thin skin

𝖺𝗌  𝗁𝖾𝗋  𝗉𝖺𝗅𝖾  𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒  𝗋𝗈𝗍𝗍𝖾𝖽  𝗂𝗇  𝗍𝗁𝖾  𝗋𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗋,         𝗂𝗍  𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖽  (𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒  𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗅𝗒)  𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍  𝗀𝗈𝖽  𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗀𝗈𝗍  𝖧𝖤𝖱.        𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍  𝗁𝖾𝗋  𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾,  𝗁𝖾𝗋  𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌,  𝖺𝗍  𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍  𝗁𝖾𝗋  𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋. 

[eatensins]

𝑬𝑨𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑺𝑰𝑵𝑺  ;   a  sin-eater  .  did  you  find  your  bitch in me?  oh you're  abominable  socially. you're  just  a  little  bit  too  much  like me  (  ...  )   dependent  and  private  blog  affiliated  with  𝖽𝗋𝖺𝗀𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗋𝗈𝗍  ,  featuring  rhaella  targaryen.

¹. intro ². map ³. pinterest

[emmaxrosa]

DAEMON & MAEKAR; SECOND SON SYNDROME HOUSE OF THE DRAGON (2022–) A KNIGHT OF THE SEVEN KINGDOMS (2026–)

[lcstmisfits]

closed starter for rhaella targaryen @eatensins set on the second day during the tournaments

there were days when aegon would have entered his names in the lists, the few moments when he could be just like everyone else and to let off a little steam through the blows of lance or blade, but with everything that has been happening with his parents, he knew now was not the time to allow himself those small moments of entertainment. instead, he found himself in the targaryen viewing box, watching with only slight jealousy as the single combat lists began. pouring himself a cup of wine, he took one of the seats next his family, ready to see who might come out on top. "good morrow, sister," aegon greeted. "have you given your favor to someone? who are we rooting for today?"

[eatensins]

࿔ “   brother  ,    ”  rhaella  mutters,  swallowing  the  instinct  to  come  closer  along  with  the  rest  of  her  wine,  nearly  emptying  her  goblet.  the  aftertaste  is  bitter.  “  my  favor?  oh , what  a  foolish  thing  to  ask.  i  have  yet  to  find  a  man  capable  of  captivating  my  attention.  ”  it's  not,  of  course,  for  a  lack  of  effort  on  their  part.  no,  she  knows  well  enough  that  men  would  line  themselves  up  just  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  her  face.  it's  only  that  she  has  no  desire  to  gaze  upon  theirs.  “   i  had  planned  on  rooting  for  you,  but  you've  robbed  me  of  that  pleasure.  all  of  my  gold  coins  now  sit  collecting  dust  when  they  could've  been  tripled.      ”  is  it  mockery  or  the  highest  praise?  or  is  it  both  —  the  two  edges  of  the  same  blade  that  rhaella  wields?  which  edge  will  he  cut  himself  upon?  “  perhaps  i  should've  volunteered  myself.  that  would've  given  my  good  man  errick  quite  a  fright.  ” 

[dragnbane]

set  during  the  fourth  day  of  celebrations:  plays  and  performances.  tucked  away  towards  the  back  of  the  tent  is  a  little  brother  and  his  elder  sister,  @eatensins,  attention  beginning  to  fade  from  the  performers  on  the  lifted  stage.

aemon  usually  does  not  mean  to  act  like  such  a  little  brother.  he  is  sure  that  if  his  father  were  to  see  him  right  now,  he  would  scold  him  for  acting  like  a  child,  but  what  could  be  so  wrong  in  finding  comfort  in  his  sister?  it's  not  like  anyone  was  paying  attention  to  them  anyways,  they  were  tucked  all  the  way  in  the  back  and  everyone  was  too  focused  on  the  performance  to  even  take  notice.  he  uses  it  as  an  opportunity  to  lean  himself  against  rhaella  a  bit,  the  crowd  of  people  making  him  more  nervous  than  he  wished  to  admit.  if  they  noticed  them,  then  they  would  have  to  play  pleasantries  and  this  was  the  only  day  where  he  was  able  to  be  away  from  duties  for  just  a  few  moments. "rhae,"  aemon's  voice  is  quiet,  barely  above  a  whisper  as  he  speaks  to  her.  "any  chance  you  want  to  get  out  of  here?  i  was  thinking  of  taking  a  ride  out  into  the  fields  beyond  the  city."  he  was  sure  that  someone  would  be  unhappy  with  him  getting  onto  a  horse  without  supervision,  but  he  was  fine  and  he  would  have  his  sister  with  him,  so  nothing  could  truly  go  wrong.  "i  just  do  not  know  how  much  more  i  can  take  of  constant  love  confessions  on  this  stage."

