#house Allyrion
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In the fading light
Daemon Targaryen x fem Dornish!reader
Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, but I was going for soft!Daemon so I don't think there are that many warnings this time.
Summary: Daemon comes to visit you at Godsgrace, the seat of House Allyrion, in Dorne. Kind of an AU in the sense that Rhaenyra isn't the object of his love, nor his motivation for "ending his marriage" to Rhea. 2.6k words
From the request here - romantic Daemon inspired by the song "kalam eineh" (Words of his eyes) by Sherine. I was able to work in a few lyrics as well ("the one whose eyes the moon envied" and "get lost in his beauty").
a/n: Dorne is a very big place and all of the houses are as different as the Northern houses. So as I write more Dornish!reader fics I start to see them uniquely in my headcanon. Godgrace is on a river from what my research tells me, so I think it worked out perfectly that Sherine is Egyptian. I've dropped some Egyptian elements into Godsgrace and that's how it is in my head now. (If there was a face claim for a location think Thebes/Luxor landscape.)
A warm breeze wafted onto the balcony where you and Daemon sat. The sun sank low against the horizon. The river in the distance shone with golds and pinks. A falcon screeched nearby. You turned from the gorgeous view of the Godsgrace river oasis to look at your Prince. He sat, reclined, opposite you. You slid your toes up the inside of his leg, teasing him. He stroked the top of your foot, your ankle, up your shin. Your smooth skin reflected the light of the setting sun much as the river did. Daemon slipped his fingertips under the hem of your thin skirt. The contrast of his pale hand under the bronze fabric was delightful to you. This Northern prince, so accustomed to clouds and darkness. Such a dreary land he came from.
You watched him as he looked out over the Greenblood river. It would be so easy to get lost in his beauty. His hair, his eyes, his mouth, everything about him was entrancing to you. You glanced back out at the river, the people going about their evening paying no attention to the lords and ladies so high above them. Birds circled above fishing boats as the nets were pulled in. Lights began to flicker in windows across the city. You smelled roasted meat and fresh baked bread on the warm air. You would have to dress for the evening meal, if you didn’t request it in your quarters.
“Did you come only because the fool Prince Martell forbade it?” You were genuinely curious. “Or because of your brother?”
“You know that is not the reason,” he spoke softly and continued to stroke your leg. “Their approval means less to me than you think.”
“You risk much coming to Godsgrace.” You wiggled your toes against his thigh.
“It is a fair price,” Daemon replied.
“Surely you are quite rested now, my love,” you goaded. “It is a long journey up the Greenblood, but not so tiring that you would ignore me.” You flashed your eyes at him. They were nearly the color of burnt umber in the fading light. Soon your maids would light torches and candles in your chambers. You would hear them through the diaphanous curtains that hung in the entry of the balcony. Though they would never dare to disturb you, even if you had your Targaryen on the floor in front of them.
Daemon turned his violet eyes toward you, finally pulled from his thoughts. Gods, you thought, even the moon could envy those eyes! The last pink of the sunset caught on his silver hair as it swung freely about his face, tendrils caught in the breeze.
“Quite rested,” he smirked as he spoke. He slipped his hand behind your knee and, reaching forward, grabbed your other leg and pulled you, bodily, to him. Your chair legs screeched against the stone floor as you threw your head back and laughed. When he had you where he wanted you, he smoothed his palms up the inside of your thighs. You rested your bare feet on the seat of his chair on either side of his legs. He pushed your skirt all the way up to your waist as he stared into your eyes. His thumbs grazed the creases of your thighs and you sighed.
“The journey was too long, but certain hindrances are now resolved,” his voice was low and quiet. “I am no longer married.”
You raised an eyebrow at these words. You trailed your fingertips down one of his forearms.
“I hope that it was painless, my prince,” you both knew the mocking of his title was not malicious. He was not your prince and you enjoyed reminding him of that. “You know, you could have stayed in Godsgrace and I could have sent one of my women to dispatch the issue quickly.” Your grin was knowing, yet seductive. Daemon’s response to Northern morality was curious to you. He didn’t want his wife, but could not bring himself to have another while she lived.
“I did not say I did the deed,” he tried not to smile. “Only that it was resolved.” Oh, he was deliciously vile when it suited him. You chuckled at this.
“Well, I had no trouble with the situation,” you grazed his thigh with one foot. “I needed only your devotion, not your marriage.”
“That you will always have, my lady,” he replied as he sank to his knees in front of you. You moved your foot to his shoulder, the other still in his chair, as you languidly spread your legs to make room for him. He looked up at you again, catching your eyes with his as he kissed your thigh, then your belly. You stroked one hand over his silky head as he lowered it and kissed the dark hair between your legs. You heard him inhale, smelling you, and you became even wetter.
Daemon licked the full length of your slit and paused at your pearl. He circled it with the tip of his tongue and you gripped the arms of your chair. He slid an arm around one thigh to steady you. Then he grazed a finger through your folds, finding your entrance quickly, as if he knew your geography by heart. He teased and didn’t slide inside you yet. He used two fingers to circle your opening, almost matching the rhythm of his tongue on your clit. Your hips rocked. You tried, and failed, to get his fingers inside. He stilled you as much as he could and continued for a moment that felt like an eternity.
When he finally slipped his fingers into your wet heat he sucked on your clit and your hands flew to the back of his head. You moaned and pushed against his mouth. You thought you felt him chuckle. You didn’t care. You ground your hips on his mouth and fingers.
“Daemon,” you whispered, as that was as loud as you could manage. “That’s it, just there. Please.”
He rubbed his fingertips against the spot that drove you wild, fighting against your clenching muscles. His tongue resumed its circling movements, but with a slightly quicker pace. Your breathing was becoming shallow and the sounds you made came deep from your chest. He pumped his fingers harder into you, knowing the pressure you needed to reach your climax. Your toes curled on his shoulder. You let go of his head, gripped the arms of your chair again, and your body curled forward as your climax overwhelmed you. You yelled his name, moaned incoherently, and then laughed. He hadn’t stopped, tongue still lapping causing your thighs to twitch. You playfully pushed at his forehead to give you peace.
You leaned forward and cupped his face in your hands. His expression wasn’t playful, as yours was. The look was full of something akin to admiration. You kissed him, roughly. You licked yourself from his lips, his tongue, and moaned into his mouth. He reached up and tangled his fingers into your hair at the nape of your neck, letting some of it loose from the pins that held it in place. Without much grace, he blindly began to release your hair from its confines.
Daemon broke your kiss and began to stand up. You let your fingers trail down his body as he did. You grazed your fingers over his pants, deliberately avoiding the hardness straining the fabric. He pulled pins and a comb from your hair, tossing them on the floor with abandon. You looked up at him, a playfully displeased look on your face for the carelessness he showed for your jewelry, and shook out your hair. It fell in near-black waves down your shoulders and back.
“I need you,” Daemon breathed. His eyes were dark with lust. Still looking up at him from your chair, you pressed your palm over his erection. His eyes nearly closed. His chest rose and fell, trying to maintain his composure. You pressed just a little harder. He grabbed your wrists. It didn’t hurt but made it evident that he couldn’t be teased this evening. You stood, your wrists still in his hands. You raised to tiptoes and pulled at his bottom lip with your teeth. Your eyes narrowed in defiance against being so restrained.
“That’s enough!” He threw you over his shoulder. You squealed and laughed, kicking your feet and pounding your fists lightly against his back. Your laughter bounced off the stone walls as he carried you through the curtains into your chambers. You pushed against him, raising your head to look at the two startled maids, and laughed harder.
“Let me go!” You giggled and kicked your feet but he only held your ankles as he walked you to the bed. You heard the two girls scamper from the room, giggling and twittering.
Daemon dropped you lightly on the bed. You were breathless from laughing. He smiled down at you, but that look was back. What had changed since he had gone North? Your laughter faded into giggles, which in turn faded into quick breaths as he knelt on the bed and kissed his way up your feet, calves, and thighs. He began to unfasten the ties of your skirt at your waist and you helped him with the small buttons of your delicate top.
He licked and kissed the curves of your exposed belly. He nuzzled his nose between your breasts, then kissed each of your nipples. You played with his silky hair, enjoying watching him worship you. When he reached your neck and jaw you began tugging on his shirt, pulling it toward his shoulders. He straightened long enough pull it over his head, then bent down to your mouth again. You kissed him back, hands gripping his neck, stroking his shoulders, down his biceps.
