princess shireen
YOU ARE THE REASON
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@fatescrosscd
princess shireen

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Sentence starter for @fatescrosscd
"Do not speak of a story you only know the half of."
Rhaella flushed with shame at his sharp tone. "Of course, you speak truly and I apologise. It was not my place to comment, nor my intention to cause offence." There was wisdom in his words, however; her knowledge of what had transpired the night Aemond had lost his eye came secondhand, and from the recollections of those who had reason to conceal certain facts from their telling.
"I admit, I find my father's testimony somewhat lacking. He claims that your mother attacked Princess Rhaenyra unprovoked. I have prayed beside Queen Alicent in the Sept, and I cannot imagine she would resort to such measures unless compelled by great injustice."
She hesitated to call Aemond a friend when so much animosity festered between their families. But for whatever reason, she enjoyed the sporadic moments in his company and did not want to lose his good opinion. "Would you... Would you like to tell me your side of the story? I should like to hear it and form my own opinions."
Queen Shireen Baratheon, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm
Based on Holbein's Anne of Cleves
An elegantly etched Partisan,
OaL: 6.5 in/256.5 cm
Head Length: 30 in/76.2 cm
Width: 7.9 in/20.2 cm
Weight: 4.5 lbs/2024.2 g
France, ca. 1575, housed at the Metropolitan Musuem of Art.
CERSEI LANNISTER + LIONESS EATING HER OWN CUBS.
Happy harlaween @elaena 🤎🤎🤎

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- on grieving our past selves
doc luben “love letters or suicide notes”/ louise glück/ liv ullmann/ funeral-phoebe bridgers/ @mjalti/ would’ve, could’ve, should’ve- taylor swift/ @fairycosmos/ rob bresney/ @sea--shore/ class of 2013- mitski
'His pride will be his downfall'
"On that much we agree. It will doom us all, if we are not careful." She admitted softly. Rhaella had never been so open with her feelings toward her father before - but if anyone could understand her situation, it would be the prince who had suffered a lifelong injury for the sake of 'preserving' the Targaryen line. "It seems that fathers are a frequent disappointment in this family. As for beheading--" her smile widened to a sardonic tilt of the mouth, "I cannot say exactly what would cause it, but I shall inform you immediately if such an occasion arises."
Rhaella was not violent by nature, but there were times when her anger got the better of her. She hated the person she became in those moments.
Despite her musings, she did not miss how Aemond's gaze traversed the weapons the way an artisan might look upon his tools. This opportunity to learn more of the infamous Aemond One-Eye was too intriguing to pass up. "Training was my intention," She confirmed. "I was taught to use a spear almost as soon as I was tall enough to hold one, at my grandfather's insistence. A family tradition, I suppose." Rhaella shrugged a braid of dark red hair from her shoulder. "The Master-at-Arms on Dragonstone has always favored a sword however, and I expect I'm sorely out of practice with only him and the young princes for opponents." The tacit invitation lingered in the air. She wanted to get the measure of this man and see if he was truly as good as they said. That, and she was desperate for a real challenge.
In the name of diplomacy, she ignored whatever slanders he voiced against Rhaenyra and Lucerys, and the way she rankled at hearing her mother described as just another place for Daemon to 'wet his cock.' Instead, she tried to focus on the positives to be found in the exchange. . .
Her sisters! There, at least, was a subject she felt no fear for being honest. Her grin was open and affectionate. "Baela is fierce, and intelligent. Rhaena is just as clever, with a sweetness that is quite disarming ; I am proud to call them my sisters. Both will make fine liege ladies, I am certain." Legitimacy aside, he was right - Baela was the eldest child of the eldest child - Driftmark should have been hers from birth. "I understand you have three siblings of your own? I haven't yet had the privilege to speak with them."
His droll apology earned another laugh. "You are forgiven - barely." She teased. "I daresay I would not have survived a week amongst the Targaryens had timidity been a weakness. Any confidence is a practiced facade, I assure you."
