her hand.

"They say that us Targaryens do not get sick," Nyrella piqued into a teasing grin, "but I could count on my finger the Targaryens that have."

"That is because they did not have dragons," Rhaegar explained.

Nyrella hummed, "does that mean my fate is sealed?"

"No, it is not sweet sister," Rhaegar extended his hand to stroke the side of her face, "you are strong, and you will not be a name etched on a stone. I won't allow it."

Nyrella found comfort in her brother's words. She turned her head to the right, where a silent Kingsguard stood. "Why are you so far away, ser? Are you afraid I'll get you sick?"

Arthur bowed his head at Nyrella, taking a step forward, "I do not want to intrude your conversation with your brother."

"Intruding? Never. If I wanted to talk to Rhaegar alone, I would have only asked for him, but I asked for you and..."

"Jon extends his apologies," Arthur spoke, "He had other engagements to attend to."

The princess hummed, turning her head back to look at her brother, "that is not the only reason he did not come is it? I have not seen him since we came back to Griffin's Roost, and I do not blame him for what happened, all I want is—"

"Take a breath, Ny," Rhaegar interrupted. "You might not blame him, but he blames himself." Rhaegar took another deep exhale, "you really scared us. We thought...we thought you were gone. I saw you take your last breath, and ..."

Nyrella squeezed Rhaegar's hand, forcing him to look into her eyes, "I thought so too, but... I—not until I— I had a dream, Rhaegar. A dragon dream."

Dragon dreams were not an uncommon thing for members with the blood of the dragon. Many Targaryens and some Blackfyres alike were given this gift, or some would say, curse, through generations and generations. It is their blood, their ties to Old Valyria, and bond to their dragons that gave them the ability to have prophetic dreams that were known for their vibrancy, violence, and dragons. These dreams were not like other dreams. Dragon dreams foretold the future and destiny. Daenys the Dreamer was the most famous Targaryen for her dreams. She foretold the doom of Valyria through her powerful prophetic dreams of dragons falling from the sky and the fourteen volcanoes erupting lava and smoke. It was through her dreams that saved the Targaryens and gave them a new purpose in the far lands of Westeros. Many Targaryens seeked their dreams to imitate the same glory as Daenys, but dreams are never a straight answer. Many Targaryens are struck with misfortune and tragedy with their dreams, more than glory.

"Tell me about it," Rhaegar urged, eager to hear the dream. From a young age, Rhaegar had frequent dragon dreams that often led him to his fascination with reading and spending time alone with books. He never had guessed Nyrella would have the ability to dream.

"I was on the shores of Dragonstone. I saw this woman with a three-headed dragon by her side. She had hair like ours and she was a dragon rider because I felt her connection to the dragon. Then, she turned to me, showing me her palm..." Nyrella swallowed the stone in her throat, she cannot forget the gory imagine of the woman's hand.

"What was on the palm of her hand?" Rhaegar snapped Nyrella out of her spacing stare.

"Rubies swimming in a puddle of molten gold and blood," she told him. She flicked her eyes deep into Rhaegar's indigo irises, "'The dragon must have three heads,' she warned me."

Rhaegar came to a halting quiet.

"Then, the dragon burned me with its fire. That is when I woke up," she told him. "I haven't been able to keep it out of my mind. The fire, the items in her hand, the woman... it all felt so real. Do you think...it is possible that dragons could exist again?"

"Dragons have not existed for years, Ny. It is not possible they could exist now," Rhaegar answered.

"But our great grandfather had a dream about dragons—"

"And Aegon died, along with his heir and his Lord Commander in Summerhall," Rhaegar blurted out. "Dreams are not easy to foretell."

"Then what does it tell, brother," she responded with a steady expression, no joy present on her face. She could not help but feel slighted by her brother. He treats her like a child and she hates it.

Rhaegar let go of Nyrella's hand, standing up from the bed. "You should not worry about your dream. We shall not speak of it again," said with a forceful tone. He turned around to leave the room, but Nyrella was not done with him.

"I forgot to tell you," Nyrella spoke up, "before I felt the flames, I saw a red star paint the sky."

Rhaegar stopped, processing the new information. Nyrella desperately wanted him to turn around and face her. She knew he was hiding something from her, and all she wanted was for him to tell her. She needed the answer to the dreams that had been on her mind for days since she woke from the lake's slumber. But, Rhaegar continued towards the exit and his figure disappeared behind the door.

Nyrella buried her head deeper into the feather pillows, she felt a surge of insignificant cover her mind. Her chest was heavy, and a round of coughs escaped her throat, meekly covering her mouth with the back of her hand. She also felt weak. The remnants of the lake were still with her, affecting her health and relationships with the people around her. She could not stand up without vomiting blood and her food, and she could not have a decent conversation with someone without them looking at her as if she was a fragile little thing and them having to walk around with eggshells. She wanted what she had before her drowning.

"Are you okay princess?" Arthur took a step forward, his voice filled with concern as he noticed Nyrella's coughing episode took longer to decline.

Nyrella extended her other hand, shaking it towards the Kingsguard, a signal for him not to come closer. Then, she grabbed the bucket next to her bedside, turning her body to spit the nasty contents from her coughing. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, taking a desperate breath.

"I should call the maester to—"

"No, please. I don't need any more coddling from the maester. I am very well, ser," she told him as she laid back on bed.

Arthur nodded. He could tell by the tone of Nyrella's voice that she was frustrated, and he did not want to add on to her mood or worse be at the end of it.

Nyrella shifted her focus to Arthur again, "why didn't you leave with Rhaegar?"

"Because I heard you didn't like being alone," Arthur responded truthfully. He knew he could have followed Rhaegar out of the room, but even before coming to see Nyrella, he knew he could not leave her so easily. The words that Myles said earlier about how Nyrella did not want to be alone, striked something in Arthur. He understood why.

For the first time in a long while, Nyrella smiled for real. "Thank you, Arthur," she told him. Staring into his violet eyes, she understood that he knew her reason. Being alone in the middle of the lake drowning, unlocked a fear she never had before, a fear of being alone in death. She never wanted to feel that again.

"Thank you for everything," she continued. "I never thanked you for saving my life. If it weren't for you, I would be as good as dead. I owe you a debt for which I cannot pay even with how much gold dragons I can offer. Thank you for not giving up on me, I-I—"

"You are welcome Nyrella," Arthur assured. He took another step forward, closing the distance between them. Nyrella extended her hand towards him, which Arthur gladly took in his.

Arthur fought the emotions that dared to escape his well-crafted facade. The last time he touched her hand, she was cold like ice, a mark of someone who has passed. But now, feeling her warmth against his skin, it overwhelmed him with relief.

"Are you okay Arthur?" Nyrella questioned, pulling her hand away from him. Arthur exhaled, cherishing her touch for a second more. "You seem sadder most days," Nyrella tried to find his eyes, but he kept his gaze averted.

"I am all right, just tired," he lied through his teeth, an aching smile forming on his bow-shaped lips.

Nyrella hummed, burying her head deeper into the comfort of her pillows, the sleep was creeping onto her eyes, "Maybe when I am recovered we can spend the day at the gardens, just us two, like old times—happier times."

Arthur nodded, "I look forward to that day. I will have to ask your brother's permission."

"Nonsense," declared Nyrella. Her eyes flickered with playfulness, "you could always go secretly to meet me."

He chuckled at the proposition, "like old times? I don't think I can, that is more your play."

"It does not hurt to try, ser," Nyrella jested.

"Nyrella," Arthur started, "do you believe in what you saw in your dream?" He questioned, changing back to the topic that made Rhaegar leave.

The princess thought for a second before nodding slowly. She still did not know how to interrupt her dragon dreams, but it felt too important to plainly ignore it like her brother had told her. She knew he had dragon dreams as well, especially when they were younger. Yet, he never told her what they were. "Truly. Do you know anything about it?" Nyrella cleared her parched throat.

"This is the first time I've heard such a dream and I am not suitable to give my judgement...but the maesters might," he offered. "They have documents about your family and maybe about their dreams."

"A maester's retelling can never be the whole truth," Nyrella remarked.

"But it can help you to the truth," Arthur shined an optimistic light, "you must try."

Nyrella licked her lips, pondering at Arthur's words. She weighed her choices. It would be a long journey to find the answers she was looking for and there is a certainty that she might not even come to a conclusion, but she could never know unless she tried. "Why are you helping me?"

"Because..." Arthur paused, hesitating on the words he would say next. "Because it's my duty." Another lie straight from his noble mouth. He did not have the strength to say what he truly wanted to say to her.

Nyrella slightly nodded her head, trying hard for the smile on her face to not falter. She should have known it would be his answer. It was never her expectation to hear anything more than that, but it felt like a stab in her chest and she did not understand why.

.・゜゜・♛・゜゜・.

Arthur's index slid on the spines of the old worn-out covers that belonged to the tattered books. He quickly read each name quickly as he went, in search of something that he needed. It has been quite awhile since he found himself in the company of so many books surrounded with dust and the smell of aging parchment. In his hands, he carried a few books that weighed heavier than he expected and some of them looked to have never been touched since their creation.

"Arthur, the maester gave me all the scrolls in the archive that mentions the Targaryens," Jon said as he approached his Dornish friend with a handful of browning parchment. Arthur turned towards the lord, extending his hand out to read what he found.

"I wouldn't read about that one," Jon tried to warn Arthur, but the Kingsguard already was reading the contents inside the scroll.

"This is a receipt of how many barrels of summer wine Prince Daeron bought," Arthur turned to Jon with a raised brow.

Jon shrugged, "I warned you. Not all of these scrolls are as important as some."

Arthur shook his head, giving the scroll back into Jon's hands, "a hundred barrels for one person." He walked past the redhead towards a nearby table.

"But he didn't die from alcoholism which is a feat I dare say so," Jon grinned as he turned to see Arthur place the books he carried on the wooden surface. Jon followed after him, taking a seat on the chair and spreading the scrolls around.

"You don't think of doing the same, do you?" Arthur raised a brow at Jon, who was grinning like a madman. He fully knew the answer to his own question which made him shake his head in disappointment.

Jon rolled his eyes, spreading his arm wide, "Come on Arthur, life is too short to only have a small amount of wine. Live a little, I know you didn't spend the golden dragons you won. Might as well treat yourself now before we depart back to King's Landing soon."

"There are better things spent than wine," Arthur told his friend.

"Whatever you say but my opinion stays the same," Jon responded, taking the nearest scroll in front of him and reading the contents.

Arthur chuckled lightly. There were moments when Jon could be irritating, annoying, and plainly a handful to be around, but other than that Jon was a good honest person, loyal to his friends. Arthur appreciates that Jon accompanied him to the library to help his search to uncover the answers to Nyrella's dragon dreams. The lord did not hesitate in his answer. Even though he does not have the will to visit Nyrella, there is no doubt he will do anything to help or support her. He cares very much about her.

"You know..." Jon interrupted the quiet that had befallen them. Arthur hummed, signaling that he was listening. "Prophetic dreams are rare. Only a few Targaryens are gifted with premonition. I find it interesting that Rhaegar and Nyrella have it."

Arthur looked at Jon with furrowed brows, "Rhaegar and Nyrella?"

"Yes, they both have these so-called dragon dreams. Well, Rhaegar has them more than Nyrella," Jon stated, unscrolling another piece of old parchment.

"Rhaegar, also, has these dreams?" Arthur was careful to ask. He closed the book he was reading to listen to what Jon had to say.

Jon hummed, "Obviously. I am surprised you didn't ask him. He mentioned once that he read about this prophecy about a prince that was promised."

"The Prince that was promised," Arthur repeated the words.

"That is all I know. I didn't care to listen more, I figured it was some Targaryen nonsense," Jon shrugged and discarded the parchment in his hands.

Arthur's mind started to turn. He had no idea Rhaegar had these dreams, and from his understanding, Rhaegar has been exposed to prophecies earlier than Nyrella. It made sense to Arthur why he asked why he did yesterday towards hearing Nyrella's retelling what she experienced in her dream. But, he still did not have the answer as to why he told Nyrella that her dreams were insignificant. Arthur would think Rhaegar would be supportive...unless he was hiding something.

