#i don’t have a good read on helaena but i think the fact that on some level she knows her family’s fate definitely affects her
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Why is the reason greens suck at communicating overall? they never express love through words. What's more they rarely talk about feelings. Their talks are straight to the point. I believe they never open up to each other. Why is that?
i think it’s because they didn’t grow up in an environment that encouraged talking about their feelings and emotions/being openly affectionate with their words or in general, it’s not something that comes easily to them, it’s unfamiliar..
alicent really only had otto growing up, i don’t think he’s very good at being open with his emotions, and she was still a child when she was forced to have her children, who were neglected by viserys. the greens all have deep, unresolved trauma that definitely plays a part in them being closed off. aegon probably thinks no one would care, helaena seems to almost constantly be burdened by her dreams, and i think ever since the night at driftmark aemond prefers to keep everything bottled up, not wanting to be vulnerable. though, it’s evident that they love each other. they have their own love language…it’s difficult for them to use their words but they wouldn’t hesitate to protect and defend each other with their lives if it came to it. i think they tend to be more openly affectionate in more intense, vulnerable situations.
#olivia has also said that alicent finds it hard to connect with her children since the age gap is so narrow#they pretty much grew up together so it’s a strained relationship#i don’t have a good read on helaena but i think the fact that on some level she knows her family’s fate definitely affects her#and i think bc her family doesn’t understand her peculiar behavior it’s hard for them to connect#to me the greens’ love language seems to mainly be physical touch there’s many instances of this#also i think bc the threat of war is always looming over them it’s a whole other stressor that interferes
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modern!aemond who detests christmas because the entire world advertises it as a time of love and family but he never felt that love growing up and he even gave up on the hope of family vacations because every time the targaryens go on one, someone will end up having an argument with another therefore ruining the entirety of the trip and aemond is just a full time holiday pessimist until one day in their junior year of uni, helaena brings home her friend from class to their shared flat just outside of campus and it just so happens that aemond was studying in their living room when they arrive
“this is y/n she’ll spend christmas with us cause her family’s away and i don’t want her to be alone”
and though his sister’s intentions were good (knowing she was sad during the holidays too) aemond was initially annoyed because she didn’t bother asking for their approval (though he doubted aegon would care when he’s spending it with his on and off girlfriend)
y/n, the name rolls nicely off his tongue he thinks and he returned her timid wave right before she got dragged by helaena to her room
aemond was bored and didn’t really care much for his sister and her friend for they were holed up in helaena’s room for the past two hours and he already finished his readings for after the break until,
“aemond we need you to get mini marshmallows!!!”
he only rolls his eyes at helaena’s command until she exited her room and marched up to him shaking his arm as she pleads how important it is
the snowfall outside was mild so he only huffed and mumbled an “you owe me” before putting on his black trench coat to head to the store
aemond nearly stumbled back into the hallway when he got back and opened the entrance door to see the flat covered in silver and gold tinsels and fairy lights and the smell of cinnamon in the air made the place unrecognizable to him. in fact the entire atmosphere was unrecognizable and it was as if he was sucked into the christmas movies he watched in sadness as a child
“hi, helaena’s in the bathroom. we’re making gingerbread cookies.”
aemond stutters. “helaena’s making cookies in the bathroom?”
and maybe a christmas miracle comes in the form of your laughter because it actually warms his heart—such a foreign feeling to him.
you walk around the kitchen counter and walk closer to him. his breathing grows heavier from where he stands, black trench coat still on and a single plastic bag holding a jumbo pack of mini marshmallows in his hand, he feels ridiculous
“here, i got it for you targaryens”
in your hand, outstretched towards him, was holding a santa hat, similar to the one on your head. his cold fingers brush against your warm ones and he really had to pull it together
“there! i was afraid it wouldn’t fit but you wear it well, aemond. happy christmas!”
after giving him a cheery grin, you turn back to the kitchen where helaena was waiting.
maybe this time, aemond will finally feel what christmas is about.
#GAH#i’m on a modern!aemond roll#modern!aemond targaryen#aemond targaryen#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen fanfic#aemond targaryen fanfiction#aemond targaryen x fem!reader#aemond targaryen headcanon#aemond targaryen fluff#aemond targaryen angst#house of the dragon#hotd#zoe speaks
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Have You No Idea That You’re In Deep? [Chapter 8: Starfall] [Series Finale]
Aemond is a fearless, enigmatic prince and the most renowned dragonrider of the Greens. You are a daughter of House Mormont and a lady-in-waiting to Princess Helaena. You can’t ignore each other, even though you probably should. In fact, you might have found a love worth killing for.
A/N: Hello all! At long last, here is the conclusion of this series. Thank you for all the love that this fic has received; I am truly thrilled beyond words to read each and every one of your thoughts, rants, outbursts, compliments, complaints, and analyses. My first idea for a story is always the ending, so I’ve had parts of this finale written in my Word Doc since before I published the first chapter. Still, it feels very surreal to have finally finished it. I hope it is worth the wait. 💜
Song inspiration: “Do I Wanna Know?” by Arctic Monkeys.
Chapter warnings: Language, violence, death and destruction, ANGST, dad!Aemond, Aegon-related chaos, prophesies for days, a tiny bit of sexual content, dragons, drama, lots of shouting, if you have not read Fire & Blood then you should know that there are SOME spoilers/allusions involving certain characters (but not that many).
Word count: 10.5k.
Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.
Taglist: @crispmarshmallow @tclegane @daddysfavoritesexkitten @poohxlove @imagine-all-the-imagines @nsainmoonchild @skythighs @bratfleck @thesadvampire @yor72 @xcharlottemikaelsonx @loverandqueenofdragons @omgsuperstarg @endless-ineffabilities @devynsshitposts @vencuyot @ladylannisterxo @cranberryjulce @abcdefghi-lmnopqrstuvwxyz @liathelioness @mirandastuckinthe80s @haezen @fairaardirascenarios @darkened-writer @weepingfashionwritingplaid @signyvenetia @crossingallmine @burningcoffeetimetravel @yummycastiel @lol-im-done @lovemissyhoneybee @nomugglesallowed @witchmoon @yoshiplushie @torchbearerkyle @sweetashoneyhoney @quartzs-posts @lauraneedstochill @nctma15 @queenofshinigamis @rapoficeandfire @hinata7346 @curiouser-an-curiouser @meadowofsinfulthoughts @imjustboredso @unabashedlyswimmingtimemachine @myspotofcraziness @bregarc @mikariell95 @doingfondue @justconfusedperiod @mommyslittlewarcriminal @graykageyama @elsolario
“Goodbye, Papa,” you whisper for your daughter who cannot yet speak, your cheek pressed to Laurel’s. You wave her tiny hand as Aemond and Vhagar vanish into a horizon that’s darkening like a bruise: gold, blue, violet, black, punctuated by rising stars. Encroaching thunder growls like a dragon. Lightning flashes as raindrops begin to fall from the sky. “Goodbye. Good luck. We’ll see you again soon.”
You retreat back inside the Red Keep and accompany Helaena and the children to Alicent’s rooms. As Jaehaera and Maelor play agreeably on the floor with woodcarvings of animals—and Jaehaerys mutilates a horse figurine with a toy mallet, targeting one leg at a time—you trade with the old queen: you give her a very drowsy Laurel, and she hands you her embroidery. The pattern is a simple white watchtower, but you’re so distracted thinking about Aemond and Storm’s End that you promptly botch it and tangle the threads beyond repair.
“I’m so sorry,” you tell Alicent, mortified, showing her the rubble. “I should have known better than to try…I’m afraid I lack Helaena’s talents…”
“Don’t worry about it, dear,” Alicent says. She beams down at Laurel as she rocks her. Helaena is absorbed with embroidering a strikingly lifelike water strider. Sir Criston is ostensibly polishing his sword at the table, but in truth listening to Alicent; he studies her words and moods and gestures the same way maesters study poisons and cures. “You must be terribly preoccupied this evening.”
“I am,” you admit. There’s no point in trying to hide it. Your hands are trembling and useless.
Still gazing at Laurel—her dreamy half-closed eyes, her silver lashes, her vulnerable smallness—Alicent speaks to you in a voice that is wistful and far away. “There was once a time when Rhaenyra suggested a match to resolve the question of succession. Jace would marry Helaena, and thus our bloodlines would be knitted back together and both branches of the family spared. I refused her. I’m not even entirely sure why I did. Now I wonder if I was wrong to reject her offer. Perhaps I could have stopped this.”
“You must not blame yourself. The realm has always balked at Rhaenyra’s claim to the Iron Throne. I don’t believe anything short of her surrender could prevent war.”
“You have no idea what it was like,” Alicent says. Now she looks at you with dark eyes that glint with deep, wounded bitterness. “Watching Rhaenyra indulge every whim, flout every tradition, taste every desire, while I…while I…” She pinches her eyes shut, trying to forget. “I have been standing on this precipice since I was eighteen years old, yet I have discovered that it is something else entirely to plunge headfirst into it.”
You place your hand lightly on her forearm. From across the room, Sir Criston lays down his sword and considers approaching. “You will not face this alone.”
“Aemond says you are a woman who admires ferocity. You must think that we can win if you’ve thrown your lot in with us. Perhaps that is why you support the Greens, why you came to King’s Landing to serve us to begin with. Because you have judged us to be the victors.”
That would be perfectly logical, but it’s wrong. “I support the Greens because I love you. All of you.”
Alicent’s face breaks into a sad smile. “I’m very glad that you are Aemond’s wife. Even though I was rather horrified at first.”
“I have been known to have that effect on people.”
“You don’t know what he was like before,” Alicent says. “The only way he knew to redeem himself was through violence. I think you saved him from becoming a monster.” She returns Laurel to you. The baby is sound asleep. “You both saved him.”
Sir Criston, having sheathed his sword, wanders over to invent some pretext to converse with Alicent: something about Aegon’s new council, something about the terms sent to Rhaenyra. She is still mulling it over, this last chance at peace; yet even if she is inclined to accept the concessions—an unconditional pardon, Dragonstone for Rhaenyra and Jace, Driftmark for Luke, recognized legitimacy for Harwin Strong’s sons, places at court for Daemon’s—her husband will advise her against it. Aemond was right when he said that Rhaenyra isn’t suicidal. You aren’t so sure about Daemon.
As you depart to put Laurel to bed, you pause by Helaena and praise her embroidery. It is exactly what you have come to expect from her: intricate, gorgeous, and yet unnerving somehow. Her water strider is made of gold-and-ruby flames, and the wave it dances on is adorned with the reflection of a crescent moon. You recall what she said at King Viserys’ last dinner, so softly that hardly anyone noticed: Beware the beast beneath the boards. “Meleys in the Dragonpit,” you say. “You knew it was going to happen.”
Helaena’s reply is halting and dazed. “I can sometimes see what—pieces of it, anyway, fragments of it, like shards of glass left in the frame of a broken window—but not when or how.”
“That must be maddening.”
“Oh, it is,” she agrees, and resumes her stitching. On the floor, Jaehaerys starts dragging a screeching Maelor around by his white hair. Sir Criston separates them, then lectures Jaehaerys about the importance of princely behavior. Jaehaerys kicks him in the steel-plated shin.
“I suppose we could share grandchildren one day,” you tell Helaena. “Laurel might marry Maelor.” Otto Hightower has already suggested it, and you aren’t necessarily opposed, assuming the two grow up to be genuinely fond of each other. Maelor is a shy, benevolent sort of child, just like his mother; he’s no Jaehaerys, that’s for certain. Aemond always says the same thing about Laurel, without further explanation, without hesitation: She will be whatever she wants to be. This seems to be in blatant conflict with his self-sacrificial sense of duty, of advancement. Then again, so is his love for you.
But Helaena shakes her head, very slowly, her gaze still tangled in the threads of her embroidery. “No, she won’t,” the new queen murmurs.
You take Laurel back to her bedroom and lay her in the cradle, and you stand there for a long time with your hands on the railing. A mobile of cloth insects—a gift from Helaena—twirls lazily above your head. The room is hushed. The window looks out on Blackwater Bay, where rain falls and lightning splits the indigo sky like fractured bones; the island you and Aemond call Bearstone is visible only as an outline on the horizon that blacks out some of the stars. The only way he knew to redeem himself was through violence, Alicent had said, and that’s true, isn’t it? You wonder what Borros Baratheon’s answer will be. You wonder what kind of man will return to you if Aemond spends weeks, months, years away at war.
Beside your sleeping daughter is the dragon egg Aemond chose for her: white, silver-flecked, as large and armored as Laurel is fragile and diminutive. She often reaches for it, marvels at it, beats her little fist against it as if trying to crack the shell. The egg came from Dreamfyre’s clutch, and the Greens have already begun referring to the one-day dragon by a name that honors both its Targaryen and Mormont affiliations: Frostfyre.
You leave Laurel in the care of her wetnurses and handmaidens and sit by the fireplace in the chambers you share with Aemond, trying to lose yourself in a book about the geography of Westeros. Flamelight dances across the pages as you turn them. Your mind keeps wandering: south to Storm’s End, north to Bear Island, into the future, into the past.
There is a knock against your doorframe. Aegon leans there in gold and green, smirking, pleasantly tipsy but far from drunk. “Hi,” he says.
“Hi.”
He waltzes inside, flourishing the wine cup in his hand. “Are you utterly tormented? Are you inconsolable? Have you chewed your fingers down to the bone?”
“Not yet. But this book isn’t helping as much as I’d hoped.”
“That’s because it’s a book.”
“Perhaps I should try whores.”
Aegon cackles and throws himself down into the plush reading chair across from you. He props his boots on the footstool and crosses them one over the other. “Can you believe that this is my fourth cup of wine today? Not fourteenth. Fourth.”
“I’m very proud of you,” you say, and you mean it.