[eatensins]

࿔ once,  supposedly,  rhaella  had  read  that  siblings  could  share  the  same  dream  if  their  heads  were  in  close  proximity.  reality,  much  to  her  chagrin,  proved  the  opposite.  love,  nonetheless,  unlike  the  dreams  she  often  had,  trickled  down  with  ease.  think  what  you  will,  speak  ill,  but  without  aemon,  she  might  have  never  made  it  this  far.  it's  of  course  a  natural  contradiction,  an  incongruous  thing  to  claim,  yet  it's  true  all  the  same.  she  loves  him  in  a  way  one  loves  something  that  is  inevitable;  not  with  logic,  but  with  the  heart,  evermore,  until  the  day  she  dies.

“  nyke vestri jorrāelza naejot  ,   ”  i  thought  you'd  never  ask,  she  says  with  a  laugh,  winding  her  arms  around  his  shoulders,  enveloping  him  like  a  cloak.  she  feels,  for  a  moment's  reprieve,  like  a  child  again,  no  older  than  ten,  speaking  in  a  language  that  half  of  westeros  wished  to  understand  yet  could  seldom  truly  learn.  rhaella  oftentimes  made  it  more  difficult  for  most  —  first  by  speaking  too  quickly,  then  by  slipping  in  words  that  did  not  exist  at  all.  it's  a  game  she  liked  to  play.  just  not  with  most.  her  only  ally  was  aemon,  to  whom  she  had  told  the  meaning  of  each  and  every  made-up  word.  “  erric  se  sȳzdaghon  hen  kyñ'gsgüaurrdën  rhaenagon  rōva  rȳbasorysion  rȳ  qēraghon  syt  īlva.  ”  errick  and  the  rest  of  the  kingsguard  will  certainly  find  pleasure  in  trying  to  find  us.  “  vezof  jāhor  syt  jēda,  ēdruta  syt  jēda.  ”  that  ought  to  be  more  interesting  for  them  than  this  play.

[bareruin]

for @eatensins' rhaella targaryen. kings landing, the second night. nearing the end of yet another feast.

the sounds of feasting and revelry faded to a tolerable din from where he stood on the balcony. the evening air was stifling, but the noise within had driven him out for a moment’s respite. far below, the blackwater churned dark and restless against the shore. unfamiliar, as everything here seemed to be. avan had only just eased the tension from his shoulders when footsteps sounded behind him, drawing nearer. his jaw tightened. he was not surprised she had followed him, yet the thought irked him all the same. " princess. " he dipped his head in greeting as he turned to face her. the title was stiff between them, a distinction that ought to serve them both well. not for the first time that evening, his eyes found hers. " you'll miss the final course. "

[eatensins]

࿔ let  it  be  known  that  she  did  not  seek  him  out  with  proclivity  and  intention,  she  was  conjured.  ghosts  and  possessed  women  always  are.  they  have  no  choice  in  the  matter.  “  lord  stark,    ”   the  very  man  who  occupied  a  strange  corner  of  her  ghastly  mind  —  not  because  she  had  given  him  such  a  place,  but  because  no  one  else  could  fill  it,  however  hard  she  tried  to  imagine  someone  else  in  his  stead.  “  as  will  you,”  rhaella  says  slowly,  as  one  does  when  making  a  confession.  “ i  fear  my  type  of  hunger  can't  be  sated  with  something  as  simple  as  food.  wine,  cakes,  roasted  meats,  it  all  becomes  too  repetitive.  ” if  only  she  could  sink  her  teeth  into  something  tender  that  would  sustain  her.  but  nothing  does,  nothing  ever  could.  she  holds  his  gaze  then,  refusing  to  be  the  first  to  look  away.  “ do  you  like  the  view?  of  the  blackwater  bay?  the  higher  you  are,  the  more  beautiful  it  looks.      ” 