Daemon's name had weight to it. Whether it was good or bad, there was weight to the name Daemon Targaryen and Aemond was somewhat impressed but now he thought the man was growing older and was climbing to high when it came to his ambitions. All his life, Aemond had assumed that Daemon merely wanted the throne and was doing everything in his power to gain it. However, there was a small hint of understanding given they both were second sons. The realm did not care for them and they must make themselves known unlike their brothers. "They certainly are. It's best not go get your hopes up. The older you get and see just disappointing they are, the more you wish that the Gods would have given you a better father.." Aemond had found a father figure in Criston Cole. He would never say that aloud but Criston had been a better man that Viserys. "Please do."
Aemond's temper was a fierce one. He had learned how to control and channel it into something more productive…
One of those ways was training. Training was a way that Aemond could let wherever emotions that had been bubbling up out, no matter what it was. It was something that he understood the moment that a sword was in his hand. "The spear is a weapon that I haven't had much experience with. I put a lot of my focus into the swords and knives.." He murmured as his hands reached out to touch the hilts of the swords, wondering which one he might pick this training session. "Yes, it seems that we do more work with swords. Sometimes the bow. I suppose its just whatever the pupil wants. I haven't had a chance to train with the master at Dragonstone. How do they fare?" Aemond was curious to know if nephews had possibly been doing well in their own training but he didn't believe they would be on his level. Most weren't. The squires here were getting better but Aemond mostly sparred with Criston and even bested him at times.
The Prince didn't really mind what he said about his half sister and nephews. They probably spoke the same about him and his family in similar terms, he had no doubt the Rogue Prince did. There was little to no love between their families or that's what Aemond believed. He had never been taught different. Even his own father favored them over his other children.
The Dragon Twins were a mixture of both their mother and father but Baela seemed to be the one who was almost a mirror of Daemon. It made him wondered how she had settled just to marry Jace and be the Queen when he took the throne. "They deserve more than just wedding. Both of them. I do hope they are happy and all.." He wasn't going to be overly talkactive about them given he didn't have much to say on the matter but at least they were treating her kindly. "Yes, I have two brothers, one older and one younger. My sister." He answered. His sister was the one he spent the most time with. Aegon was lost most days to his cups or whores, perhaps both. Daeron was in Oldtown and that left him with Helaena on some days.
"Yes, I'm sure most wouldn't have survived…."
Daemon's naked ambition had long been a source of anxiety for Rhaella. The way he relentlessly pursued any notion of a challenge to Targaryen power, one would think he was the heir to the Iron Throne instead of his wife. Rhaenyra's leniency toward such behaviour, even as it undermined her own authority, instilled little confidence that anything would change once she was crowned. Truth be told, she feared what might happen should her father become the power behind the Iron Throne.
"The Gods were kind enough to give me my grandsire, for a time." She smiled fondly, though her eyes were mournful. "The late Lord Gylland allowed my mother to raise me at Giantsfall, and oversaw my upbringing as diligently as if I had been a trueborn granddaughter. He was my father, in every way that mattered." Even after four years she missed him; missed the Vale. Missed the life she once had.
Training with the spear was one of the few ways she could still feel like a Gylland rather than a Dragonseed, if only for a few minutes. It seemed that Aemond found a similar comfort in the activity. "I cannot fault your preference for the sword, highness. I can handle a blade well enough, but my size puts me at something of a disadvantage in close combat against most opponents. I have had to work to adapt for the imbalance." Despite her skill, Rhaella knew her weaknesses and admitted to them; her grandfather had once said that was the mark of a true warrior. "Ser Corbyn is suited enough as Master-at-arms, and dedicated to teaching the Princes. The boys have progressed fairly under his tutelage, and Jacaerys has become a proficient swordsman as befits his rank." Proficient, but hardly anything remarkable, in her opinion. "But Ser Corbyn is no Ser Criston Cole - you are fortunate, to have been taught by him."
She knew little of what had occured between Ser Criston and Princess Rhaenyra; only that something had occured, and that the name of Queen Alicent's sworn protector was as good as a curse to her Father. Still, his reputation as a warrior was undeniable.
