#ive made it to that part in Return of the King
Note
What interactive fiction would you recommend (besides this one)?
oh anon i follow over 150 if blogs let me get you some of my favorites😊 This is very long so all of them are under the cut🫶
some of these you'll probably already have heard of bc of how popular they are, but trust me, they're popular for a reason, lmao
these ones all have demos (if i messed up and some dont uh ignore that)
@infamous-if - "You're going to be a superstar, no matter what it takes." genuinely one of my favorites ifs (seven lawless my beloved please come back home the kids are asking whats taking so long)
@coeluvr - "You play as the only remaining member of the royal family of Vesphire; living in the home of the man who took away everything from you." another ive been obsessed with recently. i will forever love revenge stories (and my pookie helios)
@merrycrisis-if - "As a late 20-something year-old fresh from a recent break-up and struggling to pay rent in New York, life throws up more questions than answers."
@ramonag-if - "When your village is razed to the ground, you're left fleeing with an exiled prince. You can trust no one but each other. Your father's dying wish was to protect the prince, but can you really trust a man who was exiled from his kingdom?"
@nyehilismwriting / Project Hadea - "Set in a distant future, you play the role of an elite operative of Scytha Industries, a private contracting firm. ‘Contracting’, in this case, refers to anything from political assassinations, to private security, to bodyguard services."
@vapolis - "You’re a mercenary, gun for hire, assassin, information extractor, delivery person – call it what you want, because the people that hire you for your services don’t give much of a shit what you call yourself as long as you actually get them what they want."
@godsandvillains-if - "As the only metahuman with the ability to wield the powerful Chaos Magic, your very blood holds the answers to unlocking the secrets behind the control of time and space, but it has the drawback of being almost completely volatile."
@hvllowheart - "LAMB TO THE SLAUGHTER is a spy game where you take on the role of an agent under the codename Wraith, who up until two years ago was one of the best agents TERRA has ever made. now the agency returns into your life and pulls you back into the field as agents go missing by the dozens."
@eyesofshan-if - "Years ago, you were uprooted from the only home you had ever known and captured to be sold as a slave. Now, war is at your doorstep once more while you are left in a delicate position — as a commander of the country that invaded your homeland. While investigating a case of illegal human trafficking, you come across a plot that threatens to rip this tentative peace apart."
@apt502-if - "Moving from your small home to New York City was supposed to be a dream. You were supposed to start your new life with your long-distance partner and dive headfirst into full-on adulthood. Everything was supposed to be perfect. How can you not love being in your mid-twenties in the Big Apple?That is until your put-together, white collar partner dumps you the same day you arrive. Fun."
@acourtofserpents - "As the only human in the Kingdom of Faerie, you're no stranger to shining eyes that hold looks filled with hatred, lips painted in the color of forest fruits whispering your name, heads with pointed ears turning at your every step. Though you long for their approval, for a place amongst the wicked immortals, they remind you with every breath you take that as you came from dirt, to dirt you will return."
@softlyopulent-if - "All of King Adder’s children are a mystery to the common folk, but you—you are nothing but a ghost. A ghost, that spends eighteen years locked away in the deepest part of the palace, so that no eyes may lay upon you.And those that do—they do not treat you kindly.And when you are finally of age, at last, you are betrothed to the child of the King of a far away kingdom, to secure an alliance that your father has been seeking for years.And you are swept away to a place even more foreign than your own land, to be wed to a stranger that looks at you with contempt. To live in a kingdom of citizens that despise you. And perhaps, just perhaps, fight a war."
@heromaker-if - "Stories of heroes, legends and chosen ones are commonplace. But you'd never thought it was your child who would have to save the world from the Demon Lord's clutches."
@theabyssal - "In The Abyssal, you assume the control of a powerful deity that was betrayed by their fellow gods. Imprisoned against your will for all eternity, you had a long time to plan your revenge."
@milaswriting - "By birth, and association, you are one of the most famous people in the big city of Lehsa. Your father's the mayor, and you're from a bright, vibrant, bustling city... and yet, until recently, you didn't realise all the secrets yourself and the city held."
@zico-if - "You were supposed to be a sacrifice in order to bring an eldritch god to your realm, a sacrifice that was never supposed to live. Instead of dying and summoning the god intended, you find yourself face to face with an ancient being that was chained and locked away for the horrors they once committed."
@collegetennisoriginstory - "Experience the ups-and-downs of life as a freshman on the Cargill University varsity tennis team amongst a colorful cast of characters."
@disenchantedif - "You used to be a beacon of hope. Now they only know you as the failure, the Unchosen. Will you rise above them? Will you become better or far worse than they could ever imagine?"
@bouncyballcitadel - "Play as a first-year surgery intern at Citadel Health. Will you become the star intern and curry the favor of the chief? Or will you uncover Citadel Health’s secrets and break a story or two? This will be the best and worst year of your life. Don’t forget to save lives and break some hearts along the way."
@leoneliterary - "You play as a thief pressed into the employ of a mysterious nobleman. With the your life, the fate of your guild, and your honor on the line, you'll have to navigate the perils of the royal court and combat a more mystical threat. The story is set in Cusmo, the naturally fortified, desert capital of Hashind, and will showcase the much praised Upper Cusmo, the crime ridden Lower Cusmo, and much more."
@doriana-gray-games - "Play as your version of Sherlock Holmes in this romance detective game!"
@fallenlightsif - "You are the half-sibling of High General Ezrah Rhys and have lived the past twelve years of your life in Kesdon, the capital of Ebia. You've spent most of your time training and honing your skills for the future that awaits you. A future that is entirely your own."
@shai-manahan - "They call you Ripper. It’s a horrendous name to give to a detective like you, and definitely not one you chose for yourself, but you suppose it’s to be expected given your reputation for putting powerful people behind bars. Businesses feared you. The other cops hated you. Local gangs despised your entire existence. Yet, despite all of that, you remained untouched. Until that day, when all the lies and the deception and the foolish mistakes turned your life upside down."
@larkingame - "someone is after you. for over a decade and a half now, you’ve traveled up, down and across the country--running schemes and hunting fiends with your mentor, con-man-by-day, vampire-hunter-by-night, Wyatt Abrams--the prolific vampire slayer and the living descendant of Gregory Abrams, founder and prophet of the Abrams Family, the nomadic vampire-hunting cult that raised you--and was wiped out years ago. carrying the abrams name means also means carrying on it's enemies--but that isn't to say you haven't forged a couple of your own along the way. now, it seems someone is trying to make good on old threats and promises. they've placed a bounty on your head. so you and wyatt do what you do best: you run away. to some little town, out nevada ways, where the title of town preacher is unexpectedly thrust upon you--bringing back years of trauma you thought long tucked away."
@evertidings - "you are a bounty hunter. responsible for taking in rogue supernaturals, you work for IAOS—the international agency of supernaturals—where, alongside your best friend and partner, you two have quickly become the best hunting duo of the branch. after a particularly tricky hunt, you brief your boss, Caine Atheron, and come back to work the next day to find that he has mysteriously disappeared overnight, the company is now in the hands of his best friend, Sebastian Mai. and though no one else seems to question it, something tells you that there's more to the story."
@rotten-games - Regrets Of The Traitor: "You are the Ruler of Hadaria after killing the previous Queens and betraying all who once trusted you. Sat upon the throne with all the power available to you, one would be forgiven for believing you finished with your quest. With a strange figure in your dreams speaking vague prophecies of magical artifacts, a mysterious cult moving into the city, and a group intent on unseating you from your place, perhaps you’re way in over your head for a farmer’s kid. City of Immortals: "You follow a pair of siblings worlds apart as they get accustomed to their new realities in two very different worlds. One trapped in an unnatural desert wasteland where every resource has a scarcity, not knowing if they’ll be the only one left when everything turns to dust, the other working as a private investigator in a sprawling underground metropolis of the undying. Each not knowing the other is alive, will they unravel the mysteries that somehow connect their two new homes?"
@shepherds-of-haven - "Shepherds of Haven is a dark fantasy interactive fiction game. In it, you play as a Mage living in a world where magic is outlawed and your people—those possessing supernatural powers—are oppressed and reviled. The world is ruled by humans who believe in science, technology, and industry: at best, you and your kind are nothing more than a fairytale, and at worst you are the state’s greatest threat."
@someoneverypretty-world - "As a child, growing up in the slums of Hvinir without any guardians, you believed you would not live to see 30. Until Haven, a thief guild, took you in and taught you how to survive. Facing hardships, the guild leader tasks you to sneak into the castle with the mission to take."
@northern-passage - "The Northern Passage is an 18+ horror fantasy CYOA, where you play as a hunter sent up north to investigate a series of missing people along the border of your home country and in the port cities of the Blackwater. Working with your handler, Lea, you will travel north and discover that things are far worse than you ever could have imagined, and that there is something powerful lurking out in the deep, dark sea…"
@thedecoy-if - "♔ The Decoy is a dark fantasy that follows you, a 21st century normal human, kidnapped to an alternate magical universe to play the part of the missing heir to a powerful throne...who also happens to be your doppelgänger. ♔"
@ripperplague - "You are a doctor, a prodigy in hiding. Deep in the underbelly of Valeris, you hide among the shadows. You work hard to wring the blood stains off your palms, your face...your soul. Redemption and revenge are parallel goals, the flames of rage and disgust mingling. How could anyone ever love you?"
These ones dont have a demo yet, but im still absolutely obsessed
@pavedinashes-if - "You're only 20 when suddenly your life goes bam! Throwing you into a whole new city, a different country even. Wasn't part of the plan, but you know how life loves to mess with plans. People happened, stuff happened, and suddenly you're on the move. The new chapter ahead? Buckle up, 'cause it's not gonna be all sunshine and rainbows. And guess what? Your step-mom? Yeah, she's right there in the same city. She's always had this knack for trying to steer your ship, like every decision's a GPS checkpoint. But hey, there's this one thing that's never let you down—your skateboard. It's like the buddy that's been with you through thick and thin, the one that never bails. Among all this craziness it's like your anchor. So, the big question is—can you break out of the loop you got in? Find your place in the world and restart or lose yourself in temptation? Time to find out."
@riptide-if - "Your dad has always said you swim as if your were born to be in the water; the rest of your family has always said that he is the whole reason you turned out like that. So, it's not really a surprise when you had used all the money you got for your 7th birthday to buy a surfboard. And even less of a surprise when you started joining small surf competitions by the time you were 10, later followed by bigger competitions. It seems you are the only one surprised when it turns out you're able to compete in the World Surfer's League's Ultimate Tournament Tour*. Thrown into a mix of fellow surfing prodigies, rookies, and pros, do you really have what it takes to win?"
@weepinwriter - "You are inmate No. 1441, incarcerated in Tartarus, the most notorious prison on the continent. You find yourself imprisoned for a crime that you do not remember committing, leaving you in a state of uncertainty about your own identity and purpose. The first memory you have is awakening to the sensation of a gun being shoved into your mouth."
@whatawaitsus - "Despite being one of the most expensive schools in the nation, nothing particularly interesting has happened at the school in the nine years you've been here— aside from the occasional accidental possession caused by a ghost or the common room getting flooded after a nixie gets too frustrated over their homework. That is until students start to go missing."
@evermount - "Blue-suited guards stand in every corner, but they're no threat—you're under threat. And this is how you keep safe. It's necessary; the council said so themselves. Under no circumstances shall Evermount be left, ever. So, no one has, and no one intends to. Why would you? It's peaceful—you're at peace. You have your spouse, and you have your house; everyone's happy. This is all you've ever known."
@forsakensword-if - "When the Deathless, an Ancient Evil that hasn’t been seen in over two million years, returns to Earth, it threatens the extremely precarious peace that has settled between the warring factions of Heaven and Hell. God, in an effort to protect Humanity from the consequences of a war between the Angels and Demons, sends Heaven’s best warriors to banish the Deathless once more. When that ultimately fails, it is declared that God’s Sworn Sword and Heaven’s Chief Angel will be charged with finding a way to destroy the Deathless once and for all. That Angel is you. The Archangel Michael."
@velena-if - "You wake up in a dark, cold place with no memories of yourself, save for one: the memory of your death. It becomes clear soon enough that you are in the Nav, the domain of the goddess of death, Morana, and the sanctuary of all the evil spirits and monsters. For you, Nav will be the place where your life changes forever."
@countdown-if - "Three months ago, life took a sharp turn. Your mother found herself entangled in a situation so bad, she couldn't dig her way out of it, like usual. This time, the hole was way too deep. She needed help, and the only people capable of aiding her were the same ones she had vowed never to allow back into her life, let alone introduce to you and your younger sibling. Who were they? Your grandparents—a powerful and well-established duo. In short, they did manage to help your mother back on her feet, but not without strings attached—never without strings. Now, you're facing a senior year in a private school, fully funded by none other than grandma and grandpa, dearest. The only task at hand: do what your mother couldn't—graduate."
