( lea seydoux, cis woman, she/her, 22. ) welcome to king’s landing, [ aelinor helaenys targaryen ], [ princess ] of house [ targaryen ]. rumor has it that you are [ stubborn ] but are also [ spirited ] from time to time. when it comes to succession, you support [ undecided ].
( cengiz coskun, cis man, he/him, 39. ) welcome to king’s landing, [ aslan breakbones ]. you are the [ guard ] from [ braavos ], are you not? rumor has it that you are [ stoic ] but are also [ dedicated ] from time to time. when it comes to succession, you support [ daenys ].
( alexander dreymon, cis man, he/him, 35. ) welcome to king’s landing, [ edwyn stark ]. [ lord heir ] of house [ stark ]. rumor has it that you are [ anxious ] but are also [ intimidating ] from time to time. when it comes to succession, you support [ daemon ].
PLOT UPDATES
aelinor has returned from a year-long journey across the seven kingdoms and dorne, learning little beside how to woo a man in every city. she has romanced trystan, whom she knows her family would disapprove of. unfortunately for her, she is now with child and is terrified to tell the targaryen clan as the youngest princess.
aslan is the sworn sword of daenys targaryen and her protector for many years. after a childhood on a pirate barge and a wardship with lord forrester in the north, it is a high honor to be in the kingsguard. but he is doing more than brandishing his sword for the royal, letting her polish it as well.
the future lord stark has much on his plate. with an ailing father, he is being pressed to take a second wife after the death of his beloved aemmalin arryn two years ago during the birth of their daughter. while the lannisters throw myri his way, he is tempted to broker a deal with valentina martell. an alliance between dorne and the north would prove powerful, but he is wracked with grief and feels he is unable to give her the love she deserves. he is also mired in his attempts to betroth taelysanne to someone, anyone, who would have her.
Words pour out of her, interrupted only by her own distress. Daemon hears them all and yet hears nothing—there’s a strange buzzing filling his head as he tries to comprehend what Aelinor is revealing to him. With child. She is… with child. Going to have one. A baby. She’s pregnant and going to have a baby. No matter how many times he tries to grasp the concept, it keeps slipping away, taunting his inability to even conceive of the notion. It was clearly one thing to know in theory that Aelinor and Daenys would likely bear children one day. It was another thing entirely to actually believe that would happen. And Daemon only now realizes that he’d never seriously believed such a thing could come to pass.
“Santagar?” Because his mind is fumbling so hard with all this information, it takes him far longer than it should to grasp the severity of her situation. “A Dornishman?” His tone isn’t one of anger, but sheer disbelief. At last, the pieces are falling into place and he can feel a rising surge of panic inside him. “Aelinor, of all the men in Westeros… a Dornishman.” And not even a lord of any kind. A house of landed knights, who only retained any status due to their long-held wealth and ties to their liege lords. Even a bastard of House Martell would have been more acceptable—they, at least, were princes. “… Fuck.”
-
aelinor breaks down into further tears. “i know,” she weeps. “he doesn’t-- hiccup-- he doesn’t even have much of a title. i was so-- stupid!” her chest begins to hurt and she gasps for air between hiccups. “but i wasn’t planning this. i don’t wish to marry trysten, i just--” she looks at her brother with pleading eyes. “tell me what to do, daemon. this baby... if it were anyone else, I could pass it off as theirs, but it will look dornish when it is born, i just know it.” she clutches the front of daemon’s doublet. “father will kill me. you have to help me.”
his hand is warm as it rests over hers, brightening her smile. “and you think i haven’t?” she teases back, always determined to lighten her brother’s mood. “though, i suppose it’s easier for me to flee my duty than you.” taelys leans into him as he kisses the top of her head. “well, i’m sure eddie would be a lovely conversationalist,” she hums, unable to keep from chuckling at the thought of her poor brother trying to propose marriage to eddie. she’d probably have to drag his unconscious body back to his rooms after the other woman finished with him. “hm. well, who have you spoken to already? have you spoken to anyone already?”
