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patrocles · 1 year

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If you’re still looking for topics of discussion, how do you envisage Alys and Aemond’s relationship? Also considering book vs show taking into account of what we’ve seen in s1 so far regarding Aemond’s character and the writing in general? Would love to hear your thoughts.

WOULD LOVE TO DISCUSS THIS (i’m on mobile for apologize for incoherency)

So my ideas about where Alys and Aemond’s relationship will go is largely rooted in what’s been established with Aemond’s character thus far, less about the book canon aside from broadstroke plot beats. The idea of show!Aemond just taking a woman as a bedmate would be pretty inconsistent with the guy we know who prides himself on Not being a depraved piece of shit like Aegon.

I think that leaves a pretty fair opening for his and Alys’ dynamic to work more like a slowburn?

There of course are the immediate logistics of how they meet, will show!Aemond slaughter all of House Strong. I think a lot of it would depend on how Aemond changes after Storm’s End. I can personally see him leaning into his new role as a feared kinslayer instead of pleading his case that Luke’s death was an accident. Not leaning into it necessarily because it makes him look Cool, but there being no real point in trying to change the narrative once the stain has been set and war is happening anyways.

Very James Flint “Everyone’s a villain to someone. Since you are so convinced that I am yours, I will be it.” core

However, I do think its something that will still weigh on him over the seasons the further the war goes on and the more war crimes he ends up committing. A tragic form of Committing to the Bit. I think also we’ll see Aemond struggle with his relationship with his family, especially Alicent. What we’ve seen in the show is Aemond being the Dependable child, the one Alicent can really rely on, and in turn she’s been the family member that he’s closest to. So after Storm’s End, if that relationship is fractured, I can really see Aemond working incredibly hard to regain that status as The Reliable One, and really carrying the weight of responsability to win the war he thinks he started. The irony is that committing so hard to this would effectively damn him even more than just Luke’s death and force him to really commit reprehensible actions, all in the name of saving his family after KL is taken.

NOW ENTER ALYS. (mind you this is all what i personally find narratively interesting)

Let me just first say that I absolutely hate the Femme Fatale Sexy Seductress trope that people seem to apply to her.

I think the Alys that we meet is just a woman who has a bad reputation because of the way the men have failed her in her life. I would really love for the show to explore why it meant for Alys to be Lyonel’s bastard, abandoned at Harrenhal. The fact that she’s a servant and a wet nurse specifically means that she was in some capacity, not protected by her father and brothers, as well as the other relatives still at Harrenhal. One would have to wonder just how bad she would actually feel if Aemond were to kill some of them.

I can also see Alys leaning to her Old Gods faith for a sense of comfort and perhaps was a sort of healer (hence why people thought she was a witch). Like Aemond, if people already have this impression of her, what’s the point in changing the narrative especially if her reputation was already tarnished with a pregnancy. And perhaps there’s a degree of safety in people thinking she’s a creepy weird witch, they (men) wont fuck with her. (Like maybe she did have a child that died in infancy bc The Times and people thought that she sacrificed it to the Old Gods, which is like incredibly sad to think about? But would add to the Witchy reputation)

So Aemond and Alys together, I think it’s a dynamic that has to be fleshed out on an emotional level for it to really work, given the nature of confusion in Fire and Blood with people thinking she bewitched Aemond. Of course being a prince, it wouldn’t be insane for him to take a woman of the castle he took, but for him to MARRY her? While being betrothed to a Baratheon?? It’s just not something that the pragmatic Aemond we’ve seen would just do on a whim.

I think there would be a whole thing of like Being Seen by the one person in the entire world who could possibly ever understand you. And that would be Aemond and Alys to each other. It’s compelling to ME because they are as different as could possibly be, a Targaryen prince and a riverlander wet nurse, and yet they manage to find a kindredness in loneliness, feeling isolated from their families, and carrying the weight of being misunderstood by everyone.

And maybe they confess their burdens to each other and actually feel heard for the first time in their lives. I think it would be an act of making themselves equal to each other (which would be an interesting contrast to Rhaenyra and Daemon’s relationship) (Aemond letting Alys take off his eye patch you will see my climbing the walls and eating the plaster)

So falling in love would require a conscious act of choice; Aemond choosing Alys and committing to her. Fighting this war and doing what needs to be done to win it, even if it means further condemning himself morally, But keeping Alys because it’s the only thing he’s ever gotten to have for just himself, save for Vhagar.

