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author-morgan · 2 years

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Title: Rise by the Birdsong Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x fem!Reader Rating: M Summary: In which you soothe Daemon's wounded ego and pride after he loses in a tournament. Warnings: Typically Westerosi shenanigans.

HE SUMMONS YOU to his chambers in the hours after the tourney and feast —the taste of defeat still bitter on his tongue. Hubris cost him the victory. He had the Merryweather boy cornered. It should have been easy, yet he was forced to yield the champion's title and purse. Daemon Targaryen drapes his arms over the side of the tub and thinks of who he would have named as the Queen of Love and Beauty had he won. Certainly not Rhea Royce —the old bronze bitch. He’s more apt to name one of the sheep before her. The thought fades when the doors creak open, his guards letting you pass into the prince’s chambers.

Steam fills the room, as does the scent of Myrish oils. Your skin prickles with heat for reasons that have nothing to do with the warmth of the air when your eyes settle on Daemon at the center of the room. You wondered where he’d gone so quickly after the feast. His eyes flash open as your footfalls echo on the stone floor until you stop beside the tub and kneel. “My prince,” you greet. He’s always liked how you say his title, sweet and taunting, nigh like a songbird. Glancing away from his face, your gaze follows the line of his arm and the planes of his chest. He’s all lean and lithe muscle, sculpted from years of training and battle —the most seasoned warrior in all of the Seven Kingdoms.

Daemon takes your hand, reclaiming your attention. His fingers curl around yours, then he shifts and leans toward you, head dipping down to press a soft kiss to your knuckles —a knightly and unexpected gesture. He lets your hand go and settles back in the tub, and the look of an arrogant prince reclaims his expression. “Take off your dress,” Daemon demands, flicking the surface of the water. Ever the dutiful lady, you rise and reach for the ties of your nightdress —shedding the pale linen, baring yourself to Prince Daemon Targaryen.

He's been soaking for nigh half-an-hour, and the water is still warm —fire cannot harm a dragon, he told you once whilst he held his hand above a candle, toying with the flame. You sink into the water and find the space he’s made next to him, head half-resting on his shoulder. Daemon drapes his arm around your shoulders, and wordlessly, you begin tracing mindless patterns on his chest. “You fought well today,” you tell him after a while, thinking of how handsome he looked in his dark steel suit emblazoned with the sigil of House Targaryen and decorated with rubies.

“I lost,” he reminds you, no lack of bitterness in his voice. He’d find a way to best the Merryweather boy, somehow.

You reach for his hand, and he lets you take it, curious brows raised. “Yet they all speak of how commendable your effort and skills are” —your fingers find the scars on his knuckles, the calloused pads of his fingertips. “Reputation is its own victory,” you tell him, placing a kiss to the center of his palm before he retracts his hand.

Daemon looks down at you. “Trying to mend my broken heart?”

You trace a curving line over his breast and up his neck, caressing his smooth and sharp jaw. “It’s I who am heartbroken, Daemon,” you say, smiling. He cuts his eyes at you, something dangerous lurking in his stare. “You told me you’d gift me a crown of roses upon your victory, and here I am, crownless.”

His lips quirk upward. “Dare speak to your prince with such impertinence?” His touch against your cheek is gentle, but you can still hear the slightest hint of a laugh in his voice. It’s the look in his cool eyes that speak of danger, though —he’s always been as wild and unpredictable as his dragon. You hold your breath as you look at him, expecting his kiss when he careens forward in the water, and when he leans in to meet your mouth, you’re struck by how desperate it feels in comparison to all the other times.

You’re impatient for more —always more— feeling his smile growing as he kisses you again, and you’re happy to give the Rogue Prince whatever he wishes. He always brings out your worse impulses. Sighing against his mouth, his tongue brushes against yours. He tastes like the spices from dinner, warm and enticing, and there’s still a hint of sweet wine lingering on his lips. Not even a maiden could refuse Daemon Targaryen after a single kiss like this —you hadn’t been able to either, but now all that is in the past. His fingers run along your neck, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, and the little moan you make is music.

“Who else would keep you on your toes if not I?” You question, breathless. Daemon hums his agreement against your neck, lips trailing further down your pulse.

He pulls you close against him until you’re nearly in his lap —his cock twitches against your leg, but he brushes you off when you try to reach for him. He’d not summoned you tonight for a quick fuck. Daemon’s hands trace along your ribs to cup your breasts and feel your nipples stiffen in his palm, and his slight hum of approval makes your thighs squeeze together instinctively. Tonight, he’s more interested in having his hands on you instead —reparations for his failure to give you a rose crown.

“Open your legs,” he orders, a hot whisper at your ear, and you do so without a second thought. His hand slips between them, teasing briefly over your inner thighs before he’s touching you. Your voice is a breathy whimper as you feel him stroke slowly over the folds of your cunt and up to circle your clit. He doesn’t enter you yet, not until he can get his fill of watching you squirm and shudder from such simple attention. “What would Lord Mooton say if he could see precious his daughter like this?” Daemon relents to your soft pleas and slips two fingers into you. You shudder against him as he works in and out of you, breath catching. Your father is the last thing you want to think of with Daemon’s fingers buried in your cunt. “You like this?” He asks, well aware of how quickly he has you rutting into his hand for more stimulation.

“Yes, Daemon,” you insist, wrapping your fingers around the back of his neck to draw his lips down to yours. His thumb rolls across your clit, and your head falls back.

His kiss is less fierce this time, deep and slow until your lungs ache. You can sense his mood improving as he fucks you with his hand, relishing all the little noises you make for him. “You’re mine, little dove,” he breathes in your ear, and you can’t disagree when your cunt is already squeezing so tight around him. He brushes over your clit again, and you lean your head forward to his shoulder this time. “I won’t let you wed another.” You know he speaks true.

You whimper when he nibbles at your earlobe. Cautiously, you move to touch him and slowly trace down his stomach and past his navel, earning you the smallest laugh of amusement from him. Permission enough to touch him. You take his hard cock in your hand, and he lets out a pleased sigh as you begin to stroke him. Watching him is mesmerizing, his movements as graceful as ever even as he rocks his hips into your touch, though his own rhythm between your thighs stutters momentarily with distraction. “Yours,” you agree between long kisses. The Seven and the Old Gods be damned, you’d made your bed among the dragons and intended to lay in it.