@dropout-if - "This is your first summer home since you began studying in Stanford. That is what everyone thinks. This is your first summer home since you dropped out of college, thus becoming the biggest disappointment in your neighborhood. That is what only you know. "
@stonewall-if - "Stonewall Military Academy: the most brutal, merciless, and unforgiving boarding school in the country. Most recruits either desert or die by the end of their first year. It is where the fiercest and deadliest killers are trained and molded to be the military's steel fist. And it is not for the faint of heart."
@viperdove-if - "You are the Dove, the heir to one of the most powerful crime families in your country. The grip your family--your father--has on their side of the land is tight, and now that you've reached adulthood it's time for you to be fully absorbed into the machinations of gang warfare. That means opium, mercenaries, assassinations. In this ancient world, blood moves people just as much as money does."
@fallen-if - "You are an individual that has been known by many aliases over the years. Child of the dawn, the original sinner, star of the morning. But no matter the name, your identity remains the same. You are the one that defied the heavens, the one that cast aside the shackles of tradition and broke free from the constraints of the divine. You are Lucifer Morningstar - The Fallen Angel. "
@maboroshi-if - "Maboroshi is an Interactive Fiction Game based in the world of Naruto, however, all events within the story span during the end of the First Shinobi War and the beginning of the Second Shinobi War."
@greatprotector-if - "Forced out of your family's farm against your will, you are now an ocean away from home, and you have somehow been chosen to be the main protector of the heir to some kingdom you’ve hardly even heard of. The spot's only open because the former protector died of old age, so that's probably a good indicator that it won't be as strenuous as it sounds. But despite that, you pour yourself into your work. You can't help it. You feel safer decked out in armour, and you like having something you're trusted to look after. Protect some royalty, cover all your blind spots, and try not to worry about all you've left behind."
@retribution-if - "Retribution, He Cries is a revenge story set in the Dark Ages of the fictional world of [REDACTED] and other realms."
@thescarsilivewith-if - "You were a kind monarch once. After your mother’s brutal reign, you thought your people needed respite. Evidently, they didn’t think the same since their bloodthirst only increased. Three years after your coronation, your mother’s favourite consort dethroned you with the army and the clergy’s support. As you fled from the palace together with your spouse, from an arranged marriage celebrated only three months earlier, you were found by slavers. You managed to save your spouse but not yourself. Four years later, your spouse finds you, though you’re not the same person they knew. You are not changed in spirit alone, however, for your magic grew in your captivity and now you’re unbound. When the crown chose you as its owner, you wanted peace for your kingdom. Now the only thing you crave is revenge."
#thanks anon!#this took me way too long lmao#i was gonna add more but u can only @ 50 blogs in one post🙁#anyways! enjoy🫶#rec list#other ifs.
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Studious VI (Aemond Targaryen x Reader) 18+ FINALE
Five months after your reconciliation, you and Aemond have grown ever closer. When he returns from his first time away from you, you have a surprise ready for him.
Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (second person, no use of Y/N)
Warnings: kissing, oral sex (M and F receiving), p in v sex, fluff
Author's Note: And with this, the series is complete! I want to thank you all so much for all the support y'all have given my silly little story. I truly cherish every reply, comment, or like it receives.
And fear not! This isn't the end of the journey for our lovely, stupid couple. On the 21st, I will be releasing another short fic as part of my 12 Days of Smuff event. If there will be anything more beyond that, it remains to be seen!
Read Part I Here - Read Part II Here - Read Part III Here - Read Part IV Here - Read Part V Here
My Masterlist
Taglist is in reblogs
Studious VI
It was the middle of the afternoon, and though the sun shone brightly in a cloudless sky, there was still a chill in the air. You had uncovered all the windows in the room, so it was quite cold within the stone walls. Therefore, you were curled up on a large, plush chair – Aemond’s reading chair – contentedly snuggled within your oversized robe.
And only the robe.
Vhagar’s mighty wingbeats had thundered above the keep not long ago. Thanks to the open windows, you’d heard it clearly – the chill was well worth it. A rush of excitement flowed through you, and you immediately traded your warm dress and stockings for the robe and took up your perch.
Aemond had been gone for four long, lonely, torturous days, and you were determined to be there the moment he walked through the door to his chambers.
It was the first time he’d left King’s Landing since your wedding five months ago and the first time the two of you had been apart for more than a few hours since your ‘reconciliation,’ as you had come to call it. Both of you argued passionately against it.
Neither of you could bear to be parted only two weeks after Grand Maester Orwyle confirmed that your nightly activities had resulted in the child now growing within you. Aemond wanted nothing more than to be by your side every moment until the babe was born. You weren’t opposed to it, though you did wonder about the practicality of such an arrangement.
But the Queen and the Hand insisted on Aemond going, rather than one of his siblings. The unfortunate result of his being the dutiful and trustworthy son, you supposed.
So, you had gone with him to the edge of the woods and watched as he mounted Vhagar and flew away. Of course, he had kissed you deeply before he left. Long enough for both Vhagar and the Dragonkeepers to begin subtly voicing their impatience. Had they not been there, you likely would have shared a more thorough goodbye.
Still, the four days felt like four years, four decades, four centuries. You would have gone mad if you hadn’t found something to do to fill the Aemond-shaped hole in your life. So you filled your time with planning how you would welcome him home.
You were sure he would be very pleasantly surprised.
Time passed quickly while you were held in suspense. The sound of soft, steady footsteps soon began echoing from the hall, and you just barely contained a squeal of delight. You readied yourself to leap, standing atop the chair to give you a better chance of actually landing on your target.
Then the door opened, and you pounced.
Thankfully, Aemond caught you easily. His strong, lithe arms wrapped around your hips and rear as if on instinct, and you were once more safe and secure.
You didn’t get to see his reaction to your leaping upon him, which you only regretted slightly as you pressed your lips hard against his
Aemond made a choked sound of surprise that soon faded into a low, passionate moan as he teased your lips open with his tongue to deepen the kiss. It still wasn’t your favourite sensation – a taste you had to acquire – but after days without it, it was almost enjoyable. Almost.
“I missed you so much, Aemond,” you whispered between kisses, strained and desperate as your fingers clawed at him, seeking to touch every inch of him. Every inch you had missed.
Aemond’s brow furrowed, but he did not stop kissing you. “I was only away four days, my love. Could you miss me so much in so short a time?”
You pulled back just enough to look into his eye as you touched the tip of your nose to his, widening your eyes and making a show of pouting. “Did you not miss me as well?”
He gave you the slightest glimpse of his startled fish face before kissing you again. “No… I longed for you every minute we were parted. It took all my strength to resist the temptation of forgoing my duty and returning to you. I missed you so much I ached.”
“Show me,” you commanded, smiling against his lips as you watched the realisation that you had never doubted his missing you dawn on his face with an affectionate, put-upon smile.
You squealed as he pulled you closer to his chest – you had not thought such a thing possible – and brought the hand that had circled your waist to cup your neck as he began kissing you again. Fiercely. Passionately. Lovingly.
The rooms were a blur as he began to blindly carry you into the bedroom, depositing you squarely in the middle of the bed. You were granted only a moment to catch your breath before he was on you again, his welcome weight pressing down on you as his heat continued to soak into your bones.
“If you were wearing anything else,” Aemond growled as his hands started furiously fumbling with the tie of your robe, “I would tear it to pieces.”
You bit down on his bottom lip, ever so slightly harder than you normally did to scold him. It did not work. It only prompted him to kiss you deeper.
“Were you ever to tear even a single thread of this robe,” you panted. “I would return to my father’s keep and never speak to you again.”
“Then I will be very careful, and…” Aemond trailed off when he opened your robe and realised you were bare beneath it.
His eye raked over you slowly, studying you as if you were a master artwork. His chest heaving, he slowly traced his hand from the base of your throat down to your navel, and when you shivered at the sensation, he shivered too.
He splayed his hand over your still-flat stomach, his eye sparkling as if he could see the babe within. “How is it possible that you become more beautiful every day?”
You laughed, reaching up to cradle his cheek in your hand. “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, Aemond. And I dare say that your eye is quite biased towards me.”
“No,” he whispered, shaking his head ever so slightly. “Your beauty is utterly indisputable. Any who behold you and do not see it must be truly blind.”
You could not suppress the smile that came over you, wide and unyielding. “I will remind you of those words when I have grown as large as a bear and have the temper of a taunted goose.”
Aemond chuckled lowly, moving his mouth along your jaw and onto your neck. “Then I will say them again, for nothing could alter how I feel about you, my love.”
Any smart reply you had was quickly forgotten as his mouth followed the path his hand had just taken. Your only complaint was that his mouth was far slower. He would press a kiss or two against your skin, then momentarily lose his grip on whatever restraint he had. Then, he latched on, laving his tongue upon you as if he wished to devour you. Sometimes, he even lightly nipped you with his teeth, but he never failed to soothe the pain with more gentle kisses.
You could have happily let him continue for hours. But you had made plans, and you were going to follow through. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled him close enough for you to whisper against his cheek. “Jiōrna mazumbilloti, ābrazȳrys.”
Your use of the Valyrian mother tongue surprised him, breaking him immediately from his lustful haze. He sat up and leaned over to kiss your cheek swiftly enough that you could only catch a glimpse of a mischievous smile.
“So close, but…” he apologetically kissed your nose. “You are ābrazȳrys. I am valzȳrys.” He pressed his finger on your skin just above your heart. “Ābrazȳrys – wife.” He moved the finger to his chest. “Valzȳrys – husband.”
You rolled your eyes. “Shut up and fuck me, valzȳrys.”
He obliged, his mouth continuing its path down your front after a brief return to your breasts. The closer he came to your center, the louder your moans and pleas became.
He pulled away slightly when he finally reached your dripping cunt, chuckling slightly. “Oh, how I’ve missed this beautiful thing,” he mused.
You spread your legs as much as you could in a show of impatience. “Well, then you should do something about that, shouldn’t you?”
“I suppose.”
A desperate gasp escaped you as you felt him gently blow a cold breath onto your heated core. Your back arched as he did it again, tracing a line of cool air up and down your folds.
“Aemond,” you breathlessly begged, “I’ve already waited so long. Please, don’t tease me like this!”
You watched as he looked back up at you with a wicked grin. “I’ve waited just as long, my dear. I want to savour this. Make up for lost time.”
“Fine,” you grumbled, though you could not deny his plan sounded quite pleasant. “Savour me, then.”
He did.
Aemond’s mouth was thorough. In the five months since he’d first pleasure you like this, he’d become as skilled and precise with his tongue as he was with his sword.
His tongue found your pearl almost instantly and began teasing it ever so slowly, as if it were a game for him. He alternated between pressing on it, drawing circles and various shapes upon it, and sucking on it like a candied lemon.
He did not stop until he’d pulled two releases from you. Only then did he finally acknowledge your entrance beyond merely pressing against it with his chin while he focused elsewhere.
Had he not been so eager to lap up every bit of wetness from you, you were sure the bed linens would have been ruined for how much slick spilt from you. But he was voracious in devouring you – moaning and gasping nearly as much as you were. You wouldn’t have been surprised if he came simply from being buried in your thighs. He’d done it before, after all.
Your hands found their way into his hair as his tongue delved inside of you, his wonderful, glorious nose still giving your pearl the attention it craved. Holding onto him was the only way you could withstand the intensity of what he was doing to you, to keep it from overwhelming you.
It also helped that when you tugged on his hair or slightly dug your nails into his scalp, he groaned in pleasure, sending delicious vibrations through you as his hips bucked into the bed. And when your release barreled through you, and you pulled on his hair like it was the reins of a dragon, he nearly screamed against your cunt.
Aemond gazed up at you, his face glistening and flushed. “My sweet ābrazȳrys,” he hummed before ducking his head back between your thighs again.
“Ah, ah ah!” You scolded, using the hands you had in his hair to drag him back to your face, causing another satisfied moan to escape him. “By my count, I’m at three, while you’ve yet to have even one. Unless…?”
A glance at the front of his trousers confirmed that he had not come simply from pleasuring you, and you sighed dramatically. “Still at none, then.”
“It’s fine. I’m fine.” Aemond placed shortcut soft kisses all over your face before retracing his path downwards. “Let me give you more.”
You yanked him up again, kissing him fiercely. “No. My turn.”
He rose onto his knees as you pushed on his chest, his eye never once leaving yours. You smirked as you sat up with him, your legs still between his.
“I’ll rid us of these,” you said as you began unlacing his trousers – fortunately, he’d removed the belts for his sword and dagger before he’d even come to his rooms. You nodded to his doublet. “If you get rid of that.”
You had still yet to master the ridiculous clasps and buckles on the damnable thing. And Aemond resisted all your efforts to have a new, less complicated garment made for him.
At least he did not tease you about it this time and began to remove it swiftly.
Still, you accomplished your task before he did his, and he fumbled slightly as he threw the rest of his clothes on the floor as you grasped his red, weeping length in your hand and began returning his affections.
“Oh gods,” he groaned, forgetting his doublet entirely. “Oh, dōnus riñus… sȳros. Sȳros!”
His hands flew to your head. He didn’t pull at your hair or dig his fingers in. Aemond never did; he was always gentle. He simply cupped the back of your head with one hand while the other held your cheek, stroking you with his thumb in time with your ministrations.