[ofravns]

even  without  the  silver-gold  hair  that  eleanor  has  come  to  recognize  as  targaryen,  she  would  have  recognized  the  woman  as  a  princess.  there  is  something  in  the  way  she  carries  herself,  something  that  sets  her  apart  from  the  rest  of  the  court.  still,  a  smile  touches  eleanor's  lips  as  she  falls  into  step  beside  her.  "i  must  be  far  more  important  than  i  realized,  if  a  princess  has  come  seeking  me  in  this  forgotten  little  corner  of  the  castle."  the  words  are  light,  but  her  curiosity  is  genuine.  if  the  feast  has  already  begun,  why  is  the  woman  here,  closer  to  the  trees  than  the  courtiers?

she  hums  softly.  "my  brother  has  spoken  highly of  you,  your  highness."  her  pale  eyes  linger  on  the  princess  for  a  moment.  "he  says  we  are  alike  in  some  ways.  that  we  come  from  different  streams,  yet  are carried  through  many  of  the  same  waters."

[eatensins]

࿔  anyone  can  be  important  if  she  wills  it  so.  all  she  has  to  do  is  point  a  finger.  it  is  that  simple.  “ no  place  is  ever  truly  forgotten  as  long  as  someone  keeps  visiting  it,  and  yet,  in  a  place  as  big  as  this,  you  were  quick  to  recognize  me.  i  think  i  ought  to  dye  my  hair.  perhaps  blue  would  suit  me.  ” it's  a  prerogative  and  birthright  of  lesser-known  lords  and  ladies  to  revel  in  anonymity  and  comfort  of  their  ever-present  mediocrity.  rhaella,  on  the  contrary,  would  always  have  to  fight  for  it.

“    and  what  does  your  brother  speak  of  me?  ” her  eyes  find  elenor's,  the  purple  in  them  deepening,  the  colour  of  a  bruise  that  has  been  pressed  on.  for  a  moment,  she  feels  as  though  she  has  been  plunged  into  the  same  waters  the  woman  speaks  of,  glacial  and  torrential,  waters  ready  to  drag  her  under.  “    there's  no  one  like  me,  my  lady.  and  that  is  life's  greatest  tragedy.  ” to  have  a  body  is  to  have  a  bad  dream.  to  share  a  curse  with  a  father  whom  half  of  the  kingdom  calls  mad  is  a  different  type  of  purgatory.  she  knows  that  the  woman  before  her  would  not  understand.  “    i  admire  your  bravery.  many  people  would  never  dare  to  compare  themselves  to  a  princess.  ”

[prophxtics]

closed starter for princess rhaella targaryen; the red keep gardens — @eatensins

The red keep seemed determined to place people in one another's paths whether they wished it or not. selyse had spent much of the morning navigating unfamiliar corridors, servants, and the endless stream of arriving nobles. every turn appeared to reveal another lord, another lady, another conversation waiting to happen, it was little wonder that so many looked exhausted already. it was during one such walk through the gardens that a familiar figure caught her attention, immediately she slowed her pace. "your grace," the greeting was accompanied by a respectful inclination of her head, proper without becoming excessive and when she straightened, a small smile softened her expression. "i hope the day has been treating you kindly," for a moment her gaze drifted toward where the children played in the near distance. their laugh always gave her peace, which felt like an odd sentiment in a place like kings landing. "i confess i had forgotten quite how overwhelming the capital becomes during gatherings such as these," amusement touched her voice. "though i suspect those of us arriving have it easier than those tasked with receiving half of westeros beneath one roof." the observation was offered lightly, though not without sincerity. "have you found a moment's peace since the festivities began, or has the realm already claimed every spare hour?"