Both of you stay like that for a while, enjoying the feel of your bodies as you work to get each other off. He’s better at it than you are —this Lord of Flea Bottom— and it doesn’t take long to have you panting hard with every brush of his fingers inside you. He can tell you’re close from the way you’re clenching around his fingers, his tongue muffling greedy moans.

“Let me see you,” he says, and you’re powerless to deny him when you lift your head from his shoulder. His thumb brushes over your clit harder, and the tension in your body snaps, your arms wrapping around his back and holding him to you in a desperate need to ground yourself as you come on his fingers. Daemon’s fingers keep moving inside you, teasing you through your orgasm until you’re a dazed mess for him. You give yourself several long moments to recover, breathing in the perfumed steam of the bath to slow your frantic heartbeat. He withdraws his hand from between your legs, and you can’t hide your disappointment at the newly empty feeling inside you.

Daemon rises from the water —his cock hard and straining against his belly— and offers his hand to help you out of the tub, leading you over to his bed. You lay back as he wishes, and he parts your thighs again, rubbing along the wetness he finds there and lifts his fingers to his lips to taste you. The noise Daemon makes is a promise of next time, but you’re given no time to dwell on the thought when he crawls over you and settles between your legs, the head of his cock just pressing into your cunt —unexpected, he usually takes you like a bitch in heat.

Your hips rut up towards his impatiently, and a moment later, he’s inside you. He hisses sharply but can’t stop the roll of his hips, pushing his cock deeper into you. It’s a newfound boldness you do not wish to relinquish. “Behave,” Daemon scolds, but there’s none of the usual annoyance or ire in his voice. His mouth eager on yours as he guides your arms up to pin your wrists above your head. “Stay still.” You do. Relaxing into the down blankets and pillows while he laves your neck and breasts with affection.

His thumb brushes over your nipple, and he hears how you stutter out his name, and it only spurs his need to have you like this. “What a good little dove you are.” Daemon smirks, and you have to look away, almost ashamed of how red your face turns at his praises, but you squirm beneath him as he strokes along a sensitive spot inside of you.

You feel his lips ghosting over your closed eyelids, and you peek one open to watch him. There’s the faintest flush across his face as he stares down at you with such raw hunger it feels like you’re going to burn up from the heat of your bodies —like Caraxes has bathed you both in flames. You want to touch him, to run your fingers through his silver hair and down the toned muscles of his shoulders and back. You flex them impatiently but keep your hands obediently where he’d placed them.

He pinches a nipple between his fingers, and you jolt, letting out a shaky moan that has his cock throbbing inside you, and it rips a harsh groan from his lips. You reach for him without thinking, dragging your nails across his scalp before he takes your wrists and presses them harder into the bed. You wriggle under him and only earn a quick nip to your earlobe. “Told you to behave,” he reminds you sternly, but his scolding only makes you clench around him tighter. Daemon curses and his next kiss is hot and demanding, and you part your lips for his tongue without a moment’s hesitation.

“Please, Daemon,” you whimper, and he knows what it is you want and gives a small nod of agreement. You reach for him again, going for his silver locks to bring him back down into another kiss. You hold tight to him when he tries to separate, keeping his chest flush against yours, whispering and whimpering his name like sacred prayers as he presses himself deeper into you —his pelvis grinding against your clit.

He thrusts into you harder while stroking your clit, and you unravel for him, tension running through you like dragonfire until you’re unable to do anything more than shudder beneath him. “Daemon,” you whimper, muscles twitching uselessly as he teases you through it. You’re too focused on your blood pounding in your ears to fully appreciate his reaction to you, his breaths ragged, and pupils blown wide with his own arousal at how you spasm around his aching cock. It’s a sight you’re not like to see again —you very well may never see your prince like this again.

You try to wrap yourself around his waist and pull him further into you —wanting to help him find his release— but instead, your legs are pressed firmly into the bed. “No,” he says through rough kisses, the last one nipping sharply at your bottom lip. He groans, feeling his cock twitch in anticipation of release.

Daemon pulls out of your cunt and leaves you empty. You almost complain, but he shushes you by dragging your hand down to his cock —slick and throbbing from all your efforts— and you follow his lead without instruction. His fingers are warm around yours as he guides you. He looks tragically beautiful when he comes, his head tilted back and mouth slightly open in a sharp gasp at the shiver running through his body. His cock twitches in your grasp, coating your hand and stomach in his sticky seed —he won’t risk a bastard child.

He moves to lay beside you, more relaxed than he’s been in a fortnight. You roll onto your side and look him over. This is far from your first time entertaining the prince in his bed —even being of noble blood, you know how this works. All the Seven Kingdoms know you are his mistress, even true love perhaps, but he is already sworn to another, and you must act as though the whispers and rumors are lies. It always hurts when you must leave, but you’d been foolish enough to cast your heart to the son of the dragon, and now you must suffer the price. “Do you require anything else, my prince?” You query.

Daemon turns his head to look at you, flushed and glowing. “Mmm” —he reaches for you, fingers trailing along your cheek and back into your hair— “stay.” The request surprises you, but you’ll indulge him and your own heart. A comfortable silence lingers until Daemon shifts, gathering you up in his arms to lay you down on the bed properly and offers a rag to clean yourself with as he does the same. When he returns to your side, Daemon rests his head on your breast and lets you hold him, humming sweetly as the songbirds, to an age-old lullaby. We'll sleep when the morning comes, and we'll rise by the sound of the birdsongs. And the morning will come too soon.

[ taglist: @mrsragnarlodbrok @erzsebetrosztoczy @certifiedlittleshit ] if your name is italicized, tumblr would not let me tag you. if you’d like to be added to my Game of Thrones/House of the Dragon taglist, just let me know with this Google Form!

#Daemon Targaryen #Daemon Targaryen x Reader #Daemon x Reader #Daemon Targaryen Fanfic #House of the Dragon #Matt Smith #my writing #setting for this fic is before HotD and the DotD begins #he came for me y'all and i cannot help it #between him and Criston Cole woo boy #if i wasnt sold on the casting i am now #soon to be everyones favorite bastards

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dreaming-for-an-escape · 2 years

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First Kiss

Summary: Genevieve and Jacaerys share their first kiss.