Daemon moved with you, still kissing, as you began to sit up. You gently pressed his shoulders back and guided him to lay down. You straddled his thighs and began pulling at the laces of his pants. He groaned at the pressure of your fingers. You stroked his freed cock, watching your hands move slowly. You enjoyed making him wait but you couldn’t wait any longer. You released him and begin to remove his breeches. Once you had both struggled with that for a moment, you trying not to giggle during the endeavor, you climbed up him and placed yourself on his belly. You could feel his cock pressing against your buttocks. You leaned forward and kissed him and he cupped both of your breasts in his hands.
You lifted your hips enough to reach between you and guide him into your wetness. He growled and squeezed your breasts a bit harder. Slowly, you took him inside you. You raised up, allowing him to keep his hands on you, and pressed your hands against his stomach as you rocked your hips. You took his cock as deep as you could. Gradually, at first, then setting a gentle pace that brought sweet sounds from Daemon’s lips. You leaned forward slightly, finding the angle you needed. He moved his hands, one to your neck, one to your hip. As you settled on a rhythm, he began to match you, thrusting upward slightly each time you rocked back on his cock.
You let your head fall forward, you hair sweeping forward, framing your face and his. Your fingers curled against his chest. You kept this pace as long as you could before your cunt began to ache with the beginnings of your climax. You slowed and Daemon took over. Gripping both of your hips, he fucked up into you, harder than you had been able to manage. His grunts made you squeeze around his cock. They were wonderful sounds that only increased your need for him.
You rested your face against his, pressing your cheeks together. Neither of you could stay quiet. Your name fell from his lips as fluidly as the curses he uttered. His fingers dug into your hips as he pulled you down onto each of his upward thrusts. The sound of flesh against flesh, lewd and satisfying. Your bodies glistened with sweat in the torch light. You wanted to open your eyes and look at him but the pleasure was too great.
“Yes, please, Daemon,” you whined in his ear. Your lips drug across his cheek as you searched for his mouth. You tried to kiss him. Instead you panted and moaned against his mouth. As your climax began the wave that would drown you, you heard his voice, much calmer than yours could have been in that moment.
“Look at me.” You did. He didn’t stop fucking you, but he held your gaze with those perfect eyes. “I love you. I would kill for you. I would kill anyone who kept us apart.”
Something in his eyes, not just his words, was your undoing. Your climax spread over you at the same time as it curled up inside you. You squeezed your thighs against his hips, almost stopping his movements entirely. You bent to him and kissed him, moaning and sighing, as you came.
Suddenly Daemon’s large arms encircled you and in your delirium you could hardly notice that he was moving you. You clung to his shoulders as he somehow, and gracefully, managed to lay you on your back. He had not pulled out. You wrapped your legs around his hips and ran your hands into his hair.
Daemon fucked you without restraint. You were coming down from your climax but your cunt gripped him tight and he grunted with each deep thrust. He shifted his weight to one hand and deftly scooped one of your legs into the crook of his arm. You bit your lower lip and looked up at him. He was watching you.
“Touch yourself,” he panted. “Come on my cock again.” His smile was enough to convince you, if his words hadn’t been.
So you did. You rubbed your fingers quickly, and in time with his strokes. When you were close again, you arched under him, head thrown back, Daemon’s mouth on your exposed neck. Then he pressed his hips against you as hard as he could. His cock buried completely inside you as he came. Your cunt spasmed around him and you both felt his seed fill you as your climax peaked. He cursed and tried to gently lower your leg. Your body shook and you were unable to help him. He chuckled and kissed your forehead.
As he slowly pulled out and away from you, you mewled and groaned, closing your thighs and squeezing them together. Daemon lowered himself down next to you, on his side. He rested his head on your chest. You smoothed his hair away from his forehead in a long stroke down to his back and sighed. You let your hand rest on his shoulder. He held you close to him.
The cool night breeze wicked the sweat off your skin. The torches guttered slightly. You wrapped one leg over Daemon’s. You wanted every part of your body touching his. You breathed in his smell mixed with your own and the dusty sweetness of Godsgrace coming in through the curtains.
“No one will come between us,” Daemon whispered against you.
“I know, my love, my dragon” you replied, lips brushing against the top of his head.
The sun had set and, perhaps, the dark was what he needed. In the light of day The Rogue Prince was rakish and disreputable. But at night, with you, he could shed that facade.
Masterlist
Tags: @black-dread
#daemon targaryen x Dornish!reader#daemon x dornish!reader#daemon x fem!reader#anon 🔥#x reader#x poc reader#x fem!reader#x you#daemon x poc!reader#house Allyrion#house of the dragon#hotd#daemon targaryen#daemon fic#daemon x reader#daemon#hotd fic#matt smith#fluffy daemon#x Dornish!reader#daemon targaryen fic#fic request#daemon x woc!reader#woc reader#x woc!reader#soft!daemon Targaryen#soft!daemon
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Headcanons of Princess Aliandra
Her father prince Qoren married a daughter from one of the founding families of Braavos and Aliandra fostered there for a few years in safety during the times of trouble (The era of Daemon and the Dance of Dragon) returning when things calmed
She married twice, first to Drazenko Rogare and then Joffrey of house Dayne
Mother of prince Aliandre and princess Ariana born of her second husband Ser Joffrey
Grandmother of Princess Myriah born in 150, Prince Maron born in 152, Princess Vanora born in 160, Prince Malor born in 161 and Princess Vanora in 161, Princess Clarisse born in 174 and Princess Nyssa in 182
Great Grand-mother of Prince Baelor born in 170, Prince Aerys born in 172, Prince Rhaegal born in 174 and Prince Maekar born in 175 (Myriah), Ser Marence Sand born in 171, Ser Adrien Sand born in 174, Ser Vorian Sand born in 179, Ser Alaric Sand born in 183, Lady Jeyne Sand born in 187, Prince Daeron born in 190, Princess Naerys born in 191, Princess Clarissa born in 196 and Princess Alysanne born in 200 (Maron) Lady Marianna Toland born in 181, Lady Jyanna Toland born in 190 and Eliandra Toland born in 199 (Malor) Lady Alysanna Rivers born in 175, Ser Ulrick Dayne born in 176 and Lady Dyanna Dayne born in 176, (Vanora) Ser Hadrian Allyrion born in 189, Ser Jasper Allyrion born in 193, Lady Jenna Allyrion born in 196, Lady Ashlynn Allyrion born in 200 and Ser Harmen Allyrion born in 207 (Clarissa) Lady Alia Blackmont born in 206, Ser Mychael Blackmont born in 207 and Lady Jynessa Blackmont born in 210 (Nyssa)
#house martell#aliandra martell#house dayne#house targaryen#myriah martell#dorne#house allyrion#house blackmont
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Even as the Targareyn army marched south towards them, with the Gardener name extinct, and fear and grief rising, they tried to manage peace, and pray for their losses, and her father surrendered the keep without a fight. Four moons after she turned sixteen in the shadow of such loss, her father was elevated to Lord Paramount of the Mander and Warden of the South. The day that the Tyrells would have their titles and their keep had come.
Suddenly Elinor Tyrell was the most eligible lady in the Reach. Her brothers had ladies lined up to marry them, as Theo, who once only hoped to inherit a stewardship, was set to be the Lord of Highgarden one day. Their rise did not come without adversaries, as Florent, Redwyne, and Oakheart denounced them, their claim to the seat being shaky. Even though they carried the blood of Garth Greenhand as well, it was through marriage many years after their own, stronger claims. It put them in a precarious position, with embittered families to mollify. And so as she began to adjust to the attention of her position, Elinor was told of her betrothal to the young Lord Redwyne. They had peace to maintain in the Reach, after all, and what better way was there than marriage?
Cassian Allyrion is played by Alyx - Full Bio
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House Allyrion of Godsgrace
GameOfThronesFanatic-Knjiga
#House Allyrion of Godsgrace#House Martell#Westeros#George R. R. Martin#ASOIAF#A Song of Ice and Fire#Game of Thrones#House of the Dragon#asoiafart#GOT#HOTD#coat of arms
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Conversations between Myriam Allyrion, aged twenty, and her late Lord Father, Lord Arstan Allyrion.
“yah bahut jaldee hua. har cheez. main taiyaar nahin hoon.”