“It’s the strangest thing. I train with Sir Criston and I attend council meetings and I make my public appearances…and before I know it each day is gone. I set my cup down on tables or bannisters and then I forget all about it.” He glances to the bed, noting the dusty pale-pink remnants of the protection spells you’ve cast there. “What happens when all the bears relocate from the kingswood? What happens when Balerion runs out of teeth?”
“I’ll start pulling yours.”
He is amused, but there is something dismal about his expression as well. His face is less puffy, more serious. The reflections of flares and embers glow in his eyes. “I don’t know why you would want to protect me,” he says, remembering the night before his coronation. “If I die, Jaehaerys is next in line to the throne, but he’ll be a child for the next decade. Aemond could be regent. The task would suit him. It would please him, I believe. It is a role he was built for. The gods used entirely different bricks when they made me. Your life would be simpler without me in it.”
“Simpler, perhaps. But not better.”
He smiles; and this time it is shadowless and pure. “Where the fuck did you come from?”
“Bear Island,” you reply; and you both burst into laughter as you sit together in the crackling firelight. Outside, rain drums against the windows and the wind howls as the storm intensifies. “Also, I think Jaehaerys might be deranged.”
“Yes, well you have to watch out for firstborns, you know. They are often incorrigible.”
“Personally, I have a weakness for second sons.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“What happens if Rhaenyra won’t accept the terms?” you ask quietly, looking at Aegon. “What happens if there is war?”
“There won’t be.”
“But if there is?”
Aegon shrugs, unconcerned. “Then we’ll win. We have the support of the Westerlands and the Reach, and probably Storm’s End too. We have Sir Criston, the best swordsman in Westeros. We have Sunfyre, Dreamfyre, Tessarion, and Vhagar, who easily counts as two or three ordinary dragons put together. We have my supernaturally manipulative grandsire. We have you. And, of course, we have Aemond.”
“I fear losing him,” you confess. “I hate how much I fear it. It makes me feel pathetic. I didn’t used to be like this. But now I’m filled to the brim with dread.”
“Are you worried that he’ll march off to battle and fall into the soothing arms of some other enchanting, adulterous Northerner? That’s quite impossible, I assure you. He’s never been one inclined towards romance. What liaisons transpired before you—and there weren’t many, believe me, I judged him plenty for that—were…” He ponders how to phrase it. “More educational than impassioned.”
“No,” you say, smiling wanly. “I’m worried that he’ll come home a different man than he left. I’m worried that he’ll succumb to his blind hatred for the Blacks and be poisoned by it.”
“I don’t think that will happen. He won’t allow himself to lose his way. His love for you and the baby is too great.”
“Will you show me?” you ask, holding up your book. There is a map of Westeros on the page, mountains and rivers and borderlines carved like knife wounds in flesh. “If there is fighting, where it will happen?”
“Sure,” Aegon replies. He has attended enough council meetings to know their schemes by now. He gets up and rests his elbows on the back of your chair, hovering over you to point out the pertinent locations. He is very close; you can smell wine on him, and perfume scented like pomegranates, and soap and sun. There are ink stains on his hands. His silvery hair brushes against your cheek. “Control of the Riverlands would be essential. It is the closest thing Westeros has to a center point, and we would need it to have ready access to the surrounding regions. Its rivers carry trade goods. Its lords have many men and horses at their disposal. Its flat, fertile soil is good for feeding soldiers. And killing them.” He grins. “We would need a foothold there. Maidenpool or High Heart, perhaps. More likely Harrenhal. That’s Lord Larys Strong’s castle, conveniently.”
“It would be an uncommon sensation for him. Being useful, I mean.”
Aegon’s index finger travels around the map. “Battles would pepper the Riverlands and the parts of the Crownlands likely to support Rhaenyra. Duskendale, Rosby, Rook’s Rest. We’d stay out of the Vale. Men can’t fight on the sides of mountains. We aren’t goats.”
But your gaze has snagged somewhere else. In the belly of the Riverlands, there lies the largest lake in Westeros: vast and crystalline blue and with an island at the center known as the Isle of Faces, a legendary and unconquerable mystery that turns all sailors away with fierce winds and flocks of squawking ravens. “I’ve been there,” you say. “The God’s Eye. We stopped to swim and picnic on its shores when my family brought me south to marry Axel Hightower. It is a place of magic, of deep, ageless power. I’d like to go back someday. I’d like to try to visit the Isle of Faces.”
“Aemond can take you, when all this is over. He can land Vhagar right in the middle of that fabled, forbidden little island. And then burn it to ash if you’re unimpressed.” He plucks the book out of your hands and snaps it shut. “Now let’s desist with the geography lesson and do some gambling instead.”
You play cards for several hours—thunder booming, lightning striking ever-closer, Aegon unashamedly robbing you of your coins as you fumble along without much strategy, distracted and nervy—until you tell the king that you’re going to bed. You’re a liar. You bathe and slip into your nightgown and then sit and stare at the dying cinders in the hearth, pulsing like fireflies: garnet, jasper, carnelian, tiger’s eye. When you begin to nod off at last, your vision blurs and the pinprick infernos become distant and indistinct, like stars. They form constellations you can only decipher pieces of: a claw here, a wing there, eyes and blades and teeth. You jolt awake when you hear the bedroom door creak open. The fire rekindles with the gust of cool new air. You know exactly who it is. You recognize his footsteps.
“You’re back already—?”
His face stops you. Everything about him stops you. He’s drenched to the skin and shivering, staring at the wall. His hair is in disarray. Wet, silver twists hang loose and wild; his tie has come undone and he hasn’t even noticed. Water drips from his coat and forms reflective pools around his boots. You can see firelight dancing there. Helaena’s words whisper through your skull like cold wind: He comes home late, covered in rain.
“What?” you say, standing. “What happened?”
Aemond is silent. Lightning illuminates the room in stark, white-blue rage.
You take his hands, and he allows this but won’t look at you. Every angle of his body is wrong: his shoulders, his spine, his jaw. You’ve never seen him like this before. Perhaps nobody has. What could it be? What could it POSSIBLY be? “Did the Baratheons deny you?”
“No, they are with us. Daeron will marry Floris.”
“Then what…?”
At last, his gaze meets yours. His words are slow and heavy, so heavy. His eye—blue like clear skies, like the ocean, like veins beneath paper-thin skin—is more than just stunned. It is afraid. “Luke was there too.”
You don’t understand. “…At Storm’s End?”
“Yes.”
There’s blood on him, you realize now; not much, but enough. There’s a smudge on his right temple, a stain on his throat, flecks in his hair. “Alone?”
“Yes,” Aemond says again.
Just Luke. Not Jace, not Rhaenyra, not Rhaenys, not Daemon…just timid little Luke Strong. You take a step back, dropping his hands. Your stomach plummets; cold sweat slicks across your pores. You are suddenly terrified to know more. You don’t want to ask, but you have to. “What happened, Aemond?”
You call him by his name, and you never call him by his name. Your husband does not seem to have caught this. His fingers go unconsciously to the bear-hilt dagger he still wears at his belt. “Luke was sent to compel Lord Borros to honor his father’s long-past commitment to Rhaenyra. He was so pitiful, so weak, he brought nothing but his mother’s admonishment. Borros turned him away. And then, I…I…” Now his fingertips ghost over his scar. “I stopped him. I threw him your dagger. And I told him to put out his eye.”
Timid little Luke Strong, alone in Storm’s End…small and afraid and outmatched just like Aemond had been all those years ago on Driftmark when he was maimed. “You…?”
“As payment for mine.” He smirks, a ghoulish little half-smile with no humor at all. “I told him that I planned to make a gift of it to you.”
And there is something gut-wrenching about this, it hits you harder than you could have anticipated: that the same man who gave you tenderness and devotion and whispers and faith and a child was going to give you another child’s eye. A debt is still owed. A debt will always be owed. “But he didn’t do it.” If he had, Aemond would now be radiant, victorious. Instead, he is horrified.
“No,” Aemond says. “He refused. And when he left on Arrax…I followed him.”
Your voice is hoarse, brittle. “You killed that boy?”
“I did not give the order,” he insists fiercely. “I meant only to frighten him, to shame him, but Vhagar…she…she…” He shakes his head, like casting out bad dreams. “I tried to stop her.”
Surely there can be no greater betrayal than this: his dragon, his first conquest, his path to redemption. And he will never be able to admit it to anyone but you. Helaena’s warning is a specter hissing through fanged teeth from the shadows of this room: Be cautious with her. She will not always listen. “Vhagar against Arrax, that is no battle, that is murder. The realm will see this as murder.”
“I know.” His reply is helpless.
You reach for him. “Aemond…”
“Do not comfort me,” he flares. “I am not worthy of it. It is you and our daughter who I have endangered.”
“We can win,” you say quickly, desperately. “There will be war now but we can win it, the Greens have the Reach and the Westerlands and Storm’s End, and half of the Crownlands too, we have wealth and armies and dragons and magic, and we already hold the capital, we need only to defend it—”
“I have to send you away.”
Every frenzied thought in your mind falls silent. “What? Where?”
“Starfall.”
Dorne? Some remote, desert castle in a land I’ve never known? You watch each other in the firelight. “No,” you reply simply.
“This will destroy Rhaenyra. She will want me destroyed in return. And Daemon knows exactly how to do it.”
“No,” you repeat, furious. “I’m not going anywhere, we don’t run from battles, I don’t run from battles—!”
Aemond grabs your wrists and holds them against his chest, gently but stubbornly. “Listen,” he says. “I will have to leave King’s Landing to fight this war. And Daemon will come for you. He knows what you mean to me, what you are to me, he knows. He will do it himself, or he will send someone to do it for him, or he will do it if the Blacks sack the city, but no matter how it happens he will not stop until your blood is spilled. He will not honor your status as a noncombatant. And he won’t just kill you. He will do excruciating, unforgivable things to you, because that is how he can hurt me best. The way he looked at you…here, in the Red Keep, as Viserys lay dying…that was the first time I ever saw you as what you truly are.”
“A burden?” you fling at him like a blade.
“No, Moonstone.” He releases your wrists and clasps your face with his hands. “A weakness.”
The fight bleeds out of you. Not so long ago, it was not believed that Aemond One-Eye had any fears, any weaknesses at all. “I don’t want to leave you. Any of you.”
“It won’t be for long.”
“I can’t go to Dorne. They don’t have any heart trees there. The Old Gods won’t be able to hear me.”
“You cannot stay here,” he swears. “I cannot leave you in plain sight and undefended.”
“Then send me back to Bear Island instead,” you plead frantically.
“No. The North is likely to side with Rhaenyra, and Daemon would know to look for you there.” He strokes your hair, your cheek, the pendant that swings from your neck. “Dorne will remain neutral, and Starfall is on the Summer Sea. You can get there by ship, easily and inconspicuously. I cannot fly you. Vhagar could be sighted, and everyone knows who she belongs to. And I…I…” His eye goes vacant, haunted. “I don’t know if I can trust her.”
A shudder claws down your spine. I’ve ridden that dragon. My daughter has touched that dragon. “So you’ll ride off to battle against Syrax and Meleys and Caraxes and I’ll…just…what, stare out a window and wait for you to show up and rescue me? Wake up every day wondering if you’re still alive? If Aegon and Sir Criston and Otto are still alive? I’ll read books and play cards and embroider pillowcases and go on meaningless fucking strolls through the gardens? I’ll be useless, I’ll be worse than useless because I could have helped you if I had stayed, I will—”
“You will survive.” He smiles faintly. “The maesters of Starfall will offer you and Laurel shelter. They will keep you secret. They will keep you informed of how the war progresses. And if…somehow…the Greens are on the losing side…then they will help you start over someplace where you will never be found.”
You think of all the letters he’s exchanged with Dornish maesters over the past ten months, letters you’ve never pried much into, ravens loosed and received. “How long have you been considering this?”
“Since I met you. Just in case.”
You try to imagine it—hot blaring sun, bobbing ships, the ocean, castle walls—and perhaps Starfall won’t feel so very far from King’s Landing after all. Perhaps it will be a respite, not an exile. Perhaps you will be back in the Red Keep with every living soul you’ve ever loved before the year is finished. Even if I can’t bear to do it for me, I can do it for Laurel. I will have her. I can protect her.
Aemond touches his forehead to yours, and only now are you aware of the tears streaking down his flawless right cheek. “I am so fucking sorry,” he says, his voice breaking.
“I’ll go to Starfall. If that’s what you need, if that’s what’s best for our daughter, I’ll do it.”
“There’s one last thing.” He takes your dagger from his belt and lays it in your outstretched palm. You think, without wanting to: If Luke had mutilated himself with this blade, he’d still be alive. Aemond lifts your chin to kiss you, an act so delicate and insurmountably heavy it could shatter. “Keep this with you.”
~~~~~~~~~
He introduces her to each type of blossom, skimming a kaleidoscope of petals across her miniature fingers: roses, wisteria, jasmine, calla lilies, orchids, chrysanthemums, red poppies. He is cautious not to let her get too firm a grip, lest she decides to eat one. He insists on doing everything. He never wants a break from her. Soon you’ll both be gone, sailing into the horizon on some nondescript ship bound for Dorne. He knows his time is running out. Laurel devours him with those enormous, knowing eyes. She clutches clumsily at the petals with great interest, perhaps in part because he’s the one offering them. She gets upset when he tries to carry her through the cool, dark trellis archway grown thick with greenery; she wonders where the sun has gone.
At last he returns to sit beside you on the edge of the fountain. A pair of white stone dragons exhale gushes of clear water like flames. The gardens are quiet and still. It is late-afternoon on a magnificently warm and golden day, but the Red Keep feels abandoned. Bees and butterflies and beetles wheel in the air. You can hear waves crashing against jagged black rocks, windchimes jangling in the breeze, the distant snarls of dragons.
