i know i shouldnt be suprised but sinners being out for less than a week and already tumblr is fandomifying and 'poor wet pathetic cat'-ifying the main white man villain of the movie is so... disapointing??? like did the fucking point of the movie really go over your heads that badly or are you just willingly ignorant and stupid?
AND BEFORE ANYONE STARTS; im not saying you cant like remmick, he's a very interesting character, a great villain, and jack o'connell gave a great performance playing him, nor do i care if you think hes sexy, I think hes sexy
but i think to come out of a movie where vampires serve as a metaphor for how black american communities have the life sucked out of them by white people via cultural appropriation (remmick wanting to use sammie's gift to summon his own ancestors) and forced assimilation (all the turned vampires singing and dancing along with remmick's irish folk song and dance juxtaposed with the blend of cultures during sammie's song in the juke joint) and for your main take away to be 'aww the main villain is just a misunderstood sadboy' or 'idc abt the atrocities he looked sexy doing them (when the atrocities in question were racism)' then youre just being so disengenuous and antithetical to the whole point of the film?
and dont come at me with the 'let people enjoy things' bullshit, sinners is a movie FUNDAMENTALLY about racism and racial dynamics in the united states, and i do think focusing on your little y/n x [whiteboy of the month] fics and 'hes so babygirl' posts do actually stunt your own critical engagement with the message this movie was trying to convey to its audience
i think its also a disservice to remmick's character; the moral nuance that comes to light when you consider his position as an irish immigrant to the US, a victim of the colonialist british empire just like the black main cast (although in a very different way) and how, whilst his desire to reclaim his ancestry and heritage is understandable and even relatable, his pursuit of sammie and willingness to kill literally everyone else at the juke joint is allegorical for how, regardless of their own marginalisation, white people will prey upon and steal from black culture(s) and destroy/disenfranchise black communities to serve their own interests, and the movie is NOT subtle about this either, delta slim literally lays it out for us "white folks like the blues just fine, they just don't like the people who make them"
idk im yelling into the void here, the ppl im complaining about are never going to give a shit about racism or even just critically engaging with art when theres a new cute whiteboy to write fluff and angst about, but its just soooo annoying to see, yet again, how fandom spaces, which SHOULD be about uplifing and celebrating art in all its diversity and complexity, once again is nothing more than people ignoring anything that actually makes them have to confront reality and filing off the serial numbers to slot characters into pre-determined fanon molds so they can pump out incorrect quotes and coffee shop AUs en masse until the media iliterate heat death of the universe
They already removed Maekar giving Egg his signet ring for protection and letting Egg travel with Dunk. Didn't even give them a goodbye scene but had time for multiple scenes of Raymun making out with Rowan. My biggest fear is they now don't bother to adapt all the scenes in the other two novellas of Egg defending and praising Maekar, and even getting into fights with people who call Maekar a kinslayer. That boy LOVES his dad, they better show it in seasons 2 and 3.
──── Maekar Targaryen┆My Betrothed
author’s note: I love baby Maekar and his bitchass bob This work contains: arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, slow burn, Maekar being a mean lil bitch, offensive language, Baelor being a good big brother but Maekar being stupid, Maekar not wanting to be married, mention of the Dance, cruelty, Maekar being a King of mixed signals, smut in later parts.
Young!Maekar Targaryen x Hightower!reader
mdni
"You called her what?" Baelor's mismatched eyes widened as he stared at his younger brother after pulling him into an empty chamber during Maekar's way to the morning training.
The gossips were always spreading quickly through the Red Keep — as through every other castle. Within day every servant, guard, councilman or Prince knew what happened and what might be a cause of a situation. But Baelor never expected his own little brother to be the sole reason and a subject of those gossips.
There was no secret that the young Prince was not eager for marriage — Baelor himself saw the way Maekar argued with father before storming out of the Small Council chamber the moment the King announced his intensions to wed him to Lady Hightower as an political alliance with Reach and with one of the oldest houses in all Westeros. Dorne was already secured by King's marriage to their mother Myriah, Stormlands by Baelor's and Aerys' marriage to Jena and Aelinor. Vale by Rhaeger's to Lady Alys Arryn.
Now time has come for Reach and King Daeron shown interest in House Hightower and Lord's oldest daughter. Your brother was already married — happily with another babe coming and your father seemed eager to send you away and secure alliance with the royal house.
"I called her exactly what she will be." the pale-headed prince said, trying to avoid his older brother's gaze.