“mere jaan, narvas hona saamaany hai. tum usase pyaar karate ho. vah tumhen pyaar karata hai.”
“aur kya yah kaaphee hai?”
“nahin, lekin yah to shuruaat hai. apane aap ko khush rahane do.“
“main bahut jyaada soch raha hoon.”
“apanee khushiyon ko barbaad mat karo. jal se sinhaasan tak. devata aapase pyaar karate hain.”
“haye ve mereya dadiya rabba kina jamiya kina ne le jaaniya hai.”
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DASTAN ALLYRION & MYRIAM ALLYRION — Moodboard / @myriamas
#dastan: headcanon#( myriam allyrion )#( house allyrion )#( dastan & myriam — we flourish in a thousand incarnations of closeness and distance )
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Serpentine
Martell!Reader x Aemond Targaryen
Summary: "Perhaps I will be the first to to prompt such obedience from you... To make you bow. To bend you... To break you..."
The reader rides a giant snake bc why not.
Your ethnicity is not specified.
Also apologies in advance as I stray heavily from accurate information. I mainly used Dorne and the Martells as a place holder so this is my own narrative. For the sake of this story Dorne is it's own independent land. Viserys isn't dying in this fic because he needs to catch a break so all is right except for the classic disfunction Targaryen family. I might make this a series but right now it's a oneshot.
Word Count: 6k
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The air laid heavy today as the undying heat of the desert dunes takes it's toll on you. Tearing your eyes away from the sea horizon your gaze wanders to the Sunspear port, small and far away but still so clearly visible to your bedroom tower. With uneasiness, your focal point lands on a large black ship bearing the Targaryen house symbol. Bold and imposing painted proudly on the black sails. You wonder if they were already in the castle, not knowing how late of the hour the ship got here, just that when you awoken it was miraculously there. As a Warrior Princess you pride yourself in never letting your nerves get to you but as of this moment you were a mess of anxiety, succumbing to all the ill thoughts and worries that sparked restlessness within you.
It felt stupid to be so choked up about such a frivolous thing, you always knew this day was going to come and that it was expected of you. But to have it be under such unexpected terms was gut wrenching. All your life you knew that you would never marry for love and you were alright with that, but you had at least hoped it was to somebody you were familiar with. And by familiar you did not mean this. The Targaryens were your rival house, or so it had been.
In attempts to amend old wounds your father had promised your hand to the second born prince of King Viserys Targaryen. A union that neither you or Aemond had expected, as it seemed rather out of place. Dorne is the least populated of the Seven Kingdoms and your people differ both culturally and physically from all of Westeros. So a marriage proposal from the well esteemed house Targaryen to the Martells appeared to be a myth of the First Men.
Although you weren't one to engage in pessimistic thoughts, arguably it made more sense for you to be married off to an Allyrion or Blackmont. Established noble houses of your region. The Targaryens were barbaric outsiders with tendencies to take whatever they want by bloodshed, they pave their own way with fire without regards for others. Luckily it isn't in your nature to bend and be trampled on so easily. It was known to all that your bloodlines were never meant to cross fates. The tale of how the silver haired angel fell from her grace off her dying dragons back, was a victory Dorne relished greatly in. It was a momentous triumph for history that proved the power of your people and the Martells. Aegon conquered all of Westeros but Dorne.
Some would say that there is no greater threat to the Targaryens than your bloodline. And you agreed, they had their dragons and you had your sand snakes, one venomous bite is enough to kill seven full grown dragons. Admittedly, it was a smart political move, although unforseen. A union with such bravado would surely strengthen both houses, and serve as a great threat to those who dare challenged the crown. You did feel a sense of pride not only in your house but in yourself as well, as the good of the realm rested on you.
But truthfully you were hesitant and weary, praying to the gods all goes well. As great as this union was, it also served to be quite dangerous, and can potentially be one of the most foolish mistakes all of Westeros had ever seen. If you aren't able to get along well enough, or even tolerate Aemond then goodwill will be lost and all of the realm will be set on fire. You would never purposely encourage war, but you had your own ways of living. And you understood greatly that you were far more fortunate than many women in Kingslanding. That being said, you intend to fight for your honor and dignity by all means necessary. Regardless if whether or not your husband turned out to be quite a piece of work.
You understood the true reason for your marriage, despite it being poorly concealed behind optimistic words from King Viserys. You would make it a point to yourself to do your best to serve your duty. But above all that must come your freedom and rights. Those are values you cannot afford to sacrifice. Although you doubt that the King would be malicious enough to pour honey into your fathers ears, only to set you up to be treated badly. A part of you wondered if there was any veracity to his words.
In his letter he emphasized the silent disdain your families both had for eachother, and he that wanted to put an end to things. If that is his true intentions or not was unclear, but you are not so easily trusting. You had never witnessed this so called fued between your families for yourself, having never left Dorne before. But you've heard stories of how defiant your uncles have been in court. Purposely refusing to bend the knee to the crown in their own kingdom, which of course prompted a rightful murder in your opinion. It was disrespectful and improper so therefore justified, and you were never fond of your uncles. However, this of course gave your father grounds to loathe the Targaryens. But he was much more cordial than his brothers, as he was a forgiving man.
To say that you were anxious for your husband-to-be's arrival was an understatement. You knew that your cultures varied so vastly, so what if he deemed what you were wearing improper? It was quite scandalous by the Crownlands standards but they were in your kingdom now. And truthfully it would be highly improper and frowned upon for them to chastise you in anyway. Not that you cared if they did, you had your own way of dressing and by your standards this was your idea of dressing for the occasion. You had decided to wear white instead of your house colors, it was a sign that you welcome them and were ready to accept their customs. Funnily enough, white was the color of purity and you represent anything but. Your dress was a simple one in your eyes. Soft and long in material adorned with a cape. Floral embroidery decorated the bodice of the dress, and around your waist tied a svelte sylphlike rope, casting a certain refinery to your aura. The neckline plunged low and the gown displayed two meticulous slits down the front, showcasing your thighs.
While yes it did seem rather unseemly to the unfamiliar eyes, you were not going to sacrifice your comfort and culture for the sake of decency. There was a reason to be in so little layers, the sun and heat of sahara was unkind. Sighing in content your eyes wanders over to your bed, landing on a sheathed dagger. You had put it out earlier and was originally planning on bearing it but decided not to with the advice of your mother. Scoffing at her words that rang so vividly in your ears you picked up the weapon. It was light and delicate, well as delicate as blades can get. The knife shined a pure sterling silver, unlike any other color you've seen before, well complementing your dress. It was curved in shape, mimicking a claw of sorts and the hilt was marbled with the texture of pearls. Beautiful, it was a fitting weapon for a princess of your stature. Disregarding your mothers words, you fastened the dagger around your waist, thus completing your outfit. If they dared say anything about your obscenity you would cut their tongue out of their mouth.
"Princess? They are ready for you." A member of your fathers small council alerted. Breaking you from your trance, his voice muffled slightly by your bedroom door.
The walk to the throne room was agonizing, though you held a strong and cold demeanor to the passing eye, inside you were dying. With sweaty palms you fear your head was going to explode by the amount of worries that whirlwind within it. You know little of the man you are said to marry, only hushed whispers that had managed to travel past the narrow sea. Being aware that he was a warrior, much like you, though he has little to no experience in the battlefield. You also knew that he rides the largest dragon in all of Westeros and unfortunately because of it he only has one eye. You were rather impartial on that fact, whilst yes your father did stress on you that the match wasn't ideal because of it, truthfully you did not care. After all, what's a missing eye to someone who has disfigured and tormented so many. You've had your fair shares of experience, as much as your father would allow you, but at this point you have seen it all. Honestly you were just glad to receive a match that's the same age as you. And although your views on Aemond could differ based off your judge of his character, as of right now you have yet to meet him. So it would be unjust to already discriminate against him, time would only tell if he warrants such behavior and you had plenty of patience.
Aemond however does not. His family arrived at Sunspear late in the hours of the night and were met by the King and Queen only. They were then prompted to their own rooms to get some much needed rest. All throughout the morning he has yet to see a sight of you and it was well beyond noon at this point. Now Aemond doesn't consider himself an impatient person, but when it came to meeting his soon-to-be wife he was in a particularly rushing mood. Not that he let his excitement showed, truthfully he didn't know why he was eager to meet you. Perhaps because he had long been awaiting this day since before he lost an eye. The good old days, when his childhood youth was once filled with the anticipation of receiving his own dragon and his own wife. Of course as time came the matter began to feel so subsequential, but back then that was all he ever truly cared about. Maybe in his young mind, having both a dragon and a wife meant that he was as equally masculine and worthy of the Targaryen name as his brother and nephews.