"I agree that merely being wife to a Lord or King is a poor consolation, but it does guarantee them some power and security in the years to come." Which was more than she could say of her own future. "I'm sure my sisters would be grateful to hear you speak so highly of them after so many years." She nodded attentively as Aemond spoke of his own siblings. "I'm told that Princess Helaena recently delivered twins - a boy and a girl, if I remember correctly."
Not that she could easily forget the rage Daemon flew into when the news of the birth reached Dragonstone. Rhaella had never seen the true depth of his contempt for the Queen and her family until she heard him seething venom that with a single birth, 'the whelp of that Hightower whore has gotten himself an heir and a womb to marry it to'. Her effort at a pleasant smile was still there, but tightened at the memory. "If I am given the opportunity, I should like to congratulate her for such a grueling feat." She spoke truthfully - the few times she had seen Princess Helaena, she had seemed to be a gentle, if reclusive, young woman. To go through the horrors of childbirth at only a few years older than Rhaella must have been terrifying.
"Survival is what I am best at, your highness."
I do love when two very fucked up people are in very fucked up love with each other
She could not help but laugh at the notion that Daemon would draw steel in her defense. "If he were to do so, it would only be to defend his own damnable pride. In any case, I am perfectly capable of carrying out my own beheadings - though I have yet to hear an insult that has warranted it." Rhaella shrugged, setting the newly sharpened spear aside.
"And there have been many insults."
Still, there was little sense in antagonising him; Rhaella had no desire to make an enemy of such a man. Instead, she stood with a small nod of respect. "Did you come to train?" She could think of no other reason for the prince to be in the yard at this hour. "Please, do not let my presence hinder you."
His scathing assessment of Princess Rhaenyra and her sons was as unsurprising as it was understandable. Lucerys had taken his eye, for seven's sake! And neither he nor his mother had ever expressed regret for their actions that day. But she knew better than to voice her dissent outright; just as he said, family was all that mattered. "Princess Rhaenyra tolerates my presence and has been gracious enough to grant me a position in her household as a dragonrider and attendant to Lady Baela and Lady Rhaena." There was little warmth between Rhaenyra and her husband's bastard, but nor was there open hostility. "In truth we rarely speak, and even then only briefly." She sometimes wondered if she'd even be afforded that, if not for having claimed the 'unclaimable' dragon.
"It seems that we are only acquainted through rumours of each other. I, for one, had expected you to be shorter." Violet eyes - the only Targaryen feature she carried - crinkled as she offered a joke and a crooked smile like a peace treaty. "Perhaps this is an opportunity to discern the truth for ourselves."
She was much different than he had expected, and her laughter caught him off guard. It seemed that there wasn't much fondness for his uncle. Interesting. "His pride will one day be his downfall, I am certain. Carrying out your own beheadings? I think I would like to see such a sight. What would warrant such a reaction?" He asked while his eye continued to scan over the swords, already knowing which one he would pick, mainly using the time to speak to Rhaella and learn more about her. "I am no stranger to insults either..." The training was one of the reasons why he had come to the training yard, but the other was to formally meet her. Even if he was going to say that aloud. "Yes, do not worry, your presence won't." The prince hummed before grabbing his favorite practice sword and momentarily testing the weight in his hands. "Have you come to train as well? What is your training like?" There was little to no love for his sister and her bastards. He did little to hide his displeasure of them, and Lucerys will forever owe him a debt that much was certain. The woman had wanted him sharply questioned, and everyone had looked at his mother as if she was mad at her reaction. His eye had been in a bowl for all to see, and no one else seemed to care. Just his mother. "The Dragon Twins. I'm surprised Baela hasn't fought her father to become the Lady of the Tides. She would do far better than Lord Strong." He hadn't forgotten his encounter with her when they were younger, but she hadn't been the one to do lasting damage. "You remind the old whore that her husband hasn't always sought her to wet his cock." He spoke with a shrug. Daemon had plenty of lovers, and it didn't shock him that he had a bastard, and there were probably more out there. Humming at her words, he had gotten much taller than Aegon and Helaena. "Sorry to disappoint. I seem to have grown. I thought you were going to be much more timid and meek.." But it seemed he was wrong in those thoughts. "I believe it could be."