He had been right when he said that learning to please a man was substantially easier than learning to please a woman. There were some things you had to remind yourself of the first few times you’d done this – don’t squeeze too hard, don’t take him too deep, and never use your teeth.
But you’d had plenty of practice and knew precisely what Aemond liked.
You knew how much he liked it when you used the tip of your tongue to trace his slit before swirling it around the head of his cock.
You knew the way he liked you to play with his stones – caressing them lightly with just your fingertips, and every so often giving them the gentlest of tugs.
You knew exactly how to pace yourself in a way that drove him wild without speeding him towards an early end.
He begged. Several times, he begged you to go faster, to let him finish. But after he’d told you what he meant by “practice” in his diary, you knew he could take it. Knew he enjoyed it.
“Please,” he said breathlessly. You looked up to find tears streaming down from the corners of his eyes.
For a moment, you slowed, worrying that you’d pushed him too far, until he pulled you back down onto him so far your nose nuzzled into the silvery hair at his base.
Your hands went to his hips, bracing yourself while he pulled you forward and back. Always gently, but with more speed than you’d allowed him thus far.
It was the first time he’d ever taken charge in this particular scenario. He was always dominant in all other intimate moments, but never with this. Whenever you held him in your mouth, you commanded the prince.
The thrill of it sparked a burning heat of desire in your core, and you moaned around him.
It was enough.
Aemond pulled you as close as he could until your brow rested against his stomach, and he reached his peak. His entire body shook as he spilled himself down your throat. And he did not release you until he heard you struggling to keep him so deep.
“Oh, my darling, did I hurt you?” he asked as he again laid himself atop you.
You laughed, kissing him deeply. “No, Aemond. Well, maybe a little bit, but it’s a good hurt.”
“I’m still sorry.”
“Don’t be, please. It was less of a hurt than you being gone.”
Aemond rolled onto his side to kiss you once more, languidly, now that the initial rush of lust had faded. You could almost feel his adoration as if it were a tangible thing. You held it tightly, and would never let it go. When he finally pulled away, his lips only left yours for a moment before he was again trailing his mouth along your neck to your chest.
“Well?” You asked. “Do you like your surprise?”
“It was wonderful, my love. Would it be indelicate of me to ask for more?”
You narrowed your eyes, tugging on his hair just enough to draw his attention away from your breasts and back to you. The moment he saw the confusion on his face, it was reflected in his own.
“This was not the surprise, Aemond.”
“Then what is?”
You smiled, looking dramatically over the bedchamber. Aemond only stared at you, waiting for you to speak, until you were forced to seize his chin and turn his head.
Then, he finally saw.
As his eye roved across the walls and shelves, he rose until he was kneeling in the center of the bed. You laid back against your pillow, watching him admire what you had spent the last four days doing.
The bare walls were no more. Now, they were filled with paintings, tapestries, and even a few little sculptures. By the bookshelves – which you had filled with as many trinkets as possible – you’d hung paintings depicting some of your favourite stories from fiction and history. A wrought-iron dragon flew across the space above the doorway. On another wall, a tapestry depicting your home keep surrounded by a field of dog roses hung proudly. And above the head of the bed, a new tapestry you had made in secret these past few months.
“Vhagar,” Aemond whispered when he saw it.
You let out a sigh of relief – you had not been sure whether he would recognise her. After all, the only time you saw the dragon was when Aemond took you to visit her. Making sketches on those few occasions would have swiftly given away your secret. Fortunately, Helaena was more than happy to help you in its creation.
Aemond moved closer to admire the tapestry, one leg falling off the bed. He started, looking down to find his foot had landed atop a plush blue rug. When he looked up to gape at you, his eye caught on the bursting of colour atop the armoire.
His plain stoneware and metal vases had been joined by others more intricate and brightly coloured. All of them were now filled with a vibrant bouquet. The one you’d painted yourself when you were young and thought yourself the next great painter was filled with bright pink dog roses, much to his delight.
“You decorated,” he said in awe as he faced you again. While he’d been surveying the room, you’d sat up, holding onto his arm and resting your head on his shoulder.
“No…” you teased, savouring that quick moment of his confusion before continuing, “I moved in.”
His face crumpled with an affection so strong you hardly knew how he contained it all.
Except you did know.
You did it, too.
“My dearest,” he sighed, “I – ”
“I love you, Aemond.”
The colour drained from his face, and you swore his breathing halted.
A roiling storm of emotions passed over his face. Unbridled joy, sweetest relief, depthless love, and a single moment of fear beneath it all. He’d told you only to say those words when you truly meant it with all your heart. His worry that you didn’t was clear.
You held his face in your hands and pulled him forward until his brow rested against yours. “I love you, Prince Aemond Targaryen. Not only with my whole heart, but with all that I am.”
A tear fell from his eye, and a soft whimper escaped his lips. “Oh my love,” he murmured like a prayer, “my love…”
Then he was upon you again. His mouth against yours, his comforting heat warming you. He wrapped his arms around you – one on your waist, one at your shoulder – and pulled you against him so tightly there was nowhere you were not touching.
“I love you, Aemond,” you repeated every time your lips parted from his. Each time, he nearly sobbed at the words.
You kissed for a long while, until you at last felt him hardening against you. For only a moment, he pulled away, his eyes still damp as he looked down at you.
“May I?”
Your only response was a smile and another kiss.
Aemond entered you in one long, gentle thrust.
That moment of stillness and adjustment was no longer strictly necessary, but you both still enjoyed it.
Just a moment to look at each other. To see the joy and now, the love within them. A moment to revel in the connection you shared and bask in the feeling of being whole with each other. Aemond kissed you again before he started thrusting into you. Both were gentle and slow, allowing you to cherish each other. You were not fucking to find release, but to simply be together.
There were times when Aemond was completely still as he ravished you with his mouth or hands rather than his cock. There were times when he rutted into you like a beast, only stopping so he could prolong the connection. And there were times when both of you were still, just embracing each other, breathing together, and knowing that you were loved.
Eventually, you could hold off your instincts no longer. You squirmed against Aemond to seek more pleasure – more of him. And he happily obliged. He braced one hand on your hip as he began to move. Faster and faster. With smooth, practised thrusts.
He was so familiar with your body that it did not take long for him to have you gasping as you approached your peak. He was already brushing against that wonderful spot inside you with every movement of his hips, and when he brought a finger to gently tease your pearl, you could not hold back.
Nor could Aemond. He buried himself in you entirely, his face falling into the crook of your shoulder as he moaned your name, along with several High Valyrian words you did not know.
You lifted his head to bring his lips to yours and kissed him until his breath steadied again.
“No,” you whined as he moved to sit up and pull his softened cock out of you. “Stay. Please.”
Aemond smiled as he understood your meaning, again pressing his hips against yours to keep himself inside you as he rolled you onto your sides. “If I could stay forever, I would.”
“I know.” You nuzzled into his neck. “In fact, I’d quite like it if you did.”
“Then so I shall.”
A long, peaceful silence passed between you. Your flushes faded, your breathing calmed, and the evening air began to blow through the windows and cool your hot skin.
The day was not yet over. There was still dinner to attend, and Aemond likely needed to meet with the Small Council to discuss his trip. Yet neither of you moved. You simply laid there, basking in the bliss of holding the person you love.
You loved him. You loved Aemond so much.
He’d said it so often to you in the past five months. You had a lot of catching up to do.
“I love you,” you whispered.
“I love you,” he replied.
“I love you.”
“I love you.”
“I love you.”
“I love you…”
#studious#aemond#aemond targaryen#aemond targaryen fanfic#aemond fanfic#aemond targaryen imagine#aemond imagine#aemond fluff#aemond one eye#aemond smut#aemond the kinslayer#aemond x reader#aemond x you#aemond x y/n#aemond x fem!reader#hotd#hotd aemond#hotd fanfic#hotd smut#hotd imagine#hotd x reafer#house of the dragon#house of the dragon fanfic#ewan mitchell
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KoH - April Boops
Inspired by the occasion here on Tumblr, I decided to try my hand at one of these (Y/N) reader fics that are so popular in the KoH fandom. 😄Enjoy!
(Featuring Baldwin IV x Time Traveler!Reader [gender neutral])
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Y/N snickered a little as they realized the date. April first. A day of friendly – and sometimes not-so-friendly – pranking back home. Not so much here. In a way, Y/N missed it, and memories of a particularly humorous online event elicited the briefest of smiles…
“You’ve found something amusing?”
Y/N glanced up from the book at the sound of His Majesty’s voice. He really could be too perceptive for his own good, sometimes.
Carefully holding a finger to mark the spot in the book Baldwin had generously lent for leisure reading, Y/N closed the cover and grinned sheepishly. “No, I was just reminded of something. A tradition back home.”
“Oh?” His interest seemed well-and-truly piqued, then. Something about the way his eyes squinted briefly behind his mask. “Would you care to share this tradition of yours?”
Y/N glanced away for a moment, unable to say no but wondering how he would react to the explanation of this – frankly ridiculous – event. “Well, it’s the first of April, you see. And we call that day ‘April Fool’s' day.” As soon as Y/N returned their attention to him, there came the signature head tilt of curiosity that confirmed the suspected interest. “It’s a day of mostly-friendly pranking. Teasing. That sort of thing.” Y/N laughed a little, partially out of true humor and also partially out of awkwardness. “I just remembered a rather funny community event I took part in one year that was… oddly popular.”
“Do tell.”
Make that an interest that was starting to sound strangely like a potential hunt for blackmail material…
“Well,” Y/N continued slowly, “it was an event where we went around poking our friends in the community by surprise. We called it ‘booping’. After what we sometimes do to our pets as a greeting.”
Baldwin made absolutely no movement as he echoed questioningly, “‘Booping’?”
That alone caused Y/N to snort with laughter. Never had the thought crossed their mind that Baldwin IV of Jerusalem would ever say the word “boop” in any way, shape, or form, much less with the serious tone he employed.
Still chuckling in amusement, Y/N stood up to demonstrate. “Like this.”
Before he could react, Y/N approached where the king sat, reached out with a finger, and as one might with a dog or a cat, poked the sharp nose of his mask. “Boop!”
Indeed, much like a cat, Baldwin leaned backwards a little on reflex the moment before impact, his eyes almost crossing in a way that only made Y/N laugh harder.
He blinked, his manner suggesting slight bewilderment. “That’s… all?”
“Yes!” Y/N squeaked.
A dreadfully-long moment or two passed before he shook his head, a light laugh echoing behind the mask. “Well, then. In the spirit of your tradition…”
A white-gloved finger lifted and gently tapped the end of Y/N’s nose.
“…boop.”
#kingdom of heaven#kingdom of heaven 2005#baldwin iv#king baldwin iv#baldwin iv x reader#reader fic#baldwin iv of jerusalem#the leper king#fanfiction#my fanfiction
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yandere rhaegon pleaseeee
note: this made me feral, I unironically enjoy those rhaegon edits on tt 😭
warnings: yandere content, incest, obviously rhae and egg are siblings, but I made the reader a targtower kid as well, aemond's twin ig, affection-starved aegon, reader is devout like her mother, poly relationships, infidelity, rhaenyra is still married to daemon but idc, never will i write dom aegon, reader is presented as innocent and sweet, baby trapping
┍━━━━━━━ ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗━━━━━━━┑
♡ Aegon desires love. He wants someone to love him unconditionally. Not to mention, he has some severe mommy issues. I imagine that he's always had such a weird dynamic with Rhaenyra, but he ends up desiring her affection as he grows older. Of course, she's on Dragonstone, and he's left in Kings Landing, but he also has another sister that he has his eyes on.
☆ Sweet (Name), the second youngest of Alicent's children, and Aemond's twin sister. She loves her siblings and is especially doting on Aegon considering he definitely needs a loving touch from someone who isn't one of his whores. She's a pious girl who believes that Aegon needs some help, and so she's close with him, maybe out of pity. Aemond and Alicent try to keep her out of Aegon's fewer savory hobbies, but she still loves her big brother a lot!
♡ (Name) is so sweet on him, too! She, of course, is closer with Aemond because they're twins, but she likes looking after Aegon after a particularly bad hangover of his. Her life mostly consists of going to the Sept and having tea with her mother, and reading with Aemond, so watching over Aegon is something she does regularly. Aegon completely revels in her attention, and fully takes advantage of the love (Name) has for him as her big brother.
☆ Then we have Rhaenyra, who comes to Kings Landing to settle Luke's legitimacy trial with Vaemond. She's there with her five children and her husband, but she still finds herself involved with her half-brother. He's pathetic, but some part of Rhaenyra likes that. She also adores her youngest sister despite her dislike for Aemond. She thinks (Name) is so cute! She's growing as a woman, though, and Rhaenyra takes notice of that.
♡ Along with her nights spent with Aegon, Rhaenyra starts to spend more time with her younger sister as well. She's just so sweet! Rhaenyra wants both of them, she realizes, and Aegon wants the same thing, so it's a done deal after she finds out about it. However, Alicent intends to marry (Name) off to some lord and Rhaenyra won't allow it! Her sweet (Name) deserves to be cherished, not sold off to some ugly old man.