(For those of you who are wondering, Genevieve is an OC of an OC. She is Tatiana’s Tyrell’s daughter from her marriage to Jeremiah Merryweather, another OC of mine. And Tatiana isn an ancestor to another OC of mine Maeve Tyrell from my GOT story Blood and Thorns)

Genevieve Merryweather considered herself to be an excellent hider. The sixteen year old also was swift on her feet. She was certainly faster than most, including her younger brother Jasper, and between them she was the one who wore the dresses.

Her hiding and running abilities in the past came in handy whenever she wanted to outrun her Septa. Genevieve had the upper hand, especially when in a known area. She was able to move from spot to spot without being detected.

Dragonstone was very familiar to her. Over the years, coming and going with her family, it had become her home, really.

There were only a few people on Dragonstone who were able to figure out what her next step would be. Therefore Genevieve’s expression only lit up when Jacaerys stepped out from behind a stone wall. She halted, releasing the grip on her dress.

“Found you.” Her brown eyed admirer grinned at her.

“You did but we weren’t playing this time.” Genevieve told him with a glow to her face. It was a glow Jacaerys liked seeing on her, and it appeared whenever they were being fun-loving.

“Might as well have.” Jacaerys chuckled. “I’ve been trying to find you since my training ended.”

“Oh, so you took longer to find me this time.” Genevieve tried staying serious but a few giggles escaped her. “I’m disappointed, Jace.”

Jacaerys got closer to her, his voice becoming husky. “You’re delighted to see me. Don’t try denying it.”

Oh, Genevieve wasn’t about to deny anything. “I’m always delighted to see you.” She blushingly admitted.

The blush on her was the same color as the pink rose she gifted him when they had been children. That took place years ago, and the rose was now long gone. If it had been possible to stop the rose from withering Jacaerys would have done so.

The pink rose was gone, and so was the beauty of it, but not Genevieve’s. She remained beautiful to him, inside and out, and he eagerly wanted to tell her the reason as to why he’d been looking for her. He cleared his throat.

“I overheard our mothers conversing.” At her amused stare he shrugged his shoulders. “You’re not the only one who is good at not being detected.”

“You do have your secretive moments.” Genevieve giggled. “Now what is it that you overheard our mothers talking about?”

Jacaerys answered with so much enthusiasm, almost as if he’d been told he were to claim another dragon. “About us being betrothed.

His enthusiasm was contagious. How could it not be? This was also good news to her as it was to him. It wasn’t unexpected news, however. Genevieve smiled.

“Jace, we’ve known since we were children about the possibility of being betrothed one day.”

“Yes, but it is to be official soon. According to what I overheard.” Jacaerys smiled happily, taking her hands in his. “We have a cause for celebration and what better way than to have you go on a ride with me.”

“You mean go flying?” Genevieve questioned, blue eyes widening. “On Vermax?”

Jacaerys was beaming. “Yes! He’s finally big enough to saddle two now.”

Jacaerys often told her as kids that he wanted her to go riding with him on his dragon. Vermax had been too small then, but he wasn’t anymore.

His green and reddish dragon had indeed grown but Genevieve remained unsure. She’d never been on a dragon before, only seen others riding them.

Jacaerys and his younger brother Lucerys would take to the skies with their beloved creatures. Her mother Tatiana had also ridden on a dragon before, she’d seen so. On both Rhanerya’s dragon Syrax and Daemon’s dragon Caraxes.

Her mother had a fiery persona, and she was the bravest person she knew. Genevieve could hardly think of anything that terrified her mother. Her mother would tell her the same pluckiness coursed through her veins. Yet here she stood, unconfident.

Jacaerys sensed her hesitation. Still holding her hands with his own, he brought her to him, and put his forehead down onto hers. It was so easy to get lost in his eyes at this proximity. She adored his warm brown eyes.

“Please, Gen. I promise I will not let you fall.” His words were soft, building reassurance. “You should know by now that you’re always safe with me.”

Her soon to be intended spoke the truth. Genevieve, no matter where they were, who they were with, always felt safe with Jacaerys. She felt this way ever since they were children, younger than they were now. She trusted him with her life.

That’s why Genevieve eventually agreed. She held onto his hands now and then not that long afterwards let him use those same hands to help her up Vermax.

She sat comfortably as she watched Jacaerys whisper Valyrian words to Vermax, keeping him relaxed. He hadn’t responded negatively to her presence, but Jacaerys wanted it to stay that way. His whispers were heard, and Vermax welcomed the touch on his scales.

Jacaerys soon mounted Vermax, positioning himself in front of her. He instructed Genevieve to wrap her arms around him. She quickly did so.

“What do you think?” Jacaerys asked. His heart beat in his chest so fast at having her arms wrapped around him.

Genevieve’s own heart was racing. They hadn’t taken off yet and she already felt lightheaded. She thought of her mom and how she’d done this countless times. Her mother probably never felt that way. “I feel taller.” The sixteen year old swallowed. She felt Jacaerys’ laughter.

“Just wait until we’re in the sky.”

Genevieve, while still maintaining her hold on him, then looked at her dress. “I should have probably worn the proper attire for this.”

“Next time.” Jacaerys turned his head slightly to look at her. He was smiling, his brown eyes turning a shade darker. “Although it is a beautiful dress I’d rather see you in a white dress.”

As expected Genevieve blushed. “Jace!” She giggled.

Jacaerys, still smiling, turned his head forward. He took the reins on Vermax. “Sōvēs, Vermax.” He commanded loudly. “Sōvēs.”

Genevieve wasn’t fluent in High Valyrian but she knew what sōvēs meant. Fly. And that’s exactly what Vermax did.

Genevieve's hold on Jacaerys tightened as Vermax took to the air. She was proud that she did not scream. That wouldn’t have been good considering she was so close to Jacaerys’ face. No, instead she held onto him and kept her face between his neck and shoulder.

Her eyes were shut but must have already been way up high because Genevieve felt much colder than before.

“Gen, you have to open your eyes.” Jacaerys gently prompted. “Otherwise you’ll miss the view.”

He was right. What would be the point of flying on a dragon if she was just going to keep her eyes shut the entire time. Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes.

Small. Everything looked so small.

Despite the fear she felt at being up so high there was also excitement. She released a laugh.

“Now I feel taller than before.”

“Told you.” Jacaerys exclaimed.