"What are you two doing here?" The familiar rich tones of Rhaegar's voice echoed through the room, every syllable bouncing off the walls.

Arthur and Jon stopped what they were doing, snapping their attention to the Dragon Prince, who was approaching them with a curious expression. There was no time for the duo to hide their findings. Arthur would need to confront him directly.

When Rhaegar reached his friends, his gaze was immediately scanning over the text of leather bound covers and the scattered parchment all over the table. "Studying my family history? I hope it is not about Nyrella's dream," Rhaegar asked as he picked up one of the many scrolls. He looked over between his two friends, wanting his question to be answered.

Arthur clenched his hand, "It is. We are helping her find answers to what she saw—"

"You heard me clearly, Arthur," Rhaegar interrupted, setting the scroll down, "There is a reason why I told her to never speak of it. It is for her own good."

"Yes but—"

"There are no buts," Rhaegar sternly said. "You are doing a chivalrous action to help, but I feel you are letting your affection for my sister lead your decisions."

Arthur tightened his fist, "you are wrong about that. I am not making decisions based on my affections for your sister."

"Then what is it? Duty?" The Dragon Prince challenged. "We both know duty is not your answer. I know it is difficult to let go of your feelings to my sister, but —"

"I am well aware of what you are going to say. You do not have to repeat them to me for they live in my mind always," Arthur told him.

Rhaegar nodded, swallowing the dryness in his throat. He could see the torture in Arthur's eyes and the built up pain he has from hiding away his feelings. But there was nothing Rhaegar could do. "As a friend, I cannot tell you about what I know about dragon dreams, but I will tell you that it would be better for Nyrella not to know. She has duties as a princess to fulfill."

"Like marrying her off," Arthur answered bitterly.

"As I said before. She has not shown interest in anyone during her tour, so I decided to arrange a gathering of suitor's for her when we arrive at Storm's End," Rhaegar announced.

"What about Myles," the Kingsguard blurted out. There was a mild snap when Myles' name came out of his mouth that did not go unnoticed by his friends.

Jon tilted his head, "Myles Mooton?"

"And what about him?" Rhaegar questioned.

"She has shown interest in him," Arthur answered, clutching his jaw.

Rhaegar hummed before letting out an exhausting sigh, "and if she did. I would not allow it."

"What?" Arthur was taken aback by Rhaegar's directness. This was not the answer he expected from Rhaegar, clearly the opposite of what he thought. "Why? Myles is a strong candidate for your sister's hand."

Rhaegar licked his chapped lips, "do you remember when Nyrella and I had an argument a few years ago during Viserys' name day?"

The Kingsguard nodded slowly, not entirely sure of where this conversation was heading.

"I was angry and I said a horrible thing to her," Rhaegar recounted the day they stood on the beach and saw her tear-stained cheeks, "I hurt her most by telling her who in their right minds would marry her if they knew she cannot provide an heir. She is..." Arthur did not connect what Rhaegar was implying.

"She is infertile. The very reason my father did not wed us and the reason I cannot marry her to Myles. Myles wants a family, and I would be taking that choice from him if I allowed it," Rhaegar spoke solemnly.

Arthur could not believe what he was hearing. "So you would let her marry someone else? Do you know the consequences of what would happen if they found out? What would they do to your sister?"

"They won't find out," Rhaegar assured. "I will make sure of it."

"This is unfair to Nyrella," Arthur said. He felt bad for being bitter towards Myles and Nyrella. He wanted nothing more than to unhear the information Rhaegar gave to him because witnessing someone tearing two people apart without their knowledge felt painful to witness. Myles and Nyrella never had a chance in the beginning because their lives were already set up for them without their consent.

"It is, but this is how the game is played."

#asoiaf #pre asoiaf #house targaryen #targaryen oc #oc female #female!oc #prince rhaegar #rhaegar targaryen #house dayne #arthur and nyrella #arthur dayne fanfic #arthur dayne fanfiction #arthur dayne x oc #arthur dayne #house connington #jon connington #griffin’s roost #myles mooton #house mooton

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tronodiferro · 1 year

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House Connington of Griffin's Roost

GameOfThronesFanatic-Knjiga

#House Connington of Griffin's Roost #House Baratheon #Westeros #George R. R. Martin #ASOIAF #A Song of Ice and Fire #Game of Thrones #House of the Dragon #asoiafart #GOT #HOTD

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peaceful-roadkill · 1 year

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I forgot to say that THE GANG GOT GRIFF HIS LEGS BACK

#Paxdraws #oc #dnd #Dragons Roost #Griffin Wheatley

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visenyaism · 4 days

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hey why do people write jon’s name as all one word. hi i’m jonsnow. yk

Well Jon is a night and the exiled former Lord of Griffin’s Roost introduced in a dance with dragons who is currently leading his very doomed sweet lamb of an adopted son to his death on the sacrificial altar of dynastic ambition which can never bring back what is already lost to reconquer Westeros with the golden company even though he’s slowly dying of grayscale. I love Jon he is a really interesting character and every single one of his chapters is just filled with this internal conflict that’s just like. abandoned temple ozymandias sense of lost glory and extreme melancholy and desiccation into ruin while everything is still so deeply intimate and small and interpersonal to him. It’s so good. oh and then there’s jonsnow he got elected class president hes in a dance with dragons too. good for him

#in twow when every single jonsnow chapter is epithet titled and then the joncon chapters are just jon you will understand. you will all see #asoiaf

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bucknastysbabe · 1 year

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thanks so much! that’s totally fine, it doesn’t even need to be a full blown imagine even just a small blurb will suffice. I just can’t get chubby Aegon out of my head, I feel like he’d be insecure but the reader would make him feel okay about the way he is. And he’d just be so needy for her, but when he sees people trying to steal her from him, another side shows of him & he plays the King card so well.

God just imagine sitting on his thick thighs while he sits the Iron Throne.

THE THOUGHT OF THE THIGHS N THRONE SLURP, sorry if this was super short but I have another one in the askbox for chubby Aegon too hehe

Also I accidentally spent on this adit app best 50 accident ever so I can make someome chonk lmfao

Big king, bigger thighs, biggest throne

Rating: Mature

Tags: TW wg, fluffy, chats of sex, chubby jealous Aegon, hims wife is sweet, general awe, wife reader

Aegon pulled you from the visiting lord of Griffin’s Roost, plump lips frowning. He sternly chided Lord Connington, “Tis’ a bit rude to be openly ogling the King’s wife, hm? Some take it as a punishable offense.” You stared at him in shock, the red-haired man in front of you both apologizing profusely and darting away.

You looked at him in concern, asking gently, “He was being polite Aegon, what’s wrong?”

He was in excellent pouting form, muttering, “I don’t like the way they make you smile.”

You held yourself from scoffing in your husband’s soft, pretty face. His big violet eyes looked hurt. Poor thing was so sensitive and needy when it came to you. Running a hand down his chest you sighed, “Aegon dear, I’m merely doing my duty as queen. Obviously you’re my only love, I take our vows very seriously.”

Aegon frowned harder at your thinly veiled jab about the past, apologizing, “Fine, sorry, can we just go to bed? I’m not drunk enough for all these,” the king searched for a word, “Arses.” You laughed at his eloquent description, grabbing the blonde’s hand. You cooed, “Yes, lead the way.”

Your self-conscious husband’s fit of self pity had increased tenfold upon being alone in your shared quarters. He picked at his tight doublet, sighing dramatically. You toed off your shoes, waiting for the inevitable.

“Is it because I’ve grown fat?,” Aegon whined.

That was different than his usual criticisms of self. You raised your brows in surprise, unable

to come up with a planned response. Aegon’s lips trembled as he bemoaned, “Oh gods, it’s true, you think me a hog!” You held your hands up and yelped, “Stop it right there!”

He paused, face comically quizzical. You stood up to get a better look at him. You were around him all the time, you hadn’t noticed any changes. Aegon whined again, you shushing him, “Quit sniveling, I didn’t notice anything off!”

Your eyes roved his form.

Well he wasn’t fat by any means. But your husband had put on a few. Drinking like a Braavosi sea lord and eating like a king will do that to one’s figure. You slid a finger down his front, noticing his thicker torso. Aegon mumbled, “Say something at the least!”

You made a circle, eyeing his hips and ass. Indeed, he was thicker. Returning to face your husband you shrugged indifferently. He squawked, “What the bloody hells is that supposed to mean?” Stifling laughter your wrapped your arms around his midsection and hummed, “You’ve gotten a bit…podgy. But I quite like it.”

His eyes narrowed in suspicion, arms encircling your own slim waist. Aegon stated, “You jest.” Huffing in annoyance you retorted, “Obviously I don’t care that you’ve got a belly if I’m still riding your cock every night. If you want to lose it then start riding my cunt.” You pinched his fleshy hip and teased, “Lazy.”

He peered down at you, blonde brow raised. Quietly he asked, “Truly? You do not care?” You nodded and kissed his plump lips to seal your point. Aegon relaxed some, his hold tightening on you. He smiled softly, “My perfect queen.”

You pinched his fatty belly and teased, “Someone’s gotta do it, come on my king, take me to bed.” He laughed and drug you along.

After a thorough fucking, you really got to know Aegon’s softer frame and it was delicious. Then blonde was much more sensitive and blushy. Especially when you nipped at his sore pink marks from growth.

#aegon ii targaryen #hotd fanfic #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii x reader #asks answered

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yuichi-ro · 2 years

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a/n: this is literally just for me and @momo-ceros so shut up no one look at us cw: fem!Reader, wild witch!Reader, angst, enemies to lovers, minor mutual pining, soul mate AU, spoilers, hurt/comfort, unedited word count: 3.8k

Heart thudding in his chest only drowned out by the drum of his boots into the dusty sun worn ground. Hunter couldn’t see anything through lashes soaked with tears perpetually dribbling down his cheeks. Drowning his vision. Leaving him nothing but the sensation of fight or flight to guide him out of the Owl Lady’s home.

No direction. Nowhere to go. No one to turn to.

He felt so alone and yet his feet wouldn’t tell his panicking brain where it was they were going. Only fueled by the surge of fear telling him to run. Run and not look back. Fragility of his life walked like a tight rope until his race to nowhere brought him to a familiar door.

Flapjack, for all the power they could muster in those tiny cardinal wings, chirped and tweeted up a storm when Hunter finally stopped. Incoherent squawking in the Golden Guard’s face to no success when Hunter couldn’t shake his thoughts.

“He- He knows I was there-” Voice wavering and the threat of tears once more on his cold pale cheeks, Hunter kept shaking his head and grabbing at clumps of his hair as if to protect his mind, “He knows- He’s knows I know and and-”

Then a shuffle and a click of a latch. Hunter’s blood shot eyes shot up as soon as the light spilled from the door opening only a few feet from him. Not believing where his feet took him of all places.

“I swear if its another one of you groveling little griffin urchins I’ll have your hide and-” Your voice fell short when what you thought was the local pack of griffin hatchlings poking around in your garbage turned out to be a golden shadow of a man you were all too familiar with, “G-Golden- Guard-”

“Please!” He scrambled to his feet. Flapjack darting around like an untamed palismen, “Please you have to let me stay! He knows-”

“Who knows?” Forehead scrunching and confusion slowly rising in place of irritation, you looked around outside your family home only to have what had previously been considered your enemy lock his arms around your waist and not let go, “Wow wow wow- What in a stonesleepers worst nightmare are you-”

“Please-” His demanding scream beforehand boiled down to a soft plea as he lifted his chin only enough to look up at you, “I- I don’t have anywhere else-”

Looking around to see if he was followed. And this wasn’t some bland attempt to corner you into a coven. The tipping point wasn’t the fact almost all of his Golden Guard garb was nowhere to be seen. But that fact his cheeks were rosier than could be with bloodshot eyes. If this was a ruse to get you to join him, it was either very well staged or not a ruse at all. Against your better judgement as a witch you helped him up onto his feet. And escorted Hunter into the warmth of your home with only one look back out at the forest. Squinting into the darkness looking for anything. Only to turn up empty handed when you finally shut the heavy wooden door behind the two of you.