Baelor exhales through his nose, shaking his head slightly. "You called her a broodmare, Maekar?" he hissed. "Your betrothed, your wife-to-be?" he said and tilted his head so that his brother would finally meet his gaze.
Maekar has been is a vile mood all morning — barely sleeping with how much anger and bitterness was coiled inside him after yesterday's training.
It started innocent — he has come to the training yard expecting to find no one but few guards mastering their swordplay or squires playing with wooden swords. Instead he found himself watched by a Lady whose eyes were meant to trace over her book's pages.
He has been restless since you came to the Keep — long weeks or waiting finally materialised in front of him and you appeared — in a long blue dress that brought out the slight flush on your cheeks and adorned the color of your eyes.
Naturally he pretended nothing is bothering him while your gaze — not so subtly — followed the swing of his sword. Pretended to not see you, pretended you are not there at all. But while your eyes met — his own violet finally peeking into yours as if to check if you are still seated there.
"Staring at a Prince may be considered inappropriate or even shameful." he grunted as his sword dangled from his hand. His eyes traced over you — now dressed in a light pink gown that seemed so much like something only ladies in Reach would wear — it pissed him off how innocent you looked.
"You do not wish me to watch?" you asked as your fingertips toyed with the edges of the book you had to bring with yourself from Old Town or borrowed from the Keep's library with maester's approval.
Your voice was soft and Maekar was taken aback of how simple your answer to his jab was, how welcoming your words were despite his own tone.
"It is not a matter of what I wish," he said sharply as his grip on the sword tightened slightly. "I assure you, there are a thousand better ways you could pass your time than watching me here trying not to embarrass myself"
You blinked only as if shocked by his words -- by his reluctance of sharing time with you. “Training is not embarrassing” you said and shock your head gently — soft waves shifting with your movements before they were grazed by the wind “beside I enjoy watching my betrothed” you added and a small smile bloomed on your face.
His entire body stiffened as if struck by lightning or his mother's sharp eyes before the sword almost slipped from his palm.
"Betrothed?" he barked out — too loud, too rough, yet enough to made you flinch only so slightly. "Do not call me ‘betrothed', it makes this feel like some damn farce." he added as his gaze hardened for a moment before he realized how much like Myriah he must look right now.
"I—... your father— the King, he said that it would be only appropriate if I called you in such a way." you swallowed quietly as your eyes flickered between your book and him.
"It's a political arrangement," he said as his jaw clenched the same as his hand around the sword's hilt. "Don't read anything into it."
“…I shall go to my ladies then” you said and swallowed “I ought not to interrupt you any longer” I nodded quietly before closing your book.
His scowl deepened at your words before he scoffed quietly and looked at the sand on the training yard that stained his boots. "You weren't interrupting." his admission came out harsher than intended and you could see how he gritted his teeth after saying it. "But do not call me your betrothed." he said and his violet. "I am not a knight you may read about in those books of yours and I assure you Lady Hightower that this betrothal is only for the sake of our father's politics".
“Do you believe it’s only an arrangement? Truly?” you asked standing up as your hands clenched on the book's spine.
He clearly did not expect such a question -- you could see it in his eyes, how it took him aback before his eyes sharpened once more at the look on your face. There it was again, that damned thing in your eyes — that innocence adorned by the pink fabric of your gown as if you were a lamb offered to a dragon.
He wanted to snap at you -- to demand you return inside the Keep and stop bothering him, perhaps even stop appearing in his sight so that he would not be reminded of the damned wedding coming closer and closer as if the Gods were prying on him and his freedom. Because it seemed like the bigger his reluctance to the 'sacred ceremony' grew the closer it got.
"Does it matter?" he finally asked with his voice taut and tensed.
"I am to be your wife." you said looking at him as you fidgeted slightly, stepping from one leg on another. "I do not wish to be treated like a chore."
"And how, pray tell," he took a step forward with his jaw clenched "am I supposed to treat you? As if I'm some lovestruck fool? Or as if this is some love at the first sight tale you seem to be so fond of" his eyes fell on the book on your cheeks flushed as if you were called out on reading -- how he believed -- something so foolish.
“Do you wish me to return to Old town then?” you asked “Leave you alone?” you knew what you were saying only made you sound stupider -- the mere idea of coming home seemed impossible now that you betrothal to the Prince of Summerhall were announced to the whole kingdom.
"No." The word was sharp, so quick it made your breath hitched with silent hope and he gritted his teeth afterward as if regretting it already. "I mean--" he clears his throat gruffly as if realizing what fell from between his lips "Father would have my head for wasting the alliance."