Though it was never that simple, no matter how much he tried to prove himself to his brother, he was always the lesser than. Getting picked on and berated for letting a bastard sully him. Being tormented with the idea that his wife would see him as hideous, or worst fear him. Aemond was a strong man, but he was also human and it is human for him to be insecure. What if you didn't like him? Yes he viewed this marriage as not ideal but what if you harbored animosity? Snapping out of his thoughts by his dear sister elbowing him, he turned to Helaena to wonder what prompted her discordant. It wasn't like her to be so... aware of the real world, as nicely as Aemond would put it. She nervously diverted her eyes, nodding towards towards the door and it was that moment that Aemond realized.
By the gods you were beautiful...
Ascending from the stairs was a young women unlike any he had ever seen before. And as you near Aemond found himself nervously clenching his fists. Despite showing such anxious stature, he beared no expression, contrary to his true feelings. For a moment his breathe quickened as you bow before his mother and father, gaze trailing over your exposed thighs. Scolding himself silently, he tears his eye away from your body. It was perverted for him to blatantly stare, especially since this was your normal. You probably didn't know sexual you appeared to look right now. Not that he complained.... Stop... That was how your people dressed, it would be improper to think so vile about their princess. Inhaling sharply, he keeps a steady feature as he listened to his mother greet you. Taking your hand in hers, she began to drag you over to where he and his siblings stood.
"This is prince Aegon." His mother introduced. Watching the way his brother blatantly ogled at your body, an unfamiliar feeling began to brew in his chest. He didn't like that his brother was looking at her like that, especially since she was to be his wife.
"Princess Helaena." Alicent nodded to her daughter, observing the way you smiled gently at her in acknowledgment.
"Please to meet you princess." Helaena bowed, her words timid but you returned the greeting.
"And this is prince Aemond... your betrothed."
Aemond watched your reaction carefully, taking in the way that you smiled and bowed to him. You appeared nice enough, though he didn't know what he expected. Perhaps for you to scowl and throw a fit? With this close of a distance he was able to get a good view of your face and indeed you were beautiful. But it all meant nothing if you were going to reject him. Testing the waters, Aemond takes your hand in his, curtly leaning in close as he brings your digits to his lips. Keeping a locked gaze at your expression as he places a chaste kiss on the area above your knuckles. You felt soft...
"Pleased to meet you, my princess." He spoke lowly, registering the way that you smirked in satisfaction, no alternative emotions in sight.
"The pleasure is all mine, your grace." Aemond looked at you with such scrutiny as you spoke. Trying to find hints of disgust or animosity through your porcelain mask yet as he took in every detail of your face he found no trace of abhorrence.
But behind your doe eyes there was something there, something he could not quite place. It was unfamiliar in every sense and he didn't know how to decipher it. You were giving him a knowing look as if you two both shared a sacred secret with one another. And although Aemond did not know what prompted this emotion, he desperately wanted to know more.
Much of the evening was filled with merriment and mirth as the hatred that once squandered friendships faded away. Your father and the king talked of many things alike and began to realize that in truth it was time to mend things. The tension between your families was long in the past although unavoidable between you and Aemond. He couldn't understand why he was so drawn to you but everywhere you went he followed. Watching silently like a predator stalking it's prey as you conversed with his sister. He didn't mean to be so stand offish. Truthfully he wanted to have a little privacy away from his family to get to know you more. There was very little room for you both to talk without intrusion. Whilst yes, the thought of being unsupervised with you may be a little unbecoming, he liked it that way. Perhaps only then, when he corners you, will he get to uncover the reasoning for your unbidden stares.
There was something rather vulgar beneath those siren eyes as you looked at him with sharp conviction. The way your vision would haze and cloud with interest, lips curling in a sly smirk displaying ardor. You were teasing him...
Throughout the evening you both danced around one another till eventually it turned into a game of cat and mouse. You moved with such precision and allure that Aemond found himself awestruck and wanting more. It was exciting to him. He admired how you carried yourself with such elegance and high importance, seeming almost unearthly. They say Targaryens are closer to gods than man, but your very existence challenged that claim. You had vanity, that was plain to see. Your moves are convoluted and don't go unnoticed by him, carefully articulating around the labyrinth of walls he built up. You were the embodiment of serpentine and he didn't know what scared him most. The fact that he is so ready to welcome you with open arms, or the fact that you were aware of your power over him.
Aemond, in principle, is not used to the physical manifestation of feelings. And yet here he was now, standing in the middle of a fucking desert, longing for affection. Or perhaps he only enjoyed the thought because it involved you touching him. There was something so genuine about you, something so raw and potent with rapport. He saw it while you were speaking with his sister, you treated her like anyone else and that was rare to see. You had an affinity for empathy and a way with words like no other, you knew just what to say to his family. That was impressive in it's own right.
It became glaringly obvious now to Aemond that the you had a gifted touch, you were able to make anyone feel like the rarest gem in the world. Yet in truth no diamond is brighter than it's maker. To Aemond you were a paragon of the finest jewels. The sapphire of his eye. He knew it was unhealthy for him to get so attached to you so quickly but how could he not. All his youth he had been waiting for this. Having grown up alone, watching everyone get the things he wanted and now here you were. You were his, he's never had anything that was completely fully his...
"Forgive me I didn't know anyone would be in here..." Aemond spoke lowly, breaking you from your trance as you tore your eyes away from your book.
"This is my private study, my prince... You are free to join me if you wish." The hour was late and nearly all of the castle has gone to bed already. All but you and Aemond... Welcoming him to sit with you over the fireplace as you set your literature aside. This would be interesting...
You both didn't speak for a moment as you feel his presence quickly approaching. Straightening your nightwear as you feel him sit across from you on the untaken armchair. You lift your graze to finally meet his stare in an act of bravery, breath halting for a moment... He made you nervous in every sense imaginable as he held your gaze in confidence.
Aemond Targaryen was gorgeous in such a violent way. You only began to observe it now. There was something so fierce and daunting about his face. Porcelain yet warrior-like, rivaling the beauty of Old Valyria. The prince had a certain vainglory to him. Silent but raw, untamed, and unchallenged. He was unlike any man, the son of war worthy of the iron throne. Strong nose that contrasted his expression well. Dainty lips that utter soft spoken words like whisps.
In secret you wanted them to articulate sweet nothings in your ear...
You did not know where these overwhelming feelings channeled from. But as his hold bore into you, it evoked a touch of insecurity. You felt like he was looking at your very core, past skin and bones and at your morals. Never in your life had you ever gazed at such man. His features preforming one great symphony. A constellation of trauma and abuse in the form of a scar kissed his skin, creating a myriad of Venus. It became painfully evident now that he brought something out in you. Gods be good...
He stared at her with a soft gaze, admiring the way the lit fire illuminated her skin. Openly, he thought you beautiful, although majority of the men here can also say the same thing. Yet as he looked at you more Aemond found himself really seeing you. That enchanting aura faltering just a little bit. You looked vulnerable right here, right now in this exact moment. You looked human. And he thought it was beautiful. The more he sat there the more content he got with this union, you were a fine match. Perhaps it was alright to be vulnerable....
Aemond doesn't say anything for a few more moments, simply gazing at the you as he licks his lips. While you could see yourself in his eye, you wondered what he was truly seeing to look at you like that. Like you were carved from the finest of diamonds and bathed in gold, like if you were to touch him he'd crumble– a careful mix of admiration and fear. Time starts to still and the atmosphere around you began to form tension. Suddenly the fireplace mutes, fading into nothing but hushed crackle as the two find themselves at a standstill. It was just you and him in your sacred little world... No one else... All turns irrelevant as you become intoxicated with eachothers presence.
"Tell me about yourself princess." He spoke, breaking the silence that overtook the room. Pausing for a brief moment to let his gaze wander from your face. Well..... this was improper indeed... The clothes you wore were foreign to him but he gathered it was your nightwear. Temperatures here hot here, it made sense for you to wear very little at night, not that he complained. It was captivating... the garment didn't look like a dress, but rather a two piece that was interwoven together with three long panels covering your modesty. The color was rather fitting on you, a darker grey than the dress you wore earlier almost appearing silver. Sitting with your thighs exposed in a leaned back and slack manner, Aemonds focus leaves your skin and meets your face once more. Breath hitching as your smirk widens. You had caught him looking...