“She might be walking by the time we see you again,” you tell Aemond. You smile, hoping to lift his spirits; but he doesn’t smile back.
He presses his lips to Laurel’s silver hair. Someday soon, it will be long enough to braid. “She might have a dragon waiting for her.” Frostfyre’s egg will remain in King’s Landing, of course; it will be left in the care of the Dragonkeepers in case the beast hatches during the war.
“You will get to teach her how to ride. How to speak High Valyrian.”
Now he does smile, with hope and optimism and pride. “And you will teach her magic.”
There is the sound of dainty heels clicking against the cobblestones. Helaena appears, carrying a praying mantis in her palm like a beacon. “You are required in the Great Hall,” she says.
You and Aemond look at each other, mystified. “Why?” he asks Helaena.
“Everyone is waiting.” And then she turns and leaves.
You and Aemond follow after Helaena, struggling to keep up. You lift the hem of your dress—black with accents of silver, your dagger secured by a belt patterned with silver bears—to avoid puddles and ascend steps; Aemond carries Laurel against his chest. She peers over his shoulder, eyes alert, cheeks chubby and with dimples like her father’s. You will have to be mindful in Dorne to ensure her skin isn’t burned by the sun. As you near the Great Hall, you can hear muffled music and voices and clanks of cups and silverware.
“Oh, gods,” Aemond groans, realizing too late.
You begin: “What—?”
The guards open the doors. Inside the Great Hall, there is a raucous feast in progress: dancing, drinking, gorging, whoring, wolfing down enough pleasures to last until the war is done. Everyone knows that time is disappearing like a starving crescent moon. Everyone knows the blood will soon begin flowing. The royal family has a table above all the chaos: Otto, Alicent, and Sir Criston are seated there with grim faces. Aegon is laughing hysterically about something that no one else seems to appreciate. Helaena scurries across the room to take her rightful place in the empty chair beside him.
“Ah, the guest of honor!” Aegon booms when he sees you and your husband, tottering to his feet and raising his cup of wine. He is grinning hugely beneath glazed, groggy eyes. He’s not just drunk. He’s ruined. “A toast to my brother, Aemond, the champion in the very first engagement of the war. To the prince, to Vhagar, and to a hasty victory!”
There are dutiful cheers, but when the nobles of Westeros turn to Aemond their faces are not congratulatory; they are wary, mistrustful, repulsed. Even the most fervent supporters of the Greens have trouble stomaching the murder of a child. Aemond’s own face is stone; he is seething, of course, but he hides it well. You take Laurel from him so he can meander through the hall accepting obligatory compliments from the guests: sword-wielding men, blanching women, reticent daughters who are for the first time relieved that it was not one of them he chose to wed. As you make your way to the royal family’s table, you swim in a sea of noxious whispers.
“…Nothing left, I heard…not a single piece…just a head of the other dragon…the boy must have been swallowed…”
“You saw Rhaenyra’s son when he was here, didn’t you? Nothing but a scared little runt…”
“…More like an execution than a battle…”
“Look, not even Aemond’s Mormont wife can summon up enthusiasm for this travesty. When was the last time she wore black to a feast? She’s always in that strange pearlescent color…”
“…Vhagar is five times the dragon Arrax was…”
“I have it on good authority that Rhaenyra was considering terms before what happened at Storm’s End, and now it will be a bloodbath…now all our sons will be expected to bleed…”
“…There is no decency in this…”
“Aemond One-Eye, they call him. Maybe they ought to change it to Aemond the Kinslayer.”
There was a moment��at Aegon’s coronation, at the beginning of the end—when there was a chance for the people to meet Aemond, to witness his gifts, to learn to love him. Now that chance is as dead as Lucerys Velaryon.
You greet Alicent and Otto, then tell them that you’ll return after you’ve put Laurel to bed. It is not customary for young children to attend feasts, nor do you wish to frighten her with all of the unfamiliar sights and scents and sounds…although, and perhaps you should have anticipated this, Laurel doesn’t seem frightened at all.
“Nonsense!” Alicent says, rather ferociously, and gleefully lifts the baby out of your arms. She and Otto pass Laurel back and forth: snuggling her, tickling her, showing her off to mostly-indifferent courtiers. Your adopted family knows that this is one of their last chances to see her before your departure to Dorne. They have been informed of Aemond’s plan—Alicent, Otto, and Sir Criston—and contrary to being outraged (as you had been) they are in agreement that it is a wise course of action. Helaena was not explicitly told, but seems aware of it nonetheless; this morning she was offering you advice about packing lots of light, breathable fabrics. No one has told Aegon yet. Aemond doesn’t want to be the one to do it. You aren’t sure how.
You pick at your food and sip your wine and try to keep your expression as neutral as possible. There is no winning here. If you appear joyful, you are celebrating the murder of a child; if you are morose, you are betraying your husband. In truth, you are neither, and you are both, and you are everything in between. As Aemond traverses the Great Hall, he keeps you on his good side as much as he can. He glances at you—over and over again like the cyclical phases of the moon— storing up visions to be conjured when he is on the field of battle and you are in Starfall, not even a whisper, not even words on a page. He will not be able to visit you until the war is over. He will not be able to send you letters that could be intercepted.
“Should we go see the Iron Throne?” Otto asks in a high, squeaky voice as he struts around with Laurel. “Yes, let’s go see the Iron Throne. Once upon a time, there was a man called Aegon the Conqueror, and you happen to have some of his blood in you. You have his hair too, but that’s a separate story. We can talk about the trials and tribulations of hair later. Now, Aegon was born in…”
A very different Aegon saunters over to you, wine cup in hand. You ignore him.
“You look tense,” he says, swaying. He begins ineptly massaging your shoulders.
“You look wasted.” You swat him away.
“Dance with me, Moonstone,” he begs, plopping down in Aemond’s chair, swigging the last of his wine and then refilling it. “I am soon to be sent off to war. I could be killed, or worse, mortally wounded and rendered incapable of debauchery at the level which I aspire to.”
“No thanks.”
“Why, do you have other plans? Will you be sneaking off to any dusty stairwells? Do you need someone to guard the doorway for you and protect what scraps remain of your honor?”
“I don’t think I’m in the mood tonight.”
“I’m always in the mood,” he says, grinning. “What do you think, did little Luke Strong go down smooth, or are there still bits of him caught in Vhagar’s teeth?”
You see it in a nauseating flash like lightning: that same boy who cowered beside his mother and attempted to defend Jace and loved Rhaena Targaryen reduced to a jumble of blood and bones. That’s really all we are. Beneath the names and the banners and the faiths and the magic, that’s all any of us are. “You’re being cruel.”
“I’m being supportive,” Aegon counters.
You glower at him, half-angry, half-disappointed. The disappointment feels worse. “Why did you have to do this?”
He is genuinely confused. “Do what?”
“This.” You gesture to the feast, the crowds, the tentative praises offered to Aemond like girls climbing—numbly and obediently—into the beds of old men.
Aegon slurs as he speaks. “Look, whether it was the honorable thing to do or not, whether it was the wise thing to do, the Strong boy is dead and nothing can change that. We cannot apologize for it, we cannot disregard it. All that’s left to do is celebrate it.” He clangs his cup against yours. Wine splatters on the tablecloth. “There is one less Black. There is one less dragon for them to burn us alive with. And I have made Aemond a war hero.”
“You have made all of us profoundly uncomfortable.”
Pain rushes into his face like blood to flushed cheeks: true, repentant, defenseless pain. “That was not my intention,” he says softly.
“No, I see that now.” I don’t have much time left with Aegon. I don’t have much time left with any of them. “I’m sorry. And as my act of contrition I will dance with you.”
Aegon smiles again and leads you down into the crowd. You and the king are an island in a sea of depravity. To your right, some Lannister is practically undressing a more-than-enthusiastic Swyft girl. To your left, a Costayne lord has passed out on the floor; people step around him as they twirl and stumble. Aegon grasps your waist—chastely, careful not to offend—with his right hand and weaves his fingers through yours with his left. The music is quick and plucky, almost restless, almost perilous.
“I know I’ve been excessive tonight,” he admits, meaning the wine. “I hope you are not too angry with me. It’s just that I am acutely aware it will be my last chance for a while.”
This is true: there are armies massing, plans being drawn up, new weapons and armor being hammered into existence. Your ship leaves tomorrow. “I forgive you. Your brother will too, although it will take him longer.”
Aemond has at last arrived at the royal family’s table. He has somehow wrestled Laurel away from Otto and has her clutched to his chest as he confers with Sir Criston. Still, he is watching you. “So you remain opposed to the prospect of my untimely demise,” Aegon teases.
“Quite vehemently.”
“And I will continue to have the benefit of your gruesome, illicit spells until all the Blacks’ heads are secured on spikes outside the Red Keep.”
You hesitate. Aegon’s ungainly steps slow. The crowd around you is rowdy and oblivious.
“What’s the matter, witch? Have you embraced a non-heathen religion? Have you renounced the ways of your hairy, half-human, cave-dwelling forefathers?”
“It’s not that,” you say. “I would want nothing more than to help you…if I was able to. If I was staying in King’s Landing.”
He stops completely: a sudden lurch, an inebriated wobble. “What are you talking about?”
“I’ll be going tomorrow.”
He rips his hands away from you. “Going where?” he demands. His eyes are sharp with betrayal.
“Aegon…”
“Going where?”
You answer in a whisper, pained and sorry. “Starfall.”
He whirls and storms out of the Great Hall, tripping occasionally, pushing himself off walls when he careens into them. In the chaos of lust and gluttony, few guests even notice. You chase Aegon out into the hallway. He is moving with truly impressive speed for a man in his condition.
“Aegon, wait!” you call after him.
“Whose idea was this?” he hurls back, still racing through empty corridors. “Aemond’s, right? It couldn’t have been yours. I can’t believe that. You wouldn’t run.”
“Please, just let me explain—”
“Explain what, that you’re abandoning me—?!”
Aemond comes soaring out of a hallway, grabs Aegon, pins him roughly to the wall.
“You can’t send her away!” Aegon pleads, struggling. There are tears spilling down his cheeks. He slaps clumsily at his brother’s face, inflicting no damage whatsoever.
“And who will protect her if she stays?” Aemond says, his voice low and serrated and dark like volcanic glass. “I will be needed in battle, you will be needed in battle, Sir Criston will be leading the infantry, so tell me, who will be here to stand between her and Daemon when he comes to King’s Landing with fire and blood?”
Aegon stops fighting. His white-blond hair shags over his eyes. He is savagely bitter, glaring, hateful. “This is all your fault.”
“You think I don’t know that?”
“Why did you do it then?!” Aegon shouts. “Nobody told you to kill the Strong boy, nobody told you to make this war inevitable and incur the eternal wrath of the Blacks, so why the fuck did you do it?!”
Aemond doesn’t reply, but the truth speaks through the collapsing lines of his face, his shoulders, his spirit. His hands fall away from the king. His rain-blue gaze drops to the floor.
“It wasn’t on purpose,” Aegon realizes with hushed shock, with horror. And then, much louder: “It wasn’t on purpose?!”
“No one can know,” Aemond says.
“Oh gods, oh gods…” Aegon rubs his wet, ruddy face with both hands. “Seven hells, how does that happen?!”
“It doesn’t matter. It’s done.”
“You’re telling me that you possess the largest, most lethal dragon on the planet and you can’t control her?! Someone explain to me how I’m still the family disappointment when I ride Sunfyre around the Crownlands all the time and I’ve never accidentally killed someone!”
Aemond says nothing, but he looks miserable, he looks broken.
“And now you send her away,” Aegon pitches at him. “You take her away from us, from me, not because of anything I did but because you made a mistake, because you fucked up—!”
“It’s not your decision to make.”
“I am the king, every decision is my decision to make—!”
You flee from them as they slice at each other with venomous accusations, blades aimed at hearts and jugulars. You run beneath the torchlight, beneath the fading sounds of music and shouts and the crumbling realities of the world. Nothing will ever be the same again. That thread of fate disappeared down Vhagar’s void-black, scorching throat. We’re not supposed to be attacking each other. We’re supposed to be winning the war.
You know that Laurel’s bedroom will be deserted. You take shelter there, supporting yourself with the railing of her crib, empty except for Frostfyre’s egg. Through forge-hot tears, you stare out the window at the starless blur where Bearstone must be. You have not been there in the three days since Aemond returned from Storm’s End. He doesn’t want you to ride Vhagar. He doesn’t want you anywhere near her. Everything’s falling apart. How can I stop this? How can I stitch us all back together?
You wish there was a way to turn back time. You wish you had known to cast a protection spell for Lucerys Velaryon.
In the window’s glass, you catch a reflection of movement behind you in the dimly-lit bedroom. You catch the flicker of moonlight on metal.
Someone is in here with me. Someone with a blade.
You spin. A man is stepping out of the shadows, broad and black-haired and bearded. For a second, you can only gape at him with slow, stupid bewilderment. This doesn’t feel possible. This doesn’t feel real.
How…?
And then you know. Aegon uses the hidden passageways that crisscross the Red Keep like arteries; and, once upon a time, so had Daemon Targaryen. And this is the man he’s sent to kill you.
Aemond was right, you think, and realize that until now you had never truly believed him.
“Where’s the baby?” the man rasps, only half-illuminated. His dagger glints in the moonshine. “You’re supposed to have a baby with you.”
You reach for your bear-hilt dagger. He lunges for you. The second intruder, the one you still hadn’t known was there, crawls out from under Laurel’s crib and grabs your ankles. You scream like clashing swords, like a gutted animal as they grapple with you and slam you to the floor. You pull your dagger free and stab half-blindly at the larger man’s face as hands clamp over your eyes, your lips. He shrieks when your blade pierces his cheek, nicks his tongue, fills his mouth with blood. He pins your wrist to the floor and coughs up scarlet globs, spits them on you, calls you a bitch and a whore. You bite the hands that cover your face. You try to scream through their murderous fingers and palms. One of them rips your moonstone pendant off your neck, snapping the chain. The men are tearing pieces of your dress away. They are cutting the laces with their daggers. They are talking about what they plan to do to you.