────────────────────

Absolutely no sleeping to be done. Once Flapjack was settled and roosting near your hearth. Hunter was a completely different story.

Frayed nerves like a snapped palisman branch. You pieced together half of what he said. Though the bigger picture was much easier to see even without the expounding details that came flooding out of his mouth. Where a rightfully earned ‘I told you so’ itched at the forefront of your tongue. Right now wasn’t the opportune time to lord that over the head of your every day nuance.

Hunter sat, head in his lap, hiding his face from you and anyone else who might look on at him. Dark circles dragging down his normally arrogant look. You’d offered him rag after rag to wipe his face off but still he could hardly move from the fetal position he found himself curled into.

“...this doesn’t seem, ideal.” You broached even the slightest bit of dialogue with him after silence fell between you both.

“Ideal? Ideal!?” Hunter’s silence cracked with panic seeping in once more, “I- What am I?! What am I then?! I saw myself- I saw dozens of myself! He knows- Belos knows and I- I’m going to-”

“You’re not going anywhere,” You reached out to lay a hand on his thigh, “Not now at least.”

Heavy as your touch was. It wasn’t like he could curl up under it and hide forever. Though desperately it was all he craved right now. Hunter still couldn’t understand why of all the places. His sense of fleeing brought him here of all places. Disconnecting for just a second from the dread at hand. He couldn’t stop to wonder how many times he’d seen your home but not once stepped foot inside it. Aware that him being in here should have triggered some magic traps like it always had. And yet here he sat untouched save for your comforting hand on his knee.

“Your wild magic curses,” Hunter glanced around at the place that looked more like the night market than a livable room, “...why isn’t it doing anything to me now?”

Sparing a moment of confusion at what he asked. You then recalled the amount of times he’d tripped up on traps, set off curses and generally got his golden butt handed to him at the mere hands of old enchantments placed on your home from generations far beyond your own, “Oh.” You couldn’t help the sly smile spread on your lips as you sat back and rubbed your neck, “It’s because I let you come in.”

“Let me, come in?” Hunter scowled more like his normal self which made you take a deep breath and relax for the most part.

“Yes. I invited you in so there was nothing the house needed to defend against.”

Even as shaken as he was, Hunter still looked around uneasy about magic in general now yet alone wild magic he knew ran rampant through your things, “And...If I was to actually be lying, the house would...”

You shook your head, “The house wouldn’t do anything. I already invited you in so...Yeah I guess you could ambush me finally.”

“Why then? Why did you let me in?” He genuinely couldn’t understand. This game of cat and mouse. Unsure which you were and which he was. But now under the same roof it seemed foolish for you to invite a possible cat inside at the detriment of becoming the mouse.

Mulling his words over and careful of your own. It came up suddenly that the explanation was simple, “...you needed help. So I helped you.” This caused him to look away and your heart sunk a little bit drawing up on what he had spilled to you about the Emperor's true identity, “...And by the sounds of it I wasn’t wrong. I just...I don’t understand how you made it in there first of all- A spell like that is just-”

“It wasn’t my spell,” Hunter mumbled, aware that you knew of his substantial lackings as a witch. Which were beginning to make so much more sense the longer he dwelled on the paintings in Belos’s mindscape, “...but I know those masks were mine. Or at least...I guess...other me’s...I don’t know- I can’t go back he knows now and- and he’ll just-”

Fear of starting up the broken record player of his mind all over again. You reached out without thinking and brushed the stray lock of blond hair out of his face. Barely able to tuck it behind his ear but it did seem to have grown a bit since the last time you perhaps singed a little off the tip, “You are here. So worry about that for right now. And...” It pained you to admit this but as the sun crept into the closed curtains of your home. Signaling that an entire night had been wasted and only Flapjack got some rest up near the coat rack of your home. You took a deep breath and meant every word you spoke, “Stay here. Stay with me. I won’t let anything happen to you Golden Guard.”

“Hunter,” He spoke up quickly, “Please just....use Hunter.”

It sounded weird. Hearing as well as forming his actual name between your own lips. No longer the Golden Guard and the one that always got away. He sat at your table wrapped in your favorite blanket with an empty mug by him like a friend visiting. A friend you’d missed for so long yet the words failed to find you. Leaving you to smile a little in agreement, “Alright, Hunter.”

────────────────────

More than just a handful of days past.

Some of those days you spent out of the house while Hunter remained wrapped up in your linens. Flapjack would accompany you. But the forlorn blond wouldn’t risk even setting foot outside your home. If it kept him away from you all those months. It only reasoned in his worried state of mind that it could keep Belos away.

That much of a claim you were unsure about. But you did not put anymore cracks in his already fragile mindset than there needed to be. Silently assuring yourself though if it came to it, the house wasn’t the only thing Belos would have to go through if chose to come and find his disposable guard.

Coming back from a stop in town with things you figured he’d like. You wouldn’t call them presents exactly but after you’d acquired him some new clothes that went untouched on your counter, you figured something fun to eat might make him feel better. No idea what he liked you simply went with what your gut told you he’d like.

“Hey Hunter I stopped by and got some fried orbs and some-” To your utter surprise the man standing in front of your mirror happened to look the same but Hunter had finally changed out of his Golden Guard attire in favor of the plain tunic and trousers you’d gotten him a few days ago. He hadn’t noticed you until he turned around. An unnatural warmth coming to your cheeks as his tooth gap showed a little with the shy smile spreading on his lips and the way he reached up and scratched the back of his head. It took you a moment but then you finally remembered to set the bag of goodies down on your table, “You- You certainly don’t look like the Golden Guard anymore.”

Hunter cast his eyes down on the ordinary threads hanging off his body. Aware of the way his stomach grumbled the second he smelled the fried grapey goodness of what you had brought. It still hailed in comparison to how the scratch fabric of normal every day fabric felt. So otherworldly it left him realizing that he’d never worn anything outside what Belos deemed appropriate for his position, “Thank you....I’m sorry I didn’t put these on sooner it was rude to-”

“Nonsense,” You quickly cut him off, adverting your eyes and forcing yourself to focus only on unpacking the groceries that you got to ward off the heat on your cheeks, “Now come one, eat while they’re still fresh.”

Approaching what you’d brought back. He felt a twinge of guilt seeing the dozen fried pastries you picked up along with double the average amount of groceries. You’d only been cooking for a single person this entire time. Now adding another body he worried you were stretching yourself too thin. An odd feeling for someone he once considered a threat to his way of life. Now the only way of life he was ok enough with living.

“...I don’t know if I can pay you back,” Hunter held the fried orb in his ungloved grasp, “...For the food but- Also for what you’re doing. I still don’t understand why you’re doing it either.”

You stopped taking your assorted ingredients out for another stew of newt to look over at him holding the fried food, “I didn’t expect you to pay me back. I’ll just claim you as a dependent on the Boiling Isles next status quo.”

“You’re a wild witch you don’t submit anything to the Emperor's system you all basically commit fraud every year like the other unruly witches.” Hunter frowned.

“Yeah I know.” You remarked with a smile and a shrug to leave it at that. Still you stopped over the packet of dried mushrooms and looked down at them, “...you said in those memories of, I guess other you’s, you always saw someone protecting you.”

Hunter tore into the fluffy dough and couldn’t believe how good things tasted even if he had an unlimited supply of goods under Belos. Somehow the ones you bought and brought here tasted that much better, “...yeah, I saw someone in all of them but- their faces were tore out. Lots of the faces were...less than readable.”

Putting away your things you gave a little shrug with your back turned, “It looks like in every version of yourself then someone had your back. Someone was there to protect you. I’ll just do my part until you find that special someone.”

Staring down at the single bite from his food Hunter felt the heavy pit in his stomach all over again, “...If I find them though, Belos will kill them just like all those paintings. I- I can’t ask someone to do that for me. To sacrifice themselves for me knowing this has happened so much over the last fifty years...”

“Sacrifice?” You turned around to give him a brow cocked up in confusion, “It’s not a sacrifice to protect the things you care about. For the fire bees sacrifice themselves to protect their nests? No. They do it to save the things they care about. Obviously whoever it is cares a lot about you.” You finished putting your thing away but couldn’t quite bring yourself to turn around and look at him, “...protecting the things you care about is never the wrong answer. Even if the result is death. It’s just- The right thing to do.”

With one bite out of the fried orb. Hunter still felt that pit in his stomach but something about the last few days had loosened it’s grip on him. It was why he finally changed his clothes. And why he was feeling almost happy to eat something he’d had a million times before. None of it made sense with the looming threat of Belos terminating him like the other hundreds of golden guards. But as he stood here eating in your home Hunter couldn’t explain anything outside the fact he didn’t feel like a clone. He felt, like himself.

Tearing the treat in half. He walked over to you and offered the part he hadn’t bitten out of yet. Quiet in his offer you looked at his half and how what he was giving you was the bigger portion. Unable to help it you smiled and took the piece of food from him to enjoy together as Hunter finished his piece too.

“...I, have a favor to ask you,” Hunter broke the silence once the fried orb was gone and hands wiped clean of its syrup-y goodness.

“I am not getting those every day,” You shook your head absolutely not budgeting for a sweet tooth.

“No not that you fool,” Hunter realized what he said and quickly back tracked, “No wait- I’m sorry- Old habits. I didn’t mean fool-”

“Uh huh,” You crossed your arms over your chest, “Good start to this asking a favor for someone who doesn’t pay rent.”

He scowled but had it coming to him so he did what he wouldn’t have done before and let it go with a sigh, “...I would like to ask you, if you’d help me cut my hair.”

This came as a surprise. Giving him a look over he looked a little different in the new clothes but still his face very much screamed the infamous golden guard. That you couldn’t deny or anyone who saw him for that matter. Still though he didn’t look like he had a lot of hair to spare and magic could only do so much.

Squinting at him skeptical you couldn’t not voice your concerns, “You know...there isn’t a lot of wiggle room for styles your hair is already short....”

“I know.” Hunter confirmed your worry in a surprisingly calm voice, “It’s not a lot but-” He plucked at the tell tale piece of hair that never sat back with the rest of his hair, “-I’d like to make it different. Make it...something I choose it to be.”

No denying it there. Something about the confidence in himself to change drew a smile on your face as you looked at him, “Alright, Hunter, but I’m not liable for any style mishaps in this salon.”

It was hard not to smile back at you. Goofy as it was his nose crinkled a little and he found himself laughing for the first time in a while. Hunter promised on his well being that anything you did was better than what it was now. Making it a deal that you’d cut his hair for the first time.

────────────────────

Sat in front of the same mirror he’d admired his new clothes in front of. Hunter had an old unused sheet tied around his neck as a mock cape. Swearing it would keep the hair off his clothes. And worst case scenario he was on laundry duty if he complained too much about it. Ready to hear how poor your set up was. It liked you pleasantly surprised when Hunter sat on your stool smiling like a fool at his reflection.

“I want it short.” He proclaimed.

“The sides are already short...” You remind him as your fingers ghost over the hair above his ears.

A shiver danced up his spine but Hunter did his best to control it even as the heat rose up from his neck to taint his cheeks with blush, “Shorter on the top. I want it...I want it to be short enough none of it is in my face.”

An idea. Or at least a shape in mind. You made him promise again not to expect a five star quality. To which Hunter with his eyes set on the reflection of you two in the mirror said that anything you did would be perfect. You didn’t know why. But the way your chest tightened when your eyes met his. Made you want to do your best job.

Some moments stricken with panic. Ones you off set by cutting the opposite side shorter. Then repeating the process and combing through his hair a million and one times worried you’d missed a spot. At no point had you realized how much blond hair was under foot until finally you stepped away to see what exactly came out of this sudden hair cut.