[eatensins]

࿔ her  eldest  brother,  or  rather,  both  of  them  to  be  precise,  she  immediately  thinks,  are  far  more  suited  to  this  conversation  than  she  is.  prosaic  plaudits,  tête-à-têtes,  dialogues  held  just  for  the  sake  of  appearances  without  any  true  weight  to  them,  ought  to  be  held  with  aegon,  clad  in  the  full  panoply  of  kingship  and  endowed  with  both  patience  and  inertia  to  keep  them  going.  “   lady  tully,   ”  she  says,  offers  a  nod  of  acknowledgment,  her  countenance  benevolent  yet  unwilling  to  yield  and  alter  itself,  even  for  something  as  simple  as  a  smile.  “    if  i  say  anything  that  would  counter  that  assumption,  i  fear  that  you  will  find  me  unpleasant,  ”  none  of  this  is  sirena's  fault.  there's  a  gap  between  a  dragon  and  a  trout;  one  is  meant  for  silver  skies,  one  for  water.  “    it's  the  capital  for  a  reason.  it  wouldn't  be  the  same  without  the  rush,  and  the  endless  buzzing,  and  the  sea  of  bodies.   ”  yet  now  she  longs  for  dragonstone.  “    hardly,  my  lady,  but  i  don't  believe  that  i'm  allowed  to  whine.  merely  because  i  haven't  actually  lifted  a  finger.  nor  have  any  of  the  royals,    ”  a  beat  later,  she  laughs,  the  tension  slowly  easing  from  her  shoulders  as  she  pats  the  empty  space  beside  her  in  a  silent  invitation.  “  tell  me,  have  you  seen  anything  interesting,  peculiar  even,  on  your  way  here?      ” 

[eatensins]

                                 WHEN  I'M  DOWN  ON  MY  KNEES

                                          𝘠𝘖𝘜'𝘙𝘌  𝘏𝘖𝘞  𝘐  𝘗𝘙𝘈𝘠

for  the  masquarade,  rhaella  came  swathed  in  delicate  fabrics  and  a  cloth-of-silver  that,  under  the  right  light,  seemed  to  change  colour.  her  thin  veil,  that  was  predominantly  covering  her  face,  was  quickly  discarded  in  favor  of  an  intricate  lace  mask  that  covered  her  eyes.  her  jewels,  pearls  and  emeralds,  were  worn  around  her  legs,  but  were,  to  an  untrained  eye,  hard  to  spot.

[ofravns]

in the days since her arrival, eleanor had spent most of her waking hours in the godswood of the red keep — if such a place could be called that. her raven, bael, had taken to nesting in the great oak at its heart, and so lady blackwood followed her bird, seeking refuge from the sea of unfamiliar faces that filled the castle. she had been so eager to leave raventree hall behind, but now she found herself longing for it. she missed its familiar halls and ancient trees, with gnarled limbs that seemed far more alive than the young woods of the crownlands. the godswood offered little comfort compared to home, yet she lingered there all the same.

but duty called her away. her absence would soon be noticed by her siblings, and the purpose of a feast was to be seen, after all.

the passages leading from the godswood stood silent and near deserted. such places served little purpose in a castle ruled by different gods and different customs. yet as eleanor made her way toward the banquet hall, she found she was not entirely alone. "i did not expect to find another soul in these corridors," she said. "are you heading to the feast, my liege?"

[ open starter ! ]

[eatensins]

࿔ “   the  feast  is  well  underway,  ” she  says,  matter-of-factly,  tsking  her  tongue,  a  look  of  faux  disappointment  settling  over  her  features.  “   and  you're  late.  they've  sent  me  here  to  fetch  you,  my  lady.  ”  then she  smiles.  it's  the  first  indicator  that  she's  lying.  the  second  ought  to  be  the  omission  of  a  name.  she  can  hardly  tell  who  this  woman  is.  lastly,  why  would  a  princess  be  tasked  with  such  a  menial  thing?  omitted  names  and  lies  aside,  what  she  can't  deny  is  that  she  is  hungry.  not  for  something  substantial  as  the food  that  had  cost  the  keep's  cooks  two  sleepless  nights.  if  she  could,  rhaella  would  only  feast  on  mischief,  day  and  night,  until  she's  nothing  but  bones.