So people took what Ewan said about Aemond knowing that he’s going to die as proof? That Alys would be cut from the show?? A wild stretch but I think him knowing that this war will end with his death in some capacity really contextualizes why he chooses Alys— if he knows he won’t make it long enough to fufill his oath to the Baratheons, why not embrace what he has with Alys now. But where Aemond get fucked up a bit, is getting this Grand Love he’s always craved, and now a child! But the tragedy of knowing that he can’t have it. I think he knows what it would mean to fight Daemon, that he would die to do it as he’a the biggest threat to not only his family in KL, but now Alys and their child. And there would be struggle there, there would be Aemond’s heart in conflict, “Love is the death of duty”, etc. But the longer he puts it off to have Alys just one more day, the more he knows she would never truly be safe. So again, another act of kinslaying for a kinslayer, to protect them all.

And maybe Alys saw it too, and begged him not to go. He promised to show her Oldtown after all this was over, what things she could learn there! A place for a child to grow up safe and happy, away from all this. But instead she watches him fly off to his doom.

And the Witch Queen of Harrenhal is born from her loss. Her bitterness and grief and fury turning her into a vengeful person. A self fulfilling prophecy in a way, she wasn’t a witch before, now she’ll curse them all for taking Aemond from her. The end of the Dance saw only a handful of survivors, but is this living? It ties into the overall theme of just how pointless the war was, how nothing came of it except trauma and grief. And Alys’ blood oath to avenge Aemond’s death (I’m not saying she placed a placed a curse on the surviving Targaryens, but look at what a fuckin mess the next 170 years was for them)

But like this why whoever plays Alys needs to be a GOOD ACTRESS more than anything, I don’t care if Katie McGrath fits her (fanon) interpretation aesthetically because of a character she played ten years ago. Alys’ actress needs to be able to carry weighty scenes with Ewan like this is a Mom Certified 90s Romance Epic like the English Patient or something. I’m talking micro expressions, I’m talking unmatched chemistry, when I see her witness Aemond fall over the God’s Eye I want a blood curdling shriek that will stay with me for years (very much Abbie Cornish at the end of Bright Star). I WANT GOOD PERFORMANCES

anyways these are my thoughts

#i stopped everything to smash this out i hope it makes sense #asoiaf #long thots #alys x aemond #aemond targaryn #alys rivers #alysmond #asoiaf ask

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lya-dustin · 1 year

Text

Someone will remember us

Chapter 52

Cw:murder

Taglist: @stargaryenx @mercedesdecorazon

Gif by:@mlfcntrx

He forces himself to remember the kicking of his child as he swore to him, he won’t kill the boy, but his hands clench as the fire inside him yearns for him to spill the blood of the boy who came in from the rain.

He teeters on the rope between reason and madness as if he had no control over himself. One small thing could undo all his self-control and doom them all to place deeper than the seventh hell.

“Look at this sad creature, my lord,” Aemond called out and taunts the four and ten year old boy. “Little Luke Strong, the bastard.” To Luke he said, “You are wet, bastard. Is it raining or did you piss yourself in fear?”

Lucerys Velaryon addressed himself only to Lord Baratheon. “Lord Borros, I have brought you a message from my mother, the queen.”

“Yet earlier this day, I received an envoy from the King. Which is it? King or Queen? The House of the Dragon does not seem to know who rules it.” Borros taunts from his throne, insulted because he had hoped it would be his cousin who came begging for his help, to make him feel like a man despite Rhaenys being ten times the man he is.”

Lucerys is nervous, unprepared for the task he took up. He stammers as he presents his message to Baratheon and Baratheon latches onto his weakness like a tick on a bare arm.

“’Remind’ me of my father's oath? King Aegon at least came with an offer, my swords and banners for a marriage pact. If I do as your mother bids...” the lord paused for effect, “which one of my daughters will you wed’ boy?”