'His pride will be his downfall'
"On that much we agree. It will doom us all, if we are not careful." She admitted softly. Rhaella had never been so open with her feelings toward her father before - but if anyone could understand her situation, it would be the prince who had suffered a lifelong injury for the sake of 'preserving' the Targaryen line. "It seems that fathers are a frequent disappointment in this family. As for beheading--" her smile widened to a sardonic tilt of the mouth, "I cannot say exactly what would cause it, but I shall inform you immediately if such an occasion arises."
Rhaella was not violent by nature, but there were times when her anger got the better of her. She hated the person she became in those moments.
Despite her musings, she did not miss how Aemond's gaze traversed the weapons the way an artisan might look upon his tools. This opportunity to learn more of the infamous Aemond One-Eye was too intriguing to pass up. "Training was my intention," She confirmed. "I was taught to use a spear almost as soon as I was tall enough to hold one, at my grandfather's insistence. A family tradition, I suppose." Rhaella shrugged a braid of dark red hair from her shoulder. "The Master-at-Arms on Dragonstone has always favored a sword however, and I expect I'm sorely out of practice with only him and the young princes for opponents." The tacit invitation lingered in the air. She wanted to get the measure of this man and see if he was truly as good as they said. That, and she was desperate for a real challenge.
In the name of diplomacy, she ignored whatever slanders he voiced against Rhaenyra and Lucerys, and the way she rankled at hearing her mother described as just another place for Daemon to 'wet his cock.' Instead, she tried to focus on the positives to be found in the exchange. . .
Her sisters! There, at least, was a subject she felt no fear for being honest. Her grin was open and affectionate. "Baela is fierce, and intelligent. Rhaena is just as clever, with a sweetness that is quite disarming ; I am proud to call them my sisters. Both will make fine liege ladies, I am certain." Legitimacy aside, he was right - Baela was the eldest child of the eldest child - Driftmark should have been hers from birth. "I understand you have three siblings of your own? I haven't yet had the privilege to speak with them."
His droll apology earned another laugh. "You are forgiven - barely." She teased. "I daresay I would not have survived a week amongst the Targaryens had timidity been a weakness. Any confidence is a practiced facade, I assure you."
Rhaella chanced a smirk at the prince's question, briefly looking up from the bronze spearhead she had been sharpening when her - well, her cousin, she supposed - had entered the training yard. " Is that not obvious? I am a bastard, of uncertain status - more than a peasant, but less than a Lady. " She shrugged. " The ambiguity makes many reluctant to engage with me. "
" And according to most, baseborn children are treacherous by nature, always grasping above their station. 'tis better that I remain separate from all but my family, lest I be accused of the same. " For all her reservations regarding her father, she could never bring herself to act against Princess Rhaenyra and her children, let alone Baela and Rhaena. " I dread to think of Prince Daemon's reaction should he believe me guilty of disloyalty. " Even now, she wondered if this conversation could be taken as a betrayal.
Now she turned to him fully, taking in his sharp features and pale hair with careful consideration. If she was disturbed by the leather patch covering where his eye had once been, she gave no indication of it. " Words are wind, Prince Aemond; rumours even moreso. You, of all people, should know better than to take stock in such things, being the subject of so many. "
It amused him to no end to know that Daemon had a bastard daughter. A bastard daughter that he left wherever and didn't even care who she might speak to. "I think it is more than that. Your father might take their heads if insults were spoken of you..." He offered instead of moving to inspect the swords he might use to train with. Or any other weapon that might catch his eye.
"Some bastards already have things in their hands that were happily placed there." He spoke, thinking of his Strong nephews. Lord of the Tides. The Heir to the Iron Throne. It seemed bastards could have whatever they wished. "Yes, he can be rather rash with his judgments and punishments. It's all for his family, of course. I'm sure my whore of a half-sister has welcomed you with open arms?" There was no love between Aemond and Rhaenyra, and never would be. Her son had taken his eye, and she had wanted him sharply questioned over an insult. Well, it was a fact. Everyone knew. Now, everyone was learning about Daemon's daughter.