-
edwyn starts to open his mouth, then pauses when she mentions the forrester girl. two people named ed would surely make for a very confusing marriage, eddeline’s tendency for violence notwithstanding. she’d end up battling him for ed-name dominance and he would lose. instead, he rubs his forehead as he thinks on the women he’s spoken to. “not-- anyone in.... earnest, that is. mostly it’s been girls and their matchmaking mothers who have approached me, but they all blur together.“
he lets out a noise of frustration. “i simply don’t want any of them, and i can’t-- i can’t seem to make myself pick. it would be cruel to bring someone north who isn’t wanted. these southern ladies think being the wife to the warden of the north is some high society affair and they will be sorely disappointed. i want--” he sighs, tugging his fingers over his short beard. “i want my aemma.” his voice cracks on her name. “gods-- i sound like lyanna when i say that. but i know there will be no other aemmaline arryn... not for me.”
“don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten my face, aslan?” there’s a teasing tone to her voice as the acting ladyship of house forrester walks towards the red keep’s entrance, features softening at the full grown man she once knew as a ward of her father, a boy she had grown with and grieved with.
“now, forget formalities and give me a hug before a whack your knees.”
-
aslan is startled to see eddie there, as if he had been putting house forrester’s arrival in the back of his mind. he gets over his momentary surprise and picks her up in a big bear hug. “eddeline, i would never forget your face. there is none like it in the whole of westeros.” he grins, letting her go from his grasp. “how was your journey? is lord forrester well?”
starter for @etinego and @zvldrizes ( aelinor && trysten )
“sister!” daenys called, pushing through the doors to her quarters with a bundle of wild flowers in her arms. “i brought you some flowers! i thought they might liven up the room since i know you’ve been feeling under the weather toda — oh!”
daenys nearly drops the flowers at the sight of aelinor and… and a man! daenys would be scandalized if she did not know her sister’s…tendency to break tradition and rules. gods love her.
“i see why you’re not feeling well, at least.” a smirk.
-
aelinor giggled under the covers, savouring the morning moments she had with her lover while she still could. coming home was always bittersweet to her: she gained her family, but she lost the freedom that the road afforded her. being able to sleep with whoever she liked was one of those things. it was only when the sheet was pulled back that she gasped.
“daenys!” aelinor didn’t even try to cover her body, instead, pressing against trysten more. “perhaps try to knock next time.” she gently pet the soft curls at the nape of trysten’s neck.
it would be easy, she thinks, to be married to this man. he was a son of a great house, set to become warden of the north, and while she wasn’t sure how she would bear in the frigid cold, valena was nothing if not adaptable. and on top of all that, he was extremely easy on the eyes. “you are a rare breed, my lord. more often than not,” she fixed her features into a coy smile. “it is the woman who seems desperate for marriage.”
but there was a sorrow on his face, a longing for a woman who would no longer walk among the living. whatever brief ponderings she had of arranging a match were slammed into a box deep within her mind and locked tight. a man who loved so deeply deserved more than a marriage of convenience. she would not begrudge him the possibility of finding a love match.
“i’m certain you will find a wife by the end of your trip here.”
-
he cannot help the chuckle that escapes his lips. he finds himself relaxed in her presence. well, as relaxed as he had any right to be these days. it seemed every woman that he came across, save for his own mother and sister, put his skin on edge. “i do not doubt it, but i am unsure if i will find someone suitable to help parent my daughter. while many of the women here want to be the lady of the north, few would dare care for a child that is not theirs.”
lysanna was his pride and joy. his eyes sparkle just thinking about her. “despite not looking for a love match, i do hope to find someone who won’t completely despise me.” he glances at valena. “perhaps you know the ladies here better than i. any suggestions?”
it took her a moment to place the face of the man before her. she’d only seen him from a distance in the past, their lands too far apart for most of her family to even consider building a partnership with. one of the stark men. not lord stark, as last she had been aware, he was still alive… too young to be one of the lord stark’s brothers. which left edwyn stark, the heir.
she lowered her defensive stance, still keeping a hand near her dagger. the only other time she had seen him in the past few years, he was shadowed by a woman- his wife, if she recalled correctly. which brought up the distant memory she had of being informed of the poor woman’s death. a tragic thing, to lose a lover so young.