They continued to fly on Vermax, and at some point the dragon dove downwards. Genevieve once again put her face between Jacaerys’ neck and shoulder. She, however, didn’t close her eyes this time. So when Jacaerys turned to look at her their lips almost touched.

This time it was his turn to madly blush and it was Genevieve who took the next step. The last thing she saw before pressing her lips onto his own was his warm brown eyes.

Jacaerys needed a moment to realize this actually was happening. This wasn’t another one of his dreams. The girl he loved, the girl he was soon to marry, was kissing him. When she tried leaning away he brought her right back with a hand to her cheek. The remaining hand on the reins, commanding Vermax. His dragon now flew steadily, as if he knew what was happening between with his rider and his companion. It was something wondrous.

There up in the sky, while riding on a dragon, Genevieve Merryweather and Jacaerys Velaryon shared their first kiss.

A first kiss both would remember forever. No matter how long or short their lives would be.

#genevieve merryweather #jacaerys velaryon #fluff #house of the dragon blurb #house of the dragon #I wanted to write something cute between these two #vermax being a wingman for jace xD #gotta enjoy the fluff white it's here because we all know what happens to jace later #oc

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coldraindropsss · 11 months

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Aurane Waters, Taena Merryweather

#Aurane Waters #Taena Merryweather #taena of myr #digital #game of thrones #hotd #asoiaf art #asoiaf fanart #asoiaf #got #gotfanart #house targaryen #valyrianscrolls #a song of ice and fire

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houseofmouselove100 · 7 months

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The boys arrived and saw that the club is fine

And the girls invited Chip and Dale to dance, they're like those stripper dancers.

Mortimer tried to get the ladies' attention by dancing like a stripper but the ballet hippo fell on him.

#house of mouse #the house of mouse #disney #mickey mouse #minnie mouse #goofy goof #donald duck #daisy duck #clarabelle cow #chip and dale #mortimer mouse #queen of hearts #miss bunny #bianca rescuers #Grandmother fa #flora fauna and merryweather

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lokideservesahug · 13 days

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Once upon A Dream II

Part of the 𝓕1 𝓕𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓪𝓼𝔂 𝓒𝓸𝓵𝓵𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷

-°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°--°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°-

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Fem! Reader (Sleeping Beauty AU)

Warnings: Kidnapping, swords, killing and I think that's it?

Notes: Here is the second and last part of the Oscar Sleeping Beauty AU. I hope you all like this!

Summary: What do you do when you meet the man of your dreams and the love of your life? Why you run away to the palace of course...wait that can't be right?

Word Count: 4.5K

Part 1

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Back at the cottage, things were going really quite well. Florah has pulled together a really lovely dress truly "fit for a princess" as she said, Merryweather was utilising the time to clean around the house Fauna was making great progress cake. After they were all finally allowed to use their wands after so long of course. All was going swimmingly and with their magic the surprise early was nearly ready. Merryweather dances around the room eith the mop as it weaves in and out of the furniture, around Fauna and her baking, and back to the living room area were the acting seamstress is creating her masterpiece.

Merryweather spins around, wand waving with her. And spots the dress in the middle of the room. She gives it a one over and then begins to sport a look of disgust as she mumbles to herself. "Oh no. Not pink. Make it blue!" She subtly taps her wand in the air and as tiny sparkles are emailed from the tip of the wand, in front of their eyes, the once gorgeous pink dress begins to turn a lovely blue hue. Flora gasps in horror. "Merryweather!" She thrusts her own wand in the direction of the dress whilst mumbling "Make it pink. And in the same magic, sparkly fashion, the dress returns to its original pink. She continues to sew momentarily as Merryweather begins to spin again.

Until the dress is in her sights once more. She mumbles subtly another "Make it blue." And continues to dance with the mop as the blue engulfs the pink on the dress. Flora let's out a frustrated "Pink!" And turns to glare at the other fairy. Merryweather glances at the change through a (newly cleaned) extremely shiny pot and eith a tap of her wand, goes to change the colour once again. However, her magic bounces off the pan and hits Flora rather than the dress. The now also blue fairy gasps in horror and disgust at her clothes' new cosmetic appearance and as Merryweather bends forward in laughter, she finds herself in a new colour if clothes. The two go back and forth. A shot of red magic flies across the room. And then a shot of blue. Red. Blue. Red. Blue. The paths of magic begin yo loose direction and end up flying anywhere and everywhere. Past the cake, to each other, through the chimney.

And unbeknownst to any of the trio of fairy's, the contant red and blue sparked flying through the chimney, alerts a certain crow flying over as to their whereabouts. He stops in his tracks and begins to sqauwk loudly in shock at the flashes of light. He lands on top of the chimney of the cottage narrowly missing a red beam of magic coming from the spout. He leans in to get a look down the chimney only to be hit by multiple shots of magic, holding him in the air as if he was surfing on a sea of magic.

In the cottage, the two fairies continue to argue until it they both shoot a beam of magic towards the dress at the same time, causing it to appear to be splattered in different shaded of blue and pink. "Oh now look what you've done!" Flora angrily approaches the dress. "Shhh!" Fauna cuts across their conflict. "Listen!" The distant sound of beautiful singing fills their ears. They all cuttle to clean up. Merryweather puts the last of the dishes away, Flora lays the dress on a chair (not before giving it a tap with her wand to make it pink) and Fauna adds the last few candles onto the cake. "Now hide!" Flora grabs the arm of the green fairy as Fauna taps her wand in the air to light the candles on the cake.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

"Aunt Flora. Fauna. Merryweather?" You call for the women as you push open the cottage door. "Where are you?" You walk further in the house and gasp at the gorgeous dress lying on the chair. Suddenly a chorus of cheers fill your ears "Surprise!" You grin at their display. "Happy birthday!" "Oh you darlings. This is the happiest day of my life! Everything is so wonderful. Just wait till you meet him." You gaze forward longingly, daydreaming about the man from earlier that swept you off your feet. Flora splutters in confusion at your words. "Y-youve met a stranger?" You shake your head at her. "Oh no. He's not some stranger. We've met before." This causes both Flora and Fauna to look more alarmed. Merryweather however is the one taht speaks up. "You have? Where?"

