Welcome to my blog! I’m Ino, a pleasure. This is a multimuse, multifandom, oc & canon friendly, mutuals only roleplay blog featuring muses of Final Fantasy, Eighty-Six, ASOIAF, Jujutsu Kaisen, Seraph of the End and more! Please check my rules before interacting! Dash only. / MINORS AND FANTIS DNI.

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PSA! I made a little purging of my followers and I’m dropping my Path To Nowhere muses. I still love the story and the characters, but I found myself surrounded by people too harsh on different thinking/discourse and I ended up hating being here. Doing some self-care, that’s all.

Jacaerys  could  only  stare  at  the  open  book.  Was  learning  all  this  in  vain?  Even  he  had  doubts  that  he  would  ever  be  accepted  as  his  mother’s  heir.  The  whispers  of  the  court  reminded  him  that  he  wasn’t  seen  as  a  true  Targaryen.  Lord  Strong.  That’s  what  Aemond  had  called  him  ever  since  he  could  remember  and  as  he  grew  older,  he  believed  it.  There  was  no  denying  the  father  of  him  and  his  brother  and  yet,  Jacaerys  was  doing  everything  he  could  to  rise  above  that.  Prove  his  mother’s  words.  Still,  it  would  never  be  enough.

The  struggle  of  learning  High  Valyrian  was  a  constant  reminder.  Each  time  he  tried  to  read  and  translate,  he  would  feel  his  temples  pound  and  a  headache  would  soon  follow.  It  made  him  angry  that  he  didn’t  pick  up  on  it  like  his  younger  brother  and  it  would  be  too  much  longer  before  Joffrey  was  learning.  Maybe  one  of  his  younger  brothers  deserved  the  Iron  Throne.  His  mother  had  been  fluent..  and  here  he  sat  early  in  the  morning  and  late  at  night  trying  to  practice…  It  never  felt  like  it  was  good  enough.

That  he  would  never  be  enough,  no  matter  what  he  did.

His  bond  with  Vermax  made  him  feel  like  a  true  Targaryen.  He  was  a  dragon  rider  and  that  had  to  mean  something.  Jace  hadn’t  seen  his  aunt  and  uncles  do  much.  Sure,  they  trained  when  they  were  children,  but  that  had  been  it.  Aemond  had  claimed  Vhagar,  but  that  had  been  a  mistake.  He  never  should  have  and  remembered  how  awful  the  evening  had  gone,  but  he  couldn’t  say  he  felt  sorry  for  Aemond.  He  wondered  if  he  would  ever  truly  get  along  with  the  others.  Possibly  Helaena,  she  seemed  to  be  the  only  kind  one  even  if  she  spoke  strangely.

The  moment  the  book  was  closed,  Jace  sighed  and  rubbed  at  his  tired  eyes.  A  hand  pushing  back  his  curls  before  he  followed  suit,  abandoning  all  manners.  Leaning  back  in  his  chair  and  stretching  his  legs  out.  “Will  I?  Will  I  even  be  accepted  as  the  King  or  will  they  remind  me  that  my  pug  nose  doesn’t  belong  there?  Will  another  come  to  claim  it?.”  Would  the  Iron  Throne  allow  him  to  sit  there  and  not  draw  blood?  Would  the  Iron  Throne  think  he  is  a  fraud…?  Wasn’t  he  a  fraud?

“Lucerys.  Don’t  speak  like  that.  You  are  Velaryon  as  well…”  Jacaery  wanted  to  encourage  his  brother  more,  but  both  of  them  knew  the  truth  of  their  birth.  He  was  merely  tiptoeing  around  it.  Avoid  the  truth,  didn’t  make  it  ever  go  away.

Laenor  had  raised  them.  He  had  been  there  since  their  birth,  but  Harwin  had  been  there  as  well.  Simply  in  the  background  and  watching  them  grow  from  afar  until  he  —  His  death  was  something  that  Jace  wasn’t  truly  over.  He  hadn’t  grieve  even  when  he  told  his  mother  that  they  should  be  at  Harrenhal.  Jacaerys  hadn’t  gotten  to  say  goodbye  like  he  wanted..

“I  have  no  words  on  that  matter  when  it  comes  to  our  King..”  Shrugging,  Jace  wasn’t  entirely  certain  he  would  ever  trust  Viserys  word.  Ever.  “I  have  a  few  from  her,  yes,  but  nothing  recent.  Why  do  you  ask?”

Pug noses. Ser Harwin had it and they both inherited it from him. The father they both had yet never got the chance to call out to him by such intimate title. I think he’d like this you, Lucerys thought. This was the one thing Luke understood about Jace better than anyone, and it saddened him tremendously knowing it was shame.

❝ I’ll put more of my faith on you the next time a chance arises, however, I’m quite confident you’ll be equally accepted and loved once you call yourself Jacaerys Targaryen, first of his name.❞ A smile traversed his more puffed lips. ❝ It’s like Daemon says; dragons made us Kings, and we’re riders by birthright, it’s in our blood. ❞

What was the unquestionable proof, over the course of the ages and their history, of their Targaryen blood and stance? Their silver hair, their purple eyes, their beauty… or their hold upon the last fire-breathing beasts remaining on the known world?

❝ I’ve been reading a lot lately… about us, our history, our unorthodox family tree. Maegor The Cruel had six wives and only one of them was a Targaryen. King Jaehaerys meant to marry his children to all kinds of Westerosi nobles; like Manderly or Baratheon. Grandmother Aemma was an Arryn, and even mother’s siblings are half Hightower.❞

His tone was excited, as if this endless stream of information recently acquired opened a door for him that Luke couldn’t close now with the force of the river against him… an unspoken truth that he needed Jace to see too.

❝ We’re as much Targaryen as them, we share the blood of The Dragon, because we’re sons of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen. ❞

Lucerys had been pouring an exuberant amount of time into old texts that Maester Gerardys had the kindness to provide him from the Dragonstone’s collection. By reading and absorbing, he opened paths in the mysteries of his own bloodline that shaped a tad the identity he was so desperate to find. It was his way to feel closer to his ancestry, to learn about the Valyrian customs that made them so different from the rest of mortals. It reaffirmed his identity as a Heir of the Dragon.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t find anything that would make him a suitable heir to the Lord of the Tides

❝ But that’s why I know, too. You know as well as me we do not share the same amount of blood with Grandsire Corlys as the twins do. We’re distant kin at best,❞ claimed Lucerys, his legs dangling on the edge of the table, softly kicking his older brother’s knee on purpose. The first one that came to mind was Alyssa Velaryon, queen to Aenys, and then the lady Valaena Velaryon, mother to Aegon The Dragon. But they were that… distant relatives.

Luke then found Jace’s eyes, chin up, gaze firm (more like a poor attempt to be firm).

❝ I sometimes think Ser Corlys should name lady Baela his heir. As mother has a greater claim over the Iron Throne than Aegon, so does lady Baela Velaryon over the Driftwood Throne than me. ❞ With Ser Corlys gone to his voyages, Princess Rhaenys ruled over Driftmark in her husbands’ absence… and she took the lady Baela Targaryen as pupil instead of Luke. Everyone knew why. ❝ Thus arises my question over your ravens with her. Rhaena has given me some insights about it, but… If something is to happen to Grandsire Corlys, gods forbid it…❞ I need to know.

Luke shook his head. His stance was the same as those many years ago. Becoming Lord of the Tides meant everyone was dead, and he loathed the idea.