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— akotsk

a. OH, WHAT FUN! [ valarr x cousin!oc x daeron ]

b. daeron x destructive!wife!reader p1

c. daeron x destructive!wife!reader p2

ao3.

king-baelores

A Knight of the 7 Kingdoms but it's just Dunk making the Seven™ (or 8)

daeron x destructive!wife!reader p2

summary. soon you were with child, and everything became so much worse

warnings. alcohol & drug abuse, toxic relationship, violence (traumatising birth), suicidal thoughts

• for some reason, you enjoyed it when you bled

• every month, your stomach would hurt and your pelvis would sore and your headaches intensified to a blinding light; and for those seven days where you were at your weakest, it would be bliss

• when your moon blood didn’t arrive one month, you panicked. you didn’t know why it wouldn’t come, only that you wanted it to

• and the next month, when it wouldn’t come again, you became undone.

• you locked yourself in your room for days on end, crying and wailing; other times, silent like a mad ghost, staring at walls, eyes dark.

• your ladies tell you a babe is a gift from the gods. they have blessed you and daeron with a lifetime of happiness, it all points to joy. but joy you have never felt.

• in all the months you were forced to carry the thing, you became a shell of yourself

• your father-in-law says he’s doing you a kindness, forbidding you from leaving summerhall, from your maids handing you even a leaf or a dust of your lovely - oh, so lovely - herbs

• and husband dearest wouldn’t dare to so brazenly go against his father, so he listens. he too is cut off from the powders, he relied entirely on you for his share

• you’ve never seen him so terrible. you wonder if you he looked just as you felt

• you would spasm and seize and vomit and scream so often that maekar has employed a nurse to sleep in the same room as you

• you missed your powders so much

• daeron tries to take care of you, though you know he’s in excruciating pain too. every moment now a new form of torture to him, like his brain is being splashed with a boiling colour he’d never seen before

• he holds your hand when you become so tired you’re mute. the shared silence gives you strength. but for what purpose you didn’t know. you wanted to die

• the pain of delivering was unlike anything you had ever felt before.

• at first, you thought your moon blood was back. the aching familiar, though more persistent and growing stronger

• then, when you couldn’t stand anymore and had to lie on the bed, it felt like drums; a beastly kraken beating your lower half, your throat dry with sobs

• “GET IT OUT”

• soon, when the maesters tell you to push, you could have sworn you saw stars by how aflame you felt. red hot pokers pressed against your slick flesh, your whole body being torn apart and you want to DIE DIE DIE

• finally, the babe was out. but everyone was so silent. why has everyone gone quiet?

• “what’s the matter, what’s wrong?”

• “my lady…”

• your maid was crying

• you could scarcely ask again, when a crackling thunder shot through your body

• you screamed, instinctively pushing as your body tries it hardest to get something delivered again

• it was an hour later when you finally heard a cry

• and that’s when it dawned on you, you had never heard your firstborn cry

• you managed to utter a silent “why-” before it all went dark

• they say your stillborn was a dragon

• birthed with scales like sand, the colour of her father’s hair

• they say you died. briefly, fleetingly.

• when your eyes fluttered open, two months later, there was a man in your room.

• beside you was a crib - with your baby in it, presumably; you don’t know these things - and watching over it, was your brother-in-law, aerion.

• there was a look in his eye, fascination, love, interest, madness, questions, and more that you couldn’t begin to uncoil.

• “where is daeron?” you ask

• aerion turns his head to look at you. “sister,” he says

• he has never called you that before

• in the next few weeks, you learned to walk again. at first, you were confined to your bed, too weak and drowsy to even move your finger. then, you could walk. only short distances though, a step or two

• then walks about the room, the garden, the castle, always with someone holding you; a maid most of the time, sometimes aerion, his grip cold like steel. daeron you rarely see. where had he gone?