“your apology is appreciated, my lord.” she curtseyed. “and i do not blame you, the eligible maidens and their mothers can be more cut throat than even the most seasoned of mercenaries. when they smell blood in the water, they’re quick to strike and a handsome unmarried lord, like yourself, is nothing but a wounded fish for them to snatch.” valena looked out over the garden, checking to ensure no one was visibly within ear shot. “they’ll have no care for anything beyond their own ambitions, let alone someone else’s grief.”
-
he was going to dispute her: that he was not unwed, that he had been wed once and that should have been enough. but it never was when it came to the great houses. his correction died on his lips when she mentions grief, and he knows that she is not ignoring his widower status after all. edwyn shifts and clasps his hands in front of him. “i like to think i can out-maneuver the ladies who seek nothing but marriage, but they use a different sword style than i.”
edwyn looks at her. she seems a fine lady; dornish. perhaps a princess judging by her clothing. he was never well-versed in any of that; to him, a lady is a lady. but she carries herself with poise and grace, something rare this nameday. “unfortunately, i do not have the luxury to be unwed in the coming months. the matchmakers may be pests, but they are not wrong. i am, indeed, looking for a wife.”
it felt like the gardens were one of the only places where valena could breathe without someone breathing down her neck. from the moment she had left sunspear she had had someone in her ear whispering about how important it was for her to find an advantageous match. though, she had to believe herself to be lucky that her eldest brother had allowed her to hold off on marriage before now. but she had to admit that the pressure made the jewels in her circlet feel like heavy stones that pressed into her forehead. luckily, she’d found that if she sat in the gardens, her retinue wouldn’t worry over her and she could take some time to enjoy the sun, however light and fleeting it was in comparison to home.
on this particular visit, she had found a spot in the sun, backed by some lovely flowers, and set about reading over some correspondence from home. but just because she wasn’t looking around, it didn’t mean that she wasn’t paying attention to her surroundings. a faint rustling among the leaves brought her attention up and her hand darted to where her dagger lay hidden in the folds of her skirt.
“stop hiding in the bushes and show yourself.”
-
edwyn felt he needed an escape. it was always that way when he visited king’s landing in the recent years. before, when he had aemmalin on his arm, it was a jovial affair. she was a close confidante of the eldest princess and they often had their needs seen to by the upper echelon of the household staff; he never needed to lift a finger beyond pleasing his wife. now, with his lordship title looming in the distance, the reality of his life position has set in the worst way. he felt an old man, even as he hid amongst the shade like a child. sheepishly, he emerges from the bushes with his hands raised.
“i did not mean to startle you, my lady,” he says with a small bow. “i was simply...” he looked about the garden, attempting to find a decent excuse, but coming up short. “well-- i was hiding from eligible maidens and their matchmaking mothers. apologies for disturbing your peace.”
she reaches over to rest her hand atop his clasped hands when he gives her that smile, heart aching for him as it had done since aemma’s passing. “a proper lady will understand, and won’t ask that of you, ed,” she murmurs, squeezing his hand. she wrinkles her nose at the thought of their father passing- she’d always been close to him, and the thought of losing him is almost too much to bear. “you and your duty,” she teases, even though the mischief doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “i’m sure he will also want you to be happy again. he loves you, and though yes, he will want a strong legacy, he isn’t going to push your own happiness aside to be ignored.” gods, there are times where she’s so glad she isn’t in her brother’s position. firstly, because the idea of marriage itself is too much on its own, but secondly…having to marry someone she doesn’t care for? having to bear their children? having to lose the stark name? she can’t imagine. “one thing i know for certain is that you will be a fine lord of Winterfell, no matter who stands at your side.”
-
he chuckles, grasping her hand as he looks upon his sister fondly. he always loved her best out of their siblings; the boys were rambunctious at best and layabouts at worse. they never had much pressure on them due to being second, third, and fourth sons, not like edwyn and taelysanne. not like an eldest son and a youngest daughter.
“i was born and bred for duty, taelys, and this is but one part of what i must take upon myself when father dies.” he leans over to kiss the crown of her head, hoping it softens his words. “now i must see who of the eligible ladies here is the least cumbersome to have a conversation with, while still being reasonably pleasing to the eye.” he raises an eyebrow playfully. “anyone come to mind?”