The piece that no longer stuck to his forehead. Drooped when he sweated. Or got in his face anytime he was fighting. Was gone. Cut as short as the rest of the top. Still just as short on the sides. The rest of his blond hair now cropped short in a pixie that wouldn’t hang in his face. It almost resembled one of the coven heads but you couldn’t put your finger on which one...

“So...” You threaded carefully as you stood behind him letting Hunter explore his new cut to his hearts content.

Fingers combing through it left and right. Brows pinching in the middle. Only to be released and a new expression cross his face. You were nearly on the edge of your seat picking apart your creation for all it’s flaws before he finally responded.

“I love it.”

Your eyes widened, “You- You do?”

Hunter brushed his much shorter bangs to one side then to the other. Settling on them going to the right before he sat up nice and tall on your stool with you standing behind him, “It’s perfect. It’s...it’s me.”

Like a grip was loosened on your stomach. You couldn’t help but laugh as you laid a hand on his shoulder and looked across at him through the reflection, “Makes your bags almost nonexistent under your eyes.”

He stopped to see what you meant. Those dark defining circles under his eyes. The ones he honestly forgot weren’t just an every day occurrence on people. Where somehow lighter than normal. Leaving him too look less tired and exhausted. Which he found odd with how dire this situation was. Until it hit him that he’d been sleeping a solid eight hours since arriving at your doorstep. As well as eating three meals a day and not running around like a demon with it’s head cut off. This was the first time in his life Hunter could remember not being swarmed with thoughts of stressed induced panic. At a moment in his life where he should be doing nothing but stressing over very something very serious like life and death.

Then it dawned on him. He looked at the reflection of you laughing and smiling behind him. With the warmth of your hand on his shoulder. Hunter froze in the moment he realized this was the most time he’d ever spent around you. And it was the best he’d ever felt.

Catching on to his stare. You stopped laughing and gave his shoulder a squeeze, “Just don’t go wanting your nose or your teeth changed...I think they make the perfect you after all.”

Hunter wanted nothing more than to reach up and grab your hand. Hold it in fact. But he was nothing more than a stonesleeper’s petrified prey when you leaned down and gave him a kiss on the cheek. The warmth of your hand disappearing just as the touch of your lips on his cheek did. He felt a constricting-ness to his chest he hadn’t yet felt before. Not one of fear or stress. Something he couldn’t understand but when you turned around to excuse yourself to clean off all the hair slivers and clean up this mess.

He realized that whoever he might be looking for to protect him from Belos. Those torn faces in the Emperor's mind that at first he didn’t recognize. They were you. You were the one standing up to the Emperor. Every time he died, or well a version of him died, it was you giving yourself to save him.

Hunter ran his fingers through his short cropped hair. Unable to break the gaze he had on you washing your hands at the sink. Tortured by the thought of having this very moment taken away from him. It made sense now. It wasn’t a sacrifice or a waste of life if it was to save the things you cared about. This is why his feet brought him here. Not to save himself from Belos. But to make sure he didn’t loose you before it was too late.

#toh hunter #toh x reader #the owl house x reader #the owl house hunter #hunter x reader #golden guard #golden guard x reader #toh #the owl house

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choicesbookclub · 2 months

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MC + Music

In chapter seven, if you stay in the Roost with Griffin you experience some magickal music.

What is your MC's taste in music (tuneless or magickal)?

Do they have favorite bands/artists? songs? genres?

Do they sing or play an instrument? Have they ever been in a band?

Feel free to reblog or comment to share anything related to your MC and music!

[The Elementalist Book Club]

#the elementalists #choices the elementalists #choices book club #choices book club te #choices book club poll #poll #choices te

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goodqueenaly · 6 months

Note

Hello! Do you see parallels between Daemon II Blackfyre and Aegon6? They look like the perfect hero-prince-- handsome, well-spoken, great origin story-- but are actually ineffective and unskilled. They also have an unshakeable belief that they are destined to win, which goes splat in Daemon's face and will in Aegon's. Do you think GRRM deliberately set them up as parallels, for a prince who looks great and has a sense of destiny, but is actually ill-suited to their role and doomed for failure?

I don’t think they’re particularly similar, myself. While Daemon the Younger certainly believed - thanks in no small part to his prophetic visions - that he would succeed in hatching a dragon and rallying supporters at Whitewalls, his plan of actually achieving the thorn was, to put it extremely charitably, naively optimistic. If Daemon had accurately observed (or been informed) that Aerys I’s absenteeism and Bloodraven’s police state provided a ready stage for a pro-Blackfyre uprising, the actual operation of that uprising reflected instead the idealistic assumptions of Daemon himself - that his visions promised him a literally newly hatched dragon, that the Blackfyre old guard would quickly rally around him, and that the attendees of a wedding tourney would be ready, willing, and able to follow him into battle. Not for nothing had Bittersteel denied him both the martial backing of the Golden Company and the dynastic symbol of his paternity: Daemon the Younger was no Daemon Blackfyre, and his plan at Whitewalls was less the somewhat close-run thing of the First Blackfyre Rebellion and more “Thanos gets arrested by the local police”.

By contrast, while our Aegon has certainly benefitted, and will likely continue to benefit, from auspicious timing in his invasion, I would say he has far more ability to establish himself as king. Aegon does not simply launch off to Westeros, as Daemon the Younger did, on a wing and a prayer; instead, it is Aegon who makes the pitch to the Golden Company, proposing a (relatively) reasonable, (immediately) successful plan of invasion (and if Tyrion was the one who had changed Aegon’s mind, in an attempt to suit his own purposes, I still give Aegon credit for recognizing the plan’s (again, immediate) value and arguing its merits to the Golden Company). Nor does Aegon appear content to sit back and watch the war happen in his name: indeed, he is the one to declare that he will lead the attack on Storm’s End after the capture of Griffin’s Roost (apparently victoriously, as Haldon reports to Arianne and her party). If Aegon seems confident in his eventual victory, remember that he seems to have been raised since early childhood with the idea that his life has been a hero’s origin story, complete with a fantastic tale of survival and an obligatory training montage - not quite the same source confidence as Daemon the Younger, who embraced his prophetic superpower as much as his cousin Daeron loathed it.

To be clear, I don’t think Aegon on the Iron Throne is the endgame of the series. However, while I do think his destiny is to be exploded, along with the rest of King’s Landing, when Daenerys arrives, I do very much expect Aegon to have a period, however brief, of complete triumph - himself on the Iron Throne as King Aegon VI Targaryen, Arianne by his side as queen, and large swaths of Westeros (at least on the continent and south of the Neck) acknowledging him as king. That level of achievement is something Daemon did not achieve, and could not have achieved by doing what he did.

#asoiaf meta #daemon ii blackfyre #daeron the drunken

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istumpysk · 10 months

Text

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

TWOW: Arianne II

The Peregrine made port at the Weeping Town, where the corpse of the Young Dragon had once lingered for three days on its journey home from Dorne.

Could be relevant.

The Dornish prince was three days dying. - The Queen's Hand, ADWD

+.+.+

The town was large enough to support three inns, and all their common rooms were rife with rumors. Arianne sent her men into each of them, to hear what they might hear. In the Broken Shield, Daemon Sand was told that the great septry on the Holf of Men had been burned and looted by raiders from the sea, and a hundred young novices from the motherhouse on Maiden Isle carried off into slavery. In the Loon, Joss Hood learned that half a hundred men and boys from the Weeping Town had set off north to join Jon Connington at Griffin's Roost, including young Ser Addam, old Lord Whitehead's son and heir. But in the aptly named Drunken Dornishman, Feathers heard men muttering that the griffin had put Red Ronnet's brother to death and raped his maiden sister. Ronnet himself was said to be rushing south to avenge his brother's death and his sister's dishonor. That night Arianne dispatched the first of her ravens back to Dorne, reporting to her father on all they'd seen and heard.

I'm going to laugh if she's sending him a bunch of gossip and hearsay.

"Send a raven whenever you have news," Prince Doran told her, "but report only what you know to be true. We are lost in fog here, besieged by rumors, falsehoods, and traveler's tales. I dare not act until I know for a certainty what is happening." - Arianne I, TWOW

For the record, Jon Connington didn't actually kill Red Ronnet's brother, or rape his maiden sister. However, he's currently holding his own family hostage, one of his men threw a maester from a tower, and only four of the castle garrison survived the attack.

Similar to Daenerys Targaryen in Slaver's Bay, sometimes knowing the truth of a situation doesn't bring much more reassurance.

+.+.+

Huge willows grew along the watercourses, larger than any that Arianne had ever seen, their great trunks as gnarled and twisted as an old man's face and festooned with beards of silvery moss. Trees pressed close on every side, shutting out the sun; hemlock and red cedars, white oaks, soldier pines that stood as tall and straight as towers, colossal sentinels, big-leaf maples, redwoods, wormtrees, even here and there a wild weirwood.

I don't think this is anything, but I get paranoid.

+.+.+

Arianne had once heard her father and Maester Caleotte arguing with a septon about why the north and south sides of the Sea of Dorne were so different. The septon thought it was because of Durran Godsgrief, the first Storm King, who had stolen the daughter of the sea god and the goddess of the wind and earned their eternal emnity. Prince Doran and the maester inclined more toward wind and water, and spoke of how the big storms that formed down in the Summer Sea would pick up moisture moving north until they slammed into Cape Wrath. For some strange reason the storms never seemed to strike at Dorne, she recalled her father saying. "I know your reason," the septon had responded. "No Dornishmen ever stole away the daughter of two gods."

It's astonishing to me that a priest lacks understanding of the scientific field of meteorology.

For some strange reason the storms never seemed to strike at Dorne

+.+.+

The princess lost another game of cyvasse to Daemon Sand, won one from Joss Hood, then retired as the two of them began to teach Jayne Ladybright the rules. She was tired of such games.

There ya go!

You better not be tired.

+.+.+

Nym and Tyene may have reached King's Landing by now, she mused, as she settled down crosslegged by the mouth of the cave to watch the falling rain. If not they ought to be there soon.

Yeah? Is that what you'd like me to believe, George?

Boy, I'm eagerly anticipating the amusing antics that will unfold between Cersei Lannister, the High Sparrow, Nym Sand, and Tyene Sand. That's definitely a plot you can count on happening, no shadow of a doubt.

+.+.+

Prince Trystane had remained safely back at Sunspear, after a tearful parting from Princess Myrcella.

That moment you realize nowhere in Dorne is safe.

Reminds me of this one:

Steffon and Stannis were thousands of leagues from the fighting and safe from harm, but Devan was at Castle Black, a squire to the king. - Davos II, ADWD

Nope!

+.+.+

That accounts for one brother, thought Arianne, but where is Quentyn, if not with the griffin? Had he wed his dragon queen? King Quentyn. It still sounded silly. This new Daenerys Targaryen was younger than Arianne by half a dozen years. What would a maid that age want with her dull, bookish brother? Young girls dreamed of dashing knights with wicked smiles, not solemn boys who always did their duty. She will want Dorne, though. If she hopes to sit the Iron Throne, she must have Sunspear. If Quentyn was the price for that, this dragon queen would pay it. What if she was at Griffin's End with Connington, and all this about another Targaryen was just some sort of subtle ruse? Her brother could well be with her. King Quentyn. Will I need to kneel to him?

You are too old to be acting like this.

+.+.+

No good would come of wondering about it. Quentyn would be king or he would not. I pray Daenerys treats him him more gently than she did her own brother.

The irony of this thought occurring immediately after she ponders the absurdity of her own brother as king shouldn't be lost on you.

+.+.+

It was only as she settled down that Arianne realized Elia Sand had not returned from her explorations. [...] The cave proved much deeper than any of them had suspected. Beyond the stony mouth where her company had made their camp and hobbled their horses, a series of twisty passageways led down and down, with black holes snaking off to either side. Further in, the walls opened up again, and the searchers found themselves in a vast limestone cavern, larger than the great hall of a castle. Their shouts disturbed a nest of bats, who flapped about them noisily, but only distant echoes shouted back. A slow circuit of the hall revealed three further passages, one so small that it would have required them to proceed on hands and knees.