“It would not be wasted” you said and raised you chin “I would come and marry you but before then I would be back home in Reach” you added “If having a betrothed is too much of a humiliation for you”
Maekar was moving before either of you realized -- his sword abandoned on the ground as his fingers wrapped harshly around your arm, dragging you into secluded corner of the training yard -- away from the chuckling squires and fighting guards until the sun no longer shine into your face and you can feel the coldness of the stone after your back met it.
"This 'wedding' is not some romantic gesture nor your chance to make friends and play princesses, do you understand? It's politics. It's strategy. It isn't—" He stopped abruptly as if to hold back his temper "...It doesn't involve your happiness." he exhales and a pale strand of face fell onto his scarred cheek.
There was silence between you to -- his eyes were harsh and stormy, almost as if they alone were trying to make you understand what he is saying. Your throat bobbed as you swallowed, trying to find the right words to face the dragon.
“I do not understand—“ you said and inhaled “I am a Lady of a great house, I do not think myself particularly ugly if that what the point is” you clenched your fists slightly, trying to encourage yourself “I am more than aware that our families do not have particularly great history together, yet you still seem to hold a grudge against me as if I am the cause of Dance of the Dragons” you finally raise your head to look him in the eyes and be met with the cold violet “Is this such a sin that I wish to know even a bit about you so that I will not be marrying a stranger?”
"Do not—" He cut himself off with a sharp exhale, his fists clenched at his sides as a frown bloom between his silver eyebrows. "This has nothing to do with the Dance or your house or whether you're some... perfect, little match, which you're obviously not" he scoffed quietly. "I am Targaryen, we are destined for great things, my bloodline reach the times of Old Valyria, my blood--"
"What have I ever done to you then?” You cut him off and simply stare at the pale face. “You think I will not give you children to carry your bloodline?” you asked shaking your head gently.
He let out a sharp bark of a laugh that caught you of guards and a pit formed in your stomach as it certainly was not a great sign. The sound was something between bitterness and exhaustion. You hit a nerve —a wrong one at that. His shoulders stiffened, his knuckles we white as his fingers curled into his palms.
"Children? Of course you'll give me children." he snapeped. "That's your only purpose in this, isn't it? To be my broodmare and make me an heir."
Your breath hitched and your heart squeezed painfully as if the last bit of hope was crushed as if his words were a rock hurled from the battlements. You let our a shaky exhale as your eyes flickered over his in search of... what exactly? Guilt? Lie? You were not sure.
Your chin raised slightly as the rims of your eyes reddened a bit “I see.” you mumbled looking at him “I shall not bother you any longer” you added and pushed his hands away only now realizing that it has been clenched on your arm.
You heard a harsh scoff behind you back as your turned to the yard's exit and then hurried steps as if he was chasing after you -- what he certainly did
"Wait."
His fingers wrapped around your wrist this time, spinning you so that you are met with the sight of the violet storm.
“Do not touch me—“ you said pulling my wrist away with harshness as if to mirror his own movements “I think you had said enough” you inhaled “I am not yet your wife and I will not allow you to treat me in such a way”
Maekar's eyes widened as you pulled you hand away as if his touch burned you. The mere idea of being pushed away like some brute and not a Prince only caused a pang on his ego. Momentarily his face clenches and eyes s
"Fine." His voice was dangerously low now. when he leaned closer to you "You want honesty? Here it is, I do not want this marriage. I do no want a wife forced on me by politics or duty or bloodline." he said and let go of you as his jaw worked. "And if the only way to keep my pride is to be cruel about it? Then so be it."
Your turned on your hear abruptly as tears started to sting in your eyes and quickly filling them with each step away you took.
"Are you satisfied now?" He called after you. "Do you understand why I'm not jumping for joy that you're to be my wife?"
He scoffed only as a grim lok came on his face at the sight of your fleeting from him so hurriedly -- so eagerly to lose his eyes.
His brother words only sobered him up as the young Prince lost himself in the memory. "How could you be so- so--... brutish? This is no how Princes act, this is not how you were raised to treat a Lady."
"I was stating a fact," he says quietly, his voice a low, warning rumble as if he was only now -- secretly ashamed before his older brother. "It is women's primary purpose in a marriage. To bare heirs." he said as his eyes landed on the stone floor.