Daemon wants this. Daemon told them to do this.
In his distraction, the larger man’s grip around your wrist loosens: only for a second, but that’s enough. You wrench your hand free and bury your dagger in his eye, all the way to the hilt. He howls and rocks backward, blood and remnants of his eye gushing down his face.
“Just kill the bitch!” he roars at his companion. “Just fucking kill her—!”
The bedroom door bangs open, and through the smaller man’s fingers you can see Aemond and Aegon burst inside. You hear Aemond drawing his sword. You hear the men Daemon sent struggling with him. Aegon drags you to the other side of the room and crouches over you, steadying himself by pressing a hand to the wall, wine and sweat oozing from his pores.
“No no no no!” the smaller man screeches as Aemond’s sword comes whistling down. The man’s skull is suddenly no longer attached to spine; his head rolls away with thick, sickening thuds. His blade still dripping with blood, Aemond turns to the larger man and slits his throat before he can beg for mercy. The bedroom falls into an abrupt silence.
“That is why she has to leave King’s Landing,” Aemond says, pointing to the would-be assassins’ corpses, still breathing heavily. Aegon just gawks in blank, speechless horror. Then Aemond sheaths his sword and gathers you into his arms. You dissolve into tears of fear, exhaustion, pain, shock.
“They were asking about Laurel,” you sob. “They, they, they were sent to kill her too—”
“Shh, she is safe, my love, she is safe. She is with Mother and Otto.”
“I didn’t believe it,” Aegon exhales, sinking to the floor. “I really didn’t…I didn’t think…”
“Double the guard on Mother and Helaena. They go nowhere alone.”
“Yes,” Aegon agrees immediately.
“And my wife sets sail for Starfall tomorrow.”
“Yes,” Aegon says again. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things. I’m so sorry.”
“Aegon.” You reach for him, and he comes to you and Aemond on his hands and knees. The three of you sit on the floor together in the bloodied, moonlit quiet. You tuck the king’s hair behind his ear, whisk a tear from his cheek with your thumb, smile with soft, kind sorrow. “I’ll miss you too.”
~~~~~~~~~~
In Blackwater Bay, there is a ship with no destination.
It is small, inconspicuous, loaded with enough supplies for a handful of passengers and a skeleton crew. It is decorated with no banners. It carries no nets for fishing, no treasures for selling, no soldiers for transporting. In times of conflict, it is rare for such a seemingly available vessel to not be requisitioned for the war effort. Not even its captain knows where it is headed. When people—fisherman, traders, passersby—inquire about his purpose, he smirks slyly and replies: “I’m going wherever the wind blows me.”
Most accept this unfulfilling explanation with some mild bafflement, continue on with their business, and promptly let the exchange slip out of their mind like sand through the gaps between fingers. Some pester the captain with further questions until he waves them off. Some chatter innocuously with him about the weather or the sea or who he believes will triumph in the impending war for the Iron Throne. But when several Gold Cloaks from the City Watch happen by, something about this captain and his enigmatic ship catches in their minds like a thorn in flesh. Something about him reminds them of signs they’ve been told to look for.
And just as nearly a year before when Aemond Targaryen publicly announced his scandalous marriage to a willful, insignificant, already-wed daughter of House Mormont, a raven carrying this news finds its way from King’s Landing to the rocky, salt-lashed shores of Dragonstone.
~~~~~~~~~~
Laurel is asleep in a crib in the corner of the bedroom you share with Aemond. Neither of you will allow her out of your sight. The feast has ended, the guests have been sent home to prepare for combat, the castle has been searched from top to bottom, from the godswood to the Great Hall to the weblike design of secret passageways. There are no other intruders. You are safe. There are guards stationed outside the bedroom door, guards beneath the windows, guards pacing the gardens. Aemond is sitting up in bed and mending your pendant with a pair of pliers and spare links of silver obtained from the maesters. His long hair falls over his bare shoulders and chest. His eyepatch hangs from a knob on the dresser. His forehead is wrinkled and determined.
You climb into bed beside him, candlelight painting you both with a brush made of heat, rage, lust, devastation, rebirth. “Can I ask you something, Silver?”
“Anything.”
You graze his face—you’re so fucking beautiful—with the backs of your fingers, first his good side, and then his ragged scar. “Why a sapphire?”
“Because of Symeon Star-Eyes.”
“I regret to remind you that you have married an uncultured Northerner.”
He smiles, still working on the damaged chain. “He was a knight during the Age of Heroes. He was blinded when he lost both of his eyes, so he replaced them with sapphires. That’s how the singers tell the story, anyway.”
You can picture it with aching clarity: Aemond as a small, lonely, tormented boy consuming book after book about ancient warriors and legendary beasts. He kept every piece of lore he learned about them like secrets, like jewels, like bricks to build himself with. “And he never stopped fighting.”
“And he never stopped fighting.” Aemond finishes the chain and lifts it over your head. The moonstone pendant returns to rest exactly where it belongs. Then your husband tilts your chin, turns your face one way and then the other, his gaze wandering over the bruises and crimson scrapes left by Daemon’s would-be assassins, troubled and pensive. And then he kisses you, his lips gentle.
“I don’t blame you,” you say, resting your forehead against his. “I want to make sure you know that. I don’t blame you for what happened to Luke, or what happened today, or what will happen tomorrow.”
“I just can’t believe I did it. I can’t believe I was that stupid.”
“You weren’t stupid. You were hurt, you were angry.”
“When I was chasing him through the storm…when he was so weak and helpless and I was so powerful…” His eye goes vague and far away. About six years away, you believe. “It was like I was carving out every part of myself that had ever been afraid, ever been harmed: by Luke and Jace, by Rhaenyra, by the world, by my father. It was like I was destroying that child who was once so friendless and overlooked and unchosen.”
“You can’t destroy him, Aemond. He’s you.”
He stares into nothingness. “You would have been safer as Axel Hightower’s wife.”
“I would choose you again. And again, and again.”
“Would you?”
“Always.”
Your lips meet his, delectably slow at first and then faster, bolder, more hungry. He matches your fire with his own. His hands steal beneath your nightgown. Your fingers knot in his hair. His mouth smiles into yours as you straddle him, nip playfully at his lips and tongue, reach down to feel how hard he is.
“Now,” you murmur. “Give me one last good memory to take with me to Starfall.”
~~~~~~~~~~
In the garden, Helaena braids daisies into your hair and introduces you to a walking stick that you pretend not to be repulsed by; you even let it creep up the downy-soft underside of your forearm. In her chambers, Alicent gives you a warm, rather desperate embrace that feels like it goes on forever…and then she offers you a package wrapped in green silk. It is a book she requested from the Citadel about the history of Bear Island. “I thought it might keep you occupied on the journey,” she explains, almost self-consciously. “Perhaps you could even read it to the baby if she is restless.” And in the shadow of the heart tree in the godswood, King Aegon—dreadfully hungover, more racoon-eyed than ever—lounges with you sipping wine and talking about anything except the fact that you’re leaving. At last, it can’t be avoided.
“I don’t feel bad for you, just so you know,” he quips.
You grin. “No?”
“No. You’re going to be sunning yourself on a beach in beautiful, debaucherous Dorne. What’s there to pity? You’ll probably have a dozen paramours by the time Aemond returns for you. You’ll have forgotten all about us. You’ll be clinging to the castle walls begging Aemond to leave you there. He’ll have to pry your fingers free one by one. Now Daeron, that’s someone deserving of sympathy. He’s being dragged out of Oldtown to help us burn cities and butcher men and his great reward, if he survives, will be marrying Floris Baratheon, the realm’s most eligible donkey. His children won’t get dragon eggs. They’ll get bits and bridles.”
You laugh, then peer up at the clouds. “Daeron. I can’t wait to finally meet him one day.”
“You’ll like him. He’s the best of us, clever and kind and unruined. He’s the good one.”
Now you look at Aegon. Both he and Aemond slept with the protection spells you cast for them under their beds last night. It is the last magic you will perform until the war is over. It is the last advantage you can give them. “You’re all the good one.”
It is not until after nightfall when Aemond walks you out to the waiting ship. He wants no witnesses, no rumors. He carries Laurel all the way there; he has to blink the tears from his eye when he surrenders her to the wetnurse. You will take two wetnurses and three handmaidens to Starfall. The ship is stocked with provisions for a trip of several weeks. The captain, an ardent Green, has not been told the destination in advance, nor of your identity; he has been told only that he will be abundantly rewarded, that he will never need to work a day in his life again, that his five children won’t either. Everyone else goes aboard. You and Aemond linger together on the dock under more stars than could ever be named. He is solemn; he is intensely quiet.
“Fear not, husband,” you say. “You cannot rid yourself of me. I am yours for life.”
“For life,” he echoes, kissing you, filling himself with you like you’re the air in his lungs, the marrow in his bones.
Your fingers brush the bear-hilt dagger at your belt, which you will take to Starfall at his insistence. “I wish I had something more to give you, a piece of me to carry through the war.”
“You have given me enough, Moonstone. You have given me everything.”
“Wait.” You lift off your pendant and stand on your tiptoes to hang it around his neck; you watch the gemstone, gleaming in the moonlight, settle on his chest by his heart. “I’m coming back,” you tell him, smiling, tears like constellations in your eyes.
Aemond admires the pendant with reverent incredulity, and then he kisses you again: one last time, his hands on your face, you tugging him closer by the collar of his coat, the wind whipping through you both. “Not soon enough. Tomorrow wouldn’t be soon enough.”
You board the ship. He returns alone to the Red Keep, his head down, his arms crossed, his mind presumably lost in the nebulous future.
The captain greets you warmly, and you give him the name of the location you are to be taken too. He nods and confers with the navigator before guiding the ship out into Blackwater Bay. You venture below deck to check on Laurel. She is sleeping peacefully in her cabin, loyally attended by her wetnurses and handmaidens. You study her for a long time—your skin, Aemond’s hair, one tiny balled fist propped against her cheek—before ascending the stairs to watch the firelight of King’s Landing fade into the past.
Sails crack in the wind above you, waves break against the hull below. The moon is obscured by indigo clouds; the night is dark and cool and placid. As you pass Bearstone—rendered nothing more than a murky, inconsequential pool of earth in an endless sea—you think of all the moments you shared there with Aemond, all those sun-drenched afternoons and whispered promises and swims in the sea, all those letters he scrawled to Dornish maesters as you laid dozing beside him, still naked, blissfully content, trusting and oblivious. You will have each other like that again, certainly. You and Laurel will survive the war, and Aemond will win it, and a night will come when the stars shine down on your reunion, flesh and words and soul.
Like knuckles, like a stone, Helaena’s words hit you. If they were solid, they could crack ribs. They are so loud you can hear them, her voice as clear as the lines on your own palms.
Because there is a great deal of fire in your future.
The wind tears viciously at your hair, your eyes, your cheeks. The flames of the ship’s lanterns bend and flicker, never extinguished but always imperiled.
The sea is calling for you.
You lean over the railing at the stern of the ship, contemplating the ocean: the eternal secrets below, the voyages above. This is the same sea that touches the Vale and Dragonstone and Storm’s End. This is the same water that Lucerys Velaryon was killed over.
Stay away from the fire.
You look at the lanterns again. No, that’s not what she meant. You pace frantically around the deck as the Red Keep becomes just a haze in the distance, searching for the source of Helaena’s prophesies. You pry open barrels and crates with your dagger, upturn buckets, study the weblike rigging. You hunt like a wolf, like a killer.
I want to help you.
Help why, Helaena? Help how?
He waits in the lagoon, coiled, red.
Your steps die. There is only one lagoon you know of in King’s Landing. You turn towards Bearstone. There is movement there, but indistinct in the darkness. There is a flapping, a shrill clicking. It grows louder. It approaches, it retreats, it vanishes. And suddenly, randomly, it occurs to you that despite all those protection spells you breathed to life under the heart tree, you never thought to cast one for yourself.
Moon on the water, fire in the sky, moon on the water…
The clouds are heaved away from the moon. Silvery light cascades down, dances on the waves, brightens the night. A shape passes high over the ship, blindingly swift and unreadable. Somewhere, there is a sound that could be laughter.
It comes from the sky.
You stare fixedly up into the night. It is a bottomless inky sea, one on top of the other. Your heartbeat is thunder in your ears. Your fingernails bite wounds into your palms. You hear it again: wings, distant cackling, clicking shrieks. And—too late for it to matter—you understand.
~~~~~~~~~~
Aemond’s hand closes around your moonstone pendant as he watches from the window in Laurel’s bedroom. On the dresser hangs his eyepatch. On his face is a smile, just a hint of one. He has ensured your safety, your survival; he has secured his peace offering from the gods. He can envision himself arriving in Starfall in six months or nine months or a year, you barreling out of the castle to meet him, Laurel no longer an infant but a little girl; perhaps she will be walking, babbling, grinning with tiny white teeth. Perhaps she will recognize him.
The ship, its lanterns dots of captive light, is barely visible by the time it sails past the island he now calls Bearstone. It will soon drop over the horizon like a falling star. Aemond half-turns from the window when something wrenches him back: a flicker of motion, an interruption in the moonlight. He leans closer to the glass. Dimly, he can glimpse his own reflection in it.
It is only when Caraxes unleashes his flames that Aemond can see him in the night sky, wings outstretched, blood-red contorted body hovering above the ship. The vessel does not merely burn. It explodes, it is eviscerated, it ceases to exist entirely.