Giving House of the Undying, House of Black and White, and Red Keep vibes.

+.+.+

And all at once she found herself in another cavern, five times as big as the last one, surrounded by a forest of stone columns. Daemon Sand moved to her side and raised his torch. "Look how the stone's been shaped," he said. "Those columns, and the wall there. See them?" "Faces," said Arianne. So many sad eyes, staring. "This place belonged to the children of the forest." "A thousand years ago." Arianne turned her head. "Listen. Is that Joss?" It was. The other searchers had found Elia, as she and Daemon learned after they made their way back up the slippery slope to the last hall.

Wait a second, I know this scene!

Are you telling me that wasn't real?

Okay, but what about this?

↓

Might I ask about these corpses in the ice cells? They make the men uneasy. And to keep them under guard? Surely that is a waste of two good men, unless you fear that they …"

"… will rise? I pray they do." - Jon VIII, ADWD

"Thrice I flew Silverwing high above Castle Black, and thrice I tried to take her north beyond the Wall," Alysanne wrote to Jaehaerys, "but every time she veered back south again and refused to go. Never before has she refused to take me where I wished to go." - Fire & Blood

Shit!

Okay, but what about this?

↓

Mormont snorted. "Because I sent him, why do you think? He's bringing the hand your Ghost tore off the end of Jafer Flowers's wrist. I have commanded him to take ship to King's Landing and lay it before this boy king. That should get young Joffrey's attention, I'd think … and Ser Alliser's a knight, highborn, anointed, with old friends at court, altogether harder to ignore than a glorified crow." - Jon VIII, AGOT

Shit!

Okay, but what about this?

↓

The Cinnamon Wind was spinning all around them and he could taste the rum on Gilly's tongue and the next thing her breasts were bare and he was touching them. - Samwell IV, AFFC

Shit!

Gosh, it's almost as if the creators of Game of Thrones pulled an entire season and romance from their ass.

+.+.+

Their passageway led down to a still black pool, where they discovered the girl up to her waist in water, catching blind white fish with her bare hands, her torch burning red and smoky in the sand where she had planted it.

That black pool sounds familiar.

Blind white fish swam in the black river, but they tasted just as good as fish with eyes once you cooked them up. - Bran III, ADWD

Where else does this river go?

+.+.+

"I caught two fish," said Elia Sand. "You could have died," said Arianne again. Her words echoed off the cavern walls. "… died … died … died …"

A bit ominous.

+.+.+

"Elia, this must end," she told her. "We are not in Dorne now. You are not with your sisters, and this is not a game. I want your word that you will play the maidservant until we are safely back at Sunspear. I want you meek and mild and obedient. You need to hold your tongue. I'll hear no more talk of Lady Lance or jousting, no mention of your father or your sisters. The men that I must treat with are sellswords. Today they serve this man who calls himself Jon Connington, but come the morrow they could just as easily serve the Lannisters. All it takes to win a sellsword's heart is gold, and Casterly Rock does not lack for that. If the wrong man should learn who you are, you could be seized and held for ransom–"

[...]

"You are a Sand Snake, and Prince Doran would pay any price to keep you and your sisters safe from harm." That made the child smile at least. "Do I have your sworn word? Or must I send you back?"

"I swear." Elia did not sound happy.

"On your father's bones."

"On my father's bones."

That vow she will keep, Arianne decided. She kissed her cousin on the cheek and sent her off to sleep. Perhaps some good would come of her adventure. "I never knew how wild she was till now," Arianne complained to Daemon Sand, afterward. "Why would my father inflict her on me?" "Vengeance?" the knight suggested, with a smile.

Later:

Arianne was on her way back to her own chamber when she heard muffled laughter from the adjoining room. She paused and listened for a moment, then pushed the door open to find Elia Sand curled up in a window seat, kissing Feathers.

[...]

"Feathers is a man." A serving man, but still a man. It did not escape the princess that Elia was the same age she had been when she gave her maidenhead to Daemon Sand.

Lmao.

This is why I'm never having children. I would be cursed with raising another version of myself.

+.+.+

Mistfall's new sellsword masters called themselves Young John Mudd and Chain. Both knights, to hear them tell it. Neither behaved like any knight that Arianne had ever met. Mudd wore brown from head to heel, the same shade as his skin, but a pair of golden coins dangled from his ears. The Mudds had been kings up by the Trident a thousand years ago, she knew, but there was nothing royal about this one. Nor was he particularly young, but it seemed his father had also served in the Golden Company, where he had been known as Old John Mudd.

That's considered fAegon evidence.

Young John Mudd (Young Griff), son of Old John Mudd of the Golden Company, bears the name of previous kings in Westeros. However, it's clear there's no real ancestral ties to that royal bloodline.

+.+.+

At evenfall a fine supper was served to them in the solar, high in the Tower of Owls, where they were joined by the dowager Lady Mertyns and her maester. Though a captive in her own castle, the old woman seemed spry and cheerful. "My sons and grandsons went off when Lord Renly called his banners," she told the princess and her party. "I have not seen them since, though from time to time they send a raven. One of my grandsons took a wound at the Blackwater, but he's since recovered. I expect they will return here soon enough to hang this lot of thieves." She waved a duck leg at Mudd and Chain across the table. "We are no thieves," said Mudd. "We're foragers." "Did you buy all that food down in the yard?" "We foraged it," said Mudd. “The smallfolk can grow more. We serve your rightful king, old crone.” He seemed to be enjoying this. “You should learn to speak more courteous to knights.”

"If you two are knights, I'm still a maiden," said Lady Mertyns. "And I'll speak as I please. What will you do, kill me? I have lived too long already."

Princess Arianne said, "Have you been treated well, my lady?"

"I have not been raped, if that is what you're asking," the old woman said. "Some of the serving girls have been less fortunate. Married or unmarried, the men make no distinctions."

"No one's been doing any raping," insisted Young John Mudd. "Connington won't have that. We follow orders."

Chain nodded. "Some girls was persuaded, might be."

"The same way our smallfolk were persuaded to give you all their crops. Melons or maidenheads, it's all the same to your sort. If you want it, you take it." Lady Mertyns turned to Arianne. "If you should see this Lord Connington, you tell him that I knew his mother, and she would be ashamed." Perhaps I shall, the princess thought.

Might as well start the obituaries now.

+.+.+

That night when she told Ser Daemon what Chain had said, the Bastard of Godsgrace seemed as perplexed as she was. "Storm's End was still held by men loyal to Lord Stannis when last I heard. You would think Connington might do better to make common cause with another rebel, rather than making war upon him too." "Stannis is too far away to be of help to him," Arianne mused. "Capturing a few minor castles whilst their lords and garrisons are off at distant wars, that's one thing, but if Lord Connington and his pet dragon can somehow take one of the great strongholds of the realm …" "…the realm would have to take them seriously," Ser Daemon finished.

Including Daenerys!

+.+.+

Near dusk on the fourth day, not long after Chain and his wagons had taken their leave of them, Arianne's company was met by a column of sellswords down from Griffin's Roost, led by the most exotic creature that the princess had ever laid her eyes on, with painted fingernails and gemstones sparkling in his ears.

Lysono Maar spoke the Common Tongue very well. "I have the honor to be the eyes and ears of the Golden Company, princess."

"You look…" She hesitated.

"…like a woman?" He laughed. "That I am not."

"…like a Targaryen," Arianne insisted. His eyes were a pale lilac, his hair a waterfall of white and gold. All the same, something about him made her skin crawl. Was this what Viserys looked like? she found herself wondering. If so perhaps it is a good thing he is dead.

(Please give yourself a moment to laugh at her discomfort at the sight of someone resembling a Targaryen.)

That's considered fAegon evidence.

It's another reminder that people from Lys have the Targaryen look.

"Your Grace is kind," said Waters with a smile. A wicked smile, the queen thought. Aurane did not resemble Prince Rhaegar as much as she had thought. He has the hair, but so do half the whores in Lys, if the tales are true. Rhaegar was a man. This is a sly boy, no more. Useful in his way, though. - Cersei VIII, AFFC

↓

"Serra. I found her in a Lysene pillow house and brought her home to warm my bed, but in the end I wed her. Me, whose first wife had been a cousin of the Prince of Pentos. The palace gates were closed to me thereafter, but I did not care. The price was small enough, for Serra." - Tyrion II, ADWD

Somewhat worrisome, because Aegon also resembles young Illyrio.

A naked boy stood on the water, poised to duel with a bravo's blade in hand. He was lithe and handsome, no older than sixteen, with straight blond hair that brushed his shoulders. So lifelike did he seem that it took the dwarf a long moment to realize he was made of painted marble, though his sword shimmered like true steel. - tyrion I, ADWD

↓

He was a lithe and well-made youth, with a lanky build and a shock of dark blue hair. The dwarf put his age at fifteen, sixteen, or near enough to make no matter. - Tyrion III, ADWD

+.+.+

"I am flattered. The women of House Targaryen are said to be without peer in all the world."

"And the men of House Targaryen?"

"Oh, even prettier. Though if truth be told, I have only seen the one."

That's considered fAegon evidence. The author made it ambiguous.

Lysono Maar is the spymaster for the Golden Company, it's possible he's met Viserys Targaryen.

Her brother Viserys had once feasted the captains of the Golden Company, in hopes they might take up his cause. They ate his food and heard his pleas and laughed at him. - Daenerys III, ADWD

+.+.+

"Do you play cyvasse, my lord?" asked Arianne. "My father has been teaching me. I am not very skilled, I must confess, but I do know that the dragon is stronger than the elephant." "The Golden Company was founded by a dragon." "Bittersteel was half-dragon, and all bastard. I am no maester, but I know some history. You are still sellswords." "If it please you, princess," he said, all silken courtesy. "We prefer to call ourselves a free brotherhood of exiles." "As you will. As free brothers go, your company stands well above the rest, I grant you. Yet the Golden Company has been defeated every time it has crossed into Westeros. They lost when Bittersteel commanded them, they failed the Blackfyre Pretenders, they faltered when Maelys the Monstrous led them." That seemed to amuse him.

That's considered fAegon evidence.

He might find it amusing if he knows they have another Blackfyre.

+.+.+

By midmorning a light rain began to fall, as they were making their way north through a land of green fields and little villages.

The rain still fell, soft and steady. The sound of moisture dripping off the leaves was all around them, and every mile or so the music of another little waterfall would call to them.

They travelled to the music of steady, lashing rains beating at the treetops up above, though underneath the green great canopy of leaves and branches she and her riders stayed surprisingly dry.

And finally Griffin's Roost emerged from the sea mists, on a grey wet day as the rain fell thin and cold.

Rain falling from start to finish...

+.+.+

"Has no one told you?" Halden Halfmaester favored her with a smile thin and hard as a dagger cut. "Storm's End is ours. The Hand awaits you there." Daemon Sand stepped up beside her. "Shipbreaker Bay can be perilous even on a fair summer's day. The safer way to Storm's End is overland." "These rains have turned the roads to mud. The journey would take two days, perhaps three," said Halden Halfmaester. A ship will have the princess there in half a day or less. There is an army descending on Storm's End from King's Landing. You will want to be safe inside the walls before the battle." Will we? Wondered Arianne. "Battle? Or siege?" She did not intend to let herself be trapped inside Storm's End. "Battle," Halden said firmly. "Prince Aegon means to smash his enemies in the field."

Let's talk about a few things.

One.

Previously covered in ADWD's Epilogue.

There's two hosts in King's Landing, both belonging to the Reach.

Randyll Tarly and Mace Tyrell had both brought armies to King's Landing, whilst the best part of the strength of House Lannister remained in the riverlands, fast melting away. - Epilogue, ADWD

Mace Tyrell intended to deal with Aegon and the Golden Company after Margaery's and Cersei's trials.

"[...] we must destroy Connington and his pretender now, before Daenerys Stormborn can come west."