• your brother tells you he tried to stop the funerary rites for your stillborn. a dragon needs its mother, he said. if they all would have just waited for you to wake, his niece would be alive, her transformation to a dragon complete

• you don’t know if you should believe him. but he was the only one that would hold you, so you didn’t care anymore

• where was daeron?

• aerion likes to tell you your child is different. he shared a womb with a dragon, he said, eyes aflame. mayhaps he’s a dragon himself.

• where was daeron?

• he liked to lay next to you, always restless, never sleeping until he was sure you were asleep first, and always waking before you, to make sure you’d never leave him, nor his dragon-nephew. he says your next baby will be perfect. a real dragon. but you weren’t sure if there will be one again

• where was daeron?

• one night, when aerion was fast asleep beside you, you sneaked away to see daeron in his rooms

• it wasn’t like you never saw him. you did. but he came so little and stayed so short that it was like he was never there at all

• you recalled back a memory of the last time he came, it was early morning; birds chittering, barely any rays in the sky

• he was holding his son, rocking him, singing a lullaby. but he was a little drunk, you could tell. there was a slight tilt to his voice

• your husband was smiling and laughing, like the baby had told him the funniest jape

• you supposed you should have been scared that he would drop the babe, but you didn’t say a word. you felt you should be quiet at the moment, scared to break the sweet spell you’ve been witnessing

• he kissed his son’s forehead, ran his finger on his nose, then gently laid him down on his crib. he walked over to you then, thinking you were still asleep.

• daeron stroked your hair, like you were a child yourself. but it felt nice. warm. he kissed your forehead too, and before he left, you heard him say im sorry, forgive me

• your slippers made pit pat sounds against the cold tile floor, you’re shivering as you make your way to his familiar place

• again, you felt you had to be quiet. an instinct, born out of the atmosphere

• you pushed open his door, immediately hit with the pungent smell of wine. has it always been this way?

• an expanse of pale, smooth skin; hair like copper spread across her milky back. your husband, chest bare, sound asleep with his arms under her breasts

• oh

• in the morning, when aerion awoke, you felt sad as you placed your hand on his thigh, drifting higher and higher as you whine about how you need a dragon in you; whispering in low tones as he takes a fistful of your hair and pull your face back, so strong and harsh; you mutter over and over again, a chant so fervent, for him to fill you

• but you weren’t sad for very long, how could you be? you had your brother-in-law, rough and cruel, warming your bed every night, a child whom you are beginning to care for, and your beautiful powders again.

• and your husband, who, despite it all, you still foolishly love. and you’re sure, in your own quiet way, between the long stares and the obligatory dances, through the shared giggles and the private confessions, despite the addiction and the affairs, that he still loves you too.

thanks for reading ahhhhhhh

#a knight of the seven kingdoms #akotsk #asoiaf #daeron targaryen #daeron the dreamer #daeron the drunken #daeron x y/n #daeron x you #daeron x reader #aerion targaryen #aerion brightflame #aerion x reader #aerion x you #aerion x y/n #maekar targaryen

daeron x destructive!wife!reader p1

summary. everyone thought you would tame him, when in reality you’ve made him worse

warnings. reader has trauma (sa, grooming, etc.), alcohol & drug abuse, toxic relationship

• you were ten-and-five when he kissed you. a solemn, older member of your household guards.

• he had always been nice to you. treating you with sweets and candies, even if you didn’t ask, and constantly lending an ear to your complaints of your parents inattention or your siblings bullying.

• he’d put his arm around you, tell you not to pay them any mind and to come to him if you had troubles. you liked him, this kind knight.

• a few months after that, he started coming to your rooms. he was your protector, always stationed in your corridor, posted at your door, and one night he finally opened it.

• you didn’t know which happened first. his fingers in your hair or your steak knife in his throat.

• but soon you were stabbing him and stabbing him and it didn’t matter anymore what went down first.