A smirk took over his feature. Aemond had been the subject of many rumors and he enjoyed it. "I have been the topic of rumors and plenty of conversations. It no longer bothers me.."
She could not help but laugh at the notion that Daemon would draw steel in her defense. "If he were to do so, it would only be to defend his own damnable pride. In any case, I am perfectly capable of carrying out my own beheadings - though I have yet to hear an insult that has warranted it." Rhaella shrugged, setting the newly sharpened spear aside.
"And there have been many insults."
Still, there was little sense in antagonising him; Rhaella had no desire to make an enemy of such a man. Instead, she stood with a small nod of respect. "Did you come to train?" She could think of no other reason for the prince to be in the yard at this hour. "Please, do not let my presence hinder you."
His scathing assessment of Princess Rhaenyra and her sons was as unsurprising as it was understandable. Lucerys had taken his eye, for seven's sake! And neither he nor his mother had ever expressed regret for their actions that day. But she knew better than to voice her dissent outright; just as he said, family was all that mattered. "Princess Rhaenyra tolerates my presence and has been gracious enough to grant me a position in her household as a dragonrider and attendant to Lady Baela and Lady Rhaena." There was little warmth between Rhaenyra and her husband's bastard, but nor was there open hostility. "In truth we rarely speak, and even then only briefly." She sometimes wondered if she'd even be afforded that, if not for having claimed the 'unclaimable' dragon.
"It seems that we are only acquainted through rumours of each other. I, for one, had expected you to be shorter." Violet eyes - the only Targaryen feature she carried - crinkled as she offered a joke and a crooked smile like a peace treaty. "Perhaps this is an opportunity to discern the truth for ourselves."

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"welcome to King's Landing, cousin. I hope your journey wasn't difficult?" - fatescrosscd
“Hello,” Shireen curtseyed in greeting. “It was… quiet, thank you. Please, could someone look after my mother? She has been unwell the last few days and needs somewhere to rest…”
@fatescrosscd
Ceryse took care not to show surprise at her cousin's embrace, nor allow her face to betray the truth of Shireen's warning. It seemed that the Princess's advice had been taken to heart - King's Landing was no place to show one's true feelings. The girl was a quick learner, Ceryse noted with a tinge of pride. She returned the embrace with equal warmth, smiling kindly even as she muttered her reply.
"Thank you for warning me. She will not prevail, I swear."
Her uncle had always unsettled her. His cold eyes seemed to pierce through her, and she hated the way his stare hardened with something unknowable whenever they landed on Robert's children. Whatever common cause he'd found with the Priestess, she feared it would not bode well for her family. But it seems she had found an ally in her young cousin; she wouldn't take that for granted.
The exchange lasted mere seconds, barely a handful of words before the discussion returned to lighter things. Any outsider would look at the pair and think them nothing more than two highborn maidens, giggling over some trivial gossip or speaking of the latest fashions. Being underestimated had its uses, she found.
As for her dream of educating the people of King's Landing, she was less optimistic than her cousin. She sighed. "I wish I had the power to implement such a change. Sadly, there is a greater chance of Dorne seeing snow in Summer than my father and his council agreeing to enact it. I have no voice in the affairs of the kingdom; even if by some miracle I was able to propose the idea, no lord or septon would stand to see their authority challenged by educated peasants." Knowledge - and the restriction thereof - was the foundation on which their system was built. "If the smallfolk could read, they might begin to question the fairness of their laws or the teachings of their faith; ignorance keeps them compliant." It was a bleak truth, but a truth nonetheless. Shireen had been fortunate that the isolation Dragonstone allowed her to educate its inhabitants. The rest of Westeros would not be so willing.
The kindness in her smile was genuine this time, as Shireen voiced her gratitude. "And I truly enjoy yours. You have been hidden away on Dragonstone far too long; it is high time that you step out from the shadows." She stood, excitedly taking both of Shireen's hands in her own.