Mace Tyrell crossed his arms. "I mean to do just that, ser. After the trials." - Epilogue, ADWD

If Cersei carries out a massively destructive and violent act at that trial, causing significant harm to House Tyrell (and we have a lot of reasons to believe she will), then it seems logical to conclude that the host coming from King's Landing intends to join Aegon, not fight him.

"… as for Connington," Tyrell repeated, "what victories has he ever won that we should fear him? He could have ended Robert's Rebellion at Stoney Sept. He failed. Just as the Golden Company has always failed. Some may rush to join them, aye. The realm is well rid of such fools." - Epilogue, ADWD

Two.

"Battle," Halden said firmly. "Prince Aegon means to smash his enemies in the field."

Once again, the author is reinforcing the idea that Aegon is lacking necessary skills for this job.

In Jon Connington's last chapter, we learned the Golden Company does not currently have the strength to face enemies in the field.

The great beasts would be useful in a pitched battle, no doubt, but it would be some time before they had the strength to face their foes in the field. - The Griffin Reborn, ADWD

Now, at Aegon's command, they're going to ABANDON THE WALLS OF STORM'S END, and meet the King's Landing host in an open field.

That is unbelievably stupid, and the only reason it won't end in disaster is because the Tyrell host probably isn't coming to fight.

Regardless, what is it telling us about the future?

Ser Jorah considered that for a moment. "Robert should have been born Dothraki," he said at last. "Your khal would tell you that only a coward hides behind stone walls instead of facing his enemy with a blade in hand. The Usurper would agree. He is a strong man, brave … and rash enough to meet a Dothraki horde in the open field. But the men around him, well, their pipers play a different tune. His brother Stannis, Lord Tywin Lannister, Eddard Stark …" He spat. - Daenerys IV, AGOT

This is the problem with Jon Connington: he's dying, therefore he's no longer patient.

He will allow Aegon to be reckless, and use flawed strategy.

" … once we have Storm's End . . ."

The princess let that aside go without comment, though it gave her considerable pause. Storm's End. This griffin is a bold one, it would seem. Or else a fool. The seat of House Baratheon for three centuries, of the ancient Storm Kings for thousands of years before that, Storm’s End was said by some to be impregnable. Arianne had heard men argue about which was the strongest castle in the realm.

Three.

Has this girl lost her mind? Why would you voluntarily go to Storm's End when an army is descending upon it?

Catelyn Stark also found herself in the middle of a dispute at Storm's End, but Catelyn Stark isn't the heir to Dorne.

+.+.+

"Your brother is not at Storm's End, we know that now," Ser Daemon said, as soon as they were behind closed doors. "If Daenerys Targaryen has dragons, they are half a world away, and of no use to Dorne. There is nothing for us at Storm's End, princess. If Prince Doran meant to send you into the middle of a battle, he would have given you three hundred knights, not three."

Do not be so certain of that, ser. He sent my brother off to Slaver's Bay with five knights and a maester. "I need to speak with Connington." Arianne undid the interlocked sun and spear that clasped her cloak, and let the rain-soaked garment slip from her shoulders to puddle on the floor. "And I want to see this dragon prince of his. If he is truly Elia's son…"

"Whoever's son he is, if Connington challenges Mace Tyrell in open battle he may soon be a captive, or a corpse."

"Tyrell is not a man to fear. My uncle Oberyn–"

" –is dead, princess. And ten thousand men is equal to the whole strength of the Golden Company."

"Lord Connington knows his own strength, surely. If he means to risk battle, he must believe that he can win it."

"And how many men have died in battles they believed that they could win?" Ser Daemon asked her. "Refuse them, princess. I mistrust these sellswords. Do not go to Storm's End."

I think it's a little concerning that the designated Voice of Reason doesn't want her going any further in this journey.

+.+.+

"Ser Daemon, you squired for my uncle Oberyn," she said. "If you were with him now, would you be counseling him to refuse as well?" She did not wait for him to respond. "I know the answer. And if you are about to remind me that I am no Red Viper, I know that too. But Prince Oberyn is dead, Prince Doran is old and ill, and I am the heir to Dorne."

"And that is why you should not put yourself at risk." Daemon Sand went to one knee. "Send me to Storm's End in your stead. Then if the griffin's plans should go awry and Mace Tyrell takes the castle back, I will be just another landless knight who swore his sword to this pretender in hopes of gain and glory."

Whereas if I am taken, the Iron Throne will take that for proof that Dorne conspired with these sellswords, and lent aid to their invasion. "It is brave for you to seek to shield me, ser. I thank you for that." She took his hands and drew him back to his feet. "But my father entrusted this task to me, not you. Come the morrow, I sail to beard the dragon in its den."

Yeah, I don't have a good feeling about any of this.

I don't think the danger is the host coming from King's Landing. I think it's the decisions she makes after that.

Final thoughts:

What happens when Daemon Sand is the more likeable man in the love triangle?

Let it be known, I'm Team Bastard of Godgrace. I'll let you guys enjoy the one assuming the role of Joffrey.

Next chapter: The Forsaken (Aeron Dam-phair)

-> return to menu <-

#operation stumpy re-read #twow #arianne ii

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agentrouka-blog · 1 year

Note

Do you think Cersei is going to burn the Sept of Baelor?

Not in a way that will be immediately and unquestioningly blamed on her.

The woman is clearly back in power as per the TWOW Mercy sample chapter, and KL still has to be functional and her queenship at least somewhat stable for the intermediate term. There is no point in sending envoys to Braavos to negotiate with the Iron Bank if the smallfolk are calling for her blood and she has zero support anywhere. There has to be something for the envoys to return to. Even Stannis is making his worst-case-plans for Justin Massey going to Braavos in the belief that his wife and daughter will be safe at Castle Black, even if he dies.

So, whether she does order it (and it would certainly make sense) or someone does it on her behalf in order to destroy the Lannister/Tyrell alliance and pave the way for them switching sides to Aegon (Varys, I'm looking at you), it's going to have to happen in a way that leaves Cersei looking innocent of the crime. While probably still leaving Mace Tyrell her enemy, breaking the alliance, and rushing South to meet with Aegon by the time Arianne arrives at Griffin's Roost.

A third party might be blamed, perhaps. Someone motivated to harm either the royal family or the Faith, who might even make for a credible enemy down the line. Depending on how the Ladies Nymeria and Tyene go about their arrival in KL with little Myrcella in tow, perhaps Dorne might suffice. But that's wild speculation.

TL,DR: Probably, but no concrete idea how.

#cersei lannister #sept of baelor #burning of holy places #asoiaf speculation

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mysticfoxdesigns · 9 months

Note

Hey i was hoping to asks this in dm's but I'm not a mutual, but do you have any transformers fic recommendations, i'm loving yours at the moment and i'm hoping for more like it.

I'm so glad you're loving my Cyberaligned universe so far! I do have several fics that I very much enjoy, some are completed, some aren't. I'll be glad to share them with you and everyone else!

Make sure to read the tags before you read any fic I recommend

Fic list

Miko Nakadai Entity AU

Miko is a water entity who shares with Jack and Raf her secret. The trio unknowingly just got assigned a destiny.

De Spatio Inter Astra

(READ THE TAGS) M.E.C.H. and Dr. Morocco work together to kidnap the Prime Trio and Cody to experiment on them using a Cybertronian artifact they found.

With a Side of Rust

Knockout wants extravagant alt mode for the future of Cybertron. The only way he can get that, is roadtripping with the Prime Trio.

Neon Down the Water Table

Crash Down

Both of these fics are fun alternatives to the beginning and pre-Prime series. The bots are using their holoform to blend in, and Jack and June meet them as their holoforms.

Come Home to Roost

Buzzsaw crashes onto Griffin Rock after being presumed dead and left behind by the Decepticons. He gains a new family.

Of Moments in Life

Dreadwing survives Megatron's attempted assassination and crash lands on Griffin Rock. Blades finds him and patches him up, and he is granted a new start and a new home.

One Road Forever

(Sad Fic) Kade dies, and Heatwave is learning to cope.

Growing Up Different

Cody's road of self discovery and acceptance of being AroAce.

Road Bombs and Beer make the Burns Question Their Life Choices

(Crack Fic) The war is brought to Griffin Rock and chaos happens.

Echos

Blade's past with the Protectobots keeps haunting him.

And I'll likely add on once I find more fics I like/go through ALL of my bookmarks. I tried for this list to find general fics with no romantic ships as the main focus, but please tell me if you want ship fics!

#mystic chaos #mysticfox rambles #ask response #answered asks #tfp #transformers prime #tf rescue bots #rescue bots #transformers rescue bots #tf fic #transformers fic #fanfic rec #seriously read the tags before you read any of the fics i recommend #my level of angst at times is scary #i'm pretty sure i have some more fics somewhere #but i'm on mobile and the ui for searching is no where near pc's searching #i'll add more later

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wodania · 7 months

Note

For the favorite clothing ask I’d have to say EVERYTHING is my favorite! Though I will narrow it down to a FEW pieces:

- Basically anything with the Northmen/First Men (ESPECIALLY the earrings which may be slightly from my adoration of statement earrings in fashion).

- Daenys the Dreamer (which 1. You have superb taste in music 2. I could stare at your design of her for hours if I was able too😄).

- Younger Egg (where one was him as king and the other as a prince, especially the one of him with the shorter hair. I could picture him looking like that when he’s growing it back from his adventures with Dunk😊😊).

- As well as the Connington family art (particularly Young Griff’s outfit: he looks like just another Connington like that🥺/it’s also hard for me to view it since I just want to wrap him in a blanket and keep him safe with his dad at Griffin’s Roost forever😭🥺🥺).

I just enjoy how you design characters if you can’t tell (when picturing the characters I can only see your designs now😄🫶🫶)!

(original lyanna piece)

(original betha piece)

(original arya piece)

(original rhaelle piece)

Some earrings!!! These originally started off as beaded, but I’ve since played with a sort of stitched(?) style with beaded ornaments. I’ve been playing around with more northern fashion on the side, I just need to get good at making patterns before you can truly see what I’m capable of!

(original daenys piece)

Omg this one was the blueprint for all of my Targaryen designs since, I still love it. I’d love to do a sketch featuring the full outfit, since I adore the shape and fabrics (to try to describe it, the red robe is only on her torso, the black dress continues down all the way to her feet. If she were to remove the robe, the dress would be sleeveless).

About the music, I was top 0.5% of Florence fans last year and I am determined to remain in that rank 🫶 adore her so much

(original egg piece)

I wanted to draw Egg in more regal attire, since hes only ever really depicted in simple tunics and shirts as a child. Funny you mention the hair, because I was just making a note that Egg wore his hair shorter in the years following his time with Dunk! In my mind, he wears his hair shorter until around his late twenties or so (you can see the shorter hair in my most recent piece too).

(original connington piece)

Aegon has always been more of a Connington than any other family to me 🫶 I like using tartans and kilts with Stormlander designs whenever I can, so I like implementing them in Aegon’s design as well! I’d like to redesign some Aegon outfits keeping the more regal Targaryen vibe mixed with the Connington colours someday! One of these days I’m gonna sit down and just do a bunch of costume designs for you guys I promise 😭

Also the comment about you picturing my designs when you read: I literally sent a screenshot of that to my friends bc I was so happy tysm 😭

#my asks

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a-song-of-art-and-fire · 8 months

Text

Ser Jon Connington, Exiled Lord of Griffin's Roost

"Time enough to cross the sea, to see Griffin's Roost again. To end the Usurper's line for good and all, and put Rhaegar's son upon the Iron Throne. Then Lord Jon Connington could die content."

My third take on JonCon now, I'm pretty sure that's as many minis as he has chapters! This time when he was younger, at the height of his Golden Company career, right before he left to be a full-time adoptive dad drank himself to death in Lys.

This was a nameless Golden Company sculpt, but the face very much shouted JonCon to me. I considered changing the shield to give him his Griffins, but I do like that stylised swirly shield that came on the mini. I love the detail of GC members keeping their wealth in gold arm rings, of course that would be hard to show with full golden plate mail, so I portrayed the "wearing their wealth" by giving them lots of jewelled necklaces.