• the walk to your parent’s chamber couldn’t have been colder. but you made it, and you dropped the knife and passed out, your bloody body cluttering against the stone floor, a louder thunk than the knife

• when you awoke, it was three days later and you were deep in the countryside, with your aunt who last you heard had been exiled for being with child out of wedlock

• in the four years you were there, there was no child

• she took care of you, never asking questions, never staring. you never told her what really happened, you didn’t have the strength. she was kind and that was enough

• the one thing you were glad of from all this, was poppies. the sweet sweet milk of the poppy had been your protector when you first arrived here. your aunt made sure you always had it in hand, as you’d be feverish and delirious without it. you’d walk in and out of dreams of your greying knight, his long fingers, his genteel smile, of his blood blood blood. on the worst of nights, you’d feel his skin on yours, the taste of his kiss.

• when you got better, your trusting aunt stopped giving you milk of the poppy, but that wouldn’t do. you’d steal from her, and use all the coins you had to buy more.

• you loved the taste, and you couldn’t be parted from it, the ecstasy on your tongue was the only way you could fall asleep

• when you got older, you discovered more ways to dull your empty heart. sweetsleep, sour leaf, shade of the evening. all delicious and dear

• of course your aunt noticed your propensities for these herbs. but so long as you did as asked and not stir trouble, what cared she?

• then one day a letter from your father came. he had never written before.

• you are married to daeron targaryen, eldest son of prince maekar targaryen, by proxy. your father has ordered you to come home, to clean yourself up so in a week’s turn you’d be fit enough to depart for kings landing and be with your husband

• home was strange. as a girl, you loved running through the halls, laughing so loudly that your brother would have to chase you down

• your halls. your room. your protector.

• a little sweetsleep on your tongue is so very sweet indeed

• no one talked to you, not even your mother. when you left in the early morning, only your youngest sister had waved, the saddest look on her little face. you felt nothing. you were emptier than when you arrived

• kings landing was difficult for you. so many people and colours. everything was so bright and quick, you felt on the verge of tears

• but its nothing poppy powder cant fix. soft like snow, one sniff and youre smiling like a child

• when you first meet him, daeron, he was drunk. so drunk that the meeting only lasted minutes before he actually passed out

• your father-in-law sighed, a vein popping out of his forehead like it was about to burst. he apologised for his son. voice pained, angry, annoyed.

• “he has you now.” said a little boy suddenly, spritely and well-meaning. aegon, you think. “i’m sure you’ll both be very happy together”

• your first night with daeron, you were so nervous you could hardly breathe. all the powders and vials you had with you suddenly felt insufficient. you needed more. more and stronger, much much stronger. he wasn’t even in the room yet and you felt you would die

• at last the door opened. you could smell flowers and wine, a stench so strong weirdly enough it made you calmer

• “let’s get it over with then.” he said

• he’s standing behind you, his hands on your shoulders. he was very warm but very gentle too, like he didn’t want to break you

• it felt nice

• he was nice. all throughout the night, he made sure you were alright. he never held you too tight, never pushed you too deep. there were no bruises nor marks. he’d ask, over and over again like a prayer, “is this alright?”

• the next morning was the most sober you’ve been. you were used to sleeping and waking with your herbs, but this morning you woke with him.

• he was already up, legs jittering like a madman. he was naked save for his cool linen shirt, though it stuck to him with sweat. he was sitting on a chair in front of the fireplace, eyes blown wide, skin like a fever

• you knelt under him, hands playing on his knees. “are you alright?” you asked. you’re calmer than you’ve ever been. the way he looks right now, he’s you, you realised. he’s scared.

• he shakes his head, eyes on the fire still. his hands shake as he pours himself a cup of rum. he’s shaking so terribly the drink spills on his thigh as he takes a sip. a sip which turns into a large gulp as he finishes it in one take

• “i-” he starts, “i saw-”

• “i dreamed-”

• but he couldn’t finish.