"You must allow me to introduce you to some of my Ladies! Myrcella too, when she is well." Already, Ceryse was mentally sorting through which of her handmaidens would be most likely to take a liking to Shireen.
"You, my dear cousin, are going to make friends."
𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐲𝐧𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬
a collection of in depth questions inspired by nicknames of crowned leaders in grrm’s targaryen dynasty. change pronouns and/or other details as needed. fantasy/period/medieval genre details apply.
aegon the conqueror — [forge a new dynasty.] to what lengths would my muse go to achieve their greatest goal? what is, or has been, their life’s crowning glory? how have they carved a new future for themselves in a time of upheaval?
maegor the cruel — [fire and steel over words.] how is my muses temper? how do they handle having power and desiring vengeance? do they offer mercy, or do they give no quarter?
the old king; jaehaerys — [time and prosperity.] in their life so far, how has time, age and wisdom (or the lack thereof) helped or hindered them? what lessons have they learned in their life thus far? how do they feel about growing old, and the legacy they will leave behind?
aemond one-eye — [loss defining the person.] what is a loss that people know them for; whether physical or otherwise? how has this loss defined how they see themselves and how they live their life? how has it influence the way they are perceived?
daenerys stormborn — [preserving a dynasty.] how much would, or has, my muse endured and suffered in the name of survival? what does survival and the preservation of self look like to them? how far would they go to live the life they envision they deserve?
good queen alysanne — [fearlessly good.] do they devote a part of themselves, their lives, or their resources, to a charitable cause? why, or why not? if applicable, how does my muse choose to educate themselves on others perspectives?
queen who never was; rhaenys — [remaining graceful in disrespect.] how, in general, does my muse handle their public self in the face of dismissiveness and/or disrespect? have they been severely slighted by their family or loved ones? how have they managed to keep relationships after this, or these, incidents? how forgiving are they to those who have hurt them?
aegon the dragonbane — [when fear drives destruction.] what is my muses greatest fear, and why or how has that fear been instilled in them? how do they react when faced with that fear? how does it impact their daily life?
baelor the blessed — [piousness may beget blindness.] how does their religion, or the religion/s of their society influence or impact them? have they been lead astray or blinded by certain constructs of their religion?
daena the defiant — [confinement breeds rebellion.] how have their desires and dreams been limited by others? from what source does their rebelliousness come? what lengths have they gone to to execute their desires?
aegon the unworthy — [lust, gluttony and desire ruled.] of the seven deadly sins; which are pride, greed, wrath, envy, lust, gluttony and sloth, which has ruled and corrupted my muse the most over their life? what is an example of when they succumbed to this particular ‘sin’? how have their weaknesses and succumbing to this/these ‘sins’ spoiled others opinions of them?
aerion the monstrous — [madness is vindictively cruel.] in my muses life have they been exposed to any form of ‘madness’, whether in themselves or others? do they see their potential, or existing, ‘madness within’? when facing perceived disrespect, to what lengths will they go to achieve revenge?
daenys the dreamer — [our tragedy foretold.] does my muse believe in the concept of prophecy or the diving of the future? have they ever experienced an event where they seemed, or did, view the future?; if so, expand on that experience. are they gifted, blessed, or cursed, in any sort of ‘magical’ way? if so; do they use this to the benefit of others, why?
" I cannot make friends. I must hold myself apart. " - fatescrosscd
@fatescrosscd
Making friends had never been something that Aemond was ever good at. He had barely gotten along with his nephews. They had never been kind to him and why should he ever return the favor? "Why must you hold yourself apart?" He asked. Curiosity rarely struck him but when it did then he had to find out the answer.
"I have heard the rumors but I wasn't sure of them. It seems that my uncle is never satisfied no matter where he is." Aemond shrugged. Daemon was an entire force on his own and one that Aemond found himself wondering about. He hardly knew the man other than the stories he had been told by his father, grandsire, and mother. The perception of the man varied depending on the person...