#very happy with his stern cold eyes as well #asoiaf #asoiaf fanart #miniatures #minis #a song of ice and fire #valyrian scrolls #cmon #golden company #jon connington #house Connington

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visenyaism · 11 months

Note

saw that anon from a few days ago and cannot stop cackling at the idea of joncon finding out that rhaegar was having a gay fling but just not with him. 10/10 comedic potential right there

joncon’s entire life narrative and worldview been constructed around the holy martyrdom of crushing on his boy best friend, a straight twink of vastly higher social status who didn’t want him because he was married to a woman (and reallyonly interested in conceiving the prince that was promised) and who he thinks wouldn’t want him because he’s only the future lord of griffin’s roost who failed to kill robert baratheon when he had the chance all of which rendered rhaegar fundamentally unknowable to even joncon who was closest to him so all he has left is this reified dreamlike memory of rhaegar that he raises “his son” in the image of. this delusion will blow up in the same cataclysm that takes out King’s Landing, but the idea of that happening because joncon found out rhaegar was gay on the low just not for him is kind of funny i guess

#asoiaf #god joncon is such a heartbreaking character. even in this dumb joke post it’s just sad

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my-watch-begins · 1 year

Text

A match for love. Part XVII

Pairing: Harwin Strong x Female!OC.

Words: 5 k

Warnings: things get spicy again, and also a little angsty.

MASTERLIST.

4 years later.

Ayla scribbled on a piece of parchment. Her eyes landed briefly at the Lord sitting in front of her.

"I'm afraid if you don't agree to these terms, you will be sanctioned, Lord Rogers. The blockade you've established to House Wylde can no longer stand"

"I wish to speak to the Hand about this. His sons killed my only one in a jousting competition in a heavy unsportsmanlike manner"

Ayla left the feather in the ink and moved from her seat to one of the drawers.

"The Hand has already sanctioned and signed your efforts in this blockade. You are to replenish the loss of stock the Wylde suffered and the food that went to waste because you blocked their path from the rest of the Stormlands. I thought you had come to see me to even further your generosity over House Wylde and offer a marriage between one of your daughters and one of his sons. For peace keeping sake"

Ayla had left a parchment signed and marked with the Hand's sigil, Lord Rogers had read it as she spoke.

"You do, after all, need a new heir to your House"

The Lord pondered, then folded the parchment on itself and placed it back on the desk.

"Do try to arrange this as soon as possible, the sanction is affected by interests if you stall"

The Lord didn't seemed convinced, but he would also never speak with the Hand. He accepted his rendition and left the office, albeit a little angry.

"Next" Ayla called, looking at the front door of the office of the Hand. Her jaw tightened when she saw Lord Everan walk in.

"Lady Ayla" he saluted, his hand took the chair and pulled it back to sit in front of her.

"Lord Connington" she addressed, eager to find out why would he need to speak with the Hand.

"I hear you are the one that needs to be addressed these days"

"The Hand is much too busy with other matters and leaves these ones to me" she explained shortly. "I hope I can be of service"

"I have no doubt you will be My Lady" Ayla stared shortly at his face. Even after all those years, seeing Lord Everan too much might confirm the suspicions she had from day one, the ones that the Princess Rhaenyra, despite their continued and growing close friendship, had never confirmed nor denied "I would like to arrange travel security, the lootings are becoming more and more common these days"

Ayla grabbed a clean piece of parchment and got ready to write.

"We are aware, where to?"

"The Stormlands, to my seat in Griffin's Roost, my entire party will be leaving, total of six" as Ayla wrote down the destination and her mind quickly began to swirl with questions.

"It can be arranged from the Red Keep until the Fellwood, I believe Baratheon forces could take the rest of the detail the rest of the way. I'll send a raven right away"

"I don't believe that would be necessary, I am in quite a hurry to leave on the morrow"

"Oh" she muttered "very well then, I'll arrange this with my husband as soon as possible"

"Ah yes, the Lord Commander" both Ayla and Lord Everan stood from their seats, Ayla held the piece of parchment she had just written "I believe I am in good hands then" she somehow didn't like the way Lord Everan pronounced the words. She smiled and motioned at the door.

"We will have to trust your past judgment Lord Everan, you did vouch for him when it was time to name a Lord Commander"

They smiled at each other, Ayla with a more condescending undertone and Lord Everan out of a little embarrassment.

After Ayla saw that there was no one outside the office of the Hand, she closed and locked it before heading to the office of the Lord Commander, an office she argued was more fit to the post rather than a desk in the barracks.

When she reached the office, she knocked and entered, her eyes meeting the broad of his back as he stored things away.

"You can leave it on the desk" he said, not turning to address her.

She left the folded parchment in his desk as she spoke "that's no way to talk to your Lady wife" she teased. Harwin spun on his heels and instantly gave her an apologetic twist of his eyebrows as he walked to her.

"I was expecting someone else, apologies my love" he kissed her on the forehead and rounded her waist with one of his arms, instantly trapping her "that is absolutely no way to speak to my bountiful lady wife" his large hand cupped fully one of her ass cheeks and he leaned in for a hungry kiss. Ayla chuckled and rounded his neck, pulling herself up on her tiptoes to kiss him properly. The door knocked again and Harwin replied over her lips.

"I'm busy"

"No he's not, come in" she countered, her hands now pushing his hand away from her ass and slipping from his grip.

One of the captains entered and without other words other than acknowledging the two of them by their tittles, left more parchments on the table.

Ayla waited until the captain left and closed the door behind him.

"This is of a bigger priority I'm afraid" she pointed at her piece of parchment and left it on top of the others

"I will get to it right away" his hand found hers and led it to his lips for a quick kiss "the Princess wishes to see us tonight" he said in a low voice.

Unwillingly Ayla connected the dots. Her mind wandered around with what the missing information could be until mid-day, at which point her thoughts switched quickly to wonder why were her children being scolded by the Septa.

She quickened her steps and when she neared them she called for their attention.

"Septa Noelle" the first ones to react to the words were her children, who quickly left the Septa's side and rushed over to hide behind her "what would be the matter?"

The Septa sighed in exasperation and held her hands together at her front.

"Lady Ayla, as you are aware, there's a new curricula supported by the Queen to teach the children the Faith of the Seven"

"I am aware"

"Your children I'm afraid do not posses the base knowledge to be with the other children in the lessons and will need to reinforce their knowledge with extra classes"

"I will see to that personally" she concluded, her hands searched and found her sons clammy and sweaty ones, specially Kiran's who was not used to being scolded so harshly.

"I'm afraid that the knowledge you might be able to teach them will not be enough, your children repeat words and sayings I'm certain they haven't heard from anywhere else but you, as I have often personally hear you curse at the Gods and besmirch their miracles and good graces"

"My dislike for the Gods is not unwarranted"

"Still, I believe that as a mother, you should-"

"Sadly I'm not taking any comments or suggestions about my parenting at this time Septa Noelle. With your permission"

Ayla turned on her heels and pressed a hand to each of her sons' shoulders, leading them away from the teaching room and from the Septa. The Strong boys ushered words to each other and Ayla kept a close eye on them until they reached the Tower of the Hand.

"I'm going to see if your aunt Grayce needs anything, you can either come with me or head down to the baracks, your uncle might be there finishing with his training" she offered. The boys didn't look up at her to reply or gave her any of their words. She crouched to meet their gaze and placed her hands at either side of their cheeks. "What is it my boys?"

"Are we in trouble?"

"Will you tell father?"

They asked, Ayla pulled their faces up by their chins and held their gaze to hers.

"You are not in trouble, and I will tell your father about this but not to scold you, but to protect you, as it is our job"

"Kylian said you hated the Gods" Kiran explained in a accusatorial tone.

"I do not care who did what, Kiran. But maybe next time we don't repeat things we hear at home, I have my reasons for having spoken those words, and most people often judge unknowingly. That's why we always hold out judgement until we have all the information, right my boys?"

Both of them nodded dutifully and somewhat remorseful, she kissed them each on the forehead, moving their curls away and then ordered them to the barracks.

In the Tower of the Hand now only one family resided. Ayla and Harwin had given their large quarters and adjacent room to Grayce after her marriage. Grayce's husband was a rather charming second son of the Lord of House Rykker who had attended the name day celebration of one of the Targaryen Princes. Far from being a good swordsman, Terren Rykker appeared to be the exact opposite of Ayla's brother Adrian. Leaning more to books, organization, straying from taverns and most importantly being a gentleman, Terren had approached Grayce and Adrian as they danced in the celebration for Prince Aegon's name day and asked to dance with Grayce.

That was the first time Terren had showed and proved his courage to win Grayce's favor. The second time was when he personally headed to the office of the Hand to ask for Grayce's hand.

Since their marriage, Grayce and Terren had welcomed two little girls, one of now two years old and the other one of three months old. Despite having interrupted their dance, Terren was blissfully unaware of the past that Adrian and Grayce shared. Ayla tried to make deaf ears and blind eyes to the fact that two dark haired parents had dark brown hair children that could either be attributed to their grand sire's heritage or...

Ayla tried not to think about the other option. Adrian did not show exceptional interest on the girls other than the occasional praise on their beauty and even then it wasn't enough of a reason for Ayla to doubt them.

Ayla made time almost every day to visit her nieces in the Tower of the Hand either to help with the girls or to talk with Grayce about the tribulations of being a mother, not to mention the two little girls had drawn Ayla and she very much enjoyed holding them, soothing them, feeding them and seeing them grow.

At night, when Ayla put her sons to bed, Ayla and Harwin walked to their bedroom and opened the side door behind a painting, entering the hidden passages and closing the entrance behind them.

Harwin knew the path like the back of his hand, so he just held Ayla's hand and guided her in the dark as they spoke.

"I'm sure tomorrow you will hear a thing or two about my insolence with the Septa and the words we said to each other today"

"What about?"

"About how my words affect the children's willingness to learn about the Gods. I can only imagine the things Kylian repeats. I got angry at her judgment of my work as a mother"

"As you should my love. I'll make deaf ears to any complaint"

"Perhaps you should look stunned-"

"I will not" Harwin interrupted, then held her hand tighter and pulled her to his side, their bodies meeting in the dark "we are a united front, you and I. I will never undermine you because you have never undermined me" Ayla felt a kiss at the top of her head and Harwin's steps came to a halt, making her stop as well "or do I have to remind you that I married you to always defend you in your insolences?"

Light peaked from the little creak between the wall and the hidden door long enough for Harwin to see Ayla's pleased smirk, then Harwin pushed and moved to let Ayla in first. She squinted her eyes at the harsh light from many candlelights lit all over the room. Ayla noticed the back of the Princess' head and how it moved before she stood up.

Ayla had gotten to know the Princess over their years of acquaintance and realized instantly that she had been crying and attempted to compose herself before turning to meet the couple. Ayla gave her a smile and extended her hands to her. The Princess quickly took them and hardened her features.

"Princess" she saluted. Rhaenyra nodded in their direction and headed to the table on the other side of the room. Ayla and the Princess sat across each other with the table to the side of them, Harwin had to stand behind Ayla pacing out of nervousness.

"As our lives have been linked through the years for some regrettable reasons, I wanted to speak with you before the morning" Ayla's back unconsciously straightened at the direction of the conversation "I am with child"

The only thing in Ayla's mind from that moment until she found herself laying in bed was just one phrase.

What a cunt.

From what she suspected; Lord Everan had been told the news of the Princess' state and had proceeded to pack his things and leave King's Landing before the announcement and posterior birth, that was presumably the reason why she had been crying before they entered the room.

Ayla had assured the Princess that, as always, they would disparage the rumors, deny them, and defend their honor as they had done the two previous times. The Princess seemed relieved and thankful for their words.

Upon looking at her husband as awake as her next to him. She turned to her side and sighed to call for his attention, even though she already had it.

"What do you think?" Harwin asked, his eyes not leaving the ceiling above them.

"I think of the children. They're definitely old enough now to make sense of words"

"Do you think we should prepare them?" He turned his head to her, Ayla gave him a twist of her lips.