“   it's  a  shame  you  deny  us  your  presence.  father,  i  hope,  won't  hold  it  against  you.  at  least  you  needn't  worry  about me.  my  resentment  will  be  placed  elsewhere,  far  from  this  beating  heart.  ”  it's  a  promise  that  she  can  but  obliquely  doesn't  want  to  keep.  not  yet  at  least.  “   come  now,  follow  me.  ”

[hellbcunds]

𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃: rhaella targaryen ( @eatensins )

" do you think the people will get into the spirit of the masquerade? " the lady - in - waiting questions as they roam through the keep, arms intertwined and skirts swishing quietly against the stone floors. dark gaze flits around at each and every new face that steps into king's landing at behest of the king's summons. she though of the keep almost like home, especially within the last decade, the woman at her side more familiar than the four walls of her childhood bedroom. to see the place filled with those that may not have the best of intentions? well, it made cat more nervous than she would care to admit. " it would be horrible if your father went to such trouble to plan it only for people to put on a dull mask and think that's good enough. "

[eatensins]

࿔ “     there's  a  difference  between  wanting  to  be  here  and  having  to  be  here.  most,  my  dearest,  fall  into  the  latter  category.  but  fine  wine  and  food  ought  to  satisfy  their  most  primal  urges.  ”  a  king(dom)  is  a  body,  its  subjects  a  parasite  in  need  of  a  feast.  two  moons  ago,  rhaella  dreamt  of  her  father.  witnessed  how  snakes,  black  as  night,  slithered  from  his  mouth  and  ears  and  every  orifice,  and  vanished  beneath  the  floor  boards.  now  is  not  the  time  to  speak  of  it.  “  i  do  hope  that  father  will  be  spared  of  disappointment.  ”  she  echoes,  leaning  closer  to  rest  her  head  and  chin  upon  the  gentle  knoll  of  catelyn's  shoulder,  needing  only  her  warmth.  “  in  the  meantime,  we  must  find  suitable  jewels  for  the  gathering.  i  assume  most  of  the  ladies  will  be  wearing  theirs  around  their  necks,  but  perhaps  i  could  instead  bedeck  my  thighs  with  precious  gemstones.  you,  of  course,  are  encouraged  to  follow  my  lead.  ”

[eatensins]

                                           THE  GIRL  WHO  CRIED  DRAGON

(  jessica  alexander,  29,  she/her  )   –   king  maelor  offers  his  welcome  to  princess  rhaella  targaryen,  of  dragonstone.  across  the  realm,  they  are  praised  as  independent  and  adventurous,  though  courtly  whispers  insist  they  can  also  be  elusive  and  stubborn  behind  closed  doors.  still,  their  allegiance  is  said  to  lie  with  herself.  their  presence  evokes  imagery  of  marvel  at  just  how  unashamed  she  is,  never  knowing  anything  other  than  silk  and  milk  upon  skin,  a  capacity  for  pleasure  which  is  large,  movingly  so.  enough  to  inspire  any  storyteller.  with  so  many  tales  in  circulation,  separating  truth  from  fiction  may  prove  no  easy  task.

i.

FULL NAME    RHAELLA TARGARYEN   NICKNAMES CALLED ONLY BY THOSE SHE LIKES ELLA, MAKE NO ATTEMPTS OTHERWISE   TITLES    PRINCESS OF DRAGONSTONE, SECOND BORN    DATE  OF  BIRTH    12TH  DAY  OF  THE  4TH  MOON     AGE    TWENTY9  PLACE  OF  BIRTH  DRAGONSTONE, ON A DREARY NIGHT OF RAIN AND STORM    GENDER  AND  PRONOUNS    CIS  WOMAN  &  SHE  /  HER      RELIGION     FAITH  OF  THE  SEVEN .    LANGUAGE   COMMON TONGUE , HIGH VALYRIAN ( THE ONLY WAY TO GET HER TO LISTEN ) , SUMMER TONGUE

ii.