You sigh dreamily "In a dream of course." You begin to hum the song from earlier ; which you have now deemed yours and the man from earlier's song (you wish you'd caught his name). At your clearly smitten look and lovesick humming, Fauna adresses the older women "She's in love!" Merryweather turns to Flora and covers her mouth with worry "Oh no..." Flora turns to Merryweather. "This is terrible!" You stop your humming and turn to the red-clad woman "Why? I'm twenty one after all." She shakes her head "It isn't that deary." Fauna walks towards you and takes your hands in hers whilst smiling. "You're already betrothed." This makes your smile drop. "Betrothed?" The other women in the room smile and Merryweather adds "Since the day you were born." Fauna nods her head. "To Prince Oscar, dear." You shake your head in disbelief "But that's impossible, how could I ever marry a prince? I'd have to be-" Merryweather grins and cuts across you "A princess."

"And you are dear." Fauna chimes before Flora comes back into the conversation "Princess Y/N. Tonight we're taking uou back to King Stefan, your father." Not that any of you noticed, but the crow now perched outside of the door perked up at the newfound information and if birds could grin, he would be. You turn and look at the women in horror, having just processed their words. "But...but I can't! He's coming here tonight!" You look around hopelessly "I promised to meet him. The women give you sympathetic glances "I'm sorry dear but you must never see that man ever again." Flora says with your hands in hers. You pull back from her embrace with wide eyes. "No...I can't believe it! This can't be happening...No!" The women try and approach you with a comforting embrace only for be met with your sobbing figure running out of the room and up the cottage stairs.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

You say nothing for the rest of the day. Even when the tree women sneak you out of the forest and into the castle. You just tuck yourself nearer into the large cloak covering you and let your thoughts be plagued by the man from earlier and what could have been. They lead you inro the most elaborate room you've ever seen, sit you down at a stool by a vanity and gift a gorgeous tiara to you muttering things about it being your royal right. You only lawn your head on the vanity and mourn what could have been eith the man of your dreams as you watch your life swiftly be given away to some random prince.

Flora gently ushers the women out of the room muttering "Come. Let's give her a few moments alone." Merryweather shoots a concerned glance at the door "It's that boy..."

You continue to crumble softly with your head still lying on your arms. So you don't take any note to the dimming of the fireplace. Or the figure that emerges from it. Or even the bright green, floating orb of energy that makes its way into the middle of the room and begins to permeate your senses with a spell. You stare at the orb in a trance, feeling completely at its mercy.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Merryweather angrily groans "I don't see why on Earth she needs to marry any old prince!" Fauna pits a comforting hand on merry's shoulder "Now, now dear. It's not for us to decide." She stands up and adresses Flora. "Maybe we should tell King Stefan about the boy..." Merry gladly joins in "Well why don't we?" Flora stops her pacing and Hughes the other two women. "Listen! Malificent!" They all scamper worriedly to your door whilst chrousing your nickname. Yet when they open the door, they're met with your retreating figure dowsed in unnatural green light. "Oh why did we leave her alone?" They chase after you only to be met with the entry to the passageway turning into a brick wall.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

The light leads you up a flight of stairs, not that you're consciously aware of it. You don't even notice the distant echoes of your name from the bottom of the staircase. The light stops in the middle of teh room and begins to morph into some wooden contraption. After a moment ir two, you realise that the wooden contraption is in fact a spinning wheel, glowing the same sickeningly green shad eof the magic orb. Your tunnel vision focuses on the sharp point yet you notice a distant shouts of "Don't touch anything" from familiar female voices. However, an ominous voice (which you just assume is your inner monologue) urges you to touch the spindle. You do as it says and feel a brief moment of relief from the magic before you collapse.

"You poor simple fools." The tall, slender figure of Malificent stands in teh centre if the room. "Thinking you could defeat me. Me, the mistress of all evil! Well here is your precious little princess." She points to the ground where you lie and the fairies gasp in horror. Malificent exits the rol with a manical laugh as the women rush over to your figure.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

No one sees how much the fairy's weep tonight. But as they lie your body into the plush, untouched bed, the walls certainly bare witness to their sobs. The same walls also watch as the three fairies agree to place the entire kingdom under a century long sleep to wait for the princess to awake. The fairys shrink themselves and take off, out of the window and begin to spell the kingdom. They visit everyone from the guards to the dogs. To the subjects and even the rulers.

However when they reach the throne room, Flora hears the last conscious thoughts of the king from the neighbouring country. "I was just talking to Oscar. Seems he's fallen in love with some..." He yawns and his eyes begin to flutter to a close. He begisn to recall the events from earlier (of a lovesick and elated Isvar running to him and confessing his love for a poor, wood-dweller rather than the princess Y/N he was betrothed to). "Peasant girl." This causes Flora to halt her ministrations. "Peasant girl?" She utters to herself in confusion. She lopps back round and approaches the (much) larger man's face. "Yes?" She tries to tap the man on the face only to receive a tired sigh in repsonse.

Flora flies over to his ear and shouts urgently in it. "The peasant girl, who is she? Where did he meet her?" The neighboring king only mumbles. "Just some peasnt gi...." Before he drifte back off. "Where, where?" Flora forces his eyelid open. "Once upon...a dream..." He slips out of consciousness for the final tie. Flora gasps loudly at his word sand repeats them to herself. "Y/N, Prince Oscar." She shoots up into teh air in realisation and determination. She meets the other two fairies who are hovering above. "Come on, we've got to get back to the cottage." At her exclamation, they all zoom off into the woods in hopes of finding the prince.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Oscar happily jumps off of Smason as soon as he reaches the front door of the cottage. A big grin splits across his face at just the thought of the woman he met earlier. He's never felt such a warm feeling from being in the pretense of someone before and even the few hours away from you make his heart yearn for your presence once more. He knocks gently on the door despite his excitement on what should await him on the other side. "Come in." A voice beckons to him. He opens the door, lovesick grin still prominent on his face. That look however quickly drops when he enters the darkness filled cottage. Slam. The door suddenly closes and before he can react, he's being jumped apon by what feels like a million small creatures.

His arms are swiftly tied, leaving him unable to do anything. Maleficent only watches with a smug look on her face as she watches the prince be tied up. Oscar desperately kicks, trying to ward if the creatures but his attempts are futile due to the sheer number if the henchmen. He even looses his ability to cake for help when not long after his legs are tied, something ties a cloth around his mouth, leaving him and his senses at whoever bound him's mercy. Oscar grunts lowly, trying to break free of any of the ties only to have Maleficent approach him with a wicked grin.