• he didn’t need to. you understand. of course you understand

• you rise, reaching for your chest at the foot of the bed. you open the lid and there between the folds of your scarves and silk dresses, a beautiful golden pouch

• you take your hand-held mirror, holding it flat against your hand, and shake from the pouch enough powder for two. well, three. he seems like he needs more.

• “this will help.” you say.

• he looks a tiny bit confused, so you take it first, to reassure him. you hand him the mirror, smiling a little. you can help him. you will.

• he does as he’s told

• a few minutes later, youre both dancing around the room like roosters who’ve lost their heads. laughing so loudly your stomach hurts. he’s holding you and carrying you like youre the best thing his hands ever held. hes so handsome when hes happy, and youre so happy when youre gone

• he tells you it feels even better when you drink. so you take one sip then two then six then dance and dance and dance until its nighttime and youve both lost your minds, laying on the balcony floor, staring at the stars and the moon and shivering from how cold the air is

• you were inseparable. never going anywhere without the other. even going to sleep was a pain to your heart. you needed to touch him, to feel him with you always. without him you’d go mad.

• in the halls, during breakfast or feasts, games or tourneys, the feeling of a thousand eyes would hit you. you can hear the stares, the words “drunk” and “deranged” branded on your skin.

• but your husband never let it get to you. he’d pull you away somewhere quiet, kiss your dainty fingers - all ten - and stare adoringly at you, stars in his eyes. you’d give him white liquid in diamond vials, four drops for each and you’d be happy as happy can be

• you suppose this is love.

• to be apart from daeron is torture, to be with him bliss; white hot.

• and for him, you were an angel from heaven, sent down to redeem him. your cherub face, your soft hair, your addicting smile, you understand him wholly and completely, a companion as mad and broken as him.

• he wasn’t scared anymore of his dreams, he had you. you and your perfect powders and irreplaceable potions and sweet-smelling balms.

• when he awoke with terrors, heart jumping out of his ribcage, blood behind his eyes - blood there was blood, and his brother egg, and fire so hot it could burn a dragon what dragon? dragon dragon - he’d simply take your remedy, down a cup of wine or arbor gold and sleep, your body pressed tightly against him

• dreams and nightmares plagued you both like locusts; buzzing behind you under the skin of your neck. but you had each other, and all the sleepless nights and dry noses and feverish sleep together bonded you. so deep and strong it would never break. so long as your fingers are in his hair and his nose is pressed against your neck, you’d be happy happy happy

note. doing a p2 soon! this was fun

#asoiaf #akotsk #a knight of the seven kingdoms #akotsk daeron #daeron targaryen #daeron the dreamer #daeron the drunken #daeron x reader #daeron x you #game of thrones #egg #maekar targaryen #maekar x reader #daeron x y/n

city-of-ladies

Raja Ungu ("The Violet Queen") (r.1624-1635) was the third of the four successive queens regnant of Patani. An involved and energetic monarch, she worked tirelessly to strengthen her kingdom.

Marching to war

Raja Ungu succeeded her older sister, Raja Biru ("The Blue Queen"), around 1624. Raja Ungu had been married to the king of Pahang and was widowed. Her sister sent officials to fetch her so that she could inherit the throne. Once again, the transfer of power was peaceful, with no notable conflicts.

Raja Ungu harbored strong hostility toward Siam. She refused to use the royal title peracau, which symbolized Patani’s status as a tributary of Siam. Instead, she chose the Malay title paduka syah alam, meaning “Her Excellency, Ruler of the World.”

The queen personally ordered the mobilization of 3,000 men for a military expedition against Siam. She was involved in all preparations, chose the officers, and inspected the troops before their departure. The expedition was a success, and Raja Ungu signed a peace agreement on the condition that the Siamese king would permanently renounce all claims over Patani’s territories.

Network of alliances

Raja Ungu was the driving force behind Patani’s foreign policy. She strengthened alliances with other Malay kingdoms and, in 1632, married her daughter to the king of Johor. She also dealt personally with foreign officials, such as representatives of the Dutch East India Company.