☆ Rhaenyra and Aegon are very much against their sweet sister marrying anyone, so they decide to corrupt her <3
♡ Despite Aegon not caring much about having children, Rhaenyra convinces him that they have to get (Name) pregnant, so Otto and Alicent are unable to marry her to someone outside of the Targaryen family. You know eventually Rhaenyra will have to return to Dragonstone, but maybe she'll bring Aegon and their little lover with her.
once I came across a fic where rhae and daemon screwed her daughter and ive been traumatized ever since 💀
#cw: yandere content#cw: yandere blog#cw: yandere#yandere rhaegon#yandere rhaenyra targaryen#yandere aegon ii targaryen#yandere aegon targaryen#yandere team black#yandere team green#yandere hotd#yandere house of the dragon#yandere imagines#yandere headcanons#yandere blog#yandere#kay writes#rhxegal
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Binderary week 3! This is the magical Flower King by @landwriter <3 Gorgeous art by @fishfingersandscarves (thank you for letting me include it!)
This fic is the epitome of fairy tale Dreamling! It plays with the traditional fairy tale structure in delightful ways and has just the most beautiful winter atmosphere. Gloam's prose is so musical and haunting--truly the best kind of story to tell around a fire, or tucked up warm in bed!
Details and more pics under the cut <3
This one was so much fun to design! The fic takes place in the winter so I really wanted to give the book a pale blue/silver color scheme, but the title is also Flower King (and for good reason ehe--the cold has to give way to warmth at some point :3), so I also went for a green/red title page. I also leaned into the fairy tale setting with these really pretty border assets to separate each section of the fic:
The first section pictured above--and YES it ends with "THE END" but it is certainly not the end ehe. Some of that delightful play with the traditional fairy tale structure I mentioned earlier!
I also tried to mirror the progression of the events of fic with the colors of the borders. It starts out with pale/frosty blue for part I, turns to stark black and white for the very short part II, then to increasingly richer hues of blue with parts III and IV, until finally green for the return of spring/summer in part V:
I also had a lot fun with the decals on the cover, which I painted with metallic acrylic in silver, green, and blue! Not a perfect paint job baha but I really liked how it came out. You can also see the ~rainbow~ effect of the holographic HTV I used for the cover/spine titling here as well:
The edges are also fake gilded with the same metallic acrylic paint, buuuuuuut the lighting in my bathroom (where I took these photos, crouched and muttering over the fabric I used for the backdrop LOL (which I bought on clearance at Joann's for a dress I will make...one day ajslkdfjs)) made it kind of hard to photograph T_T so here it is again at my desk!
And that's all from me for this week! One more Binderary book to go, which I hope to have up before the month is out :3 (Well, hopefully. Four days may be a bit optimistic but by god I am going to try XD)
And of course, all my love and thanks to Gloam for giving me permission to bind her fantastic work <333 It was a pleasure, and I'm so happy to have your writing on my shelf!
#the sandman#dreamling#landwriter#Flower King#binderary2023#bookbinding#fanbinding#ficbinding#not my fic
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❝golden child, lion boy; tell me what it's like to conquer.❞
ʚ aged up, botw! link x fem! reader ɞ
synopsis: when the kingdom goes to war, the goddess's chosen Hero is desperate to keep you safe. in his attempts to give you everything, you gradually became nothing.
genres: angst, romance. | mentions an established relationship, set pre-calamity.
rating: mature, 18+ (mdni).
content warnings: unclear time skips,mild/implied sexual content, slight spoilers (slight canon divergence), (indirect) mentions of war.
reader specifications: reader was detailed to have curves and dips, was also implied that reader wears/uses a silk nightie, no pronouns were used but was written with a female reader in mind.
word count: 1.09k words.
―originally posted on @mydarling-iv, aug. 25, 2023
ʚ part ii ɞ | ʚ masterlist ɞ
Sleep does not come to Link that easily. Despite holding you in his arms as you slept, your warmth did not beckon his eyelids to fall. Instead, he gazes fondly at your sleeping face.
Link's heart soars as a smile tugs at his lips but soon falters as he feels fear creep in. The over-looming threat of the Calamity continuously draws near. Then, the view of you blurs as Link drowns himself in his thoughts.
He hesitates, questioning whether or not his decision is right, if the lack of your say in the matters is the correct thing to do. It feels wrong, a raw disgust filling his veins but his fear overpowers his rationality, rearing its ugly head that Link is forced to look at.
But as he stares into the eyes of the King of Hyrule, he is forced to come to terms that if he refuses the offer, you may be vulnerable to the incoming Calamity’s wrath. And so, Link deludes himself into believing that this is what is necessary to keep you out of harms way.
He’s snapped back into reality as you snuggle further into him, your warmth permeating through his skin and into his soul. Gradually, Link feels his fears melt away. It needs to be done, for no cost is too great to keep you safe. He thinks, hand gently cupping your sleeping face.
“You are dear to me, I don’t want to ever let you go nor would I ever give you up,” Link’s words are hushed—masked as a promise—only heard by the moon and stars above. He presses a sweet kiss to your forehead as unshed tears glaze his eyes.
“I want to protect you, I want to guard you from the world that tries to so desperately dim your light—And by the stars, this I promise you for I love you too much.”
┊ ੈ✩‧₊*°࿐ྂ。
The move to Castle Town was much livelier than expected. Despite having to tear himself from you due to knightly duties, Link made an effort to always give you his time.
Laughter rings in your new, quaint home, smiles are pressed against each other, you both embrace each other when the moon rises and Link finds it hard to leave your serene hug but he must do what he is bound to and you continuously find yourself awaking to a cold bed.
┊ ੈ✩‧₊*°࿐ྂ。
As the brightness of Spring quickly passes, Winter arrives, taking all the sweet liveliness of Spring with it, leaving the world—your world—cold and barren as a distance stretches itself between you and Link, your lover returning home more guarded and unreadable as time passes.
He is repeatedly sent on countless missions, tasked with being at the very forefront of wiping out monster and enemy camps. Your heart aches whenever he softly kisses you goodbye, and yet whenever he arrives home safely—alive—you find that the ache in your chest has never left in the first place.
You kiss him passionately, wanting to bruise him so that he wouldn’t be able to forget you. Though now much silent, Link shares the same sentiments as he worships your body, engraving marks reminding you of him into your soft skin that both reassures you and intensifies the longing in your heart.
┊ ੈ✩‧₊*°࿐ྂ。
Time passes and Link steadily climbs the ranks, his time split between fighting at the frontlines and guarding Hyrule’s sole princess.
He’s given a noble title, land to go with it, and prestige. Yet, when you move into the estate he’s given, it doesn’t feel like home, instead it’s cold and barren, devoid of the love you and Link once filled your cozy apartment with.
Your lover dominates high society, titles falling at his feet whenever he’d come home victorious, yet why does it feel like you’ve lost him throughout his feats?
You no longer embrace each other before bed, his side of the bed remaining cold from dusk till dawn, nor does a boyish smile ever grace his face whenever you try to crack a joke, instead you’re only met with his furrowed brows and tired eyes.
Despite how Link has become dismissive and cold, you hold him gently in your arms, bare skin against bare skin and only now do you see that he’s been cracked enough as it is, his heart more shattered than he lets on.
┊ ੈ✩‧₊*°࿐ྂ。
He envelops you whole, skin feverish as Link’s lips are merciless, leaving no spot of your skin untouched—unmarked—and your heart swells as a small part of you mourns.
“I love you and I will love you as long as I am able to love.” Link whispers, his words soft compared to the blatant sin he commits.
Your eyes flutter to a close, your hand finding home in his hair before you gently tug at his roots, eliciting a satisfying groan from your lover.
“I want everything back, the way it was.” Your words are a breathy as you speak and Link has to resist the urge to capture your lips.
But before you’re able to continue, a quick knock interrupts, breaking the bubble you and your lover were in. “Captain, you are needed.” A man, who you suppose was your lover’s subordinate, stated.
Link’s eyes stay glued to you, committing every slope, dip, and curve of yours to memory. “Is it urgent?” Link mutters loud enough for the man to hear, his blue eyes dark as an ocean’s, and you think that this is how people drown.
A quiet sigh leaves your lips as you go to grab your silken nightie, your body tensing as Link’s bare chest meets your back. He places soft kisses to your bare shoulder before he reaches the junction of your neck and shoulder.
“It’s Princess Zelda, sire, she was reported to be missing and seen on horseback heading to Gerudo.” The kisses on your shoulder ceases, an inaudible curse falling from Link’s lips and before you know it, your lover’s warmth is ripped from your back.
His clothes rustle, almost seeming to mock you and you feel your heart slowly sink again. Link gently cups your face, pivoting slightly so he’s able to see your face. Yet, you avoid his gaze.
Link places a delicate kiss to your forehead, silently promising that he’ll be back soon but yet, he becomes a blind eye to how your eyes dim.
The door shuts behind him and you’re left alone, feeling used and cold. “I want everything back, the way it was.” Tears run down your cheeks as his absence burns a deeper hole into your heart. “But there is no point to it, this wanting.”
© 2024 𝐌𝐘𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄-𝐈𝐕. do not copy, repost, share, or translate any of my works to tumblr, social media, and any other websites/platforms.
#𝐢𝐯'𝐬 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠.°♡༉‧₊#legend of zelda: gallery of the wilds ༉‧₊˚✧#legend of zelda#breath of the wild#loz#botw#legend of zelda link x reader#breath of the wild link x reader#loz link x reader#botw link x reader#botw link#botw link angst#botw link fluff#botw link smut#link x reader#link x fem reader#link x you#reader insert
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Idaña Perzys (Only Fair part iv)
only fair masterlist
warnings: non graphic violence
pronouns: she/her
summary: Y/n is trapped in King's Landing and Rhaenyra worries over her own troublesome mind and memories. Plots of the Crown are made clear.
divider: firefly-graphics
A/N: some more family dynamic focuses, a tad bit of filler so i can properly set up part 5 but i hope you still enjoy! also any harsh words about alicent here are through her own lens, i tend to use the character's perspective a lot to influence my writing and decided to delve into it a bit i swear i love her ♡
wordcount: 3,192
title translation: Idaña Perzys – Twin Fire
Rhaenyra couldn’t pretend that the journey back to Dragonstone was not troublesome, her boys bickered and her patience wore thin. She spun the rings on her fingers until she hissed as one cut her. She slid a crumpled parchment from the pocket of her skirt—it had turned yellow and the edges tore, her eyes tracing it carefully. A grumble emits from her throat and she sighs. Since returning she had thought often of that carriage ride. How odd it had been to travel without her life, how her children didn’t seem as remorseful as they should have been for the strife between themselves and their uncles. She is grateful to the Gods that Helaena and Alicent are with you, you deserve to spend time with the family you had rarely seen since your youth. She dismisses that thought, she barely saw you as a child due to her own prejudice. Rhaenyra swallows and sighs, standing in her chambers and piecing together what little memories she had of you before you both wed. She had visited for your ten and eighth namesday, she recalls though not well, you had been beaming with radiance and clutching a pendant to your neck emblazoned with a blue sapphire no doubt gifted by your brother Aemond. Jace had scoffed and almost turned around and Lucerys was squeamish and hiding in his own skirts. Your own brothers glared at the supposed intruders but as her mind flickers with images, she notes how tightly young Aemond had gripped your hand and although his eyes narrowed in slits and glared at her boys, he too was hiding but within your own skirts, not Alicent’s. She smiled at that, mildly proud of the maternal cocoon you used to engulf him in. Alicent was on his other side but it was you who’s arm he would cling to. While the Hightower-Targaryen clan glared and huffed at their presence; you grinned, all bright and welcoming. She snorts at the memory of you practically dragging Aemond toward them with you, his heels digging into the ground and his frown now on you. Her own arm snaked around Lucerys’ shoulders and both boys averted their gazes.
“Sweet sister,” She remembers greeting with a strained smile. “I hope you have had a pleasant celebration so far.” You raised your chin like a true dragon, she had thought, though impish in that broad smile.
“I have.” You had answered, teeth bared for her and hair tumbling down your shoulders. Rhaenyra nodded, her own smile growing.
“I am glad for it.” She returned with a nod of her head. “I have a gift for you.” Your head snapped up to look at her. “Might you have opened it?” You shook your head and flames at your mother whose own brow furrowed. “Ah. That would be because I have not given it to you yet, turn around.” Giggles spurted from your like the shell of a hatched egg and you obeyed, twisting over and your brother straightening his posture warily. She swept back your hair onto your shoulder and tentative hands caressed your warm skin. Tickles dribbled across you, inciting a shudder when a cold track of metal span across your neck. Your breath hitches and your eyes met with Helaena’s sparkling ones but Rhaenyra wasn’t looking at her, she was looking at you. She lingered as you fingers reached up to dance across it in pensive thought and curiosity. Aemond lifted his head to look at it but his expression remained impassive. Aegon from across huffed and rolled his eyes, garnering a short slap to his arm from Alicent.
“It is made of dragon glass. The finest in dragonstone.” Rhaenyra commented. “I thought perhaps you could keep a piece of me even whilst I am not present."