Rhaella chanced a smirk at the prince's question, briefly looking up from the bronze spearhead she had been sharpening when her - well, her cousin, she supposed - had entered the training yard. " Is that not obvious? I am a bastard, of uncertain status - more than a peasant, but less than a Lady. " She shrugged. " The ambiguity makes many reluctant to engage with me. "
" And according to most, baseborn children are treacherous by nature, always grasping above their station. 'tis better that I remain separate from all but my family, lest I be accused of the same. " For all her reservations regarding her father, she could never bring herself to act against Princess Rhaenyra and her children, let alone Baela and Rhaena. " I dread to think of Prince Daemon's reaction should he believe me guilty of disloyalty. " Even now, she wondered if this conversation could be taken as a betrayal.
Now she turned to him fully, taking in his sharp features and pale hair with careful consideration. If she was disturbed by the leather patch covering where his eye had once been, she gave no indication of it. " Words are wind, Prince Aemond; rumours even moreso. You, of all people, should know better than to take stock in such things, being the subject of so many. "
once you're stripped clean, what's at your core? (ASOIAF muses)
Rhaella Stone:
Resounding Truth
you have a goal in mind, and others brush it off right away... why does everyone always tell you to follow your dreams when it's actually their dreams that they want you to follow? your memory is weak, and your conviction is even weaker on days when you're reminded of how alone you really are. it's hard to go on without someone pushing you forward... is this what life is? a cycle of monotony, fueled only by the desire not to trouble anyone too much with your passing? it would be nice to have something, or someone, to spur you on. i hope you find them.
Viserra Targaryen:
Acerbic Wit
you're a mentor — an old scarred wolf, an injured soldier, a disgraced paladin. your teachings read as shamelessly pretentious, speaking in rhymes and biting down hard into anyone stupid enough to make the wrong move. this isn't your first life, nor your second, nor your sixth — you'll make the most of your time shackled to this world, no matter how many loops it takes to get it right. with every defeat, you reincarnate; a little smarter, a little quicker, crueler and nastier. will you choose to be brutal, equalizing, that final strike in the face of your enemies? will you go soft, become tender and domesticated? the choice is yours. it's not like i can stop you.
Ceryse Baratheon
Benign Culpability
everyone hates you because you are a facetious lying bitch. …kidding, i think. seriously, though! you try way too hard to look like a picturesque example of class and responsibility, but you use your position as a social butterfly to take advantage of those weaker than you. it’s rare for anything not to be your fault, and everyone thinks you’re crying wolf when you actually HAVEN’T done anything. it gets kind of tiring to have everyone on your dick all the time, but it’s less interesting to actually behave. good luck with the therapy!
Borrowed from: @mccndancer
Tagging: @lunareaum @shireentheunburnt @bcbliophile and anyone else who'd like to!!
Laena & Laenor Velaryon

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"You need not apologise - I would not have expected it of you, and I take no offense."
Rhaella had thus far kept her distance from Prince Daemon's trueborn daughters, as much for their sake as her own; she was under no illusions that her sudden arrival would be easy to accept. It wasn't so hard to remain out of the way - she took her meals in her room, and made herself scarce when either Daemon or the Princess Rhaenyra's children were present. Nobody ever thought to look for her.
But seeing Baela's mournful smile, hearing the carefully contained grief in her words... It made her yearn to reach out and comfort the younger girl.
Still, she dared not overstep her place.
"Just Rhaella, if you please; I'm no Lady. Just a bastard..."
She avoided meeting the other's gaze. Her blood might be noble on either side, but the circumstances of her birth could not be overlooked. "But I understand your sorrow, my Lady. My own mother was taken by fever only last year, and I grieve her still. I would not wish such a loss upon anyone, least of all my own blood."
If Lady Mira still lived, Rhaella might never have come to this desolate place, so far from her childhood home.
Baela knew this wasn't easy for Rhaella and knew these feelings. When she lost her mother, Baela returned to the place her father had only spoken to her about, and she felt like a stranger. A stranger amongst her own family but had done her best to make her place. Now, she was much more outspoken and didn't dare hide herself. "You are not just a bastard. You are also Targaryen. That is what matters.