"It's her primary purpose?" Baelor repeated with a bewildered look in his eyes, his voice was like steel as he stared at Maekar. "Do you not have even an ounce of care for the person you are marrying? She is a woman... a Lady!" he shook his head. "Not a horse to be bred at leisure."
"You think I don't know that?" Maekar snapped, his voice rising slightly as his eyes finally raised to meet Baelor's mismatched ones. "You think I don't know that I'm marrying a woman I do not care for? Or perhaps you can't see clearly through the damn joyful haze of your own happily-ever-after!" He threw the last words like a dagger that was meant to go straight into his brother's chest. "You don't know anything about this arrangement!"
"I was there when it was announced, I know how you reacted in front of Father out of all people and I know that he will not cave and send her home simply because of your whims." Baelor shook his head gently -- brown waves falling over his tanned face. "And I also know that father will never allow you to speak of her in such a way... and if you do not learn respect soon... I fear for the consequences."
"And what will Father do!? I'm already doomed!" Maekar groaned and rolled his eyes in a bratty way that made his brother's jaw clench.
"You may not chose her but calling her that? It was beyond any arrogance you ever acted with towards ladies, it was cruelty." he said "Cruelty she did not deserve."
"Making me marry a complete fucking stranger is what really is cruel! A proper, prissy Lady that blushes and flushes while reading a book of some perfect romance!"
Baelor stared ay his brother for a moment, silent and unmoving before his eyes hardened slightly but patience did not leave his face.
"I was in the same situation you are," he said quietly, his voice like a blade. "I made the best of it. I tried to get to know Jena. And you know that I fell in love with her."
"You think I don't know what you're doing? Trying to make me feel like some wretched failure because I refuse to play along?" Maekar looked at his brother as if his words wounded him in his heart. "Just because Jena is some perfect Lady that pleases you in everything and more doesn't mean she will do so." he added bitterly.
"My wife has nothing to do with this," Baelor snapped, his voice cold at the sudden mention of his lady wife. "This is about you and your inability to even consider the idea of making this marriage remotely tolerable for the woman you have been promised to."
Silence occurred after the brown-haired man's words. Baelor was never one to lose his temper -- at least in front of Maekar, he preferred to solve every problem in peace with his stoic expression and diplomatic tone never leaving.
"And what would you have me do, brother? Play nice and give her flowers? Talk with her, dance with her, court her?" He starred at Baelor in this quiet, bitter way as if he believed this was the first time his brother would not support him. "I am not a love-struck boy, Baelor. I do not want a wife."
"I am asking you to show some damn respect." Baelor said calmly and his hand came to rest upon Maekar's shoulder "If you want her to treat you as anything more than the cruel bastard she thinks you are, then yes, you will act like a gentleman you were raised to be." he said and huffed watching Maekar shrug his palm away. "Start. By. Apologizing."
"No." Maekar hissed through clenched teeth as his violet eyes once again became stormy and reluctant.
"Don't make me drag you to her feet."
And just like that the young prince was making his way to the Godswood -- curses muttered from his mouth are met with nervous glances from the maids and guards he passed while storming through the Red Keep. A mere thought of apologizing to you was a blow to his pride - something he build with time, in blood and sweat of the tourneys and wasn't fond of people that were so keen on angering him.
He straightened slightly at the sight of you -- sitting by the tree adorned with the red leaves that fell from it with each bigger blow of wind that messed you hair as well. The wind was turning the pages of your book and you tried to stubbornly hold it in place, long enough to be able to to read the words. The cover looked exactly like the one you held yesterday while pretending not to watch him train but it seemed like you read a great deal of it.
"My Lady." he approached with a grim look on his face and fists clenched behind his back.
You lifted your head -- those same innocent eyes that now momentarily filled with betrayal at the sight of him met with his violet ones and you seemed to stiffen a bit before closing your book. "My Prince." you only greeted quietly not adding anything else and only making the whole situation even more awkward for him.
"My brother said I shall speak with you." he said and inhaled as if reading himself for another blow to his pride.
"Then speak." you said only and stood up from the pillows paced by the tree.
"In private." he gritted out as his eyes followed your movements in a way so careful only a dragon could bring itself to.
"I do not have a chaperon." you said and lifted you chin slightly in an arrogant manner -- you were clearly not going to make it easy for him.
"I assure you, my Lady, a chaperon is not needed." he said and inhaled as if to calm his anger. "The last thing to do is to get close to you to the point it's considered inappropriate" he said and rolled his eyes. "But if you'd be oh so kind and granted me a walk I believe I would have a chance to properly ask for your forgiveness for the way I mistreated you." he said and his jaw clenched again.