"I believe we should, love"

Harwin sighed and pressed a hand to his eyes in frustration.

"What do you think they'll think of me?" Ayla moved to lean over him, one of her hands came to his neck and she kissed his forehead. Harwin's hand rounded her back and landed in between her shoulder blades, keeping her secured over him

"They'll think of you what they already think of you. That you are a dedicated father and a good man, and you saw two little boys and cared for them in the distance. That is the truth, anything else they should disregard"

Harwin squeezed Ayla's shoulder and she leaned back to look at him.

"When Grayce fell with child, both times, you were a little sensitive after the news, how are you about these ones?"

Ayla appreciated that Harwin still threaded carefully about the subject of children. After they had agreed to wait, even though Harwin had followed the advice and lately he rarely spilled inside of her, the fewer times he did had never resulted in not even a scare of being pregnant too early.

"I'm strangely hopeful" she admitted "the Princess said it herself, our lives have been linked over the years. The last time the Princess fell with child so did I shortly after" Ayla saw no ready reply on his part, he just stared at her "it's also been five years" she excused.

"You only need to ask"

"Do I now?" She teased, her body inching more and more until she laid on top of him with her legs at either side of him. Her mouth descended to his for a hot kiss, his big hands landed at her waist and inched lower and lower to her glutes. His fingers worked the fabric of her nightgown to scrunch it over her waist, slowly unveiling her long legs and quickly pulsating sex.

"What does my Lady wife want from me?" He teased. Ayla smiled over his lips and nipped at his lower lip with her teeth.

"I want you to put a babe in me" her teeth nipped at his lips again and Harwin's hand left Ayla's glutes momentarily "I want you to fill me with your seed and-" her sentence got caught in her throat and replaced with a gasp and a moan. Her hands fisted Harwin's shirt as Harwin's thick and hard cock slipped inside of her in a quick thrust.

Ayla's hips rocked back and Harwin's rocked upwards, their efforts meeting and resulting in heavy breaths and restraining grunts from Harwin and free and long moans of pleasure from Ayla. The sight of her full breasts bouncing under the soft silks of her nightgown and her head falling back at the pleasure drove Harwin mad.

His feet made leverage and he pounded upwards to Ayla's needy sex rapidly, as Ayla's hands left bruising scratches on his chest as she held on to whatever she could, Harwin's fingers dug into her waist pushing her down as he thrusted upwards.

Ayla's body trembled and she barely held herself up as the orgasm ripped through her, long and leaving her legs numb at the effort of keeping them bent at either side of her husband's unforgiving hips.

She felt her world turn as Harwin flipped her to the bed, now kneeling in between her legs and positioning his member to her pulsating middle. Without waiting for her to come down from her high, he slipped into her again and grabbed one of her legs, hooking his arm beneath it and pulling her leg up to meet his shoulder.

She felt the most open she'd ever felt, every inch of his cock touched a perfect spot, his soft grunts and sighs were music to her ears as much as her string of moans and wantonly mentions of his name. She felt free and relaxed on the bed and under the arms of her lover.

Under the spell of the peace and pleasure she felt in his arms and as her hands held onto his forearms as some kind of support she blurted out an I love you. The response from Harwin was to crash his lips with hers and make his hips snap faster, Ayla screamed in pleasure drowned by his lips, her back arched to meet his still clothed chest and Harwin's last efforts to make her wife reach other orgasm were quickly achieved when he kneeled back on his heels, placed both hands at her waist and pulled her off the bed, snapping his hips faster and faster until Ayla lost control of her body and Harwin of his, spilling his seed inside of her and her hips moving up and down on his cock, milking every last bit of him.

Ayla sat at the maester's chair as he poured his thoughts over the numbered days. She glanced at Harwin standing in the archway of the door with his arms crossed at his chest, his leg bounced in nervousness as he stared at the Maester.

"Today, you are four moons with child, my Lady"

Ayla wanted to reply with an angry 'I know', she didn't not need a reminder that it had taken her four months to conceive another child and then another four worrying and praying over it's health to see the pregnancy through. She held her tongue to allow the Maester to continue with his thoughts.

"In my experience and most recorded evidence over the years, there should not be a reason for this pregnancy to not come to full term after this month, the only reasons why it would be possible for you to loose the child would be of a physical nature" at the sight of Ayla's frown in wonder the Maester kept talking "direct hits to the midsection and back, a fall, horse riding. I beg for you carefulness"

"Of course" Ayla nodded, Harwin extended his hand to Ayla and she took it as she stood up.

"We will still have visits every two weeks, otherwise put a smile on your face, it'll do the babe well"

Ayla left the pleasantry of thanking the Maester to Harwin, she slipped past him and out the door, being met with Harwin later in a few strides to catch up with her.

"Put a smile on your face he says, luckily for him he'll never know what it's like to be ripped from the inside at the loss of a child" she spat angrily, her hand pressing at the base of her slowly rounding stomach "as if it were that easy"

When they reached the path that led to the office of the Hand at one side and the office of the Lord Commander in the opposite direction, only then Ayla stopped and looked up at Harwin.

"Oh, Harwin" she sighed, tendered at the sight of her husband running a hand over his eyes. She reached for him and rounded his shoulders with her arms. Harwin hugged her, his arms reached around her whole back and landed on her ribs, his face hid in her neck. Ayla rubbed his neck soothingly "I apologize if I'm a little pessimistic. I don't mean to bring you down with it" she pulled back and cupped his cheek, their foreheads meeting "you can be as happy and overjoyed and show it as much as you want"

"I want you to be it too"

Ayla kissed him tenderly.

"When we have our little one at arms I will be"

They shared another kiss, then before parting Harwin took Ayla's hands and kissed them.

As she walked to the office of the Hand, both kinds of thoughts battled in her mind. Ones about worried about seeing the pregnancy to it's end battled with the implications not seeing it to it's end knowing that she would never welcome another child if she did.

At the sight of her, Lord Lyonel asked firstly about their visit with the Maester. Ayla related that it seemed to be coming along well.

"Harwin was moved by the news, I'm still more on the frightful side"

"It's normal after what you've been through. But you should trust the words of the maesters"

Ayla kept her thoughts about the maesters to herself and changed the subject "how is the King?"

"Better, by the grace of the Gods. Though his health is on a spinning wheel, sometimes at the highest and sometimes at the lowest. For now I will not absent myself from the office of the Hand, but I will let you know when I would need you to take over"

Ayla nodded and stared at Lord Lyonel, writing and signing things over his desk.

"I'm afraid I won't be of much help today after the visit, but I'll be better tomorrow" Ayla confessed, she could hardly think if anything else other than her babe.

"Understandable. You should go and rest" Ayla took the dismissal with a nod and walked from the office of the hand.

Instead of going to the quarters of the Lord Commander where they now resided, she headed to the gardens.

At the sight of her, the Princess walked briskly, as if she wasn't carrying the extra weight of her big stomach with her child threatening to be born at any moment.

"I'll have a table set up for us and you can tell me everything" she said, holding Ayla's hands in hers.

Once they were sitting, Ayla barely touched any of the food, she just drank tea and watched the Princess eat to it's entirely a bowl of candied lemons.

"I just can't bring myself to be happy about it. I'm fearful that one of this days I will wake up and loose it" the Princess gave her a sympathetic twist of her eyebrows "and this time will be worst than the last because I am farther along and will be damaged irreversibly"

"It will not be, it's not a certainty and you shouldn't speak as if it's something that will happen inevitably" Rhaenyra's hands search for Ayla's as she spoke. "The Gods wouldn't be so cruel"

"They can and they have been with me. Otherwise I wouldn't have had to wait five years to conceive a child knowing how much I want it, how much we want it" Ayla stared at their held hands "truth be told, the news about your child gave me strength enough to ask Harwin to try again"

The Princess smiled widely tendered at Ayla's words. She reached for her and her hand landed on her stomach.

"I, Rhaenyra of House Targaryen, first of my name will personally seek the Gods in the clouds and far beyond and set them aflame with my dragon if they dare to take this child from you" she declared.

At night, as Ayla laid on the bed with a little more carefulness than she usually did, she was quickly enveloped by Harwin's arm around her middle and his lips came to her bump.

"How have you felt today?" He asked.

"Normal, thoughtful, though lacking appetite"

Harwin twisted his mouth in a scolding matter.

"I did eat, just haven't indulged much other than what was necessary"

Harwin pressed his hand over her bump and then a slow kiss, leaving his forehead on it.

Even over Ayla's distaste for the Gods, Harwin often prayed for the health of the babe to the Mother before going to bed. When he finished with his prayer he kissed her stomach again and lifted his eyes to hers.

"The Princess' labors are nearing. I do not wish for you to get into fights with people who speak ill of us"

"If they say them to my face I will" she quickly defended.

"Ayla, I'm begging you" she couldn't stand her husband's big and pleading eyes on her. She gave a defeated sigh and pressed her hand on top of his "If anything, point a finger at someone and I'll deal with it"

"You drain the fun out of everything" she complained.

"Just after the birth" he negotiated, his hand took hers and gave her a kiss "I'd missed seeing you like this" he admitted, his hand laying again on top of her stomach, his fingers rubbing lightly.

"I'd missed being like this" she followed "despite the pains that come with it, I very much like bearing your children"

"They are ours"

"Those two boys we have do not have a drop of my blood in them, your seed is much too strong"

"This one will"

Ayla turned her lips in a little scowl.

"I'd like my own personal army of Strong boys" Harwin smiled and kissed her stomach again.

The Princess closed her eyes and held both of her hands to the sides of her stomach, the chairs of the garden arrangements definitely did not help to make her comfortable during her pains.

"The pains have already started" she commented to Ayla. " The maesters predict the birth will happen this week"

"You will do well in it, Rhaenyra, it's nothing you haven't done two times before"

"That's not what I'm worried about, its the implications of the birth, they will show themselves even quicker than before"

"The Queen is surely going to bring up the matter to the King again" Ayla commented.

"She surely will" she lamented "and two times... It was excusable. Not it's undeniable"

Ayla pressed her lips tightly.

"What do think I should do to mitigate them?" the Princess asked, tilting her head to the side.

Ayla stared blankly at the Princess, her words stunned her and she didn't give her an answer quick enough making the Princess justify her request.

"My father has the Hand to advise him, by your own words the Queen has Larys Strong to advise her, who do I have? My husband is woefully blind to our troubles, the only other person whose advise I would trust I haven't seen in ten years" she complained "and you have been under the tutoring of the Hand for years as well, you must have learned"

"I have" Ayla wearily began. His hands held each other tightly "though I feel like I don't have all the information to properly advise you" Ayla saw the initial glint of disappointment in Rhaenyra's eyes, but she spoke quickly to revert it "the only advise I could give you would be to propose a marriage between your oldest, Prince Jacaerys, and your sister Haelena"

"They would never agree to such a thing"

"I beg to differ, out of his own accord the King will agree. The Queen might disagree at first, and the betrothal should be made official before the Queen's father becomes aware of it and he tries to dissuade her. I also believe that it's a good exit for your sister. Based on what you've told me, she's the only one of your half siblings with who you have a good relationship with. I believe she'll be better with your side of the family"

Rhaenyra pondered. It was expected of her to start making alliances with her sons, the boys had Targaryen blood and their options were limited to keep the bloodline pure.

She closed her eyes and pressed her hands at the base of her stomach.

"Perhaps we should head to your bedroom to rest" Ayla offered, seeing that the Princess was much too uncomfortable. As soon as her pains stopped, they walked arms linked to the Princess' quarters.

Harwin was walking down the corridor of the Keep when he saw the two Princes. He doubled back to double check if they were in fact Jace and Luke. He then rounded the castle figuring what their destination was and luckily came up in front of them. The boys halted at the interruption of their walk but relaxed when they realize it was only him.

"Where are you two headed without supervision?" He said sternly, the boys were far too familiarized with the Lord Commander to feel intimidated by him.

"Our mother is in labor"

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