"Forgive me for being so crass, but I'm not one to soften words. My people are very blunt individuals and I dislike small talk so allow me to have some clarity." Your words were honey to his ears, he wasn't entirely fond of small talk either, but your inquiry made him nervous.
"Please, never bite back your tongue when you are with me, what do you wish to know?" Aemond spoke after some time, leaning back to cross his leg over the other.
"What are your views are on our marriage and if you intend to honor our union."
"I'm not following..." Confused he urged on.
"Do you.... intend to stray from our marriage..." His eye widens at that, shocked that you would ask him such question. But it was only fair...
"I know that is straight forward and unseemly but please allow me the peace of knowing now, as it less complicates things later on..." Ah' he said within the confinements of his brain, finally understanding the meaning of your words. Aemond looked down in deep thought, trying to find the right words to say to you. He was a territorial man, possessive in every way so this question striked a certain nerve in him. He wondered why you would even ask that, unless you already had a lover.... He didn't like that thought. That could not be.
"I would never purposely hurt our dignity like that. Truthfully I find it foolish. I am a man that values duty above all, and tis my duty to be your husband and unite our kingdoms. I have seen what infidelity has done to my family, the strain it puts on my mother... I never want to be the cause of her pain by fathering bastard children. So perhaps it is best we stay true to one another." Satisfied with his response, you let out a faint 'hm' before turning away.
"So I've heard... Thank you for enlightening me." You spoke as you stared in great thought at the fire, though he can see a faint smile on your lips.
"Has word of my bastard nephews been so vastly spread that it reached the shores of Sunspear?" He pressed on, now an accompanying smile spreads on his lips, mirroring his companions expression. You laughed at that, a sound Aemond declared he liked.
"People talk, prince Aemond, naturally word would get around." You spoke teasingly, stopping for minute just to admire one another. Calmness falling over you both, as you sat still unbidden just gazing into eachothers rarity.
"Hmm... Tell me, do you intend to honor our union?" Aemond spoke, his voice sounded rougher than before, and you think he may have even rolled his eye. Smirking to yourself as you began to understand that he was a possessive man.
"Of course. I believe in fair playing fields, and getting even. So if you do not provoke me then I will not act out and provoke you. If you are loyal then I will be loyal." In a quick motion he was up his chair and standing directly in between your thighs. You peered up at him through your lashes, the smirk pulling at your lips growing by the second.
His heart sits heavily between the two of you, weeping for your touch, yearning with such want, such need. He swears when your eyes echoes his wants, tempting him to indulge you through curled lashes. The man condemns himself for feeling so reckless, so needy, he had never felt this way before... Felt so much desire towards another individual. He knew this was bad, a distraction but if you were a sin, he'd happily walk into the gates of hell. And at that he surged forward. Breathing a shaky sigh as his hand wrapped around your neck, squeezing tightly.
You whimper at the pressure, your small hands flying to hold his arm but it was no use. He laughed lightly, pushing your head back onto the armchair, almost taunting you. Your back arches lightly, trying to push yourself up against him, whining when you couldn't. He leans down over you, his face so close as he lifts his knee onto the chair. Placing it directly in between your thighs, almost touching your heat.
Oh how badly he wanted this...
"Is that a threat my princess?" Aemond says directly in your right ear, his thumb leaving your neck to roughly graze your lower lip. You don't meet his eyes, choosing to look at somewhere else. You fear if you looked at him you'd lose the remaining composure you had left. He didn't like that, roughly turning your head to meet his face.
"No. I'm merely stating that I refuse to be subjected. Tis' not in my nature to bend the knee. Especially not to Targaryens. I understand that it is our duty to get along but who knows how this marriage ends up playing out. The Martells have stood unbowed, unbent and unbroken for centuries. You may burn me, but you will never make me kneel." You say through a heavy chest, trying desperately to get the words out even though you sounded much needier than intended.
It’s was hot, almost unbearable, and you wondered if whether or not it was the scorching heat of the sun, or just your own body feeling all flushed. Deciding it was the latter since the introductory was highly unlikely. You waited for him to speak, looking sharply at his lips. His eyelids flutter. Never in a million years would he have expected to be driven to the brink of insanity by the mere thought of someone’s lips. Nevertheless, you came along to put all of his bravado to shame. He felt like a young boy again, experiencing all of his firsts once more but this time, it was not with a lowly prostitute under Aegon's urge. No, he was entirely in control and the feelings were infinitely better, you were a goddess. Temptation lulled together with passion and possessiveness. Emotions being cradled by divinity in it's arms, it was all so intense. He wanted more of it...
"Perhaps I will be the first to to prompt such obedience from you, princess..." Aemond whispered, placing his forehead over your own as his finger tips trailed over the exposed skin of your waist. You shiver lightly and he laughs, closing your eyes as his hands get lower and lower...
"To make you bow in submission." He draws smooth circles on your hips. You felt warm, it was all too much but you didn't want him to stop. You liked the way he was speaking so close to you, liked the way he touched all over your body.
"To bend you..." Your eyes open lightly as you began to feel him lift your right thigh up onto the armchair. Looking at him as he says the words so slowly, watching as he positioned your body.
"To break you." He does the same to your left thigh, and it was at this point on you began to realize that he had spread your legs wide open. Fuck... The situation now dawning on you. This wasn't right... not until you were both married...
"You forget yourself, Aemond." You remind him, eyes locked on the visible bulge on his pants.
"Perhaps I do, there is a fire in you and it amuses me." Channelling the words deep in his throat as he grabs ahold of your jaw, forcing you to look up at him and away from his desire.
"Would you like to keep being amused?" Smirking lightly, a playful veil over takes your features.
"It's too soon my sweet." Aemond nods. If it were any other day he would have taken you, right here, right now. But it was far too soon, you had just met today and his mother would have his head if he bruised you this early on. He was not a gentle man, the world would know if he fucked you.
"I have no idea what you're talking about." Aemond scoffs at that, watching you turn away. He straightens up, but still keeps his leg in between your spread thighs.
"Oh do you not? Then please tell me, how do you plan on amusing me?" Lightly guiding your chin with his fingers to look at him once more.
"With my lips of course."
"We can't touch eachother but there's no saying we can't share a loving kiss, or perhaps a kiss more than loving..." You smile lightly and he mirrors your expression.
"Now that I can condone." And at that he leans forward to cup your face and takes your lips in his. Holding his wrists once more, you smile into the kiss. Maybe this union wouldn't be all that bad... You're getting quite content with being by Aemonds side.
Next part
Authors Note:
I want to make this a little mini series perhaps, like you and Aemond's wedding and consummation, your children being born, you meeting Vhagar and him meeting your giant snake etc. Let me know what you guys think. I also did not edit this beforehand lmao. I'm not overly proud of this story but it's a good way to revive my Tumblr and branch out from the MCU. I'm taking requests in my inbox!
- Armoni
#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond x you#aemond x reader#aemond one eye#aemond imagine#aemond the kinslayer#aemond targaryen#aemond targaryen smut#aemond targaryen scenarios#house of the dragon#hotd imagine#hotd season 1#aemond smut#aemond scenario#game of thrones#game of thrones smut#game of thrones x reader#house targaryen#house martell#jacaerys targaryen#helaena targaryen#targaryen x reader#dance of the dragons#alys rivers#oneshot#aemond targaryen one shot#aemond targaryen imagine#aemond targaryen fluff#aemond targaryen fic#aemond targaryen fanfiction
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Medieval picrew tag game
Create an Aemond/Aegon self insert/OC love interest.