Daemon’s mouth weaves into an odd smile, somewhere between placation and respect, as he puts his hands up and nods. “Fair enough, my sister. I don’t know him myself, only that he’s apparently quite pliable in bed, so I thought perhaps that would suit you.” Truthfully, he’s happy to be wrong. As Aelinor’s brother, there is a part of him that wishes never to see her married. He knows all too many lords and knights of the realm, and none of them are fit for either her or Daenys, as far as he is concerned. And… well, Aelinor marrying would mean she’d leave forever, like as not. Months away from home, from him and Daenys and their parents, was hard enough. To not see her for years?
“What…? Ael-” Her change in demeanor and tone is so abrupt that he cannot follow it, only allow himself to be dragged along behind her. There’s a brief moment where he looks back at her abandoned goblet in confusion—that is what strikes him as strangest of all. He’s never known Aelinor to abandon wine, unless it is something quite serious. This confusion is writ large on his face as they finally stop in a darkened room where the sounds of merrymaking grow quite faint. Silence stretches between them, and then she delivers words that make his ears ring.
“You what?”
-
she let out a small sob in her panic, shaking her hands for a moment as if to fling off dirt visible only to her. “i-- my maid confirmed it on the road back to king’s landing. i was so foolish--” she hiccups. “i was not being careful while traveling and--” aelinor bites her lip and finally brings her gaze up to meet daemon’s. “i don’t know who the father is.” this is a lie. it only takes a few moments of shaky breaths for her resolve to collapse entirely. “okay, i do. but you won’t like it. no one will. father will kill me when he finds out. oh gods--” she’s begun pacing now, her hands grasping her head. aelinor takes in a shaky breath. “it’s trysten... santagar.”
The elder Targaryen grins right back. “Benefits like getting away with all manner of things that would make father keel over if he knew about them?” There’s no judgement in the statement whatsoever—if anything, he’s almost a little jealous. “I tell you what, Aelinor. I will personally see to it that your next nameday is such an event, everyone will instantly forget this one even happened. We’ll hold a tourney, feast for at least three days, bring in dancers from Lys…”
He trails off when he notices her attention has shifted, but he’s not quick enough to catch what or who distracted her. So he turns to her next question instead. “Who hasn’t suggested marriage? No one will outright propose a union, of course. But I swear Lord Farman has been slowly increasing the number of unwed daughters and nieces he has by two every hour.” He waves away a servant offering him a goblet of his own. “What of you? Last I heard, you had Arrys Morrigen wrapped around your finger. Any plans to lock him down?”
-
the corners of aelinor’s mouth turn downwards for a moment, but the hint of negative emotion is swept away. “him? ha!” she snorts and takes a dainty sip of wine. “he’s a fine enough toy to play with, but i would hate to have to actually marry the man. i am sure a better offer will come my way at some point.” the thought of marrying someday, of leaving her brother and sister, her mothers and father, and one day rarely seeing them unless under the most dire of circumstances, overwhelmed her. she felt horribly and impossibly sad.
“come. i have something to tell you.” she grabs daemon’s wrist and pulls him away from the clamour of the party, down a hallway and into a room where they will not be overheard. her wine abandoned back in the celebrations, she is suddenly struck by how she has no idea what to do with her hands. emotion mounts within her until she can no longer hold her secret in. “i’m with child.”
taelys drums her fingers against the solid wood of the table, eyes alight and twinkling in the firelight. she’s half bored and half mesmerised, the first by the inane small talk spilling out of everyone’s mouths, the second by the sheer vibrance of people filling the hall. she turns to look at her brother, grinning in response to his request. “ah, but then i’d miss the look on your face when you try to escape them,” she teases, nudging him in the side with her elbow. “surely one of them will take your eye.”
-
edwyn grunts in response, clasping his hands in front of him as he surveys the crowd. “perhaps. but i do not wish to trap a lady who wants something more than i can give.” a soft, watery smile finds its way onto his face. he could never give his second wife the same kind of love he gave to the first; it wasn’t possible. “i will marry whoever father considers to be a good match,” edwyn says as he straightens his back. “i will be the one succeeding him, after all, and he should have some say in how the legacy is to be carried on.”