“How thoughtful.” You breathe, flickers of excitement flickering up your spine. She leaned her lips to rest beside ear. You thought she might grace you with more of her words but instead the fellow princess connected her soft lips to your cheek and pulled back. Cold air flowed around you despite the hot temperature.
“I am grateful, sweet girl. Do write.” You swallow and nod.
“We best attend the tourney.” The Green Queen’s crisp words rolled from her tongue, sniping yet tender. Rhaenyra’s brows raised in amusement and mischief and she nodded.
“I suppose you are correct. Let us take leave.” A gentle hand stroked from your hair to your back before she did as her words suggested and stepped through the large stone walls as though they were made but only for her. Her boys followed at her feet and slipped away from you.
She remembers that day as well as she recalled the rift on which parted you from her for so long though she supposes that it was for the best. Her gaze surveys the window, almost willing you back to her. She wants to soothe your dragon but she knows that it will only bring harm to herself and the keepers. It was one of those days that again she considers what might have been endowed to her if she were born a man as her father had been so desperate for. Perhaps she could have been a knight requesting for your favour. She no longer wishes for it of course, that would mean her sons’ very existence being eradicated. It didn’t do well to dwell on the past, her father had once told her and she knows why now as she watches the clouds conjoin and part as though it were the very image of your bodies consummating for the first time. She can still hear your whimpering pants if she closes her eyes hard enough. At the thought, her heart stutters and ruts against her chest.
Alicent knew every word her father had said about her was true that morning. That she was a pitiful delusionist. That her head weighed more with ideas than with his intellect. Otto Hightower had been right. Because even when Alicent brushed back her husband’s hair the next morning, she still couldn’t fathom that he had passed. Panic seeped through her veins before it charged back out of her throat a show of yellow and green. She could have blamed the smell of his decomposing body but even the servants wouldn’t believe her. Despite all odds, she had never imagined that her husband would die before her. If her life was created for and meant for the duty of caring for Viserys I Targaryen then how could he bear to leave her in such a horrifying position? Had he truly been that cruel or was the exhaustion of watching over seven kingdoms nipping away at him too painfully these past years? Did he know when he called for her when he said what he did? Did he understand what he was saying to her? Did he pretend she was Aemma in his final hours? The last of few battles he had partaken. That she had come to bat away the demons for him? ‘I wish to raise my cup to Her Grace, the Queen’. Echoes in the back of her mind as she dresses. ‘But I must admit that no one has stood... more loyally by his side than his good wife. She has tended to him with... unfailing devotion, love, and honour’. A lump forms in Alicent’s throat and her eyes water again. Who is she if not the wife of the King? A forgotten caretaker perhaps? Was she now expected to…relieve her post? Alicent Hightower can’t stop thinking, not even when the doors open and she hears her father’s bellowing voice. Chastising her, no doubt but she doesn’t even hear him. Not now. “We always knew this time would come,” She didn’t. “You should have told me sooner.” Otto huffs, her father and first sworn protector.
“He said…” Alicent’s throat closes up, she is going to have to choke the words out. It was as though they were never meant to rest on her tongue but instead burrow in the depth of my fears. “He told me that Aegon would unite the realm against the cold and dark.”
“Then we must obey his final wish.” Otto replies plainly and quickly. Her son isn’t meant to be King, she knows and he knows that. She scoffs.
“You cannot be serious.”
“Would you prefer him to be slain?” Her blood runs cold.
“What? No, Rhaenyra wouldn’t do that. He is her flesh and blood, he is–”
“Her obstacle. Even Helena, the children, Aemond, Daeron are her threats. Daemon has utilised her all her life, why wouldn’t she obey him his wish. The wish of the crown.” Alicent doesn’t like how perfectly poised her father sounds as he drills the threat beneath her head and into her brain. “Her reign would be worse than Maegor’s with Daemon as her consort and you know this. Nothing can keep him at bay, not even a pleasant wife which we both know is false. She enables him.” He’s sneering at her now and she feels like a lost child. She swallows back her oncoming tears and shakes her head.
“He is not ready to be King.” She argues. She wishes in times like this that her voice could command the same strength as her childhood friend.
“He will grow to. Your husband was never ready, Aegon will listen.”
“No, you mean he will be too inebriated to attend council meetings you mean.” Alicent finally snaps. She looks up into her father’s eyes and narrows them with a ferocity that almost summons authority. Instead of cowering he watches down on her. “All I have ever done is protect you.” Otto states calmly, she flinches when his fingers dance across her forehead and flicks her hair behind her ear. “It is a shame you wouldn’t do the same for your own child.” She can’t speak, her mouth dropping ajar and her resolve fluttering down. “Come.”
Your mother’s familiar hand strokes gentle and trembling fingers through your hair, braiding it away from you. You try to pay it no notice but it is difficult when her words refuse to claw from her throat like they so desperately want to. She’s so torturously quiet, so threateningly observant…And then she speaks, clearing her throat. “I have not heard word from Rhaenyra.” She says clearly and with that shadow in her eyes which hides any semblance of emotion she may have. “Perhaps you could send her a raven.” There’s something calculative that slips from her thick tongue, a hesitation in the twitch of her lips. Her lips close around her teeth tightly, tactfully blocking out any trace of sin. A silence passes but tense and strain seeping from her rigid expression. “Perhaps.” You agree, equally sly but eyes not translating as easily as your teacher. Your mouth dries and your eyes narrow. “However I do believe that my wife is one her way. Dragonback or not.” The firm edges of your voice sharpen until they are perfectly moulded to your mouth. Authority embeds in your saliva. You are not a mere child anymore, you are the wife of a future Queen. The first Queen of Westeros no less.
Your mother gives nothing away but her touch falters on your necklace, hesitant and waiting as she swallows. She takes in a deep breath then meets your gaze in the mirror. “Then you might think to wear this for her return instead. I am quite sure that you are correct, darling.” She unwraps her own necklace from her collarbone and lets it glide through her fingers, dangling before you. Her brows raise and your sight traces it. “Is this the one from my wife’s debut as heir?” You ask, already knowing the answer as her jaw hardens.
“No.” Alicent snips. “It is not. Your brother gifted it to me in his youth. For my namesday.”
“Aemond?” The air is thick.
“Aegon.” A thread of understanding turns into a bridge and you stride across as though it were made of nails.
It is with troublesome fiddling and struggles that your fingers desperately pry at the locks of your chest. It is not because of materialistic desire that you wish to open it but instead because you know Joffrey’s wooden stag is still in there and you need to prey on every hint of loyalty of the houses once sworn to your wife. War is a troublesome affair and not one that you care for, especially not one between your own family. The waft of Aegon’s debauchery and the slick of Helaena’s bathing gel is still thick in your nose but memories mean little when a throne is under attack. So you swallow and pray to every god, old and new, for a swift surrender and your siblings unharmed. Your brother hates duty as much as you hated your last Septa, if you can just visit him before your grandfather’s claws strike too deep, you are sure that all will be well. He may very well let you travel upon Sunfyre with him to Dragonstone and relinquish any title your mother wishes to bestow upon him. You sigh as the lock stays firm. No matter. You will handle this with the wilful determination your mother has bled into you.
You creep through to crack open the door but just as you suspected, two stoic guards stand before it. Ser Farlowe glances back at you, a familiar twinge of distrust and expectancy in his rough gaze. “Princess.” He greets. “You are not permitted to leave your bedchamber.” You smile charmingly.
“Of course,” You agree. “I was merely requesting one of you to return an emblem of my mother to me.”
“Your highness, I am sure that a maid can—“
“No.” You snap, fierce flame in your eyes. “I will not entrust this to someone I do not trust. It is a special finery, so you understand? I want you to hand it to me without any chipping. Gold, green jewels. Think you can handle it, you always managed in my youth.” You lean and hopefully grow a sweetening glimmer. He’s unsure but nods anyway glancing at the guard beside him but before he can speak, you chuckle.
“I was hoping you might get it for me. My brother, Aemond, always speaks highly of you.” He swallows and nods with a huff before bowing.
“Of course, your grace.” Farlowe rises and slowly sweep through the winding hall. The guard now left alone fidgets and bites his lip—you almost feel sorry for him…Almost. Instead you slip out your room and kick him in the shin, sprinting once he howls in pain.
Your throat heaves as you attempt an escape in your condition, gasping oxygen as you tumble through the halls with your rounded belly. The deserted castle is unexpected but not unwelcome but soon enough you find your brother’s chambers and swing the doors open quickly before snapping them back shut. “This brings back memories.” He grumbles, hungover and sweeping back his greased hair. Your brows connect and then your face wrinkles up at the sight of his unclothed form.
“Ew, what is wrong with you?” You almost sneer as he chuckles and lazily clasps a bedsheet across his torso. Then he takes his hand to enclose a fist atop a large jug of wine no doubt and begins pouring into a golden cup.
“Oh, sweet sister, so many things. Would you like our mother to deliver her latest parchment of my faults? I hear the servants have been very good at giving her material.” You roll your eyes and bite the inside of your cheek.
“I must speak with you.”
“Many people do, these days.” Aegon sighs and begrudgingly takes his chalice to brink on his mouth and tip back his beloved as he steps backward to drop on his bed, red splashing from his lips.
“I do hope it is not to do with dancing this time.” Aegon snickers. You huff and stick out an index finger.
“That was before my wedding.” He nods with a wide grin.
“Yes and you’re still shit at it.”
“I do not have time for this.” You murmur.
“Time for me you mean.” He calls as you pace. You frown and turn to him and for the first time you notice his hard gaze.
“What?”
“Because I am not perfect.” His voice is nearly a broken whimper.
“Aeg—”
“No!” He snaps, too sharp for your comfort. It sends you to jump back. Your brother has been angry—outraged even—but he rarely yells. It is simply not in his nature. “You befriend the Strong boys. You marry their wretched mother. You braid Helaena’s hair. You even dance with Aemond of all people and yet still you refuse to partake yourself with me. Even you cannot stand me anymore.” He drains the cup and twitches his nose like he always does when the strange liquid fills his nose.
“Aeg, you are my brother.”
“No I am your nuisance, at least admit it to me.” Your facial muscles trip in horror and disgust. “Brother...”
“You hate me.” He sneers. “You all do.” He swings his cup but there is no more spraying liquid to spill. “I’m a fucking fuck up who whores and drinks. Your resident disgrace.” He doesn’t slur but his mere perspiration reeks of wine. “I didn't want to let you leave us, I didn't want to become mother's the cause of mother's ire, I didn’t even want to marry Helaena but I agreed anyway cause I thought, I dunno, it would make us safe. But still even when I do as any of you tell me, I’m locked away until you find deranged use of me. An amusing fool you like for showy parties but even then you are embarrassed. I know it. I feel it.” He hisses and for the first time you can see the desperation in your brother’s eyes.
“Then you do not know me at all!” You shout back.
“You don’t even love me! You are my own flesh and blood, my twin and you don’t even love me!”
“Of course I love you!” You scream. A tentative silence drops like the rush of a waterfall. “You were my first friend and if you are not my last then I will never forgive you.” His face contorts, brows tilting up and lips wobbling. It’s not the first time that you have seen your brother cry but it is the first time it has been directed at you. Aegon’s eyes water and his sniffles hitch his breath.
“Why?” His quiet voice wavers. “Why?” You sigh and land your hands on his shoulders.
“It matters not why. I will never need a reason to care about you. Do you understand? It is not conditional and nor do I expect anything in return for it.” A slow silence lessens his tense posture and he nods softly. Moments pass.
“They are going to make me King, aren’t they?” He whispers, driving a fist to his mouth and biting on the knuckles. Again you sigh.
“Yes.” You breathe. “Yes they are.”
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Details on the Coronation Regalia
The heart of the Crown Jewels and housed in the Tower of London where they are kept on public display, the Coronation Regalia are sacred and secular objects which symbolise the service and responsibilities of the monarch. The Regalia have played a central role in Coronation Services for hundreds of years and, in keeping with tradition, will be used at Westminster Abbey on the 6 th May. As part of the Royal Collection, the Regalia are held in trust by the Monarch on behalf of the nation.
Two Maces, made of silver gilt over oak, date between 1660 and 1695 and are the ceremonial emblems of authority which are carried before the Sovereign at events such as the State Opening of Parliament. Also carried before the Sovereign on formal occasions is the Sword of State, symbolising Royal authority; a steel blade with a silver-gilt hilt, enclosed in a wooden scabbard which is covered in velvet. In 1660 and 1678, during the reign of King Charles II, two such swords were made, the elder of which has not survived. The remaining sword has been used at several Coronations and, in 1969, the Investiture of The Prince of Wales. The sword is carried with the point upwards, and the scabbard carries the coat of arms of King William III.
Three further swords will be used during the Coronation Procession at Westminster Abbey; the Sword of Temporal Justice, signifying the Monarch’s role as Head of the Armed Forces, the Sword of Spiritual Justice, signifying the Monarch as Defender of the Faith, and the Sword of Mercy or Curtana, which has a blunted tip, symbolising the Sovereign’s mercy. The swords were first used at the Coronation of King Charles I in 1626, and the steel blades date back to the sixteenth century, with early seventeenth century gilt-iron hilts, and wire-bound grips. The three swords are carried without their scabbards, with their points up.