"Well..." She looks him up and down with an almost hungry look in her eyes. "This is a pleasant surprise." Her grin widens even more as she holds the candlestick not far from his face. "I set my trap for a peasant and instead I caught a prince!" She laughs to herself before slamming her staff on the floor. "Take him away." Oscar tries to wiggle out of the binds once more. "But gently my pets, gently." She softly adresses her minions as they take Oscar far away from the cottage.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

When the fairys arrive at the cottage, they find it dark and empty... Well apart from the brooch of a travel cloak carrying the Pistri Royal Family crest. Flora gasps. "Prince Oscar!" She picks up the brooch and shows it to the other 2 women. They gasp and simultaneously mutter "Maleficent." Merrywether opens her mouth and shock and mutters "She's got Prince Oscar!" Flora only responds with dazed "At the forbidden mountains." Making Fauna gasp in horror.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Maleficent walks along the gloomy corridors of her castle to the large cells. She pulls a large key from a concealed pocket and opens the creaky door and approaches the man with his head rested on his hand. "Oh come now Prince Oscar, what are you so down? A spectacular future lies ahead of you. You, the destined hero of a fairytale community to life." She leans happily against her staff.

"Behold, King Stefan's Castle." She points the orb if her staff towards Oscar's face. "And in the highest tower, dreaming of her true love, the Princess Y/N. But by some gracious twist of fate. Why it is the same peasant girl who won the heart of our noble Prince, but yesterday. She truly is a most gorgeous maid. With locks of Y/H/C and lips of red, in ageless sleep, left eternally in bed. " She smiles wildly and continues her strange narrative as the image in the orb changes to a long, white haired clearly aged version of Oscar on a clearly shattered horse. "The years pass but 100 years to a steadfast heart pass as if only a minute. Now the gates of the dungeon part and our prince is free to go his own way. Off he rides on bus noble steed straight to wake his lady love with loves first kiss. And prove that true love conquers all."

Maleficent smiles sickeningly sweetly and at the end of her Minogue, Oscar jumps up as if ready to attack, only to be held back by the giant chains. She laughs at his helplessness and leaves the dungeon with a quieter, self-satisfied laugh this time.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

After a very long and action filled journey to the forbidden mountains, the fairies eventually find Oscar in the cellar. They look on from a high perch as Malaficent returns to the highest point of the castle and they take that as their sign to act. They fly down through the window to where Oscar is being kept and transform from their tiny, flight ready selves into their full size selves. Flora hushes Oscar as he looks up in confusion upon their arrival. "No time to explain." She says to the young man as she begins to use her wand to free the prince of one of the chains in his arm. Fauna makes quick work on the shackles binding his feet whilst Merryweather works on unlocking the door.

Oscar looks at his newly freed form and rubs his rusts slightly, getting accustomed to the feeling of no large metal binds. He takes a determined step forward before Flora stops him. "Wait Prince Oscar the road to true love may be blocked by many more dangers. That you alone will have to face. So arm yourself with this enchanted shield." She waves her wand in the air and a large shield appears on Oscar's left arm. "And you can't forget this mighty sword!" She flicks flicks wand once again and a sharp sword takes home in Oscar's right hand. "Now these weapons of righteous shall win against all evil. Now come, we must hurry." At her words, the four of them quickly sneak out of the cell.

Squawk. As soon as Flora exits the cell, she ends up being face to face with a squawking Maleficent crow. She goes to grab it yet it has already flown up the stairs, still squawking, before she can act. Oscar turns and gestures to the women to follow him along an alternate route. "Come on. I think we can go the way I came." He leads them along the corridor and they run up a different flight of stairs. Stairs with over a dozen of Malaficent's henchmen stationed on them and an ever squawking crow above them. Oscar turns and runs back down the stairs as the fairies shrink for easier exit. Oscar jumps up to an empty window frame and begins swinging his sword. He manages to land a fair few blows before he leaps put of the window and onto the surprisingly large ledge below (which he had noticed when he first jumped to the window frame). He runs along the ledge until he reaches the corner.

Driven by his sheer bravery and determination to meet his fair maiden (who is also theprincess he is betrothed to?) Oscar jumps from the ledge and manages to slide on what must be an old form of guttering and take a calculated leap onto the floor. He hears a small shout of "Oscar watch out." Brgore he turns and only narrowly blocks an onslaught of arrows fired by some henchmen (instructed by that annoying crow). Merryweather flys to a few metres away where Samson is chained to a pair and begins to break through the binds. Oscar early finds place back on the back of his horse and with the fairies trailing behind, gallops away. The fairies manage to block many attacks and even Oscar fails to realise many if them with his tunnel vision being focused only on the end objective of seeing and saving you.

Merryweather growing tired of the windless Birdcall, splits from the group and chases the loud bird in and around different pillars as it dodges shots of her magic. They teach the highers tower and before it can enter the fairway, she catches off guard and the shot of magic turns him into a gargoyle looking bird. She casts a self satisfied glance at the taste and flies away.

Oscar hears the harsh words of "hurry" from the red clad fairy to his left before ethe sky suddenly tursn an unnatural shade of purple. The stone archway he rides under is only there for a moment longer after it is hit by a bolt of lightning, a strange purple hue. Oscar holds the shield above his head and let's out a few grunts when he feels the pressure of loose stones falling on the shield. Another strike hits the path ahead of him but Samson thinks fast and jumps to a ledge just below. The five of them continue on the path and the palace suddenly enters his sight. But before his eyes, the ground spits and a collsal mask of thorns begins to sprout. He watched the plants grow contort at strange angles and he mutters a quiet "What the-" before Samson grinds to a halt by tilting onto his back legs.

The still determined Oscar doesn't think for more than a second before his right hand is leaving forward and slaughtering the branches. He makes quick work of the thorns and ploughs through them. He only gets held up for a small moment when the back of his travel cloak gets snagged by a particular unruly branch. Merryweather sees this and flies out and tugs the cloak free. Oscar makes a mental note to thank her later before continuing yo ride towards the palace and cut down the unreadonable shrubbery. It doenst take long for Oscar to reach the end of the thorns and instead he finds a bramble free bridge only covered by a thin layer of purple fog. But at that moment, yhe nothing before him turns into a green flame filled eith the mistress of evil. If looks could kill, Oscar would be long gone because she looked like she was ready to kill him over a hundred times over.