Thank you so much for tagging me @snowblack-charcoalwhite and @sylasthegrim 💖💖
I admit I didn't see the first part and just made her quite randomly at first picturing a lady from Dorne but I came up with a small story which I'll post under the cut too
Here is the link for the tag game. Thank you for starting this @troublesomesnitch ! Loved designing her💖
Tagging (no pressure): @barbieaemond @pendragora @worms-on-a-single-string @hieronymph @snowprincesa1 @witheredoffherwitch @starstrucksnowing @sahtinekryze @moonshine999 @liv-cole @sidraofthewildflowers @fatherforgivethem @bohemian-nights @theothermaidoftarth @theoneeyedprince @humanpurposes @randomdragonfires @themoonofthesun @very-straight-blog @sunnysideaeggs @terrorofthetrident @tell-them-the-north-remembers @dr-aegon @inthedayswhenlandswerefew @arcielee @aegonx @khaleesihel @lynnbeth5172 @st-eve-barnes @vhagar-balerion-meraxes @zaldritzosrose @cyeco13 @boundlessfantasy @scaly-freaks and whoever sees this because I'm forgetting most of the people I want to tag
So she's a Dornish lady belonging to House Allyrion of Godsgrace. Their words are "No Foe May Pass". They're an ancient house, basically established by the Andals who settled in Dorne.
The Greenblood (river) lies near the banks of the castle, flowing east to the Summer Sea, with olive and lemon orchards surrounding the Keep. She spent her childhood mostly within Godsgrace surrounded by peace.
She's the first born child of the second son of house Allyrion so there isn't much left for her to inherit leaving her father to prioritise a good match as well as an elaborate education for her.
This is probably her maiden portrait or something he had commissioned to be sent should an eligible suitor present himself.
She's sent to the Martells on her seventeenth name day to secure a match, basically to learn how to integrate herself into larger circles of influence. (The Martells are her maternal cousins, Aliandra Martell being her first cousin who she houses with, as she's being prepared to rule by her father.)
Around the time of the dance of the dragons when Otto Hightower writes to Qoren Martell for his support, he considers rejecting it before deciding to consider the benefits of increased trade and influence should the greens succeed. He offers conditional support sighting his reluctance to engage with the Targaryens due to their historical rivalry but willingness to negotiate should Otto's plans succeed.
After he learns of the battle at Driftmark, he plans to send Aliandra reluctantly as an envoy at her behest, to negotiate a deal with the greens in kings landing. She accompanies her cousin to the city much to the dislike of her own family.
After arriving in kings landing and learning of the death of Prince jacaerys which was kept hidden, both women find themselves stuck. Aliandra wishes to lend her support to Rhaenyra, return home and change the terms of the deal, angry at the greens for keeping valuable information hidden, yet both find themselves under the eye of the newly appointed Prince Regent who forces them to honor the terms their house laid out or come up with a revised and mutually beneficial plan to honor their shared agreement.
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i’ve got a bit of a speculative ask for you but how many friends/companions & ladies in waiting, etc do you think elia had as she was growing up (other than her brothers and ashara) and if so which houses would they probably be from?
Yay, I love Elia asks! Personally, I think Elia had more companions once she grew up a little and people were assured she wasn't going to keel over and die suddenly. Oberyn tells Tyrion that she was of delicate health which had never permitted her to travel much; Doran admitted he didn't think she'd live as a baby:
"Even when Lord Gargalen told me that I had a sister, I assured him that she must shortly die."
So I think the other Dornish noble houses probably felt the same hesitancy about Elia as she grew up sickly (my headcanon is that she had a wheelchair as a young girl which Oberyn liked to push too hard until he almost broke her neck once or twice); I imagine Elia played with both noble and lowborn children in the Water Gardens, but everyone knew she was delicate and probably was not allowed to do many strenuous exercises/activities. Once she came of age, I think some canonical lady-in-waiting or companions apart from Ashara could've been Delonne Allyrion (born before 252, some 5 or more years older than Elia), Larra Blackmont (no known age), and Nymella Toland (no known age). I don't have any other female, Dornish canon character of her age :(
It's almost criminal how little info we have of the current and past members of Dornish houses. Going a little more into speculative mode, I think Dorne in general may have thought Elia's marriage could bring a new era of prosperity in a similar vein of Myriah. Just like Myriah's marriage brought opportunities in King's Landing for Dornishmen ("[...] for Daeron II brought many Dornishmen to his court, some of whom were granted offices of note"), I imagine many noble Dornish houses thought they could send relatives with Elia to King's Landing so they could have important positions/gain influence/support their princess. It's remarked that some of Rhaegar's companions and supporters were the Dornishmen who had come with Elia after their marriage ("the Dornishmen who had come to court with the Princess Elia were in the prince's confidence as well, particularly Prince Lewyn Martell, Elia's uncle"); I don't think it's that much of a stretch to claim that Elia brought with her a circle of Dornish allies, including the ladies-in-waiting, and plotted to put them in important positions in court so they could be her confidants once she became Queen.
I would really like to know about more female Dornish characters of Elia's generation, especially of House Yronwood who were clearly offended after Edgar' and Oberyn's duel; maybe a Yronwood daughter was sent with Elia too as lady-in-waiting, as another effort to appease their most powerful bannermen? And if you send a Yronwood daughter then you probably have to send an available Fowler daughter too, you don't want to show that much favor to a House unnecessarily, but this is most of the speculation I have; I don't know how many ladies-in-waiting does a noble woman have on average, so I hope Elia had lots of Dornish women with her who consoled her and were her friends at Dragonstone and KL. At this point I would beg GRRM for more info about Dorne, but I'm afraid of what's waiting for us in Winds of Winter...
Sorry for the long answer! I love rambling about Elia and Dorne ^^
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Can you talk more about your house Dayne headcanons? Especially if it's anything about Allyria or Ashara.
hiii sure, though some of them i've already written about here.
okay... let's see. i like to think ashara was younger than elia by more than a few years, the younger of elia's ladies and the only one who could entertain her and make her laugh when elia was in the worse of her pains (some kind of chronic illness?). very lively and carefree, the complete opposite of arthur who was too intense and serious for normal people. i am 100% behind tumblr user mylestoyne's version of arthur and i would not change a thing. i'm obsessed (if you search my arthur tag i'm sure i've reblogged some posts about it). i see her as deeply empathetic and sensitive.
i like the contrast of arthur being too enmeshed in the targ conspiracies while ashara is living the highborn single lady life in the capital, too worried about elia's moods than about aerys or the other lords. though while she was afraid of (and for) arthur, i think she was fascinated by him and could not make herself turn away. let me explain, being the sword of the morning is the top of the top, instant celebrity status, mythic hero sense of destiny. and i think having your brother become and embody this type of role is A Lot. esp bc arthur must have been facing the horrors of whether he was Worthy of wielding dawn and because i don't think he ever let himself be human, not before gaining down and not ever after. growing up with legends of swords of the morning fucks you up, it's like aegon the conqueror suddenly appearing to the targs. like. it's the SWORD that funded your HOUSE, the magic FALLING STAR embodied in the brother ashara always thought was more than human (or less?!?!?!?!). and while she chafed against arthur's bonds, i don't think it
in any case, i think ashara was a very social person, feeding from her connections and when she was sent (in disgrace?) back to starfall after getting pregnant, cut off from her friends and court, to the castle where only her little sister resided was very hard. now her baby is dead, her /brother/ is dead, lord dayne is still in the war, elia dead.... well. i could see her not having anything else to cling to.
i headcanon allyria was either the daughter of a second marriage or a very accidental baby because of the difference in ages between her and her siblings. i like to think her mother was an allyrion of godsgrace that felt very homesick and named her daughter in reference to her former house. of course she was the baby and of course she was spoiled esp because her older siblings were not in starfall at all (edric's dad serving the martells in sunspear, and arthur & ashara in the capital). she's the one who knows the castle best of all because she's never left it, a point of pride and of resentment. and speaking of resentment, while she was happy to see ashara come back to have her baby in dorne, she 100% hated her after she threw herself from the palestone sword tower partly bc as a child she didn't understand why ashara would leave her.
allyria never got on with her oldest brother that well, a massive age difference and the disparity in grief (he remembered ashara and arthur and loved them while allyria never really knew them) didn't help to make them closer, not even when they were the only ones inhabiting starfall after the rebellion. i headcanon allyria as somewhat an odd child to the adults around her, by all technicalities an only child, priding herself in her independence but yearning for company. lord dayne seeing this and not wanting her to grow alone he brings gerold from high hermitage (gerold's mother was a dayne from starfall) and they form a friendship. very pure and very healthy except when gerold needs to gain his spurs and thinks of himself as the man of the castle bc lord dayne as his knight master is too sick to perform the usual lordly tasks like ridding the lands from outlaws or performing justice. this i think contributes to his sense of importance and wanting the sword etc (he leaves starfall bc he starts hating lord dayne's weakness and allyria's passivity in this issue, he also needs to make a name for himself away from this).
allyria loves babies and when ned is born it's like the sun is, too. ned can't leave her and ned will love her for who she is and will not be as bigheaded as gerold. ned adores her in return. in my other post i explained my reasoning behind her betrothal to beric dondarrion, adding to this lord dayne and beric's dad might have been war buddies during the greyjoy rebellion and seen in him and his son people he could trust his sister and heir in case of his death. i don't think allyria seriously loved beric, i don't even think they met more than once or twice, but i do think she was deeply affected by the news of his "death" more for ned than for her being unwed now. she's become too used to be alone.
some made up miscellanea:
i know house jordayne is named for robert jordan the fantasy author but i like to think it's a stark-karstark situation with the daynes.
house dayne of high hermitage was created after davos dayne married nymeria of ny sar as a favor to him and his siblings.
dyanna dayne was also myriah martell's youngest lady and she and maekar fell in love. there was not meant to be another targ-dornish marriage due to the tensions but neither daeron nor myriah could separate them.
i like "fallen and reborn" for their house words bc it's the name of one of the first official visual art i saw of them back in the day. it also goes nicely with the mythical origin of their house.