Daemon had spent the last half an hour fielding congratulations from what felt like half of King’s Landing. Just a constant stream of people coming up to him and telling him what a good job he’d done being alive for five-and-thirty years, as though it was a difficult achievement. Maybe it was for some, but he was a prince and an excellent fighter, so it shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone. Eventually, he’d hit a limit to how many different ways he could say “thank you” and found a reason to excuse himself, and now he loitered in a side corridor to get some air. Though he was not alone, as it turned out, the company now was vastly preferable.
“Hmm, fun? I wouldn’t say I’m having fun, but the night’s still young.” He looks at Aelinor with a fond smile. “Having you back should liven things up significantly, though. I take it you’re already finding entertainment of your own?”
-
aelinor snorts and gives her brother a cheeky grin. “i am always good at finding entertainment, brother. while i do wish my name day was celebrated with such applause, there are benefits to being the youngest.” she does a small twirl. in her spin, she sees trysten from across the room and a wealth of feelings overwhelm her. it was difficult at times for her mind to grasp hold of the monumental news she had discovered on the road to king’s landing, and it put her at odds with her normally carefree personality.
“pray tell, daemon,” she grabbed a goblet as filled it with a bit of wine to distract from the downturn in her mood. “who has suggested marriage to you tonight? i imagine there’s a slew of people just waiting to sire the next round of dragon offspring.” a slip of the tongue. careful, aelinor.
“they may miss me all they like, aslan. as lovely as the celebrations are, i find myself… distracted. my mother has given me information i have difficulty bearing.”
daenys steps deeper into the hallway and towards a nice little balcony overlooking king’s landing. she presses her hands firmly against the railing. she sees the whole of king’s landing, and she heaves a great sigh.
i would see you on the throne, my daughter. and not that reckless brother of yours.
daenys had somewhat known this day was coming. her mother did not like daemon, just as daenys was sure daemon’s mother did not like her. the sisters knew the other’s mind more than anyone else. such was the nature of twins.
and though daenys had not shared a womb with daemon, she knew just as much about him as he did about her. she loved him. how could she do as her mother says and kill him for a throne? she wasn’t even sure how to kill someone.
“aslan, may i ask you a question?”
-
he stands dutifully by the entrance to the balcony, prepared to go on watch again as the silent soldier he often is, but is bewildered when daenys addresses him directly. he had spent his life standing slightly behind those in power, being felt but never truly seen or questioned. for as nice as his charge often is, he never expected her to speak to him so.
aslan cannot help the short laugh that escapes him. “if you like. i am not sure my opinion will be of much use to you.”
daenys was smiling, talking to lord caswell when she too saw aelinor sneaking out of the feast. daenys couldn’t help a sad smile before she excused herself from lord caswell’s presence. then, she took aslan’s forearm.
“no no. nothing so drastic, aslan. would you escort me outside? i wish for a quieter place where no one will hear me.”
-
he nods dutifully, stepping back to follow her as they make their way out of the feast. of the people he had guarded in the past, daenys was by far the most agreeable. she did not ask much of him, and when she did, it was never unpleasant work. he was allowed to speak some of his mind, although he did tread carefully when it came to the dragon clan.
the din of the feast muffles behind them as he opens a door for her to pass through. “is this better, your highness? i do believe they will miss you from your nameday celebrations if you are absent for too long.”
he was itching for the end of the feast, when he could stand guard in front of the princess’s door without the overwhelming din of the visiting royals crowding king’s landing for the nameday celebrations. it did his head in, just how loud royals had the capacity to talk even when in close proximity to each other. he leans down by the princess’s ear, speaking in a low tone. “your sister was spotted sneaking off a few minutes ago. shall i retrieve her, your highness?”
the youngest princess stumbled out from behind a column, her hair in slight disarray and her dress wrinkled in places after a tryst with someone whose name escapes her. while aelinor did not often stick to the shadows, she was not the most prominent member of the targaryen clan, and practically invisible when it came to the twins’ nameday. nonetheless, she was dutifully back in her seat beside her brother before the next course, slinging back her goblet of wine. “having fun yet, old man? this is a slightly duller affair than last year’s, but not too shabby as nameday feasts go.”