The golden St Edward’s Staff, with its steel spike, was created by the Crown Jeweller, Robert Vyner, in 1661. It derives from an earlier staff which was often referred to as the ‘Long Sceptre’ and carried in fifteenth and sixteenth century Coronation processions as a relic of the Royal saint, Edward the Confessor.
The Chrism oil with which The King and The Queen Consort will be anointed, which was consecrated in The Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem in March, will be contained within the Ampulla, made from gold and cast in the form of an eagle with outspread wings. The oil is poured through an aperture in the beak. The Ampulla was supplied for the coronation of King Charles II in 1661 by the Crown Jeweller, Robert Vyner, and is based on an earlier, smaller vessel, which in turn was based on a fourteenth-century legend in which the Virgin Mary appeared to St Thomas à Becket and presented him with a golden eagle and a vial of oil for anointing future Kings of England.
The silver-gilt Coronation Spoon is the oldest object in use at Coronations, having been first recorded in 1349 among St Edward’s Regalia in Westminster Abbey, and is the only piece of Royal goldsmiths’ work to survive from the twelfth century, having possibly been supplied to King Henry II (1133-1189) or King Richard I (1157-1199). It was used to anoint King James I in 1603, and at every subsequent Coronation. In 1649, the Spoon was sold to the Yeoman of King Charles I’s Wardrobe, who returned it for King Charles II’s Coronation in 1661, when small seed pearls were added to the decoration of the handle.
The Spurs were made in 1661 for King Charles II, but the use of spurs at Coronations dates back to King Richard I, the Lionheart, and his Coronation in 1189. The gold, leather and velvet Spurs symbolise knighthood, and they were altered in 1820 for King George IV.
The Sword of Offering was made in 1820, and has a steel blade, mounted in gold and set with jewels, which form a rose, a thistle, a shamrock, oak leaves, acorns, and lion’s heads. The sword is contained in a gold-covered leather scabbard. It was first used at the Coronation of King George IV.
The two Armills are bracelets made from gold, champlevé and basse-taille enamel, lined in velvet, and are thought to relate to ancient symbols of knighthood and military leadership. They have been referred to during previous Coronations as the 'bracelets of sincerity and wisdom'. The Armills date back to 1661 and have been used at every Coronation from King Charles II’s until King George VI’s in 1937.
A representation of the Sovereign’s power and symbolising the Christian world, the Sovereign’s Orb was made from gold in the seventeenth century, and is divided into three sections with bands of jewels, for each of the three continents known in medieval period.
The Sovereign’s Ring is composed of a sapphire with a ruby cross set in diamonds. A symbol of kingly dignity, the ring was made for the Coronation of King William IV in 1831, and all Sovereigns from King Edward VII onwards have used it at their Coronations.
The two Sovereign’s Sceptres will be used at Coronation. The Sovereign’s Sceptre with Cross represents the sovereign's temporal power and is associated with good governance. It comprises a gold rod, surmounted by an enamelled heart-shaped structure which holds the Cullinan I diamond. The sceptre was created for King Charles II, and the Cullinan I was added in 1901. The Sovereign’s Sceptre with Dove, traditionally known as ‘the Rod of Equity and Mercy', represents the Sovereign’s spiritual role, with the enamelled dove with outspread wings representing the Holy Ghost. It was created by the Crown Jeweller, Robert Vyner in 1661.
As previously announced, St Edward’s Crown will be used to crown His Majesty The King at Westminster Abbey on 6th May, according to tradition. The crown was made for King Charles II in 1661, as a replacement for the medieval crown which had been melted down in 1649. The original was thought to date back to the eleventh-century royal saint, Edward the Confessor – the last AngloSaxon king of England. The crown was commissioned from the Crown Jeweller, Robert Vyner, in 1661. Although it is not an exact replica of the medieval design, it follows the original in having four crosses-pattée and four fleurs-de-lis, and two arches. The crown is topped with an orb and a cross, symbolising the Christian world, and is made up of a solid gold frame set with rubies, amethysts, sapphires, garnet, topazes and tourmalines. The crown has a velvet cap with an ermine band. St Edward’s Crown was worn by Queen Elizabeth II at the Coronation in 1953. The crown has been removed from the Tower of London to allow for modification work ahead of the Coronation.
The Queen Consort’s Ring, a ruby in a gold setting, was made for the Coronation of King William IV and Queen Adelaide in 1831, and has been used by three further Queens Consort; Queen Alexandra, Queen Mary, and Queen Elizabeth The Queen Mother.
Mirroring the Sovereign’s Sceptre with Dove, the Queen Consort’s Rod with Dove is symbolic of ‘equity and mercy’ and the dove, with its folded wings, is symbolic of the Holy Ghost. The Queen Consort’s Sceptre with Cross was originally supplied for the coronation of Mary of Modena, Queen Consort of James II, in 1685 by Robert Vyner, and is inlaid with rock crystals.
Queen Mary’s Crown has been chosen by The Queen Consort for the Coronation, as previously announced, marking the first instance in modern times of an existing crown being used for the Coronation of the Consort. Ahead of the Coronation, minor changes and additions to Queen Mary’s Crown are being undertaken, such as the as inclusion of the Cullinan III, IV and V diamonds which were part of Queen Elizabeth II’s personal jewellery collection for many years. The design was inspired by Queen Alexandra’s Crown of 1902. Like Queen Alexandra’s Crown, it can be worn without the arches in the form of a circlet, which Queen Mary wore for the Coronation of her son, King George VI, in 1937.
The Imperial State Crown, or Crown of State, is the crown the monarch exchanges for St Edward's Crown at the end of the Coronation Service. The Imperial State Crown is also used on ceremonial occasions, such as the State Opening of Parliament. The term “imperial state crown” dates back to the fifteenth century when English monarchs chose a crown design closed by arches to demonstrate that England was not subject to any other earthly power. This Imperial State Crown was made for the Coronation of King George VI in 1937, but is closely based on a crown designed for Queen Victoria in 1838 by the Crown Jewellers of the time, Rundell, Bridge & Rundell.
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Hello, Rouka! I love your blog and the way your mind works. Thank you for all you contribute to the fandom. I saw your post about Jon not becoming a NK and wondered whether you think there is a possibility of Bran becoming the leader of the Others instead? What if the "King Bran" spoiler GRRM gave D&D actually meant a Night's King Bran ending instead of King of Westeros (or the south at least) Bran? I feel like he's being led toward something like that through his connection with the weirwoods, but perhaps his arc is about rejecting that type of power and choosing non-magical leadership instead?
Hello, and thank you so much for your kind words! :)
My take on the Night King is that there's more than a little of Stannis in there, a leader who succumbs to the seductive call of otherworldly power. The Night King and the Corpse Queen mentally enslave his fellow Night's Watch brothers (potentially through warg-like powers?) and make unspecified sacrifices that may or may not resemble those made by Craster. It takes an alliance of enemies to defeat them.
He brought her back to the Nightfort and proclaimed her a queen and himself her king, and with strange sorceries he bound his Sworn Brothers to his will. For thirteen years they had ruled, Night's King and his corpse queen, till finally the Stark of Winterfell and Joramun of the wildlings had joined to free the Watch from bondage. After his fall, when it was found he had been sacrificing to the Others, all records of Night's King had been destroyed, his very name forbidden.
(ASOS, Bran IV)
All of this reeks of blood magic, to the point where I see the corpse queen as a metaphor for this icy version of blood magic, if she is not a priestly figure similar to Melisandre.
I don't think that this represents a concrete leadership position over the Others, certainly not in the future. (I think the ice threat will be definitively ended.) But it's a template of abuse of power that fits villains like Stannis or Dany, and it may touch on an ancient crime committed by a Stark in connection with blood magic and is likely related to the Starks' inherited warg powers.
I do think that Bran is connected to this tale, in terms of a parallel, as he too is enslaving Hodor with his mind and unable to resist the temptation of abusing his warging ability. He could become the Stark that turns evil, if he chose. He is the representation of the ancient history of House Starks that likely needs correcting. All those Brandons...
"Some say he was a Bolton," Old Nan would always end. "Some say a Magnar out of Skagos, some say Umber, Flint, or Norrey. Some would have you think he was a Woodfoot, from them who ruled Bear Island before the ironmen came. He never was. He was a Stark, the brother of the man who brought him down." She always pinched Bran on the nose then, he would never forget it. "He was a Stark of Winterfell, and who can say? Mayhaps his name was Brandon. Mayhaps he slept in this very bed in this very room."
(ASOS, Bran IV)
His growing power and his ability to see and even manipulate the past may even end up leading Bran into a position that seems like a mirror to Daenerys with the Dothraki. She is more than likely going to unite the khalasars at Vaes Dothrak, or at least defeat the current leadership, cause immense destruction to their holy site and end up leading a sizable new army of dangerous warriors.
Bran seemingly taking up a position of power, leadership or influence over the wights or in collusion with the Others is a very plausible development in the lead-up to his return South and the resolution to this threat. The weirwood cave is unlikely to remain safe for long. The crone-like Bloodraven married to the tree, drawing Bran into his world, mirrors the dosh khaleen. If Vaes Dothrak faces destruction, so does this strange underworldly cave world.
It's for Bran to decide whether he wants to choose blood magic and follow that dark part of his heritage, or whether he wants to right some wrongs and sacrifice his powers and his dreams, turn away from the corpse (queen) and fight for human life.
#asoiaf speculation#bran stark#night's king#warging#blood magic#parallels#asoiaf villains#anti daenerys targaryen#<- for filtering
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October 14th 1285 saw the marriage of King Alexander III to Yolande de Dreux.
Dates differ somewhat on this, one source states the marriage happened in November, most give October.
This was Alexander’s second marriage, the first was to Queen Margaret, they had three children, two of whom passed away before adulthood, the third, Margaret was married off to Eric II of Norway. Queen Margaret died on 26th February 1275 at Cupar Castle, with no male heir this meant a possible succession crisis, it took ten years for for Alexander to find a suitable bride, but according to the Lanercost Chronicle, he did not spend his decade as a widower alone:
“he used never to forbear on account of season nor storm, nor for perils of flood or rocky cliffs, but would visit none too creditably nuns or matrons, virgins or widows as the fancy seized him, sometimes in disguise.”
Yolande de Dreux was the daughter of Robert IV, Count of Dreux, and Beatrice, Countess of Montfort. She was born at the family seat at the Chateau of Dreux, close to the border between Normandy and the Ile-de-France. This made her a member of the Capetian dynasty, the largest and oldest of the royal houses in Europe.
And so it was on this day in 1285 that the 44 year old Alexander married 22 year old Yolande, by now Comtesse de Montfort.
The royal couple were married at Jedburgh AbbeyIt appears to have been love at first sight for both of them. Certainly all the Chronicles say that Alexander was quite besotted with his young, beautiful and graceful wife.
Alexander simply could not get enough of the glamorous Yolande, and on March 19, 1286, the king enjoyed a meal with his council in Edinburgh before deciding to surprise Yolande who was at a royal manor at Kinghorn in Fife.
The weather was so bad that the ferryman at Queensferry at first refused to carry the King across the Forth, but eventually he did so and with plenty wine taken and no doubt lust beckoning him onwards, the lure of Yolande proved too much and Alexander III charged onward through Fife.
His body was found the following morning on the shore between Burntisland and Kinghorn Ness near to Pettycur. The cliff down which he fell is known still as King’s Crag.
The history books tell us Yolande was pregnant, some say she miscarried, another chronicle goes into a wee bit more detail saying that the Guardians gathered at Clackmanan on St Catherine’s day 25th November 1286 – to witness the birth, but the child was stillborn, tradition says the baby was buried at Cambuskenneth. After the queen dowager’s pregnancy did not result in a living child, the council begun preparations for Margaret of Norway to be taken to Scotland as their new sovereign.
Queen dowager Yolande remained in Scotland for a couple of years supported by her dower provisions and living possibly at Stirling Castle: it is known that she was still in Scotland at least as late as in 1288. At some point, she returned to France.
In 1292 Yolande de Dreux remarried, this time to Arthur II, Duke of Brittany. They had six children together over the following decade. Arthur died in 1312, while Yolande lived until 1330.
Lots of ifs and buts resulting from this part of our history, but one thing is for sure, with Queen Yolande later having 6 children, there is little doubt that if Alexander hadn’t been so lusty that night she would have bore him a son and the whole timeline of our Royals would have been much different, no Bruce, no Stewarts, no Culloden?
Pics are Alexander's statue above the West door of St Giles in Edinburgh, and Seal of Yolande of Scotland - Duchess of Brittany.
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The Coronation Regalia
The heart of the Crown Jewels and housed in the Tower of London where they are kept on public display, the Coronation Regalia are sacred and secular objects which symbolise the service and responsibilities of the monarch. The Regalia have played a central role in Coronation Services for hundreds of years and, in keeping with tradition, will be used at Westminster Abbey on the 6 th May. As part of the Royal Collection, the Regalia are held in trust by the Monarch on behalf of the nation.