“No!” It is not a scream but a rupturing, a splitting open and hollowing out of the man he could have been in a different world. It is the end. It is the beginning. It is a fire that burns his humanity to ash.
Vhagar, he thinks, the first word he can discern from the clamoring inferno of wrath, grief, madness. Fire and blood. He is faintly aware of gasps and screams spreading like a plague through the Red Keep. Someone is wailing like they are being slaughtered, their organs dismantled piece by piece; his mother, he believes.
He bolts from the room. He is halfway down the hall when Aegon crashes into him, catches him around the waist, knocks him with great difficulty to the floor and fights to keep him there.
“No!” Aemond screams, pulling away. “Let me go, let me go—!”
“Stop it, Aemond, stop!”
And then Sir Criston appears, and Otto, and Alicent; they join the king in restraining Aemond. It takes all four of them to hold him down.
“Let me go!” His voice is raw and mindless, more animal than man. He struggles so forcefully they fear his bones will snap. Aegon grabs his face with both hands.
“Look at me, look, Aemond, look at me!” Aegon pleads. The king is sobbing, panting, frantic. Aemond’s right eye lands on him. His sapphire gleams with cold, soulless fire. “You cannot catch Daemon, he is already headed back to Dragonstone, he—”
Aemond screams again and tries to free himself. They manage to hold on to him. Helaena has materialized in the hallway like a ghost; she is shellshocked, almost catatonic. She says nothing. Her eyes leak constant, soundless tears.
“You cannot catch him,” Aegon repeats patiently, like he’s speaking to a child. “Vhagar cannot catch him, even if you had left the second it happened. Not even Sunfyre can catch him. If we go after him now, he will lead us into a trap on Dragonstone. He has surely planned for that. He is hoping for that. He—”
Aemond claws at the floor, trying to drag himself out of his family’s arms, but a part of him knows it is hopeless. His fingernails leave white lines on the wood, and then ruby ones when his nails tear out. Aemond is not aware of this. He howls and roars and finally collapses. Alicent, weeping freely, strokes his hair. Sir Criston watches her, longing with everything he’s made of to fix this. It cannot be fixed; it is not just shattered pieces, it is ash, it is dust. Otto’s face is a wasteland: desolate, brutal, a million years old.
“Look at me!” Aegon demands, still gripping Aemond’s face, still sobbing. “Aemond, you cannot kill him if you’re already dead. That’s what you want, isn’t it? You want vengeance. You want fire and blood. You want to kill them.”
“Yes,” Aemond chokes out. That’s all he wants. Nothing else exists.
“And I will help you do it,” Aegon vows. “But we cannot do it now. We have to prepare. We have to do this right, or we will not live to see vengeance. Wait for me, Aemond, and I will help you. You can have Daemon, but I want Rhaenyra. And I swear to you in front of all the gods that we will burn them alive.”
Aemond is beyond words, but Aegon can read them in his eye: Yes, I understand, I yield. The last of Aemond’s ferocity vanishes. Sobs pour from his throat. Aegon embraces him. So do Alicent and Sir Criston and Otto and finally Helaena. They cling to each other, bound to the world by a multitude of glimmering strings like a spider’s thread and yet alone. The moonlight floods in. The future, dark, merciless, bathed in dragonfire, dawns like a sun.
And every second of every minute of every day for the next year—as Aemond wages war at Rook’s Rest and Harrenhal, as he burns the Riverlands, as he inspires immeasurable horror and agony and hatred, as he abandons strategy for blind revenge, as he flies to meet Daemon and Caraxes in battle above the God’s Eye—it is still there around his neck: the moonstone pendant, the silver chain.
#aemond targaryen#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond x y/n#aemond x you#aemond fic#aemond one eye#aemond x oc
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oh gods this is not a request, but the previous anon who spoke about Aemond being introduced in a loving environment around food is SO right!
it might be the fact that I am also Italian and I have always been forced to spend the meals around my family but now that I am living far from them and I rarely share the meal with somebody, I truly treasure those moments, so I can totally see Aemond doing the same.
(I truly can't wait for that request to be out and thank you nonnie for requesting it and thank you for bringing it up).
I just wanted to add my own thought that I think that also, with how they were raised, none of the Targaryen-Hightower children ever learned how to properly cook for themselves (like at first they had staff for meals and then in college: Aegon was too lazy, Aemond was too busy and Helaena probably forgets to eat too many times). and I just imagine Aemond with a s/o who actually discovers this (like they come to hang out to his place and they always have take out, which is fine... if you have Aemond's money, but... let's see what's in your fridge... nothing?!).
and the s/o low key bringing him homemade food/leftovers and teaching him how to cook basic stuff to survive and then having kitchen lessons together, which end up with burnt food and flour on their faces as they giggle, I... ok new love language: food.
gwen’s note: no bc i’m living in a different city now (6 hours away from my family) and when they call me every weekend and i see them all together my heart breaks 💔 bc i miss that. and writing that req while i’m with them for the holidays just made me the happiest.
imagine going to aemond’s apartment for the first time, you have been seeing each other for a couple of weeks now. he takes you there because his siblings aren’t home and he can have a little peace and intimate moment with you. but you are starving because you haven’t eaten anything, just coffee after leaving your house in the morning, and the popcorns you ate during the movie weren’t enough.
“i make this incredible chicken,” you say, taking off your coat, walking to the kitchen. “and i mean finger-licking good.” you open the fridge, listing the vegetables you’ll need in your head, only to find it empty.
you find nothing in the kitchen, no groceries, no fruits, no vegetables. it is a miracle they have plates and glasses.
you end up eating take out. and after the meal, as you cuddle on the sofa watching true crime documentaries, you grab his phone, opening the notes, and when aemond asks what are you doing, you simply show him the screen that reads “groceries <3”.
the next day you go to the grocery store, and you love going to that place, to buy everything you will need to make your recipe and what you know they need to basically survive. aemond says you don’t need to look at the prices because he can pay for all of it, and oh of course you know that.
and when you go back to the house, aegon, helaena and daeron are already there, surprised at seeing so many bags full of different kinds of things.
you spend the rest of the day organizing the entire kitchen with their help, trying to teach them basic things like how to make pasta and rice, and how to use the brand new oven they haven’t used since they got the apartment.
and you make that special chicken recipe you learnt from your grandma, with three pair of blue eyes watching very closely your every move.
the four siblings end up eating a homemade dinner, sitting on the big table in their living room for the first time.
#📮 ⌇ my works ˖⋆࿐#modern!aemond#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen imagine#house of the dragon imagine#aemond targaryen x you#aemond targaryen scenarios#aemond targaryen fluff#aemond x reader#aegon ii targaryen#helaena targaryen#hotd fanfic#hotd imagine#hotd x reader
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I don't understand how anyone can like the Greens in the series. I like them in the books because they are good villains, specifically Alicent. I would have given anything to see her come to life on screen rather than the pathetic thing we were treated to. That doesn't help with the fact that apparently Ryan Condal has finally confirmed he's team Greens... I'll never understand this guy. How could he read the book and say that no, the Greens were justified in any way ?! Also, the guts you have to have, even within this fandom, to openly say you support the group of misogynistic and blood purist usurpers... In the sense of saying that they are completely right or that Blacks are just as horrible! But in what universe ?! Ryan Condal would also have said that we would probably change preferred camps in season 2... Man, you can still dream, even with your stupid supporting documents for TG everyone still prefers the Blacks team. It's distressing that the director of the series himself doesn't understand anything he's adapting and that so many people are going in this direction. The number of idiots who tried to explain to me that both teams were equally horrible, that the Greens can't be pure villains because GRRM only writes complex characters, it's obvious. Like GRRM has never written a pure villain ? Are you sure you've read the books he wrote ? No but I swear that since the release of the series, asoiaf fans are worse than before in their unjustified hatred of the Targaryens... These people think they are moral by wanting to put the two teams on the same level or by saying that the Blacks are worse. That revolts me.
Essentially what neutrals think ;
“Yes, it’s not good what the Greens did, but the Blacks are no better seen as they dared to fight back for their rights.”
Like... What dimension did I land in ?!
Just last time, I received comments from someone supposedly accepting that the Greens were worse, but trying to explain to me that Daemon groomed Rhaenyra (which is false book or series), that the murder of 'a Greens child is unjustified (while the Greens shed blood first and we are in a feudal context) that Lucerys taking Aemond's eye is unjustified (Wtf ?!) ah and the best thing was to me say at face value that Daemon was not a gray character and that he was like Aegon IV... (Again... WTF ?!)
https://www.tumblr.com/darklinaforever/701570671006875648/i-hate-when-people-say-greens-and-blacks-are-on
(Afterwards I wasn't gentle in my answers either, but I'm fed up with this type of people)
I personally never liked the greens in the book. To me, they were always the villains. Always. I never viewed Daemon and Rhaenyra as pure innocent angels, don’t get me wrong. I recognize the few mistakes Rhaenyra makes in the book, as well as Daemon’s many, many faults.
For instance, yes, Rhaenyra should not have had Vaemond murdered (even though what he spoke was treasonous and threatened her position as well as the lives of her children). She should not have gone so far with the taxes during her reign (even though she was left with no choice).
However, in this story, despite all their faults, I always felt Rhaenyra and Daemon were perfectly justified. Because their good qualities kind of eclipse the bad stuff. The Blacks are the anti-heroes of the story. They have done some questionable things, but all of them have been justified/done with good reason and good purpose.
The Greens are a whole different story. Everything they have done (mainly Alicent and Otto), they have done out of jealousy and pure greed (hence why they were given the color “green” - the color of greed and envy). 95 % of the war crimes are done by the Greens. Literally the only thing the Blacks are to be held accountable for is B&C. Other than that, every crime was courtesy of the Greens.
To me, the Greens have always been split between those who are anti-villains (Aegon, Helaena, Daeron), and those who are pure villains (Alicent, Otto, Aemond).
For the anti-villains: The one time Aegon presents some goodness is when he has reservations about usurping his half-sister. Other than that, he is pure evil; Helaena can’t be considered a pure innocent soul either. She has good qualities, but she is extremely underdeveloped as a character in the book and we don’t know her thoughts, her motives. She didn’t protest the usurpation and accepted the position of queen consort easily; Daeron is somehow given a free pass by certain people because he is “the daring”, and while that’s true, these people forget how he burned a whole village of innocent people alive.
For the pure villains, not much need be said. Alicent and Otto are a bunch of opportunistic hypocrites and vicious upstarts. I haven’t sensed any bit of goodness in them. Aemond is a psycho with zero redeeming qualities.
Now, in the show, I don’t feel as if the Greens are portrayed better than they have been in the book. I feel like the show writers (mainly Ryan Condal) are trying to come up with lame excuses for them, and it’s just not working. The great majority of the viewers still hate Alicent as much as they did in the book, regardless how many times she presents those “doe eyes”, and the great majority still believe the Greens are in the wrong.
In the show, when it comes to the Greens, there’s always some sort of “reason”, some sort of “accident”. Alicent didn’t mean to shoot her mouth off and convince Larys to murder the current hand, Lyonel Strong, so that her father could return as Hand (even though that is exactly what she wanted). Aemond didn’t mean to let Vhagar know that he wants Lucerys dead (even though his pursuing and direct attack showed his intentions to murder the boy). Crispin somehow didn’t mean to crush Beesbury’s skull in that ball, even though he acted aggressively towards the man for simply speaking the truth and nothing but the truth at that treasonous Council meeting.
These excuses the show writers make for the greens make no sense whatsoever. They should have stuck with the actual canon portrayal, because it’s just ridiculous at this point.
So what if the two sides are not evenly matched?
They’re not supposed to!
GRRM doesn’t write purely good vs bad in his universe, that is true. He loves the complexity of the characters and the stories. However, that does not mean that he intended for the Blacks and the Greens to be evenly matched in this story.
He himself admitted that he wrote the book more in the Blacks’ favor because that’s how he felt (ironic, considering that Fire and Blood is told from the point of view of green supporters). It’s his story. I have seen people accuse him of being biased, always in favor of the Blacks.
Yes, he clearly wrote the Blacks as the protagonists, with better developed characters, with the best allies, the most heroic/epic deaths, most dragons, most Houses supporting them.
I mean, the Starks are TB, while the Lannisters are TG. That alone should give you a clue as to which side you’re supposed to be rooting for.
Clearly GRRM is Team Black, but who says he can’t be? Who says that the sides have to be evenly matched? It’s his story! If he says the Blacks are right, the Blacks are right.
TG stans are just in denial at this point.
#team black#rhaenyra targaryen#house of the dragon#pro team black#hotd#daemon targaryen#anti team green#anti team green stans#anti green stans#anti alicent hightower#anti greens#anti alicent stans#queen rhaenyra#team rhaenyra#pro rhaenyra#the blacks#canon asoiaf#asoiaf#asoiaf meta#pro daemon targaryen#anti aemond targaryen#anti aegon ii targaryen#anti daeron the daring#anti helaena targaryen#anti otto hightower#fire and blood#a song of ice and fire#anti aemond stans#anti hotd
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hey lovee so you definitely do not have to do this, you can ignore my ask if you want, I don’t mind butttt do you happen to have any Daeron hcs? It can be in any AU or just in canon.
(this is sort of kind of for “research” because surprisingly there aren’t many Daeron hcs or analysis out there so I would love to hear your thoughts because your hcs are the sweetest and so very good)
Anyway, love you and ur posts with my whole heart ♥️
HI OMG!!! I will never ignore you babes so no worries!!!! I had so much fun writing this and I hope it’s what you’re looking for! If not, let me know and I’ll add/change things!! I love Daeron 😭😭
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Canon…
🏰 I think he would have really missed his family. Especially because of the fact that he was forced to leave them all when he was so little.
🏰 He can get incredibly homesick to the point of not being able to eat or leave his bed unless he’s eventually forced. He was really close to his mother and siblings, and even if he likes his cousins and aunts and uncles in Oldtown, he misses his real family.