#ask#anonymous#im sure i forgot something#valyrianscrolls#house dayne#ashara dayne#arthur dayne#allyria dayne#gerold dayne#edric dayne#fallen and reborn#asoiaf
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Jon Snow's Living Situation in ASOIAF
A lot of people take for granted that it was "unusual" for Jon Snow to be raised at Winterfell, so I tried to gather information on as many natural born children mentioned in ASOIAF and related materials to see if that was true.
And it seems not to be, even in the South (outside of Dorne, even). The children born out of wedlock to highborn parents seem to be kept with them or nearby.
This is admittedly a small sample size (around 80 characters, and I didn't go too deep into it so I'm missing at least some), but it's not like this is real history, and the fact that Jon's situation is not unusual seeming from what we're shown in the books just adds to the idea that people's impressions of what is normal are not the truth of what is normal.
Northern Bastards that lived/probably lived with their families (other than Jon himself):
Brandon Snow (Torrhen Stark’s brother, most likely lived at Winterfell)
Sara Snow (Rickon Stark’s daughter during the Dance, if she existed definitely lived at Winterfell)
Dacey, Alysane, Lyra, Jorelle, and Lyanna Mormont (Maege Mormont’s daughters, father(s) unknown and most likely not married to Maege)
Denys Snow (Bastard of Barrowtown, bastard of House Dustin)
Lonnel Snow (Son of Brandon Stark from Daeron II’s reign, possibly the origin of House Cassel)
Timothy Snow (the Bastard of Flint’s Finger, presumably lived with his Flint relatives)
Northern Bastards who were acknowledged and fostered elsewhere in the North:
Larence Snow (Halys Hornwood’s son, fostered with the Glovers)
Other Bastards who seem to have lived with/near their families:
Addison Hill (Bastard of Cornfield during the Conquest)
Alys River (House Strong, a wet nurse at Harrenhal)
Aurane Waters (Bastard of Driftmark, Lord Monford Velaryon’s brother)
Bastard of Blackhaven (House Dondarrion during the conquest)
Bastard of Harrenhal (House Lothston during Daeron II’s reign)
Bryden Rivers (Bloodraven), Gwenys Rivers, Mya Rivers
Cedrik Storm (Bastard of Bronzegate, House Buckler bastard, fought Barristan Selmy)
Daemon Sand (Bastard of Godsgrace, son of Ryon Allyrion)
Daemon Waters (aka Daemon Blackfyre, son of Princess Daena and Aegon IV)
Falia Flowers (daughter of Humfrey Hewitt, though made a servant)
Joy Hill (Gerion Lannister’s daughter)
Lynora Hill (daughter of Ser Jason Lannister, works at Casterly Rock)
Obara Sand, Nymeria Sand, Tyene Sand, Sarella Sand, Elia Sand, Obella Sand, Dorea Sand, and Loreza Sand (the Sand Snakes)
Orys Baratheon (rumored bastard of Aerion Targaryen)
Red Robb Rivers (the Bowman of Raventree, bastard of House Blackwood)
Rolland Storm (Bastard of Nightsong, House Caron)
Ronald Storm (son of Ser Ronnet Connington)
Ronard Storm (House Durrandon, usurped his brother King Morden II)
Tom Flowers (Bastard of Bitterbridge, from House Caswell during the Dance)
Tyler Hill (Bastard of Lannisport, son of Lord Lyman during Maegor’s reign)
Tyrion Tanner (Lollys Stokeworth’s son)
Walda Rivers (great-granddaughter of Walder Frey)
Walder Rivers (Walder Frey’s oldest bastard son)
Walys (Maester at Winterfell under Rickard Stark, while becoming a Maester might normally be seen as sending the child away, he was the son of a Hightower and an Archmaester)
Wex Pyke (son of Sargon Botley)
(I don’t think it’s a stretch to assume if someone is called “Bastard of [seat of their family]” that they lived with their family, as Jon Snow is the “Bastard of Winterfell”)
Other Bastards who possibly lived with their families (at least for a time)
Blackshield (Bastard of Uplands, possibly of House Mullendore)
Ellaria Sand (daughter of Harmen Uller)
Garrett and Garse Flowers (Mace Tyrell’s first cousins, presumably lived with their father)
Harry Rivers (Bastard of Bracken, son of Lord Jonos Bracken)
Shiera Seastar (daughter of Aegon IV, not really confirmed where she lived her early years I don't think, though most likely in King’s Landing)
Bastards definitely not raised at home:
Aegor Rivers (Bittersteel, would have been raised in King’s Landing but Daeron and Aemon forced Aegon to send him away)
Cotter Pyke (Night’s Watch member, most likely did not live with his highborn relatives)
Edric Storm (Robert Baratheon’s son, technically was raised at his family’s seat in Storm’s End, but not at the Red Keep)
Gendry Waters (Robert Baratheon’s son)
Mya Stone (Robert Baratheon’s daughter)
All the rest of Robert Baratheon's kids
Notable bastards whose situations are not at all comparable to Jon’s:
Ramsey Snow (Roose Bolton’s son, a product of a First Night rape)
Benedict I Justman (a Blackwood/Bracken mix, so basically an abomination in the eyes of the gods lol)
Addam and Alyn Velaryon (Lord Corlys Velaryon’s probable sons, most likely purposefully hidden)
Franklyn Flowers (mother was a small folk raped by Fossoways of Cider Hall)
Glendon Flowers (could not prove parentage, claimed to be Quentyn Ball’s son with a camp follower)
Jayne and Jon Waters (Alyn Velyaron and Elaena Targaryen’s children, Alyn died when they were young but had planned to marry Elaena)
Joffrey, Tommen, and Myrcella (obviously)
All of Lyonel Hightower and Samantha Tarly’s children (weren’t allowed to marry, but had children anyway)
Named bastards we don’t have enough information on:
Addam Rivers (briefly a river king)
Humfrey Waters (Commander of the City Watch)
Jafer Flowers (Night’s Watch member)
Mervyn Flowers (King Aegon III KG)
Robert Flowers (former LC of the KG)
Robin Hill (former LC of NW)
Ser Samuel Stone (Runestone master-at-arms)
Tristan Rivers (Golden Company)
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House Allyrion of Godsgrace ❁︎ Dorne
#Dorne moodboards#moodboard#house of the dragon#hotd#Dorne#asoiaf#a song of ice and fire#got#game of thrones
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HOUSE MARTELL
Nymeria, the warrior queen of the Rhoyne, brought her ten thousand ships to land in Dorne, the southernmost of the Seven Kingdoms, and took Lord Mors Martell to husband. With her help, he vanquished his rivals to rule all Dorne.
The Rhoynar influence remains strong. Thus Dornish rulers style themselves “Prince” rather than “King.” Under Dornish law, lands and titles pass to the eldest child, not the eldest male.
Dorne, alone of the Seven Kingdoms, was never conquered by Aegon the Dragon. It was not permanently joined to the realm until two hundred years later, and then by marriage and treaty, not the sword.
Peaceable King Daeron II succeeded where the warriors had failed by wedding the Dornish princess Myriah and giving his own sister in marriage to the reigning Prince of Dorne.
The Martell banner is a red sun pierced by a golden spear.
Their words are Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken.