Two Maces, made of silver gilt over oak, date between 1660 and 1695 and are the ceremonial emblems of authority which are carried before the Sovereign at events such as the State Opening of Parliament. Also carried before the Sovereign on formal occasions is the Sword of State, symbolising Royal authority; a steel blade with a silver-gilt hilt, enclosed in a wooden scabbard which is covered in velvet. In 1660 and 1678, during the reign of King Charles II, two such swords were made, the elder of which has not survived. The remaining sword has been used at several Coronations and, in 1969, the Investiture of The Prince of Wales. The sword is carried with the point upwards, and the scabbard carries the coat of arms of King William III.
Three further swords will be used during the Coronation Procession at Westminster Abbey; the Sword of Temporal Justice, signifying the Monarch’s role as Head of the Armed Forces, the Sword of Spiritual Justice, signifying the Monarch as Defender of the Faith, and the Sword of Mercy or Curtana, which has a blunted tip, symbolising the Sovereign’s mercy. The swords were first used at the Coronation of King Charles I in 1626, and the steel blades date back to the sixteenth century, with early seventeenth century gilt-iron hilts, and wire-bound grips. The three swords are carried without their scabbards, with their points up.
The golden St Edward’s Staff, with its steel spike, was created by the Crown Jeweller, Robert Vyner, in 1661. It derives from an earlier staff which was often referred to as the ‘Long Sceptre’ and carried in fifteenth and sixteenth century Coronation processions as a relic of the Royal saint, Edward the Confessor.
The Chrism oil with which The King and The Queen Consort will be anointed, which was consecrated in The Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem in March, will be contained within the Ampulla, made from gold and cast in the form of an eagle with outspread wings. The oil is poured through an aperture in the beak. The Ampulla was supplied for the coronation of King Charles II in 1661 by the Crown Jeweller, Robert Vyner, and is based on an earlier, smaller vessel, which in turn was based on a fourteenth-century legend in which the Virgin Mary appeared to St Thomas à Becket and presented him with a golden eagle and a vial of oil for anointing future Kings of England.
The silver-gilt Coronation Spoon is the oldest object in use at Coronations, having been first recorded in 1349 among St Edward’s Regalia in Westminster Abbey, and is the only piece of Royal goldsmiths’ work to survive from the twelfth century, having possibly been supplied to King Henry II (1133-1189) or King Richard I (1157-1199). It was used to anoint King James I in 1603, and at every subsequent Coronation. In 1649, the Spoon was sold to the Yeoman of King Charles I’s Wardrobe, who returned it for King Charles II’s Coronation in 1661, when small seed pearls were added to the decoration of the handle.
The Spurs were made in 1661 for King Charles II, but the use of spurs at Coronations dates back to King Richard I, the Lionheart, and his Coronation in 1189. The gold, leather and velvet Spurs symbolise knighthood, and they were altered in 1820 for King George IV.
The Sword of Offering was made in 1820, and has a steel blade, mounted in gold and set with jewels, which form a rose, a thistle, a shamrock, oak leaves, acorns, and lion’s heads. The sword is contained in a gold-covered leather scabbard. It was first used at the Coronation of King George IV.
The two Armills are bracelets made from gold, champlevé and basse-taille enamel, lined in velvet, and are thought to relate to ancient symbols of knighthood and military leadership. They have been referred to during previous Coronations as the 'bracelets of sincerity and wisdom'. The Armills date back to 1661 and have been used at every Coronation from King Charles II’s until King George VI’s in 1937.
A representation of the Sovereign’s power and symbolising the Christian world, the Sovereign’s Orb was made from gold in the seventeenth century, and is divided into three sections with bands of jewels, for each of the three continents known in medieval period.
The Sovereign’s Ring is composed of a sapphire with a ruby cross set in diamonds. A symbol of kingly dignity, the ring was made for the Coronation of King William IV in 1831, and all Sovereigns from King Edward VII onwards have used it at their Coronations.
The two Sovereign’s Sceptres will be used at Coronation. The Sovereign’s Sceptre with Cross represents the sovereign's temporal power and is associated with good governance. It comprises a gold rod, surmounted by an enamelled heart-shaped structure which holds the Cullinan I diamond. The sceptre was created for King Charles II, and the Cullinan I was added in 1901. The Sovereign’s Sceptre with Dove, traditionally known as ‘the Rod of Equity and Mercy', represents the Sovereign’s spiritual role, with the enamelled dove with outspread wings representing the Holy Ghost. It was created by the Crown Jeweller, Robert Vyner in 1661.
As previously announced, St Edward’s Crown will be used to crown His Majesty The King at Westminster Abbey on 6th May, according to tradition. The crown was made for King Charles II in 1661, as a replacement for the medieval crown which had been melted down in 1649. The original was thought to date back to the eleventh-century royal saint, Edward the Confessor – the last AngloSaxon king of England. The crown was commissioned from the Crown Jeweller, Robert Vyner, in 1661. Although it is not an exact replica of the medieval design, it follows the original in having four crosses-pattée and four fleurs-de-lis, and two arches. The crown is topped with an orb and a cross, symbolising the Christian world, and is made up of a solid gold frame set with rubies, amethysts, sapphires, garnet, topazes and tourmalines. The crown has a velvet cap with an ermine band. St Edward’s Crown was worn by Queen Elizabeth II at the Coronation in 1953. The crown has been removed from the Tower of London to allow for modification work ahead of the Coronation.
The Queen Consort’s Ring, a ruby in a gold setting, was made for the Coronation of King William IV and Queen Adelaide in 1831, and has been used by three further Queens Consort; Queen Alexandra, Queen Mary, and Queen Elizabeth The Queen Mother.
Mirroring the Sovereign’s Sceptre with Dove, the Queen Consort’s Rod with Dove is symbolic of ‘equity and mercy’ and the dove, with its folded wings, is symbolic of the Holy Ghost. The Queen Consort’s Sceptre with Cross was originally supplied for the coronation of Mary of Modena, Queen Consort of James II, in 1685 by Robert Vyner, and is inlaid with rock crystals.
Queen Mary’s Crown has been chosen by The Queen Consort for the Coronation, as previously announced, marking the first instance in modern times of an existing crown being used for the Coronation of the Consort. Ahead of the Coronation, minor changes and additions to Queen Mary’s Crown are being undertaken, such as the as inclusion of the Cullinan III, IV and V diamonds which were part of Queen Elizabeth II’s personal jewellery collection for many years. The design was inspired by Queen Alexandra’s Crown of 1902. Like Queen Alexandra’s Crown, it can be worn without the arches in the form of a circlet, which Queen Mary wore for the Coronation of her son, King George VI, in 1937.
The Imperial State Crown, or Crown of State, is the crown the monarch exchanges for St Edward's Crown at the end of the Coronation Service. The Imperial State Crown is also used on ceremonial occasions, such as the State Opening of Parliament. The term “imperial state crown” dates back to the fifteenth century when English monarchs chose a crown design closed by arches to demonstrate that England was not subject to any other earthly power. This Imperial State Crown was made for the Coronation of King George VI in 1937, but is closely based on a crown designed for Queen Victoria in 1838 by the Crown Jewellers of the time, Rundell, Bridge & Rundell.
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THIS DAY IN GAY HISTORY
based on: The White Crane Institute's 'Gay Wisdom', Gay Birthdays, Gay For Today, Famous GLBT, glbt-Gay Encylopedia, Today in Gay History, Wikipedia, and more … December 24
1305 – France: Grand Master Jacques de Molay and over 500 Knights Templar recant their confessions of homosexual activities to which they had admitted under torture. King Phillip IV burned 54 of them soon after the false confessions. Philip had de Molay burned upon a scaffold on an island in the River Seine in front of Notre Dame de Paris in March, 1314. The sudden end of both the centuries-old order of Templars and the dramatic execution of its last leader turned Molay into a legendary figure.
1573 – French diplomat and law professor Hubert Languet wrote to Sir Philip Sidney, "My affection for you has entered my heart far more deeply than I have ever felt for anyone else, and it has so wholly taken possession there that it tries to rule alone."
1905 – Howard Hughes Jr. (d.1976) was a USA business magnate, investor, record-setting pilot, engineer, film director, and philanthropist, known during his lifetime as one of the most influential and financially successful individuals in the world. He first became prominent as a film producer, and then as an important figure in the aviation industry.
Later in life, he became known for his eccentric behavior and reclusive lifestyle—oddities that were caused in part by his worsening obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD), chronic pain from a near-fatal plane crash, and increasing deafness.
Hughes dated many famous women, including Joan Crawford, Billie Dove, Faith Domergue, Bette Davis, Yvonne De Carlo, Ava Gardner, Olivia de Havilland, Katharine Hepburn, Hedy Lamarr, Ginger Rogers, Janet Leigh, Pat Sheehan, Mamie Van Doren and Gene Tierney. He also proposed to Joan Fontaine several times.However, a rumour persists that Hughes and another notorious womanizer Errol Flynn had a sexual relationship, with Flynn at the top man!
Robert Joffrey (rear) with Gerald Arpino
1930 – Robert Joffrey, born Abdullah Jaffa Bey Khan, (d.1988) was an American dancer, teacher, producer, choreographer, and co-founder of the Joffrey Ballet, known for his highly imaginative modern ballets. He was born Abdullah Jaffa Bey Khan in Seattle, Washington to an Afghan father and Italian mother.
As a teenager, Joffrey met 22-year-old Gerald Arpino, then serving in the Coast Guard. Arpino moved into the Joffrey home. From then on, the two were inseparable. They became best friends, artistic collaborators, and lovers.
Joffrey studied ballet and modern dance in New York City and made his debut in 1949 with the French choreographer Roland Petit and his Ballet de l'Opéra National de Paris. From 1950 to 1955, he taught at the New York High School for the Performing Arts, where he staged his earliest ballets. He founded the Joffrey Ballet School in New York City in 1954.
In 1954 he formed his own company, which premiered Le bal masqué (The Masked Ball, 1954; music by French composer Francis Poulenc) and Pierrot Lunaire (1955; music by Austrian composer Arnold Schoenberg). Joffrey's other works include Gamelan (1962) and Astarte (1967), which was set to rock music with special lighting and motion-picture effects.
The Robert Joffrey Ballet took up residence at New York City Center in 1966. In 1982 it moved its principal activities to Los Angeles, California and in 1995 to Chicago, Illinois. Noted for its experimental repertoire, the company was called the "Joffrey Ballet of Chicago" after its move but has since returned to being called simply the Joffrey Ballet. Besides Joffrey's works its repertoire includes many works by Gerald Arpino, Joffrey's long-time lover, co-director, and eventually artistic director emeritus until his 2008 death, and ballets commissioned by Joffrey from new choreographers as well as works by such established choreographers as George Balanchine, Alvin Ailey and Twyla Tharp.
Joffrey was sexually promiscuous but discreet. His pattern was to have Arpino at home for domestic stability, one principal romantic attachment, and numerous one-night stands.
In 1973, Joffrey fell in love with A. Aladar Marberger, a 26-year-old gay activist and manager of the Fischbach Gallery in New York. In the 1980s, both men contracted AIDS. While Marberger was outspoken about his illness, Joffrey remained silent. He was ashamed and wanted his obituary to say that he died of liver disease and asthma. Arpino agreed to his pleas, but the secret could not be maintained, as AIDS took a staggering toll on the dance world in general and on Joffrey's company in particular.
Robert Joffrey died of AIDS on March 25, 1988 in New York City. Aladar Marberger died eight months later.
1958 – Bob Smith (d.2018) was an American comedian and author. Smith, born in Buffalo, New York, was the first openly gay comedian to appear on The Tonight Show and the first openly gay comedian to have his own HBO half-hour comedy special. Smith, along with fellow comedians Jaffe Cohen and Danny McWilliams, formed the comedy troupe Funny Gay Males in 1988.
With Funny Gay Males, Smith is the co-author of Growing Up Gay: From Left Out to Coming Out (1995). Smith is also the author of two books of biographical essays. Openly Bob (1997) received a Lambda Literary Award for best humor book. Way to Go, Smith! (1999) was nominated for a 2000 Lambda Literary Award in the same category. Smith published his first novel, Selfish and Perverse, in 2007, and Remembrance of Things I Forgot in 2011. He published a new collection of essays, Treehab: Tales from My Natural Wild Life, in 2016. The essays cover a wide range of subjects including his career in stand-up, his love of nature, and his experience with ALS. He performed at the inaugural We're Funny That Way! comedy festival in 1997, and appeared in the festival's documentary film in 1998.
While taping a 2007 comedy special for Logo, Smith disclosed that he was suffering from a neurological disorder. He described his symptoms at that time as slurred speech, making him sound inebriated. In response to an August 2012 New York Times article on openly gay male stand-up comedians, Smith posted a comment stating he had ALS.
On February 2013, Smith gave a candid interview to Canada's Global News, where he elaborated about his condition. The article also revealed that Smith assisted with the conceiving of fellow LGBTQ comedian Elvira Kurt's children, who with Kurt reside in Canada, and that he was a direct descendant of Henry Smith, an early settler of Canada's Niagara Region for whom the Henry of Pelham Winery is named.