🏰 When he’s not homesick, he can usually be seen partaking in hobbies such as racing horses with his companions in Oldtown, or trying to train Tessarion into doing tricks in the air.
🏰 He likes to take nighttime rides with Tessarion as much as possible. He uses that time to get away from the politics of his family.
🏰 He takes his training rather seriously. He can usually be spotted in the training yard for hours and hours out of the day until he’s told to leave and eat something. Aemond sends him a lot of letters about his training, and Daeron wants to be like his older brother.
🏰 He collects all of the letters that he gets from back at home and saves them all. He likes to read them all after his dinner. He enjoys his mothers neat handwriting, and giggles at Aegon’s scratchy handwriting.
🏰 In his room, he has several different things that Helaena has made for him. Some of them can be hung on the walls and from the ceiling, while others are pillows with little bugs on them that he hugs each night when sleeping.
Modern…
🧺 Daeron had been on the soccer team at his school for years now. He loves the energy of the game, and he also loves to look over to see his whole family shaking signs of embarrassing pictures of him that say “Go Daeron!!!”
🧺 He has a habit of doubting, or comparing himself to others. But Aegon, who’s about to go pro for soccer, will always get him out of his head. It seems that his elder, and shorter, brother always knows what to do when it comes to helping Daeron feel better.
🧺 This is usually through having the twins force Daeron to play with them, playing a game of soccer in the backyard with Aemond and Aegon, or helping Helaena with her new recipe. He also likes to help his mom garden on the weekends.
🧺 Besides soccer, Daeron loves to garden. There’s something about it that he finds to be incredibly calming. And when he gardens with his mom, it’s even better. The two are usually sporting two beat up ball caps, gloves and arms covered in dirt, and smiles on their faces as music streams from the porch.
🧺 Daeron would never be able to decide what his music taste is. His family is full of music lovers, who also happen to have almost completely different styles of music taste. And being the youngest, he was subjected to all of it growing up. His mom likes classic rock, Aegon likes country, Helaena likes pop and sometimes classical, and Aemond to everyone’s surprise likes rap but also classical.
🧺 Daeron enjoys being able to watch the twins when Aegon and Helaena need a break or a night out. He lets them watch all of their favorite movies and have a sugar overload. His mom isn’t to happy about Daeron letting the twins run around the house with chocolate all over them. But she usually just flicks him behind the ear and takes the twins up for a bath.
🧺 While it’s just Daeron and his mom living at home, it doesn’t mean that the house is ever empty. Aemond with usually stay for a couple days sometimes because he doesn’t want to be alone in his apartment, and Aegon and Helaena are over every single day. The twins love the backyard.
🧺 Daeron, through the teasing of his friends, has not been on a date yet. He’s tried, but the idea of being alone with another person that isn’t his family or friend rather scares him. Don’t get him wrong, he loves meeting new people, but it’s difficult to have a dinner with someone when it’s expected that you’ll be romantically involved somehow afterwards.
🧺 He’s obsessed with reality shows and watches them whenever he can.
🧺 His style is rather hectic when the seasons change. When it’s hot out he’s just trying to survive with shorts, shirts, and hats. But when it’s cold he’s bundled up to the max with sweaters and coats that will keep him warm.
Bonus for modern!
<> He loves to eat. Like all the time. He loves all different kinds of foods and he gets really happy with Helaena will let him taste one of her new recipes.
<> Because of that, he’s a pretty good cook.
<> He begged Alicent to get a cat when he was younger, but then the cat had babies. Alicent and Daeron didn’t want to get rid of them, so the house is just full of cats. They also have one dog that loves the cats.
<> Aemond and Aegon taught him how to drive with Aemond in the front telling him where to turn and Aegon in the back yelling to be careful.
<> He failed his first drivers test and Alicent was the one to teach him how to drive after that. He passed the second time.
Bonus for canon!
<> He loves to find different bugs and tell Helaena all about them. She writes back and tells him about what bug he’s found and how to handle and take care of the creature.
<> Alicent sends him bedtime stories and he reads them before bed each night.
<> He has some trouble expressing how he feels and finding the words he wants, so when trying to express his point, it might take him a while.
<> He wears green all the time, with blues and purples mixed in.
<> He’s very good with kids and he can usually get them to stop crying.
(AHHH I hope you liked this!! Daeron is someone that is both a mystery and that I feel we can all relate to lol!! If you hate this let me know and I’ll fix it lol!!! Thank you for such a lovely ask ily!!!💓💓💓💓💓💓
#daeron targaryen#asked and answered#the wonderful#moonshine999#hotd headcanon#modern au headcanons#headcanon#daeron the daring#alicent hightower#aemond targaryen#aegon ii targaryen#helaena targaryen#jaehaera targaryen#jaehaerys targaryen#tessarion#Tessa’s headcanons#modern au#helaegon#cause I couldn’t help myself#hotd
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If you were to ask me after reading Fire and Blood if I thought Rhaenyra was vaguely fond of her younger half-sister, my honest answer is still now yes. Helaena in both formats is just a likable and sweet girl. But do I think she had this deep love for Helaena that evil and twisted Alicent got in the way of? Sorry, but nope. This applies to both adaptions.
Concerning Fire and Blood, one reason why I don’t buy this idea is because of Dragonstone. People who say that Rhaenyra and Helaena were close or whatever kind of forget that the former spent a significant amount of time away on the island because that was where her household was. Helaena meanwhile lived in Kingslanding. Another reason is that I think if we were meant to draw away from Fire and Blood that they did have a good relationship, or that Rhaenyra despite everything cared about Helaena, it would have been easily doable! Have Rhaenyra congratulate Helaena on winning a dragon, and offer to go flying with her. Mention that Rhaenyra wrote regularly to Helaena. Or have Rhaenyra express concern over the fact that her 14-year-old sister is about to give birth to twins because such a labor could easily kill her! At that moment it doesn’t matter if Helaena is married to Rhaenyra’s rival. But there’s none of that.
Furthermore, people largely base this whole idea on the fact that Helaena wasn’t a political threat to Rhaenyra in the same way Aegon, Aemond, and Daeron were (that is she was a younger sister, not a brother). I agree with it to some extent but again simultaneously I think that’s being simplistic. With Rhaenyra understanding what Aegon represents to her, and growing up with the Targaryen customs of wedding brother to sister, she would have known for years that Helaena would be betrothed to Aegon. Therefore yes, Helaena is a political threat to Rhaenyra because she’s positioned to be the wife of what Rhaenyra’s opposers would consider to be the rightful heir. And soon enough after marrying Aegon, she gives birth to a son whose legitimacy unlike Jacaerys is unquestionable.
Concerning the show, I saw someone claim that Rhaenyra could have been close with Helaena because she “wanted a baby sister”. Which I highly and respectfully disagree with. There is a big difference between the baby sister of the mother she loves, versus that of a former friend that she’s become estranged from and who she believes betrayed her. This of course only makes things even more poignant for Rhaenyra. The baby sister she wanted comes about in the worst way. And speaking of coming about in the worst way, I also think people don’t consider the idea that even if Alicent wasn’t a factor, Rhaenyra still would have had difficulty bonding with her half-siblings knowing they only exist because her father remarried after what he put Aemma through. They only exist because Aemma died. Like… I don’t really find it that surprising or condemnable if Rhaenyra wasn’t close with Alicent’s children because of that.
You make some very good points and I agree, especially with the absolute (understandable) mental fuckery Rhaenyra might experience in relation to her half-siblings, knowing their existence is predicated on her mother suffering and dying to produce more children for the King and, consequently, more siblings for her. Also re: there being ways to highlight a closer relationship between Rhaenyra and Helaena, if that were the case. A summary of my thoughts on this can be found here.
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genuine q, why do you afford nuance and depth to every character but give daemon the most basic and black/white reading ever? i’m not even daemon’s biggest fan but i do like your analysis and can’t stop myself from noticing how super biased your takes on him are? i remember you saying you liked him as a character so i’m kinda ????
I feel like most of my posts related to Daemon Targaryen are on the joke-ier end, so it probably could come off like I am just a hater. I am not, so i’ll take this seriously. What is compelling about him to me is the fact that he is restlessly motivated by this constant emotional search for…something. I don’t think he can articulate what it is, but it’s what’s making him quit every small counsel position after six months and impulsively sabotage the relationships he has with the people he cares about and jump to violence as a response when he doesn’t have to.
What I think what is driving him is a desire for belonging, which is why he leans so heavily into the concept of Valyria because he says that’s the only place that a Targaryen could ever belong and it’s gone- to him, that’s why he’s like that. I also think it’s a search for the love and trust of his older brother and by extension, Rhaenyra and the throne. I think he loves Rhaenyra independently of the throne, but it’s also deeply connected to her as an extension of his brother, her as an image of his youth he is still chasing after, and her an extension of himself.
He’s devoted to his family, but that restless search for the thing he cannot describe, also means that he sabotages the close relationships he could’ve had-  he is constantly doing things to get pushed away by Viserys because it’s the emotionally safe option. He murders his first wife with a rock. He chased after Laena in a pretty dramatic (and violent) fashion, but is pretty unhappy in pentos with her, and he’s not necessarily attentive to both of his daughters, especially Rhaena (the one who isn’t like him).
He loves Rhaenyra, and is determined to see her on the throne, but he also groomed her as a teenager (there is no getting around that) and is the one who brought down her reign before it even began in the eyes of the public by murdering Helaena’s infant son. But it’s also entirely possible that without him Rhaenyra would’ve just folded and not fought for her birthright when the coup happened. He also does leave Rhaenyra with/for a teenager (cannot get around that) which, from his perspective is tragic, because he realizes the home he has been looking for his entire life that he thought he built with Rhaenyra actually doesn’t exist and she’s not who he thought she was anymore. It is a complete and total gut punch from Rhaenyra’s perspective, but I digress.
In the books, I think Aemond is a pretty good foil for him, because they have the same impulses towards cruelty but book Aemond has way fewer tethers to reality so he’s a straight-up psychopath whereas daemon is a bit greyer because he’s fighting FOR something. (until the end when he leaves Rhaenyra with/(for?) nettles and realizes he cannot and does not want to come back from that so he is just fighting to die)
So like TLDR: it’s complicated- the negative impact he has on the people around him is pretty clear, but it is motivated by a more complex emotional situation than active malice. He’s trying, and he fails in the end, and that’s why I think he’s so interesting
#I don’t like interpretations of Daemon where people are like he’s a great husband and father cause he is not. but he’s interesting#nettles get behind me#asoiaf#hotd#anyways good morning. how are we doing
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I read about that Luce knitted something for Arrax and suddently it got me thinking ??? What are your headcanons when it comes to the dragons and their bonds with their riders like some fun facts or something
In the Ask you’re referencing, it says Luce is working on a quilt, which is a different craft from knitting! As a knitter, I just want to make the difference clear 😅. Luce is using a bunch of old fabric scraps to make the quilt, so it feels less wasteful; dragons don’t actually need blankets lol.
Luce treats Arrax like a beloved pet. She thinks it’s chilly in the Dragonmont (even though it’s in a volcano) so of course her dragon, who is a fire-breathing creature, needs a blanket 😂. The quilt probably looks something like below, which I found on Reddit.
Jace and Vermax have more of a partnership. I like to think Vermax is the dragon-version of a show horse (I know nothing about horses), very calm and accustomed to being taken out on rides and exhibitions. Good with crowds, but unsuitable for combat (if you know canon!Jace and Vermax’s ending… 😶). Also, just like how Syrax has a little heart necklace (below), I decided that Jace put a sun necklace on Vermax at some point 🥰.
Joff is the one who most understands “nobody can truly control a dragon.” All the Targs love and respect their dragons, but she especially treats Tyraxes (who I think is a descendant of Balerion) like a weapon of mass destruction/primordial power. She’s the most likely to hold entire conversations with her dragon in High Valyrian.
In canon, Aegon supposedly has a super close bond with Sunfyre, which I’ve carried over to the fic. Of all the Targkids, he most frequently escapes from the Red Keep to run around the city, so he has more opportunities to visit the Dragonpit. He’s the one who tells Sunfyre he’s the most beautiful dragon in the world, and Sunfyre has internalized that belief.
In the show, they made Aemond have not-so-great control over Vhagar, which makes sense. He only has her for a few years whereas the other kids have their dragons for almost their entire lives, and Vhagar is a strong-willed dragon who’s had multiple riders. In Compromised, I also wrote that Aemond doesn’t get as much time with Vhagar as he would like because his schedule is so full. But when he and Aegon eventually go to the Stepstones, Aemond will be spending hours of each day with Vhagar.
In the book, Tessarion is closely bonded enough with Daeron that she continues fighting for him even after his death. One could argue she was just following dragon instincts, but she was a cradle egg so it makes sense that she has a close bond with her rider. When they’re in Oldtown, I think Daeron spends a lot of time with Tessarion because he’s homesick and she reminds him of the other Targkids 🥺.
Show!Helaena has no scenes thus far with Dreamfyre, but in the book, Dreamfyre has a very strong reaction to her death. So I think Helaena might not be as fond of flying as the average Targ, but she still spends plenty of time bonding with her dragon, just on the ground. Might not be entirely coincidental that Dreamfyre’s last rider was named Rhaena… 👀
Moondancer is kinda a runt. Dragons grow at different paces, but maybe Moondancer didn’t like the food and water in Pentos? It frustrates Baela that younger dragons, like Arrax and Tyraxes, are growing faster and larger than her own dragon. But Daemon has drilled the importance of dragon bonding into her, so she makes sure to spend time with Moondancer even if she can’t rider her dragon yet.