She wasn't just a bastard. She had heard how people tease Jace, Luke, and Joff over their parentage, and she would be damned if it happened again. Not when it was her own blood. Her sister. No, she would accept Rhaella no matter what anyone said. "Baela. Just Baela will do; yes, losing one's mother is never easy. I still cried for my mother and did so even more when we left home. It wasn't easy..." Baela sighed, but she also knew that she still cried when she thought no one was looking.
Baela's immediate acceptance caught Rhaella off-guard ; of all the responses she had anticipated, genuine kindness had not been one of them. Her own father had barely spared her a second glance after being forced to acknowledge her as his daughter.
'you are Targaryen, that is what matters.'
Rhaella smiled at her sister. "I suppose you're right - I hadn't truly considered it in that way ... I didn't even know that Prince Daemon was my father until a year ago."
She flexed her bandaged hands, still healing after her impromptu flight on dragonback - she had been so caught up in the giddy joy of seeing the world from above that she hadn't even noticed the extent of her injuries until she dismounted in the courtyard. "If I had, I might've known that dragonriders typically use saddles rather than clinging to the scales for dear life."
A pang of understanding shot through her as Baela related her own struggles adjusting to such a foreign environment, reaching out without thought to hold Baela's hands in her own. "I admire your strength, My L-- Baela. If you ever wish to speak of your mother, I should be glad to listen. Even in the Vale, the Lady Laena was much respected."
@mccndancer
Dragonstone was quiet - quieter than Rhaella had ever known in Giantsfall Peak. Barring the roar of the sea, traipsing the castle hall was like walking through the ancient crypts below the crypts beneath her Lord Grandfather's mountain keep.
Since arriving in her father's household (or at least, that of his new wife), Rhaella had little idea where or who she was supposed to be. As she moved into the courtyard, the silvered hair of Lady Baela - her half-sister - came into view. What a strange thought. Rhaella had been raised alone until only a few weeks ago and now...
Well, she hardly knew what to say.
Instead, she approached the battlement upon which the younger woman stood looking out across the sea.
"Lady Baela... I apologise if my presence is unwanted but I-- wanted to say I'm sorry. About Lady Laena."
@fatescrosscd
It should have surprised her that her father had another child. Another daughter, but it didn't. Her father had a past before her mother, and it seemed it was coming back. It also showed her that he also liked to keep secrets, and the next thought was, how many did he have?
Slipping her riding gloves off, Baela crossed the courtyard to see what the rest of the day held. She had just finished her ride with Moondancer and figured she might have a moment in the library. Maybe she would see Rhaena and talk about their new half-sister.. Their family seemed to keep growing. Baela had thought about reaching out to Rhaella but was still determining if it was the right thing..
Turning at the other's voice, Baela turned to look at her. A sad smile appeared on her face, "Thank you for your words, Lady Rhaella. Yes, it was one of the hardest moments in my life.." She admitted as she wrung the riding gloves in her hands. "Forgive me for not formally coming to see you. I wasn't sure when the best time would be..."
"You need not apologise - I would not have expected it of you, and I take no offense."
Rhaella had thus far kept her distance from Prince Daemon's trueborn daughters, as much for their sake as her own; she was under no illusions that her sudden arrival would be easy to accept. It wasn't so hard to remain out of the way - she took her meals in her room, and made herself scarce when either Daemon or the Princess Rhaenyra's children were present. Nobody ever thought to look for her.
But seeing Baela's mournful smile, hearing the carefully contained grief in her words... It made her yearn to reach out and comfort the younger girl.
Still, she dared not overstep her place.
"Just Rhaella, if you please; I'm no Lady. Just a bastard..."
She avoided meeting the other's gaze. Her blood might be noble on either side, but the circumstances of her birth could not be overlooked. "But I understand your sorrow, my Lady. My own mother was taken by fever only last year, and I grieve her still. I would not wish such a loss upon anyone, least of all my own blood."
If Lady Mira still lived, Rhaella might never have come to this desolate place, so far from her childhood home.