A trick question, everyone knows little Luke Strong is betrothed to Rhaena of Pentos, and yet it is the only confirmation Aemond has that the Storm Lord has accepted his offer to remain neutral.

“My lord... I am not free to marry. I'm already betrothed.” The boy’s voice cracks, he never could handle being put on the spot. Always crying for his mother, or Jacaerys or Aemma to come to his defense.

But there is no one here for him.

There is no one here to stop you…kinslayer, a voice whispered almost seductively in his head.

You will kill him anyways, its fated that he dies by your hand, it continues saying.

“So, you come with empty hands. Go home, pup. And tell your mother that the Lord of Storm's End is not some dog that she can whistle up at need to set against her foes.” Borros doesn’t even call up the servants for bread and salt to perform the tradition of the guest right as he dismissed the boy and keeps his neutrality in the war vague.

The boy takes his leave and looks at Aemond as if wanting to say something but decides against it.

He never did apologize like he promised his sister months ago.

“Hold, Strong. First pay the debt you owe me.” Then he tore off his eye patch and flung it to the floor, to show the sapphire beneath. “You have a knife, just as you did then. Put out your eye, and I will let you leave. One will serve. I would not blind you.”

“I will not fight you.” The boy doesn’t stammer even if he’s as afraid as a child. “I came as a messenger not a knight.”

You swore on the life of our child! He can hear Aemma hiss in anger and fear of what he is.

But a monster doesn’t stop being a monster no matter how much you love him.

His mother had tried, Aemma had too, only Criston seemed to understand his thirst for revenge would never be satisfied by words.

“A fight would be of little challenge. One eye will be enough. I plan to make it a gift to my mother.”

Once the words leave his mouth, he knows it is all over.

At that Lord Borros grew uneasy. “Not here,” he grumbled. “He came as an envoy. I want no blood shed beneath my roof.”

So, his guards put themselves between the princelings and escorted Lucerys Velaryon from the Round Hall, back to the castle yard where his dragon, Arrax, was hunched down in the rain, awaiting his return.

If only it had ended there, but Aemond had already fallen over the edge, madness had eaten away at his reason and only one of them would be leaving the Storm Lands alive.

“He is your wife’s own brother, your highness.” Borros warned.

Aegon the Uncrowned and Viserys were Maegor’s brothers and yet that didn’t stop him.

Aenys was Visenya’s own nephew, and she didn’t have any pity when she poisoned him.

But Maegor cursed his own seed, all his children born malformed and dead and with that Visenya’s line came to an inglorious end as the Iron Throne killed him itself.

Aemond focused on Aemma, on Aemon who is destined to claim a dragon as great as his sire and mother and have a destiny as great as Aegon the Conqueror.

“Was it one of your eyes he took, or one of your balls?” Maris asked mocking him, in tones sweet as honey. She was the most like her father, so much so she used the same insults as he did.

Aemond storms out after the bastard without thinking.

He should stop, he should not get on Vhagar and chase after the boy, but he is more beast than man now.

------

Aemma has never been devout to the Seven, she did all that was required of her, but never where they the ones she came to beg.

She comes and lights a candle on Balerion’s altar, where the dragon named after him serves as an idol.

The princess prays and chants in High Valyrian until her lower back begins to ache almost in tandem with Vhagar’s roars.

Even without seeing her husband, Aemma knows Lucerys’ blood is in his hands.

“Fetch the maester.” She said to her new handmaid, Saera or Sharon or Sally as the princess sucked in a breath as the next pain hit.

-----

Vaemond arrives too late.

It is morning when the Silent Sisters prepare the bodies that washed up ashore.

“You should have kept him under your roof until morning, kept him as a hostage or what have you.” Vaemond spat at the Storm Lord who came expecting bribery for a loyalty he should have without question.

“He was dead the moment his whore mother whelped him.” Baratheon shifted the blame on Rhaenyra.

Once he would have agreed, but he knew this was the last thing the boy’s mother had wanted. Baela was supposed to come, to sweeten the pot with Daella’s hand for Royce and Joffrey for the youngest of the Four Storms.

But the boy had wanted to prove himself, to show he was just as capable as Jacaerys and that he could handle a real diplomatic mission.

And now he was dead.

Killed by his sister’s own husband.