She proves this theory when she opens her arms and proclaims "Now you will deal with me Oh Prince." She looks up to the sky and her limbs suddenly begin to grow and contort to weird angles. None of the groups see much though because a large amount of her signature smoke comes with the transformation. Maleficent let's out a cunning laugh and trails off when she wholly becomes her final, dragon form. Oscar only stares, horrified and slack jawed before he snaps out of his mood and charges forward. Yet Maleficent reacts quickly and in her dragon form, releases a large breath of flaming air. Luckily Osacr manages to block it but not without being sent backwards a tiny bit and off of Samson.

Oscar only sends a silent prayer in thanks that his horse didn't have to be involved with the fight between Oscar and the towering creature. Malificent sends out multitudinous blasts of fire that even lead to the crumbling if the castle bridge. But none of this deters Oscar from his mission. Oscar moves back slightly to hide in the brambles and when Mlaificent sticks her significantly karge head in Saif plants to find Oscar, he strikes. He lands a good hit to her giant, scaley nose and even as she bites back in retaliation, he manages to land a few swipes here and there. Maleficent raises her head once more and St's the branches laughter with one small breath of fire. Oscar backs himself against a tall cliff. "Up this way!" Flora commands the man and he hoists him himself the cliff and climbs to the highest point. He manages to end end eye level with Maleficent and lands a few more swipes to her head, halting her sudden biting motions.

The dragon backs Oscar up until hes left looking helpless at the edge of the cliff. She shoots another breath of fire and Oscar loses his balance slightly and drops the shield. The onlookers hold their breath in fear. But when the fairies approach and Flora mutters a low enchantment of "Sword of truth fly swift and sure, that evil die and good endure" Oscar feels as if its decond nature to throw his sword straight to the heart of the dragon. Magnificent let's out a conquered wail at the contact and as Oscar sees rhe sword peirce her scales, he feels not an ounce if sympathy. Maliwfwicent tries to land one more bite at Oscar but he narrowly doges it.

The ground however is not nearly as unborhered by her actions and as the large creature falls to the floor? The unsteady cliff collapses in front of his feet. He shakes bimself, almost as if trying to sober himself up afyer a bus dream only to be met with the sword lodged into a dark purple stain in the ground... Oscar has no time to ponder this however before he hears the approaching footfall of Samson. "Here boy." Oscar smiles as he grabs the reigns. Oscar throws a glance towards the castle only to see eit looking bibrant, saturated and most umportantly, not surrounded by brambles.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Oscar almost finds it unfair that you're as gorgeous asleep as you were when you danced with him two days prior. He gazes at you in awe. You really were a sleeping beauty. He approaches ypir bed softly and feels giddy with the reminded of what the fairies told him he had to do. He traces your features gently with his eyes. And feels himself smile softly at your serene look. Oscar takes adero breath in and leans in, mouth meeting yours. And Oscar feels like he's never felt such a wonderful sensation as your plush lips meeting his (especially when yours are surprisingly warm). Oscar pulls back k slightly to admire your radiance onec again only to be met with a pair of fluttering eyelids.

You smile softly when you see Oscar leaning infront if you and the fairies in the back coo at your awakening.

Neither if you notice the rest of the kingdom awakening but when you and Oscar go downstairs to the throne room, you feel everyone's eyes on the two of you. You however are so lost in Oscar's eyes and the loving look he's giving you that you don't even notice your father's exclamation of "It's Y/N, she's here!" Or your future father in laws confuse spluttering (he did after all still think that Oscar wanted to marry that 'Peasant girl' from the woods). He does however manages to male a great observation of "and Oscar!" The two of you bow to your fathers and you leave Oscar's sid etc go and give your mother a warm embrace.

Oscar's father approaches him and says quietly whilst looking around, "What doe sthis mean son I-" You however swiftly silence his thoughts when you kiss the man on either cheek before Oscar holds out his hand for you and you take it. Oscar leads you onto the dance floor and the two of you begin to softly sway. You look up lovingly into his eyes and he smiles slightly and mutters "So I all worked out then?" You let oit a gentle hum od confusion and he clarifies himself. "Your dream love." His words make you ought softly and the two of you smile and exchange yet another long, lasting kiss. And why you don't think even your dreams could capture such a magical, truly spectacular feeling.

-°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°--°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°-

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it!

As always, likes, reblogs and especially feedback is always welcome.

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duxbelisarius · 1 year

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The Dance of the Dragons: A Military Analysis (Pt. 1)

I’ve been meaning to do this since I watched House of the Dragon and read Fire & Blood; after reading and re-reading F&B, I’ve concluded that the way that the Dance of the Dragons was fought by both factions is plain nonsensical. I will demonstrate this by analyzing the military as well as political aspects of George’s narrative, referring to F&B and other works in George’s ASOIAF legendarium and analysis I’ve seen from reddit and Tumblr. Part 1 covers Chapters 1 and 2 of The Dying of the Dragons, being The Blacks and the Greens and A Son for A Son, as well as The Red Dragon and the Gold where it concerns the alignment of the houses.

Starting with Gyldan’s claim that the realm was ‘divided in two’ by the Dance, this is provably false even if one takes it as just a shorthand phrase and not a serious attempt at summarizing the Dance for his audience. Rhaenyra received the nigh uncontested support of four of the Seven Kingdoms during the war, the North, the Riverlands, the Iron Islands and the Vale, whereas Aegon II’s claim went uncontested only in the Westerlands and Stormlands. The Crownlands and Reach were divided from the outset, with the Tyrells remaining neutral until the end (arguably, but we’ll save that for later). Taking into account the Royal Fleet and Rhaenyra’s numerical advantage in Dragons, even though Rhaenyra’s allies were not all able to provide immediate support, the sheer number of her supporters presents a problem with George’s set-up.