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If nettles was a white girl like Alys, dumbyra fans wouldn’t say shit. Look at laena and daemon regardless of them being married in the books they hated the fact of them being together in the show and how they did there relationship was disgusting. I was really irked on how daemon and Rhaenyra had sex in the most disrespectful way like Laena was just laid to rest and she found if a way to get with her uncle!! Then disappeared for 6 years from court and act’s surprised that the hightowers and vaemond are plotting against them like YOU’VE DONE NOTHING BUT POP OUT BABIES FOR THE PAST 6 YEARS!!!!! I can’t stress how much I hate the whole Daemon loves Rhaenyra more than anything, if he loves her sooo much why did he do the following
1) steal her dead baby brother’s egg
2)called himself the “rightful heir” to the throne after she was named heir
3)called her dead brother “heir for a day”
4) left her to fight in the stepstones and ignored her for years
5) almost ruined her reputation by taking her to a brothel
6)left her alone at night in the most dangerous place in kings landing
7)left her again during her wedding where she almost got trampled
8)undermines her during the plot to take kings landing
9) ignores her calls during her labor
10) ignores her call to come back to kings landing
11) he literally chokes her when he finds out that Viserys never thought of him as heir
Like they gaslight themselves into believing that this is okay, it’s not
Now I do understand the age difference between nettles and daemon is very important she’s 17 and he’s 49 but I think that they are more healthier relationship. I feel that nettles is more patient with daemon and they have better communication, she’s not afraid to tell daemon like “hey you do realize that this is fucked up” and he grows more as a person with her. Nettles isn’t spoiled and doesn’t like to be spoiled much and daemon likes that. Rhaenyra can act like a baby sometimes and it annoys him when she gets like that.
Sorry for the big rant but I know when nettles is casted and when we see her actor she’s gonna get hate from people WHO SHIP AN UNCLE WHO GROOMED HIS FUCKING NIECE. I’m going to war for my girl Nettles.
This wasn’t a rant, this was a read👏🏽 I honestly think that if Nettles were white(hell if she were actually non-Black like how they try to insist she is because they don’t want a Negro with Daemon) then a good portion of these racist stans would have jumped ship already.
Dumbnyra has always been a disaster of a ship(in the show and the books which 99% weren’t shipping this trash until said show).
There were glaring red flags from the get-go (the 1st “romantic moment” Rhaenyra is underage), but because they are self-inserting (this includes the weirdo self-haters who are fine with throwing other “WOC” under the bus to live out their Aryan obey me or I’ll nuke you fantasies) into her and can’t relate to anyone who isn’t white they are holding onto this Titanic of a ship for dear life.
I'm glad you mentioned Alys. People may hate her now, but the moment she shows up on screen and interacts with Aemond I can guarantee that most of that hate(which is mostly from Hellmann's shippers who only like their insane crackship that they pretend is canon because it’s a self insert ship) will fade away.
With Alys there, who’s also white and is Aemond’s actual love interest, Helaena won’t be needed anymore. So they’ll drop her faster than a hot cake, do a 180, say who’s Helaena, and ole girl will become the new self-insert.
That’s not going to be the case for Nettles(and yeah sadly her actress is going to get a lot of hate so prayers to her).
If you guys don’t believe us literally go pull up any fandom with a Black woman as a love interest and see the bullsh*t and excuses that are written.
Every single time the actresses get verbally attacked(they get called literal racial slurs see Candice Patton-The Flash), the showrunners do them, and their characters(Kat Graham-Vampire Diaries and Nicole Beharie-Sleepy Hollow), the fans of said characters and ships get attacked(this fandom is already starting it), and there are a million and one think pieces on how her character “doesn’t need a man” or how the ship she’s in isn’t “good for her”(all while these same people excuse actual abusive relationships like Dumbnyra).
People always say oh it isn’t about race it’s actually about xyz, but if every time you are complaining when you see a Black woman as the love interest, yeah it’s about race🤷🏽♀️ You guys don’t like seeing Black women in romantic relationships especially with your faves. It’s the same song and dance and now they are doing it with Nettles under the guise of “caring.”
If you ship Dumbnyra(and I’ve seen several of these shippers drawing art that’s supposed to be romantic where Rhaenyra is a literal child) and then fix your mouth to say Daemon and Nettles relationship is somehow bad for Nettles and that people promoting it want Netty to be abused (translation: I don’t want my self insert to be left for a Black girl, but I can’t come out and say that so I’ll just pretend to care about this Black girl when I’m actually cheering on for her to be axed or played by a white woman, yes I’ve seen some of these ignorant people want Nettles to be white because the Velaryons were made Black🙃).
The dynamic between Daemon and Nettles isn’t anything like Daemon and Rhaenyra. The only thing they’ve got in common is that Nettles is young and even then she’s technically an adult and she’s probably going to be aged up to be Laena’s book age in the show. The moment that happens they’ll find some new excuse(I don’t want Nettles to look like a ho knowing damn well their self insert was out their chasing after a freshly widowed man and they cheered it on) why Daemon and Nettles shouldn’t happen.
Yeah, they did have a much healthier relationship and Daemon grows from his time with her(something he never did with Rhaenyra). He grows enough to put her ahead of everyone including his wife’s rule and his own safety(which is what Nettles deserves), but we are lost in the sauce. 100% it’s protect Nettles over here 🙌🏽
#now I started actually ranting#yes the age gap is very large but you guys really don’t care about that#that’s just the excuse you guys use#daemon targaryen#nettles#daemon x nettles#netty#bnask#bnasks#daemon targaryen x nettles#nettles x daemon#dettles
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Where do I even begin ?
Oh let’s start with the fact that your writing style was INSANE .I really love the way you describe things .Dark Alicent my beloved you were done justice in this .
And Alicent having Aegon to attend lessons ma then granting him so wine was such a goof bit and I do think that was in character for both of them .
Alicent played the dutiful way after Viserys died (“Let him rest!”) was such a delicious detail .I really felt for Aegon when he takes the throne and it’s such a nightmare but if he stays delusional his family (and any possibility of recognition)is dead .I SEE what you were doing with Helaena’s warnings and I love it .
The politics in this were all so delicious .Weird word for talking about politics but reading about the Black box and Corlys as hand and Lord Arryn and Rhaenyra’s pregnancy was so engaging .
Alicent losing three kids was a change that struck me ,and I find it interesting because a lot of women lost children in medieval times and now we don’t even know if they actually lost them or even had them so it was interesting in the historical sense .And really sad because the scene where she is caressing her empty belly really did something to me .I stared at the phone for like ten minutes .
Alicole in this was INSANE ,like wdym she literally said she wanted to have his babies ? What do you mean she’s PLANNING to make him hers ? Not that it makes me unhappy actually I was kicking my feet the entire time .
Alicent’s dream was such a haunting and good bit .Aemond being his cunty self my beloved .And you mentioning Daeron with Criston …the way you wiew Daeron is so heartwarming he is such a KID .
And ofc her last words to Viserys were so cunty and so hunting .The way she took his life and the only possibility to ease his guilt after what he did to Aemma was probably the best bit of the entire chapter .”See you in Hell” GODD
I’m so ready for the second chapter and I really thank you for this fic already because it made my day better .
YOU GO ALICENTSULTANA
Omg, thank you so much!
Lessons in exchange for wine is something that totally would happen, this is soft manipulation/motivation.
Alicent must be a cancer, I can feel it, it's in my blood. I have wondered for a long time what is a major manipulation feature one can express, and I totally would play dumb and heartbroken just to see the outcome and cover my actions, I gave her this to make her truly unhinged.
Aegon is doing it for his children and his siblings, this is the sole reason, wine also. I think he used Helaena's vision to justify his actions and feel less guilty about it, but don't worry, there will be no remorse coming.
I'm not a politics girl, like I don't understand anything about it, so in my head I always justify everything as "political undisclosed reasons", but then, Alicent is a politician, her father and life taught her the hard way, so she had, as queen mediator, to act. Including taking risks with helping Corlys raise to position - one snake + one snake = naja and coral. She must be suttle, must analyze everything, every step, no faux pas.
Corlys is playing for the winning team when is convenient, though don't ask me what he will tell his wife.
I also pondered who would be a major Lord who could prove himself against Rhaenyra, and who better than the brother of her mother. Throughout s1 she stroked me as being relapse and naive about the power of court women, while Alicent entertained them, Rhaenyra was mostly doing faces and throwing some tantrums. Who's to say she wouldn't offend, unknowingly, a member of her own extended family? The Arryns are a super important house, and are her relatives, losing them is losing the vale.
Let's not mention Viserys health deteriorating and her doing what? Thousands years of honeymoon? Alicent was pregnant and holding a child while the world was falling apart and pretty girl was doing what? This will be brought up again in the future. Viserys would 100% overlook and think nothing of it (as always).
I have an hc that she had at least three more pregnancies, though she would have lost them by natural causes, I decided to make her get rid of them herself, and lamenting it because obviously she wouldn't want to do it, but she couldn't bring herself to birth more children to an ungrateful crown. I believe after Aemond, she would often tell Criston like "oh, i wish they were yours" both because she lost faith in Viserys, but also because Criston was the dadTM and she's in love with him.
They are very much aware of their feelings, but my intention was to do it much more mature and heavy, more wild and on edge, they are certainly more touchy, more open, not that many notice or see it happening beyond some of her servants and Westerling (he have a keen eye).
But again, they would never be caught red handed (god I really want to post the second chapter, people will scream).
Even if he's already hers, Alicent doesn't content herself with halves, she wants the whole meal, the whole experience.
Daeron will always be a baby, he's not allowed to grow up, he stays in mini size, pocket size. Though she would want it, Alicent won't get pregnant again, she doesn't have the energy to do so, and she is Dowager Queen, she has an image to keep.
She hates Viserys, like, actively, fervently. Alicent wanted to say those words when he was alive but she couldn't risk him not dying.
I'm so glad this made your day better, this is always the major intent! Chapter 2 will come soon, I'll try to post it as soon as possible.
Thank you so much for reading and telling me what you thought of it!
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Whole different type of delusion that I see in this fandom is how helaemond shippers act. All they say is everyone should support Helaena cheating on her unfaithful husband because if you someone doesn't, it's misogynistic, but when you mention Alicent having sex with Criston in season 2 they are furious and say Alicent is not Rhaenyra to sleep around 😂
For them it's like helaemond makes sense because Helaena was smarter than Rhaenyra so no one knew Aemond's the father.
And then when you point out they behave exactly like daemyra stans they are surprised 😂
I knew Alys will be hated in fandom because of 2 things. By Blacks because she was better Queen at Harrenhall than Rhaenyra was for 6 months time and Alys have no supporters and no dragon and no Aemond by her side because he was dead then. And by Greens because she is the opposite of Alicent and Helaena who are stuck and doomed and living in the cage.
But the one truly doomed is in fact Alys. She is lowborn bastard and women, so she means nothing and can be used by her family as they please. And yet she survives and makes the best out of Dance. All without any political machinations, she just took power over Harrenhall and no one took it away from her. If this isn't the best character of this show I don't know who may be.
I think in general people in this fandom, and this is something I must remind myself as well, need to program their brains to stop relating every single thing that happens to a woman in this story to a man. Especially romantically
It is pretty clear that one major point at the base of hotd is patriarchy and how way men often use the girls/women in their lives as pawns or martyrs. Whether people think it was well done or not is their choice, but it is clearly there. That conversation I get, and think we need to have. But the way people are so hellbent on ‘pairing’ women in this story with someone, specifically men, can get exhausting.
Why is the most horrid thing that happens in the dance, something that fundamentally breaks Helaena as a person turned into an argument to either uplift/tear down Aegon or Aemond?? Why is her taking her own life out of grief and fear about her brother(s)???
Why does Alicent, someone who clearly has been through sexual trauma in her life at the hands of men - someone who already has creepy psychosexual relationships with men in her life, have to sleep with criston?? Hell, why does criston someone that’s been taken advantage of by nobility (depending on how you read that scene in ep 4) have to sleep with Alicent, his queen???
If Helaena wants to be unfaithful to her husband, I will support her bc Aegon is not a good husband lmao. But the idea she needs to be with her brother, and he had those kids with her is… very odd to me. I don’t see it and idc if that makes me a hater. In general, I think people’s insistence on taking one of the few targ characters that doesn’t have incest as a major footnote in his story (Aemond) and making him into someone he isn’t, is annoying.
People (rightfully) point out how horrible targaryen girls/women are treated but then perpetuate the one thing that has led to many targ women’s downfall: The idea that they are property to the men in their family.
As for alys, she was going to be hated on several reasons : 1. Ageism (people call show and book Alicent a hag despite show Alicent being in her 30s and book Alicent being in her 40s). 2. The fact that aemond is now the fandom fanfic bike aka he gets ridden/shipped with everyone and him having a canon love interest pisses people off. 3. Low born or bastard born women get treated very differently by the fanbase than their male counterparts. 4. The murky relationship between her and Aemond. Now as someone who is excited to see where they take alysmond, even I can understand why people may put off by it. First you have the age difference on the side of her taking advantage of him. Especially now that in the show it has been implied Aemond delt with his own s.a. But by the time they meet, Aemond is Prince Regent. Clearly in a position of power over her. It is dubious and it’s ok to point that out.
But I’m sure as hell not gonna be reprimanded by daemrya or helaemond shippers on that. They clearly don’t give a shit about what is above board 💀💀. At at the very least, every alysmond shipper I’ve personally come across is very open and clear about alys and Aemond’s relationship, and the possible stipulations. I can’t say the same for the other two camps.
Every woman in this story, nobility or low born, has been through shit. That’s the whole point and the bitch of patriarchy. It affects every woman to a certain degree. Of course someone like Rhaenyra or Alicent has lived a very different life than Alys, and that needs to pointed out. All women are not on equal playing field. But all of them have been trapped or stuck at one point or another. How these women maneuver this world is important because of how differently each live, which is why it is dumb when people advocate for their stories to be cut (Sara, nettles, alys). These characters being vehemently hated by ANYONE is weird asf to me.