“I will remain neutral, give my condolences to your Queen and my cousin, and tell them I have my hands full with the Vulture King and because of Prince Lucerys’ death in my lands, King Aegon will not have my men filling his ranks.” Baratheon said the most sensible thing to ever leave his mouth.

“No man more accursed than a kinslayer.”

------

“How is she?” he asked Helaena who had been the only one to stay with Aemma after she began to feel pains.

“The maester says it is just a false alarm, brought on by the worry and all that. She and the baby are doing well, do not worry, Aem.” She comforted him as best as she could.

Aemma didn’t want to see him, she knew he had killed her little brother. He had sworn on the life of his child and the gods had reminded him that.

Aemond may as well have killed their boy, Maegor had no children, why would he be any different.

“You should go to her,” his all-wise sister advised and he didn’t have the strength to scoff.

He has not slept, not because he can no longer sleep without Aemma, but because every time he shuts his eyes, he sees Vhagar kill Arrax and Lucerys.

Aemond had not meant for it to slip out of his control.

He had intended to make Luke feel as scared as he had felt when he lost his eye, to know true fear, to know the hopelessness of knowing there is no one there to save you.

But the prince had lost command of his dragon, in his thirst for revenge, Vhagar had taken matters into her own claws and snapped Arrax’s neck.

By the time the one-eyed prince had been able to subdue her, the boy and his dragon had fallen into their watery grave.

I cannot face her, not when I killed her brother.

“She hates me, you heard her earlier, Helaena.” He shook his head.

‘Monster, monster, get out, get out, GET OUT!’ his wife had shouted when he tried to see her. the maester and his mother had asked him to take another room, it wasn’t good for her health or his for him to force his presence on her.

He wasn’t good for her health, no, neither were, both doomed to hurt each other from the start.

“Tell her what you told me, brother. Tell her the truth of it.” His sister urged quietly.

As far as everyone believes, Aemond killed Luke on purpose and not because he struggled with controlling his dragon.

War was inevitable and instead of a pardon on account of him being Aemma’s husband, he has now been sentenced to death for murder by a grieving Rhaenyra.

“It won’t matter, I swore I wouldn’t kill him and now we’ll lose our child because of me.” The prince looked forlornly at the chamber door separating him from his wife, same wife whose brother he murdered and who he has condemned to hell for marrying him.

“He will live, the maester says both are well. Besides, Maegor was poisoned by Tyanna of the Tower just like Rhaenyra was.” She reminded him.

“Go to her, go to her and tell her the truth, Aemond.” She urged him before leaving.

Aemma refused to even look at him when he knocked softly on the door.

“How are you feeling?” he asked wishing he could just hold her like he used to.

Gods, just hours ago he was sure he could come back, and nothing would change.

That it wouldn’t matter if she was their hostage because she was his wife and that was all that needed to matter.

But it had, he had lost her for good because of his own selfishness.

“My heart is broken.” She said with a sniffle. This wasn’t like when they were children and Aegon’s cruelty or people’s stupidity made her cry, or when she grieved for Teora, this time it had been he who had brought her the worst of miseries.

“I didn’t mean to.” He apologized and felt like the scared little boy he used to be before he claimed Vhagar. “I am sorry I killed your brother, I only intended to scare him—"

She scoffed, still refusing to even look at him. Looks at the tapestries depicting a happy couple celebrating their nuptials in idyllic gardens in Old Valyria. “Does the life of your son mean so little to you?”

“I couldn’t control Vhagar, I lost control when Baratheon and his bitch of a daughter said I was less of a man for losing an eye to him.” A paltry excuse, one that seems so stupid and trivial after seeing Vhagar act out as his hatred and resentment fueled his impulsive nature.

“Then why claim you did it on purpose? Why let your fucking brother throw a feast to celebrate Luke’s fucking murderer?” she cried as she asked. “Do you think you me a fucking fool?”

“Because they don’t believe me When I told them the truth. My own mother thinks me a monster, the man who is like a second father thinks it is just the remorse talking.” He answered with a tired sigh.

“I am sorry, Aemee, I never meant to hurt you this way.” He apologized again and left when she turned her face back to the tapestry on the wall.