What is that problem? By George’s premises that he established in his work, Rhaenyra’s support should not exist or at least not without the lack of qualification he provides. The chapter Heirs of the Dragon - A Question of Succession states that the Council of 101 AC chose Viserys over Rhaenys’ son Laenor by a wide margin, possibly as much as 20-to-1. Though she was passed over as Jaehaerys’ heir in 92 AC for her uncle Baelon, Rhaenys’ claim for her son was superior to that of Viserys, as she was the eldest child of the first son of the King while Viserys was the second son’s eldest. Yet George would have us believe that after passing over Rhaenys’ superior claim under Andal Law, the lords of the realm would support Rhaenyra in droves despite her objectively inferior claim? The oaths sworn to Rhaenyra as Viserys’ heir were made when Daemon was removed from the line of succession, and because Viserys had no children save for Rhaenyra. By Viserys’ death he has three sons and his eldest, Aegon, was in a similar situation to Rhaenys and Laenor. Under Andal Law, a sister cannot inherit before a brother; but just like in 101 AC, the wishes of the King that the legal heir not inherit were given preference over the law. There should be plenty of lords and ladies from either side of the 101 AC debates that would support Aegon on the basis of his sex or his legal status, but save for House Baratheon it seems that none of the houses that supported Rhaenys received offers of alliance from Otto and the Green Council until after Blood and Cheese, if at all.

George does not help his case by giving us so few good reasons as to why certain houses supported Rhaenyra or Aegon; @lemonhemlock has an entire tag devoted to this issue, and I recommend starting with this thread. Despite Aegon II’s ties to the Reach via the Hightowers and the potential for this to increase the Reach’s influence over the realm, the number of houses listed as joining the Blacks far outnumbers the Greens. House Beesbury, Merryweather and Caswell may be explained by Aegon executing members of those families for supporting Rhaenyra, but we get no reasoning for the Tarlys, Mullendores, Grimms, Rowans, Oakhearts, Footlys or Costaynes. On the opposite end of the spectrum are the Westerlands and Stormlands, which supported Aegon II without any mention of internal opposition by Gyldan. This is especially bizarre for the Stormlands given that Otto Hightower expected House Tarth to support Rhaenyra, while Lady Fell and Lord Buckler were among those executed by Aegon II early in the war. This trend of inexplicable unanimity continues with the Riverlands, whose lords are called a ‘notoriously quarrelsome lot’ but support Rhaenyra completely with the exception of the Brackens and the Vances of Atranta. The only real basis for this support that we get from the narrative rests upon the oaths made to Rhaenyra in 106 AC and a single visit she made to Riverrun in 112 AC, decades before the war began.

The unanimity of Northern support for Rhaenyra is even more questionable based on information which George provides within Fire & Blood and elsewhere. Despite Rickon Stark’s death in 121 AC, his son Cregan Stark only became Lord of Winterfell in 126 AC after imprisoning his uncle Bennard Stark and his sons for being slow to relinquish their authority as regents. Despite the approach of winter and the conflict with his uncle, we hear nothing of any misgivings or opposition to Cregan’s pact with Jacaerys. The pact itself is remarkably generous to Rhaenyra, guaranteeing the North’s support in exchange for the marriage of Cregan’s son to a future daughter of the still unwed Jacaerys Velaryon (contrast this with Hoster Tully’s demanding that Ned Stark wed & bed Catelyn during Robert’s Rebellion). In the case of Jeyne Arryn’s support for Rhaenyra, her supporters in House Royce have every reason to oppose this given that Rhaenyra’s consort is Daemon Targaryen, the man who allegedly had Rhea Royce murdered and tried to claim Runestone. Yet they seem not to oppose Lady Arryn’s decision, and Ser Willam Royce is among Rhaenyra’s supporters during the King’s Landing riots. When the war is over and Jeyne Arryn dies, House Royce promptly makes an about-face to support Arnold Arryn over Jeyne’s named heir Joffrey. Finally there’s the “Silent Five,” Corlys Velaryon’s nephews who lost their tongues for accusing Lucerys and his brothers of being bastards. We are told in Under the Regents - The Hooded Hand that the Five supported Aegon and that three died during the war, yet we do not hear of Velaryon forces of any kind supporting the Greens in the Dance’s narrative until after Rhaenyra imprisons Corlys.

The Dance’s narrative makes even less sense when it comes to the Tyrells and Tullys, both of whom are neutral for most of the conflict. The Tyrells initially declare for Aegon but opt for neutrality when confronted with the large number of Black supporters in the Reach. The Tyrells remain neutral even after these Black houses are brought to heel by Ormund Hightower and Daeron Targaryen, but according to Maester Munkun they prevented the Hightowers from aiding Aegon II at the end by threatening the life of Garmund Hightower (fostering at Highgarden as a ward). The Tyrells were apparently unmoved by Aegon II’s rising fortunes, but were prepared to violate guest right and murder a child for the prospect of Aegon III becoming king.

Meanwhile Elmo Tully keeps his house out of the war despite the protestations of his grandfather Grover, who is bed-ridden but wishes to support Aegon II. Elmo wished to avoid his house being assailed by either faction’s dragons, but he breaks neutrality and declares for Rhaenyra after being visited by Addam Velaryon with Seasmoke. While Elmo is claimed to have said “a dragon in one’s courtyard does wonders to resolve one’s doubts,” this quote makes House Tully’s prior neutrality even more mystifying. Daemon and Aemond were both present in the Riverlands and rode dragons far fiercer than Seasmoke, but we’re to believe that neither of them considered a show of force as a means of winning over House Tully? Elmo’s decision also makes little sense in light of the fact that Rhaenyra’s cause is in shambles at this point in the Dance, with Borros Baratheon and Ormund Hightower closing in from the south, the people of King’s Landing rioting against her, her Velaryon supporters abandoning her en masse due to the imprisonment of Lord Corlys, and rumors circulating that she had Queen Helaena and Dowager Queen Alicent gang-raped in a Flea Bottom whore-house. That George chose this moment for the Tullys to intervene on Rhaenyra’s behalf is bizarre, especially given the devastation wrought upon the Riverlands by the Dance.

I’ve doubtless left out other examples of inconsistencies and contradictions within the political alliances of George’s narrative, but in the interest of keeping things brief I’ve focused on what I found were the most obvious. If you’ve made it this far without drowning in walls of text, I commend you and thank you for your time (I definitely intend to add more images to spice things up).

If you’ve got feedback for me, the replies and my inbox are open!

#house of the dragon #hotd #team green #team black #grrm critical #fire and blood critical #asoiaf critical #asoiaf

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