I enjoy team green, I write for team green, but people take this ‘team’ stuff too seriously sometimes. Well.. when it comes to the women. The male characters can get it lmao. I personally don’t like the rhetoric around how most women in story get spoken about. People are so focused on whose winning or shipping that the point of the story gets lost. And frankly regurgitating the same points and arguments sucks the fun out a show…shame. If people hate everything about it or have to make up crazy theories for it to work… just don’t watch 🤷🏽♀️🤷🏽♀️
#power is not the be end all to end all for women#we see that in the noble women#no matter how much power one acquires they are still a woman#I’m sorry if I seem annoyed it’s not you anon#it’s more this fandom#a fandom overly obsessed with sex and shipping#people just pulling stuff out of thin air for shipping reasons#and idc if this makes sound like a ‘puriteen’ or whatever cringe word a grown ass adult made up to speak on children#idk how to tag this…#anti helaemond#I guess idk#anti daemyra#asks and requests
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I think the show created a "friendship" between Rhaenyra and Alicent to demonize Rhaenyra and victimize Alicent.
I don’t agree entirely tbh, like I do not hate all changes the show made with Alicent’s character, mostly because the book version is so cartoonishly evil and uninteresting, there’s nothing inherently wrong with wanting her to have more depth, and I think the idea of turning her into a repressed catholic lesbian is amazing, A+, no notes. However I do dislike how much into a victim the writers ended up turning her into, because that’s almost as boring as the one-note villain version of f&b, and twice as annoying.
But I don’t necessarily think Rhaenyra is the one who’s harmed the most by the victimization of Alicent, the character who actually bears the real brunt of that is Viserys. Because in the book there’s nothing indicating that Viserys is ike, abusive or neglectful towards Alicent or the children he has with her. When they marry he’s only 8-9 years older than her and she’s 18, and some might find that situation still a bit icky but it’s nowhere near the same as a man in his mid 30s marrying his daughter’s 15 year old friend. Alicent also isn’t a teen mom, she has Aegon when she’s twenty.
We don’t know how good of a father Viserys was towards his younger children but we know he wasn’t a great one to Rhaenyra, since he allowed some of the more harmful rumors to grow around her, especially in relation to Criston Cole and their supposed romance that started when Rhaenyra was still a teenager and him several years older than her. Viserys also did nothing when Alicent started to antagonize a much younger Rhaenyra and isolating her from court. Not to mention the fact that he threatened Rhaenyra with disinheriting her when she very understandingly didn’t want to marry Laenor.
Aemond’s scuffle with the Velaryon kids is even farmed differently in f&b since Aemond, to start, had beaten one of his nephews “savagely” and then Viserys made a decree that Alicent and her children would go back to KL with him while Rhaenyra and her family would stay at Dragonstone,… and yeah my guess is this was mainly because he hoped some distance would solve the problem without him having to do any of the work, but sending Rhaenyra away really opened the opportunity for the greens to move further with their agenda and enabled them to usurp her in the first place.
And again, how he was as a father towards his younger children is hard to judge; we know his last night alive he spent it telling stories to Helaena and her kids, so maybe we can come to the conclusion the he at least had a positive relationship with her. Aegon and Aemond didn’t seem to be super devastated by their father’s death but Aegon and Aemond were huge assholes, so maybe their reaction shouldn’t be indicative of Viserys’ worth as a parent.
I feel like the main thing about book Viserys’ relationship with book Alicent is that by all accounts he wasn’t a terrible husband to her but she resented him anyways because the one thing he wouldn’t budge in was naming her son Aegon as his heir. She never forgave him for that and she sized the throne and left his corpse to rot. And of course the show tweaked that by having Viserys start to rot before his actual death, still due to his ow actions (or inactions).
Obviously the show also switched Jaehaerys’ role in Alicent’s story with Viserys as the dying king she cares for and calls her by another woman’s names, but I think that quite misses the point because I feel like Jaehaerys (despite my own personal opinions on him) represented something in Alicent’s life that she could genuinely look back to fondly and wasn’t corrupted by all the politics and scheming Otto dragged her into. In her dying moments she wanted to see her children and she also wanted to read to the kind old king who called her by his lost daughter’s name but never asked anything else from her. It’s an humanizing moment, the only one Alicent really gets in the book.
They simply cannot do the same thing now with Viserys because the nature of their relationship is not at all innocent nor something she could believably look back to positively. I guess they could replace that moment with her remembering Rhaenyra and wanting to go back to their lost childhood, but lmao that would suck, especially after all the betrayal and child murder. That scene in the last episode of Rhaenyra weeping over the torn page Alicent sent her as if she hadn’t just lost a child and was betrayed by Alicent and the rest of the greens, and Ryan Condal wants me to believe there’s still hope for reconciliation as if that wouldn’t be a terrible writing choice because no human being would be able to forgive that.
#Anonymous#ask#ask pam#alicent hightower#viserys i targaryen#rhaenyra targaryen#hotd#fire and blood#house of the dragon#f&b book spoilers#f&b meta#meta#my meta
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Aegon and Helaena's relationship is better than i thought, and their relatioship with Aemond is better than i thought. Aegon not openly cheats and expects her to endure it like i expected, he cheats and doesnt want her to know, even apologozes with a gift when he got caught. He somewhat doesnt want to lose her affections. Aemond giving advice on their marital problems. Them exchanging 'why this clown is dancing with our wife' look. Beating strong boys together. *otto gif* GOOD
I’m actually not really surprised about their relationship.
For Aegon and Helaena I also thought that the gift (that she seemed to like a lot) was sweet (kinda) but i don’t know if he genuinely mean it or if it’s more the result of Alicent and Aemond badgering him. I think a big part of his resentment towards her is more because he is forcibly married to her. I don’t think he actually hate her but she is his weird little sister that he was forced to have kids with plus the fact that their marriage is in some way the representation of his future as king which is something he hates, and all that makes him act terribly towards her(to be clear I’m not justifying him but i do see why he would fee that way with her). But yeah all that to say that i believe that he has genuine affection towards her but as a sister only which could explain why he still try (i mean not really, this isn’t even the bare minimum but he still does). Sorry if I’m not really clear i swear it make sense in my head
As for Aegon and Aemond this is actually the relationship I expected them to have reading the book. They do seem to love each other and they are (Aemond especially) very loyal towards each other. Also they both hates the black and wants them dead so them teaming up to beat them is not surprising at all (**SPOILER i mean aegon even threw a feast for aemond when he killed lucerys**)
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Age Confusion
You know I think the show producers/writers etc might have made a pig’s ear out of some of the character’s ages/ the timeline of the show, I was rewatching the series and in ep 2 Viserys says that Rhaenyra is 15 years old. Episode 3 is a 3 year time jump. Now I’ve never been particularly good at maths, in fact it was the only subject in school I struggled with, but I am sure that 15+3=18, So Rhaenyra should be 18 in ep 3 yet Viserys says that she is 17 years old. So did the writers just make a mistake here? Was Viserys so drunk by this point that he forgot how old his daughter is? I mean I suppose you could say that it wasn’t quite 3 years and Viserys was just rounding it up and she is close to turning 18. But it is still confusing. But it gets more confusing when you get to ep 8 because Condal said in the inside the episode that they did the six year time jump there because they wanted to age up all the kids into young adults/adults and that they are all between 17-21 years of age. But again the maths just doesn’t add up because there is a 10 year time jump in ep 6, no jump in ep 7, then a 6 year jump in ep 8. But that is only a time span of 16 years. We know that Rhaenyra had her sons during that time jump of 10 years, even if she fell pregnant right away the oldest any of her children could be is around 15, 16 at a push. Also I refuse to believe that this kid here is 17 years old he looks 14 at the oldest:
At least with the others they look like they could be around the ages of 17-21 although I still think Alicent’s children look noticeably older than Rhaenyra’s. But also we know that Aegon is 13 is ep 6, he was 2 in ep 3, there’s a one year time jump to ep 4 making him 3 then a 10 year time jump making him 13. Add the six year time jump and he should only be 19. Helaena who is 2 years younger should be 17 and we don’t know when Aemond was born in the show so who knows who old he should be.
I haven’t read the book because I don’t want to be spoiled but in the end I was so confused trying to figure out how old these damn kids should be that I did decide to look up the dates of births of the characters from the book and also when the dance started/ year Viserys died, that happens in 129 AC. Using this date I was then able to work out how old each character should be. Aegon was born in 107 AC meaning he should be around 22 years of age. Helaena born 109 AC would be 20 and Aemond born 110 AC would be 19. This matches what Condal says though still doesn’t line up with the in show timeline where they should all be several years younger, also the characters do look around those ages in ep 8 and 9. Then you get to Jace who was born 114 AC making him 15 and Lucerys born 115 AC making him 14, this matches perfectly with the in show timeline but doesn’t match what Condal says about them all being between 17 and 21. Also just to make it more confusing Baela and Rhaena were supposedly born in 116 AC and are twins despite it looking like Baela is significantly older that Rhaena, that would make them the youngest of this older group at 13. Whilst I do think both Lucerys and Rhaena look like they could be around the 13-14 mark to me Jace and Baela both look older than 15/13 years old, they look more 16-17. The only explanation I can come up with here is that those inside the episodes must be edited and they just edited it really badly and Condal was only talking about Alicent’s children when he said they were between 17-21, like maybe their was a longer statement and it was something like Rhaenyra's children are between 14-15 and Alicent's are between 17-21 and they just cut it down. I don’t know I’ve clearly thought about it too much.
Anyway there definitely seems to be some inconsistences here with how old these characters are/should be and I have successfully given myself a headache trying to figure it all out.
#hotd#house of the dragon#lucerys velaryon#jace velaryon#aegon targaryen#aemond targaryen#helaena targaryen#baela targaryen#rhaena targaryen#so confused
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Are we welcome to follow if we love Rhaenyra AND Alicent? I think Rhaenyra is undeniably the rightful heir and it was a huge mistake that Alicent went to her father after hearing the King’s dying words instead of sending a raven to Rhaenyra to talk to her about it and what she’s doing is wrong, but I also have a huge amount of sympathy for her and could write essays on why I think she’s going along with putting Aegon on the throne despite knowing that he’s unfit to be king. In my eyes, it has less to do with Rhaenyra and more to do with wanting to feel like she had power. She realizes that her council has planned to crown Aegon all along. If she resists, she will certainly fail and have to confront the fact that she lacks true power here. If she goes along with it and tries to do it her way, she can maintain the more comfortable illusion that she does has power, avoiding the uncomfortable truth. It’s complex and I enjoy her for it. That said, I know she was waaaaay different in the book. I haven’t read it.
Also have to love Helaena and Rhaenys!
+add on to last ask: this is not to say Alicent is somehow “feminist.” She isn’t. I just think her actions are rooted less in wanting a man on throne and more in wanting the years she spent suffering to mean something, to actually amount to some control. The actions are sexist, but I think her motives are more complex deep down
Hi nonnie! First of all, of course you're welcome to follow and talk with me if you want to. There are plenty of people in the ASOIAF fandom I have zero interest in talking to (Daenerys haters are literally not welcomed here, for example). But you don't have to love Rhaenyra or hate Alicent. You can love both, hate both, love one more than another, I don't care as long as you're not incapable of understanding that Rhaenyra was the Heir and the Greens commited treason.
More on Rhaenyra being one of my favorites ASOIAF characters: she wasn't a good Queen and I don't like the comparison between her and Daenerys. Of course, we can make obvious parallels between those two characters, but Dany is a hero and would be a good Queen (I strongly believe in this) while Rhaenyra was a tyrant. But she's a very interesting character and I love her in a totally different way than I love Dany (I know this is off topic, I'm totally taking advantage of your message to answer to those saying we can't be both Dany stans and love Rhaenyra)
Of course, at this point on the show, I'm rooting for Rhaenyra. But I don't think you'll love her as much in the future or if you read Fire & Blood. Rhaenyra was whitewashed in the show, Alicent too (they did the opposite for male characters, like Daemon). But enough about that since you haven't read about the book characters.
About feminism: neither Alicent or Rhaenyra is a feminist. Rhaenyra isn't at all about women's rights either, except for herself. The difference between the Blacks and the Greens is that one side of this Dance commited treason, and that this treason has a direct link with the patriarchy.
Of course, you're allowed to feel for Alicent. I don't like Alicent but that doesn't mean I'm not disgusted at some things people have been saying (I'm convinced at this point that half of the ASOIAF fandom is brainless...) Also, if I tag some posts “anti x stans”, it’s because I don’t want to use the character tag. It’s not respectful for the fans who are going through their favorite character tag (I’m so tired of Dany hate showing up in the “daenerys targaryen” tag just because antis can’t be bothered to use proper tags). It’s not because I actually hate their fans.
I'm not a fan of Sansa or Alicent, and I have an amazing friend that I've known for a few years now whose favorite ASOIAF/GOT character is Sansa and whose favorite HOTD character is Alicent (she hasn't read Fire & Blood either, by the way). I would gladly read your metas about Alicent, even if we don't agree, but I feel like you could talk a lot about her with my Kitty Kat @alicentes, if you’re looking for someone who loves Alicent but isn’t at all anti Rhaenyra! 💕
This is also to say that, while I know there are people who only show respect to someone if they agree with them on every single thing, that’s just as unhealthy as all the disgusting hate we see in this fandom. So yes, you are welcome here. Of course you are. Shoot me a message off anon so I can know it's you? You can tell me if you don't want it published, although you honestly don't have to be scared of people going after you when you said nothing offensive!
Your favorites so far are Alicent, Rhaenyra, Helaena and Rhaenys? Mine are Rhaenyra (big surprise, I know), Daemon, Rhaenys, Mysaria.
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