HAIR TARGARYEN BLONDE, FOLLOWING, OR RATHER SETTING LATEST WESTEROSI TRENDS. LONG, WELL-MAINTAINED, BRUSHED EVERY EVENING BY HER LADIES EYES VIOLET AND WILD HEIGHT 5 FEET 6 INCHES BUILD SLIM, THAT OF A WILLOW TREE BENDING SCENT VIOLETS AND LIGHT CITRUS, WITH A METALIC AFTERTASTE IN THE MOUTH DOMINANT HAND RIGHT ALLERGIES NONE THAT SHE KNOWS OF, OTHER THAN BORING PEOPLE SCARS TBA DISTINGUISHING FEATURES HER HAIR THAT NEARLY REACHES HER HIPS CLOTHING STYLE ALLERGIC TO ANYTHING THAT'S NOT SILK AND VELVET, SHE WILL ALWAYS SPLURGE ON FINE MATERIALS AND WON'T EVER SETTLE FOR SOMETHING SIMPLE

iii.

MBTI ESTP — THE ENTREPRENEUR CHARACTER ALIGNMENT TBA POSITIVE TRAITS INDEPENDENT, ADVENTUROUS NEGATIVE TRAITS ELUSIVE, STUBBORN PRIMARY VICE LUST PRIMARY VIRTUE FORTITUDE CHARACTER PARALLELS LUCREZIA BORGIA, PRINCESS LAMBALLE, DAEMON TARGARYEN , SHIERA SEASTAR, HELAENA TARGARYEN

iv.

MOTHER QUEEN ALYS ARRYN, QUEEN OF THE SEVEN KINGDOMS FATHER KING MAELOR TARGARYEN, KING OF THE SEVEN KINGDOMS  SIBLING(S) TARGARYEN A, OLDER BROTHER, PRINCE AEMON TARGARYEN, YOUNGER BROTHER, PRINCESS RHAEGAN TARGARYEN, YOUNGER SISTER  SIGNIFICANT OTHER(S) N/A CHILDREN DON'T MAKE HER LAUGH  OTHER ARRYNS AND DAYNES

second born, the spare. her mother's womb is the first resting place. she grows up knowing that if something were to befall her brother, she would be the one to take his place. let's not think of it now. she's spent her entire life mulling over that thought.

from an early age, rhaella was well-aware that she was different, strange, plagued by something that not even those closest to her, those bleeding the same blood, would ever understand. she had begged the gods, day and night to pass the gift to someone else. the oldest or the youngest, as long as it was not her, it did not matter. what irked her the most was that they called it a gift, instead of a curse. the visions were violent, vivid, and hardly kind, and she always tried to turn a blind eye. through her childhood and teenhood, she rarely spoke of the things she saw, imagined, or witnessed in her dreams, keeping almost every premonition close to her chest like a secret. maybe she was selfish, maybe she was just a girl, afraid of being declared mad before the whole world.

before the illness claimed the dragons, she had one, named silverfyre, after its luminous scales, and a dragon egg that never hatched. she had foreseen her death, and had prayed for the illness to take her instead of silverfyre, but fate did not listen.

for the longest time, as a child, rhaella only spoke in high valyrian and refused to use to common tongue. those unfamiliar with the language had initially assumed that she was mute, but the truth's that she's only stubborn ( an perhaps an elitist ). her love for other languages eventually took over and she became less hostile towards the common tongue, though even now, she may occasionally refuse to reply in it.

as a targaryen princess, rhaella knows her duty, even if she seldom does anything to fulfill it. she's volatile, headstrong, and worst of all, elusive, which makes her almost impossible to grasp. she's certainly an unpredictable political ally, due to two simple facts. she hardly listens yet involves herself in politics all the same, and ultimately does things that benefit her, and those she cares about ( the circle of friends and foes is always fluctuating ) without sparing a second thought to any casualties she may leave behind.