Bob Smith died on January 20, 2018 from Lou Gehrig’s Disease in his Manhattan, New York home at 59 years of age.
1971 – On this date the international singer and actor Ricky Martin was born. Born Enrique Martín Morales in San Juan, Puerto Rico, he is known to millions of fans by his stage name Ricky Martin, is a Puerto Rican pop singer and actor who achieved prominence, first as a member of the Latin boy band Menudo, then as a solo artist after 1991. During his career he has sold more than 60 million albums worldwide. He is the founder of Ricky Martín Foundation (in Spanish Fundación Ricky Martin) a non-profit charity organization.
Martin rose to fame as a member of the Latin American boy band Menudo, after which he became a solo artist in 1990. During forays into acting on Broadway ("Les Miserables") and soap operas (General Hospital) he released numerous albums of Spanish music, which sold millions of copies throughout Latin America and Europe. In 1995, Martin refocused on his music career through his third album, A Medio Vivir. With this album, Martin made a shift from formulaic hit ballads to a more risky fusion of music centered around traditional Latin sounds, with the hit "Maria", which epitomizes this new sound. "Maria" broke Martin into Europe through Spain. With the ballad "Te Extraño, Te Olvido, Te Amo", Martin began his expansion from Latin American and Spanish-speaking audiences to the European and Asian markets. He was chosen to sing the anthem of the 1998 FIFA World Cup, the famous hit "The Cup of Life"/"La Copa de la Vida", that reached number one on the charts in 60 countries.
He broke into the English-language market with his mega-selling hit single "Livin' la Vida Loca," which reached number one in many countries around the world, including the United States, the United Kingdom, Argentina, Australia, Brazil, France, Greece, India, Israel, Italy, Japan, Guatemala, Mexico, Russia, Turkey, and South Africa. He followed up with the hit "She's All I Ever Had" which peaked at #2 on The Billboard Hot 100. This album became one of the top-selling albums of 1999, and was certified 7 times platinum, selling over 22 million copies worldwide to date.
During the Livin' la Vida Loca era, Martin's personal life went under the microscope due to his large Gay following, and he was questioned about his sexual orientation. In December, 2000 during an interview in The Mirror, Martin was asked,
'"So what about all these rumors?"
"There's not a lot I can do about that," he said. "I guess these rumors were started by people who don't have a life, or perhaps it's because they want me to be like them and I'm not. I try not to pay attention to any of these allegations. I could have been married with kids for years or have 27 girlfriends, and if people still want to go around saying that I'm gay, they will."'
In August 2008, Martin became the father of twin boys, named Matteo and Valentino. The babies were delivered via gestational surrogacy.
On March of 2010, Martin publicly came out as Gay in a post on his official web site by stating,
"Today is my day, this is my time, and this is my moment. These years in silence and reflection made me stronger and reminded me that acceptance has to come from within and that this kind of truth gives me the power to conquer emotions I didn't even know existed ... I am proud to say that I am a fortunate homosexual man. I am very blessed to be who I am."
"What will happen from now on? It doesn't matter. I can only focus on what's happening to me in this moment. The word 'happiness' takes on a new meaning for me as of today. It has been a very intense process. Every word that I write in this letter is born out of love, acceptance, detachment and real contentment. Writing this is a solid step towards my inner peace and vital part of my evolution."
In January 2018, Ricky Martin married his long-time partner artist Jwan Yosef.
Ricky and Jwan
2012 – The Serbian Parliament approves changes to the Penal Code to include sexual orientation and gender identity as protected classes when it comes to hate crimes.
2013 – Alan Turing considered the father of computer science, was a code-breaker who helped shorten WWII. Since he was gay, the British government offered him the choice of prison or chemical castration after he was convicted of gross indecency. He selected hormonal castration via estrogen. He died in 1954 of cyanide poisoning. In 2009, Prime Minister Gordon Brown made an official apology, and Queen Elizabeth II issued Turing a royal pardon on this day in 2013.
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How long is a&m gonna be? There seems like so much to cover, what with the new cast being added in, and also keeping up with how the fallen angels are. Also, will it be divided into parts like abm?
oh it's a lot to cover - that's what's made it so hard to write! and why ive been trying not to pressure myself to rush it.
the current ABM is a little under 400 pages; a&m will likely be... 450~ pages? (hard to tell when it's not formatted yet). at most, itll be under 500 for sure. as for words, it's going to end up at around 135k words. If it helps conceptualize it, The Return of the King is 137k words and that paperback is usually between 430-500 pages (depending on the printer). also yes, 3 parts this time
but yeah it's a lot! it's pretty ambitious! but ABM was very ambitious too, and i was terrified the whole time that i was fucking it up. (im still terrified that i did, really) i've felt the same terror as im writing A&M. will i pull it off? i hope! if not, well, i tried my best :)
#there's some stuff im REALLY happy with in a&m#i like the way i managed to make Satan a figure in the Enoch story#i love how ive managed to tie this into the first book and into a grander narrative#but its a HARD book to write just logistically#there's a billion characters now#but i am working so hard#please pray for me#mine#ask#i hope that is not too long but aaaaa i dont want the story to be rushed
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Someone stop me because I have more Accursed Kings thoughts with respect to ASOIAF.
Yandel mentions that when Baelor made the decision to imprison his sisters in the soon-to-be Maidenvault, the future Viserys II was one of the individuals who protested the king’s decree. I’m not saying I don’t think that happened, but I am wondering whether Viserys ever changed his mind on that decision, especially as it may have affected to any ambition he had for the throne.
The reason I have my suspicions is because this situation reminds me very strongly of the main plot in the first of The Accursed Kings novels, The Iron King. In the novel, Philip IV discovers that two of his daughters-in-law, Marguerite and Blanche of Burgundy (the wives of his first and third sons, respectively), have conducted extramarital affairs with two royal equerries. Further, as the king learns, Blanche’s sister Jeanne, married to the king’s second son, was aware of the affairs and abetted them. Philip then meets with his sons and brothers to decide what to do with the guilty princesses, but while eldest son Louis is vehement to have the young women tortured and killed, the king’s eldest brother, Charles of Valois, surprisingly advocates against his favorite nephew. While the count of Valois is more than willing to have the princesses imprisoned for life, he argues against having them killed outright. Druon explains the unexpected position here:
Forbearance was not part of the titular Emperor of Constantinople’s disposition. It was always the result of calculation; and, indeed, this particular calculation had occurred to him when Louis of Navarre mentioned the word bastard. Indeed … [sic] indeed, the three sons of Philip the Fair had no male heirs. Louis and Philippe had each a daughter; but now, already, here was the little Jeanne under the grave suspicion of illegitimacy, which might prove an obstacle to her eventual succession to the throne. Charles had had two still-born daughters. If the guilty wives were executed, the three Princes would quickly marry again and have good chances of achieving sons. Whereas, if the Princesses were shut up for life [sic], they would still be married and prevented from contracting new unions, and would remain without much posterity. There was of course such a thing as annulment – but adultery was no ground for an annulment. All this passed very rapidly through the imaginative Prince’s head. As certain officers who, going to war, dream of the possibility of all their seniors being killed, and already see themselves promoted to command the army, Uncle Valois, looking at his nephew Louis’s hollow chest, the thin body of his nephew Philippe, thought that disease might well make unexpected ravages. There were, too, such things as hunting accidents, lances that broke accidentally in tournaments, and horses that came down; and, indeed, one knew of many uncles who had survived their nephews.
If the author so chose, he could very easily draw parallels between the scenario that prompted Charles of Valois’ internal scheming and the imprisonment of the Targaryen princesses during the reign of King Baelor. Just as Charles supported the incarceration of three princesses (albeit in the immediate royal family by marriage rather than blood) for the rest of their lives, so Baelor insisted on the detention of three princesses for the rest of their lives. If the count of Valois feared that these Burgundian princesses, released from captivity, would return to their royal husbands and have sons who would inherit the Capetian throne, so perhaps Viserys thought that the Targaryen princesses, should Baelor allow them out of captivity, would find suitably blue-blooded partners for themselves and bear sons - boys who could, if the succession debates during Aegon III’s regency were any precedent, assert a claim to the throne as nephews of the ruling king. Likewise, just as Charles of Valois already imagined himself as a king, inheriting ahead of his nephews Louis and Philip with their “hollow chest” and “thin body”, respectively, so perhaps Viserys looked at Baelor, thin from repeated self-starvation episodes, and wondered if he would or could survive his nephew. Just as Philip IV’s sons, as Charles knew, were prevented from having children due to the imprisonment of their wives, so Viserys knew that Baelor would, as a sworn septon who had publicly disavowed his marriage to Daena, have no children.
Accordingly, Viserys may have at some point during Baelor’s reign come to a similar conclusion to Charles of Valois. If he wished to see himself and his descendants (his unworthy son perhaps notwithstanding) inherit the throne someday, Viserys may have realized it would do much better to have Aegon III’s daughters remain unmarried and imprisoned for as long as possible. Deprived of marriages and legitimate progeny, these princesses would then have had little means of barring Viserys’ way to the throne, much as Charles of Valois anticipated that the royal daughters-in-law and their (exclusively female) children would be unable to stop him coming to the throne if they remained imprisoned for life. (Indeed, if the author really wants to underline the point, he may connect Daena’s giving birth to a bastard son, the future Daemon Blackfyre, with Marguerite of Burgundy giving birth to a daughter of uncertain paternity, the better perhaps to strengthen Viserys’ argument in his own mind to take the throne.)
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❝ That´s my favourite sort of art, ❞ crimson stained lips drew back , exposing a toothy grin. ¨what, grim? disturbing? barking mad? ¨ She rolled her eyes at the assumption. ❝ The one´s that leave you with a visceral thrill. If art doesn´t terrify you a little then it´s positively boring in my opinion darling. Géricault understood that. But then the French love a good drama. ❞ Anita yawned, giving her a playful push." nah, give me a good Warhol any d....River, do you see that?¨
The holo-image shimmered, tiny ripples forming at the centre of the canvas that began to radiate outwards, off of the painting and onto the wall. Growing, ever growing and morphing the space it touched. In the blink of an eye the Raft of Medusa came to look more and more warped, lines blurring together, painted strokes becoming smatterings. ❝ Find CAL and the others, QUICKLY! ❞
On the eve of the 300th anniversary of the Library disaster, an unknown person/s? broke through the sealed defences and extracted the consciousnesses of Professor River Song from the database. The Vashta Nerada, having resorted to cannibalising to survive, had long since died out. As a result of CAL and the Doctor Moon´s intervention, the transfer was a disaster, deleting everyone in the process and rendering the Professor, her body transferred to a fresh doppleganger host, with a virus whose symptoms were not unlike selective amnesia.
The intruder, for reasons unknown, abandoned her before she awoke, leaving her utterly alone in her new life. Paranoia soon set in, and, believing that Madame Kovarian and the Silence may have played a terrible part in her apparent resurrection, River set off to the place where she had left her last ( AUDIO: The Furies ) her suspicions only deepened when she found Kovarian gone. With no clues to go on and no clear indication of her memories returning, River abandoned the search for her past.
Frustrated, alone, and still coming to terms with having been dead for three centuries, River focused her efforts on trying to move forward instead. During a 10 year period, she settled on several small planets, went through 16 different careers and an impressive 30 residences. Nothing stuck.
Soon after, by complete coincidence she found her way back to the final cluster and witnessed first hand the devastation that King Hydroflax´s presence had had on this sector of the galaxy some 12 years after his demise. With no apparent successor to claim the throne, she did the natural thing, and claimed it as his widow. It was an easy enough feat, war having devastated the galaxy, there were none left who would have known her previous incarnation. In healing the final cluster, she healed her own wounds too. but peace never lasts.
Many species converged on the galaxy, believing the truce had made them weak, cybermen, weeping angels, sontaran´s just to name a few, horde upon horde upon horde, never ending. By the year 5203 the final cluster had been utterly decimated. River herself appeared to have died again, her Halassi spaceship crashing off the west coast of Cering IV. She survived of course and after being stranded for 3 days, managed to infiltrate an enemy supply ship on it´s way back to base. Successfully commandeering the ship, it´s crew tied up in a cleaner´s closet, she instead landed on a nearby space station. The wounds she had acquired, coupled by the sheer mental will it took to make it out alive, left her gravelly ill. Unfamiliar with her genetic makeup, the station had her transferred to the sisters of the infinite schism.
The sisters healed not only her injured but worked their science and found a slow working antidote to the virus she suffered from. They urged her to revisit her past, assuring her that the memories would come back in time. She took their advice and after volunteering on a dig, fell back in love with Archaeology. With a mixture of doctored and very real credentials, she fast tracked her career and became the new head of the Antiquities department at Luna University precisely 5 months after her previous incarnation disappeared on the Library expedition.
#out of character.#i made a garland for her head. and bracelets too. and fragrant zone; ... headcanons#a thing of beauty is a joy for ever: its loveliness increases; it will never. pass into nothingness ... canon/verse 2/ post library#here it is. the post library headcanon
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