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

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writingfromasgard · 6 years

Text

They will Learn

AN: Get the tissues. Spoilers if you haven’t seen Ivar V Lagertha.

Warnings: Physical violence, blood, your heart being stomped on

“Halfdan! If you do not show your face, I will come into this tent and hack whatever body part I find first off.” Hilde shouted outside the man’s tent. The eve of battle was coming and she was pissed. The few men who had dared try to stop her found themselves under her feet as she marched towards Hafldan’s tent.

When Halfdan emerged from his tent, standing tall with a bright smile at her, she balled her fingers into a fist and hit him with all of her might. He reeled back, stumbling slightly. The people around them that had followed her through the camp, unsure of where her path was, began to move in, ready to grab her. Halfdan wiped the blood off his lip and held his hand for them to give the two of them space. “I will guess and say you are angry with me.”

The fire in her eyes could probably scorch even the most weathered man and her heaving chest was further evidence of her anger. “You idiot! How can you do this? What do they have on you that you are so willing to do this?!” She shoved him at the center of his chest and watched him take a step back.

“Come inside and we can talk.” He motioned to his large tent a pace away. Her features only fully contorted with anger. He glanced around and attempted to reach for her elbow. His grasp faltered and Hilde pulled away from his grasp.

“No! You will explain to me why you want to face your own people here!” She yelled at him. The crowd was growing restless with shouts of death threats to her and Halfdan’s features grew worried. “Why do you want to face your family and kill them?”

His eyes grew darker and he reached for her again. This time with both of his hands, he grabbed her and slung her into the tent. “All of you go back to your beds. I will handle this and none of you are to touch her when she leaves. I will cut down the man or woman who does.” The crowd scattered at his challenge and he shoved his way into the tent, grabbing a barely recovered Hilde and throwing her on the bed.

“Let go of me, Kinslayer!” She yelled at him, trying to pry his hands off of her forearm. Halfdan was left no choice but grapple her until she was pinned underneath her. She spat at his face and he was at his limits. His own hand drew back and slapped her as hard as he could. She froze, her anger temporarily drained from her in shock.

“Hilde..” He began but he could see the pools of tears growing in her eyes. He was never good with women and he realized her anger was displaced sadness. He soothed the spot on her cheek and kissed her lips. She deepened the kiss, opening her mouth to his tongue. He was already becoming aroused when a sharp pain blossomed from his mouth He jerked away and the mild taste of blood spread over his tongue.

“You’re disgusting.” Hilde spat the blood she had drew back at him again. Even then, he found himself attracted to her. He moved up, using his knees to pin her arms down while he reached for a length of rope. “How can you kill your family?”

He moved off of her arms and quickly tied them together. Even so, she struggled, trying to get out of them with all her might. “I don’t.” He kept her legs held down by his weight on top of her. “I don’t want to fight but I owe Bjorn. He gave me so much more than Harald has. You were the one who encouraged me to seek my own path.”

Hilde knew she was wearing herself out with no results and finally gave up, looking anywhere but at Halfdan. “But why, Halfdan? I will have to kill you if we come across each other in battle..” She sounded like she had already slaughtered him and his blood stained her hands.

“I know and I can think of no worthier way than to die by your hand.” He leaned down and kissed her once more, a soft peck meant to wean her anger down. She returned it, though softly. He brushed her cheek off where dirt had collected. “I couldn’t live if I had to kill you.”

Her emotions plummetted to the pits of her soul and he showered her face with small kisses. Slowly, she was responding to his advances and he eased himself to lay between her legs while he tugged on her garments. “I want to feel you one more time. Let me do this so I can die with your touch fresh in my mind.” She closed her eyes and gave the smallest of nods.

“The gods would not be so cruel, would they?” Hilde asked, reaching up with her bound hands to touch his face. There was anxiety in her words and he kissed each of her palms softly. Her anger was ebbing away slowly like the sea and he began to slowly undo her wrists. She made one final attempt to shove him off of her, resulting in him pressing all of his weight down on her body.

“You can be so fierce that sometimes I fear even the gods would have to bend to your will.” Halfdan grabbed the sides of her tunic and pulled them up, releasing the bottom from her pants. His fingers moved up her sides, feeling her flesh one last time.