The principal houses sworn to Sunspear include Jordayne, Santagar, Allyrion, Toland, Yronwood, Wyl, Fowler, and Dayne.
#a game of thrones#appendix#a song of ice and fire#asoiaf#house martell#house nymeros martell#dorne#sunspear#princess nymeria#rhoyne#rhoynar#ten thousand ships#mors martell#aegon the conqueror#daeron ii targaryen#daeron the good#myriah martell#maron martell#princess daenerys of dorne#unbowed unbent unbroken#house jordayne#house santagar#house allyrion#house toland#house yronwood#house wyl#house fowler#house dayne#prince of dorne#house targaryen
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THE NIGHT THE MOON WENT DOWN: THE END OF THE QAMAR OF THE TOR.
In the heart of Volantis, the ancient city brimming with juxtaposition and intrigue, Lord Rashid Jordayne of the Tor found himself entangled in a web of political schemes. His mission, meant to renegotiate peace and trade treaties initial set by Prince Mors of House Martell between Volantis and Dorne, had drawn the attention of shadowy figures with divergent interests to the entirety of rulers of the mighty city.
As the moon cast its silvery glow upon the sprawling city, Rashid attended a grand banquet in his honour, hosted in a lavish estate adorned with tapestries depicting the history of Volantis. He was unable to look away from the scenes depicting brutal slavery upon it; the whips, which seemed to become all too real. To many nameless slaves in the room that waited on him, their only depiction of their ancestors were the enslaved souls on the tapestries.
There was one moment in particular where a slave girl's hand shook as she offered him a drink, trembling as though she feared he would bestow something upon her.
Unbeknownst to him, whispers of dissent slithered through the halls. The night took a treacherous turn when Rashid, known for his vehement opposition to slavery and unwavering commitment to social justice, voiced his concerns about Volantis' reliance on the slave trade. His last words during the banquet had only been "We Are All Made Of The Same Clay" to bring a civil end to a no doubt tense discussion. His impassioned words resonated with some, but invoked resentment in others who thrived on the city's economic foundations. Those who believed Rashid's own opinions were a representation of Dorne's: and their involvement in the ways of Volantene governing.
Underneath the veneer of diplomacy, a clandestine plot unfolded. As Rashid retired to his quarters, he was ambushed by a group of masked assailants wielding concealed daggers. None would know the way in which he looked upon them when he turned, his intuition correct - for there came a strange, accepting sense of calm to realise one only had some moments left. "You had me wondering."
The flickering candlelight cast eerie shadows as the attackers, faces obscured by dark hoods, struck with lethal precision. A deadly silence enveloped the room as Lord Rashid Jordayne, advocate for change and a voice against the chains that bound men, succumbed to the cold steel of betrayal. His body, now a pawn in a deadly game of power, lay lifeless as the conspirators melted back into the shadows.
Only minutes later, that very same enslaved girl was the first to stumble across the corpse of the light of Dorne. Her tears came not only from a place of shock, but a place of mourning, for a man she had only known for the course of a banquet. We Are All Made Of The Same Clay. In the hours that unfolded, there was a rush by the Voltanese rulers to figure out what divergent group of extremists had done such a thing.
And a dispatch was sent to Sunspear, to inform them that the moon had gone down.
@ofsandandblood / @ariannevaith / @armaans / @baashirdayne / @dante-uller / @dastan-allyrion / @devanitoland / @lorduller / @joymanwoody / @lorczamartell / @myriamas / @opheliafowler / @dancingshores
ooc information:
myriam would have been the one written to, and it would have been her who broke the news to the council and his only living family left, his wife the princess loreza martell and a single sister, who now rules the tor.
once returned home, rashid's body is embalmed with oils to keep it's state. many swear it looks as though he is merely sleeping, and can smell perfume and musk from him. he is kept to lay in state, first in sunspear for those to pay respect to the first justiciar of dorne, and then onwards to his lands of the tor.
rashid's cremation takes place within the sept of the four doors, a location of high religious significance within dorne. his ashes are then scattered into the river torrentine, as per tradition.
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New Muses
Eadwyn Allyrion - Lord of House Allyrion. GOT oc
Rhaenerys Targaryen - Twin of Aemond Targaryen. HOTD oc
Barb Azure Baird - Member of the Covey & Your Favorite Lesbian on the Double Bass. TBOSAS Canon
Lucy Gray Baird - Member of the Covey & Victor of the 10th Hunger Games. TBOSAS Canon
Hestia "Ma" Plinth - Wife of Stabo Plinth & Mother of Sejanus Plinth. TBOSAS Canon
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who: @baashirdayne
when and where: the gathering hall within hayford, prior to the noticed disappearance of lady mayya allyrion. the dornish courtiers finish up from an intimate dinner, each leaving the halls premises one by one. she is in a conversation with her brother when she notices the lord of starfall rising from his seat; they were the last three people in the room. soon two.
context: following seeing lord jalabhar mooton's busted up face earlier in the day very briefly, myriam hears rumours of what has apparently happened, and spots the sword of the morning - it was time to ask upfront.
it was not rare or uncommon to hear the sounds of the lady of godsgrace's laughter bouncing from the walls in any room she stood within; most especially when she remained within the company of those she had always remained the most comfortable with. within the heart of hayford, a grand feasting hall that had dwindled in the number of their valyrian hosts and ended up being majority dornish folk, myriam allyrion had no way of knowing the darkness which occurred some passages away - and how life for house allyrion woudl change once again. at this moment, she remained seated closely beside her younger brother, listening closely to his experiences in encountering his previous lover's velaryon family; it was enough to cause her to grin, one that showed her teeth as she laughed over the rim of the goblet of her wine, almost pulling a face.
she would not say she had told him so, and yet still, never did she think there would have been an opportunity where they could have sat side by side and discussed such a matter together - not this one. it showed her that the world did go on, regardless of how much she lit it aflame in her words and in her actions; a slippery ideology nonetheless.
myriam reached forward slightly as a servant passed them by, continuing to hold goblets that would be of great convince to her: and whilst leaning forward, she almost slipped entirely out of the window seat she had comfortably nestled herself within. there was a rosy tint to her caramel kissed skin, reflecting in the burning of the hearth as the shimmer of her bindi remained in the middle of her forehead: and she reached forward to grab not one, but two extra goblets - presenting it to dastan almost as though she had secured a trophy for herself. for their house. for their parents. somewhere in the back of her mind, she wondered what her mother was doing in this very moment: the lady of godsgrace had refused to attend a summit within kings landing, going as far as to call her children deluded for doing so.
she wondered where her sister was, only for a moment though, before her thoughts became more fuzzy and hazy. she heard something about dastan knowing he should get himself to his chambers, and they kissed one another goodbye; though as she looked up, she noted another figure beginning to excuse himself from the social setting, joined with the bloodroyal of yronwood and the wyl of house wyl. how stern they all looked, myriam thought, the grin only spreading across her features more. "lord dayne!" her voice called, her mind suddenly going to something she had intended to speak to him of.
her voice was light and feminine as it carried over the hall, a renement of the passion that could be easily laced into her tone: gods knew jalabhar mooton had not deserved such a fierce beating. or he did. just not in front of many people, and how it could be argued to be traced back to her. she remained stood on one spot as he looked back over at her, and she merely raised one of the goblets with a cheeky smile on her features. he looked happy among his close companions, even if he did appear ever so stern; and when the spell broke, she began wandering her way over to him, purposefully taking her time. "i heard something of you this afternoon, my lord." and then she extended him the goblet, noting the way in which he looked at her. his smile was always enough to make her feel a fool.
how long would they be able to keep this up? how long would this bubble last before it was burst most horribly? she stepped forward, closing the distance between them slightly; her voice lowering now. "where were you this morning?" she asked, the smile making it apparent on her face that she was amused. as much as she should not have been. no doubt the wine had made her flowery, and yet she would have found it most entertaining, even if she were sober. but myriam allyrion sparkled and glowed like candlelight when she was intoxicated - until she did not. until the wax burned out, and the candle snuffed out.
#c: baashir#baashir 006#a candle desires to melt as the moth strives to burn : an eternal devotion (the girl in the basket & the sword of the morning)#where mornings should have begun and nights should have ended; and yet still how your alleys and your name haunt me (baashir&myriam)#you know how to appreciate me i must stick with you my baby ; nobody's ever made me feel this way (bash&myri)
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