"...Very well." you signed finally before following after him silently -- waiting for him to speak.
The breeze coming from the blackwater bay made both your and his hair flow on the wind and the light taste of salt hanged in the air when you made your way around the Godswood. His expression was still sore as he peeked at you -- a dark blue gown, hair braided in a simple braid but decorated by a few pearls or whatever it was. Maekar couldn't be more bothered by the ladies fashion and whatever they were interested in -- he had no sisters and certainly not the best relationship with his mother.
"I wish to apologize for my crude words." he said only and it came out with struggle -- as if he didn't want to apologize, not fully. "My brother made me realize that my carelessness could have wounded you greatly... my lady."
"I suppose no Lady want to be called a broodmare." you said and looked at him. "Especially by a man she is meant to bare children for." you added with a slight bite in your tone.
Maekar's jaw worked again -- clenching slight as he gritted his teeth to not make any other insult slip out. "I suppose you are right." he said only before inhaling and adding. "What I will offer is... respect and honesty." he said, refusing to look at you as his eyes remained pinned to the Blackwater bay "I will never lie to you and I will treat you as you deserve." he added "This... I can swear to you. But I cannot... will not pretend this is some kind of love match."
You could only inhale and nod -- the realities of your betrothal falling upon you like a thorn that need to be pulled out.
"We will reside in Summerhall... after the wedding." he said and closed his eyes for a second to regain patience. "You will become it's Lady and it will be your seat and home."
Your breath hitched at his words. Summerhall? The cold, lonesome castle among the hills of the Stormlands. "...must we?" you asked -- hopeful, he'd say it was jest only.
"Go to Summerhall? Of course, it's my seat, my father named me Prince of Summerhall, what sense would it make if I wouldn't live there?" he frowned.
"It's in Stormlands." you said and a reluctant grimace slipped on your face.
"Indeed." he nodded and raised one eyebrow. "What of it?" he asked.
"It's cold--... and raining." you mumbled and looked at the dark blue sea.
Maekar's face did something almost comical — his expression flickering between disbelief, annoyance, and a brief moment of pure 'what the hells is wrong with you?' before setting back down at the Bay.
"...I will have furs brought for you." he cleared his throat and gave you a side glance.
"Stormlands are brutal." you tried again as your fingers played with the spine of your book.
"It's nothing the walls of the castle cannot protect you from." he said and let out an annoyed sigh. "We'll go after the wedding celebrations."
You could only swallowed as your shouders slumped and you accepted your fate of forever cold fingers and night you'd spend shivering while a storm would rage outside. "After the wedding then..."
Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! Please interest with this post it means the world! This was not proofread but I'm too tired to go through it again, this idea came to me very spontaneously (I had a dream) and I thought 'if this what will get me out of writing block then so be it' AND IT WORKED. Only one chapter is out but I love them already <33, this chapter is kinda Maekar pov but next o e will be Lady Hightower's. And I'm sorry I made Baelor's and Maekar's talk so long but I wanted to show Maekar's true feeling about it. ALSO THE PICTURE BELONG TO @/crazytom on twt ITS NOT MINEEE
ser duncan who ends up with the biggest crybaby in all of the realm— debatably. crybaby!reader who sniffles and sobs, and hiccups on her own tears while tending to duncan’s wounds from a training match, because she hates seeing him like that.
gods help them both.
she pays no mind to the blood and grime on him as she gently wipes it off with a damp linen, careful to not cause any extra or unnecessary pain. she knows that comes with the territory— the gruesomeness of it all. it’s the fact that her duncan is hurting that brings the tears on before she can stop them. the same man that helps her tend to the horses and do the washing every day, the man that promises to father her children.
the emotions catch up to her with treacherous ease.
“quit your sniveling and blubbering, lass.” he grits out, but it only makes more hot tears slip down her cheeks and pool at the neckline of her dress. he sighs. the sound is as heavy and telling as it usually is. “sweet one— ye can’t keep carryin’ on like this. it’s not helping either of us here.”
“you think i don’t know that?” she babbles out, almost wailing.
she gives one last big sniffle before she lets out an exasperated breath that duncan has to try his hardest to not jest at. she manages to pull herself together in the next moment, before tending to his gash with a scowl on her puffy face.
later on they’ll have a laugh about it. or he’ll make her cry for an entirely different reason, since she was brazen enough to raise her voice at him— depends on how the day goes.