“If you believed that, you would bend to my will too.” She whispered. Halfdan locked his eyes with her and shook his head, a heavy sigh leaving his lips. He shoved her top over her breasts and began leaving kisses on their underside.

“I have. Many times.” Halfdan said. His beard scratched her skin, making her squirm under him. He moved to the top of her and planted a kiss on top of each of her nipples. “I can’t this time, Hilde. I am fighting for what I believe in, not what my brother believes.”

Hilde couldn’t find any fiery words to lob back at him. His tongue toyed with her nipples, making the harden in the way only he could. She should stop him, this was a traitorous act against her king. Her fingers slid into the tuft of hair he kept and jerked his head up. “They will regret taking you from me if you should die tomorrow.”

Halfdan’s lip grew into a smile. “I love you, too.” He moved his body up, kissing her lips. This time her tongue probed his mouth while their hands sought out for each other’s pants, scrambling to discard the clothing so their bodies could be joined. He tugged her pants down and parted from her lips, dragging them all the way down to her boots.

She shoved him on his back and tugged down his own pants. His cock twitched in the open air and she wasted no time sinking down on it. Her tunic fell back in place as she started to ride him, moaning loudly when his hips jerked up to meet hers. Halfdan grabbed the long braid she kept and fiercely kissed her, teeth grazing her lips.

Her own hands clawed at him through his tunic as the pleasure grew in the pit of her belly. She moaning loudly enough for the next few tents over to hear, Halfdan swore. “Ha-Halfdan.” She moaned against his lips, swirling her hips with him sheathed inside.

When her hips began to falter due to exhaustion, Halfdan took over, rolling the two of them over so he could pound into her any way he liked. Breathless sounds left both of them as the wet sounds of his work grew louder. “Risking everything to come here.. You’re lucky you weren’t killed.” He growled out, jackhammering into her trembling body.

The two of them had been apart too long for either to last long in this predicament. The added danger, two people on opposite sides of the battle field, only heightened their pleasure. She was the first to unravel, her hands clutching his broad shoulders as her walls started to squeeze his cock. He buried himself deep inside of her convulsing walls, cumming deep within her warmth.

Hilde stayed still, dazed and trying to catch her breath. Halfdan made minimal effort to pull himself out and land on one side of her. The two of them closed their eyes and took deep, satisfying gulps of air. Truly spent he reached over and pulled her into one last embrace, crushing her against his chest.

“There is still time. You could fight with Bjorn.” Halfdan suggested, knowing the answer already. Hilde pulled away from him and hit the center of his chest, her fire returning. “He would gladly accept you into his army.”

“Ivar will win this battle, Halfdan. The gods favor him. He is a strong leader, even more so with your brother at his side.” Hilde pushed herself up and started working her pants back up, preparing to leave. “The gods will have many men to choose for Valhalla tomorrow.”

Halfdan pulled his own pants up and stood beside her, cupping her cheek. “I hope you are not among them.” He kissed the center of her forehead and drank in one last look at her. The two walked in silence out of the camp,

The next day was chaotic. Bodies laid strewn across the battlefield. Hilde was covered in the blood of Lagertha’s forces, her blade had dulled in the battle by the time she spotted him. Harald and Halfdan stood feet apart and in one fatal swing, she saw his life end.

Her eyes went wide with fright, her breath caught in her throat. Her shock turned to anger and she swung her dulled blade at any man or woman who stood in her way. When the field was littered with the dead and she stood, covered in her own wounds as she trudged to his lifeless body. She shoved a corpse off of his own and stabbed the ground with her own sword.

Halfdan’s skin was already cold, damp with blood as she traced his lips. Harald could hear her sobbing over his body, her forehead pressed to the center of his chest. “Hilde.” Harald approached her with caution. “You need to eat and get your wounds checked.”

Hilde pressed one last kiss to Halfdan’s body and rose, wiping the tears from her face. She felt sick in the pit of her stomach but turned to Harald and allowed him to escort her away from Halfdan. “The gods will learn to fear me before I join him, Harald. I will make them regret this day.”

#im not crying you are #Halfdan smut #Halfdan #spoilers

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