to make matters more complicated, she's unmarried, and is therefore a great bargaining tool upon her father's chess board. she has, however, earned herself the title of a temptress. some would claim it's just vile tongues trying to besmirch the targaryen princess, but there's truth to what they say. perhaps she'll never marry to spite both her father and brother heir, as she believes it's her prerogative to invite anyone she likes into her bed, as much as it is to refuse any suitor that they deem fit. people either want her, hate her, or wish to be her. she's the salt that fucks the wound.

she's been known to take the side of her lovers, and switch her loyalties, which does make her a troubling figure in the family. it raises the question of whether or not she's disloyal or simply foolish, blinded by the promise of something greater. fucked her way out of weird girl allegations.

tw: slightly disturbing imagery, it's hard to classify it, but it mentions child birth in a sense. her lover girl nature has not left her spared from awful tongues in more than one way. wild rumors about her giving birth not to a baby, but a creature that resembles a dragon were spread around the red keep and king's landing. ( none of it was true. she was just a victim of a westerosi smear campaign )

no longer shuns her gift as much as she used to. the point, of course, would be to either embrace it or to be entirely swallowed by it. as a dragondreamer, the fact that she knows more than most does put her in danger, while simultaneously securing her a higher chance of survival. she's not necessarily interested in stability, although she does care about the legacy of the targaryen family. it's possible that madness may claim her someday, even if she has always been afraid of being declared mad for being the only one in her family with visions of the future.

she's quiet studious and is fascinated by languages, so she taught herself how to speak the summer tongue in the process. she's fascinated by many things, especially by knowledge.

westerosi trend setter in terms of clothing and style. whatever she wears, the rest of the court girlies will follow. she puts great effort into her looks / how she presents herself, so it's only natural to want to emulate that. oh she's wearing a diadem around her neck? well you cannot afford.

prefers to bathe in milk, that's almost basically boiling. loves a hot bath and the milk supposedly keeps her skin looking fresh.

POSSIBLE PLOTS

former or current lover(s) that are entangled in the worst co-depent situation(ship). it doesn't have to be public, even though it could possibly be, but one thing is for certain. it's toxic and beautiful in a way that others wouldn't understand. she aids them to get their heart's desire with the help of her dreams/visions ( this would naturally be discussed ), and they in turn, support every ill thought she's ever had. to love is to want to be entirely absorbed by someone. what they have is worse. if they could, they would devour each other.

that one person whose death ( or something bad that's going to happen to them ) she lowkey keeps predicting. listeen, this is a long shot, and they certainly don't have to die ( it could be like in 50 years ), but i thought it'd be fun to play around with this concept and have her drop hints ( that we'd talk about ) to this muse, simply because she can, or just to spite them. maybe it's even just an injury, the number of children that they'll have, but the spookier, the juicier. you're a knight who is about to joust and she tells you that the horse will crush your leg type of deal. gender neutral obvi. bonus point if they're genuinely pissed and tell her that they'll kill her. babe, it's not going to change anything.

ladies who were at some point, are her ladies in waiting / have been with her since she was a child. i'll have you know that it's the greatest of honors to keep the company of a princess and i'll have you know that she treated them exceptionally well. jewels and the prettiest dresses for all her ladies.

someone who tried getting close to her family/siblings, but their plans ended up being ruined by none other than rhaella. whatever their true intentions were ( possible allies, romance with the other ), she made sure to crush it.

a potential candidate for a betrothal, who is about to land in hot waters, maybe even literally, if this plan is set in motion. by being linked to her, their status is highly elevated, and she in turn is reduced to a single word - bride.

childhood and lifelong friend, someone who is her heart and carries it with them no matter where they go. she doesn't open easily and she is fickle, but she allowed them to get close.

maybe one of the vile tongues that keeps spreading rumors about her. lowkey, they do not fuck with her teehee

[marypickfords]

La nuit des traquées (Jean Rollin, 1980)

[the-evil-clergyman]

The Beautiful Woman Soothes the Serpent-King, from Andrew Lang’s The Violet Fairy Book by Henry Justice Ford (1901)

[snst-blvd]

jessica alexander ♡