By 1630, she had stopped sending the symbolic tribute to Siam and launched attacks on Siamese ports, seizing their vessels. Reprisals followed when Siam launched an armed expedition against Patani in 1633–1634. The city nevertheless held.

The Yellow Queen and the decline

In 1635, Raja Ungu died and was succeeded by her daughter, Raja Kuning ("The Yellow Queen"). She inherited a state weakened by war, and her mother’s policies had created strong opposition within the oligarchy. Raja Kuning accepted the title of peracau and resumed sending symbolic tribute to Siam.

Her rule was marked by a weakening of royal power. Five days after her coronation, she surrendered all of her personal treasure to the state. Unlike Raja Hijau, she did not conduct business directly but instead had a merchant act as a proxy. Her income came from the produce of her own gardens.

Sometime between 1642 and 1643, her marriage to the Sultan of Johor was annulled. Raja Kuning soon found herself married, perhaps against her will, to her former husband’s younger brother. By 1644, the prince had usurped power in Patani, forced the queen out of the palace, and began to abuse his authority.

Patani’s ministers asked the queen for permission to pursue the usurpers. Raja Kuning agreed, but on the condition that they would spare the prince, as she pitied his mother. Most of the prince’s followers were therefore killed, and the queen sent him back to Johor by ship. She then worked to restore peaceful relations with Johor by sending envoys.

The final years of her reign remain obscure. She was possibly ousted in 1651 by the king of Kelantan, who installed his son at the head of a new dynasty. Raja Kuning later fell ill and died.

Patani saw a brief return to female rule with Raja Mas Kelantan (r. 1670–1698) and her daughter Raja Mas Chayam. These queens held little power in practice, as real authority lay in the hands of the oligarchy. Patani had by then entered a period of decline. The golden age was long gone.

If you enjoy this blog, you can support me on Ko-fi!

Further reading:

Amirell Stefan, “The blessings and perils of female rule: New perspectives on the reigning queens of Patani, c. 1584–1718”

Baker Chris, Phongpaichit Pasuk, A History of Ayutthaya: Siam in the Early Modern World

Watson Andaya Barbara, Andaya Leonard Y., A History of Malaysia

⋆˚꩜｡ OH, WHAT FUN! - challengers!au

summary. bratty & romantic, elaena would be happy in life so long as she had fun. and it is fun chasing two princes, isn’t it?

word count. 4.1k

warnings. oc is a lil problematic ngl

note. first fic here oh my daysss sorry if its bad! english is not my first language so i apologize for all the mistakes

Flighty. Selfish. Spoiled.

Why had nobody ever slap her senseless before? Her mother came close once, when she was ten-and-two and shaved her head with a pair of stollen scissors from Aelor. But really it wasn’t her fault. She was curious how’d she look like and all that heavy hair was starting to make her skin crawl.

When she was a child, mother would never let anyone touch her. She’d dismiss all her maids, so the work of brushing her daughter’s hair, of dressing her in fine dresses, of waking her, it was all Aelinor’s job. Elaena supposed it was because she felt so much guilt over court gossip, that Aelinor had given birth to a bastard baby. After all, who’s hair did she inherit? She had hair like molten onyx, which she always kept to her waist. But Aerys’s was silver, her mother yellow. And her eyes? Too deep a purple that many would mistake it for coal. Her father’s was a beautiful lilac, so light it was scary to look at him at times. And Aelinor’s was a gentle grey, clean like spring. So where had she come from?

She used to be angry about it. All those whispers and questions, she was a princess wasn’t she? So why can’t everyone treat her properly? What really bothered her though was her father.

He was so much a ghost to her, an apparition only appearing for brief intermittents. And even then, in a room with him, it was like she wasn’t there. He simply didn’t see her. As she grew taller, she realised this was the way of him. With everyone. His serious and studious propensities ensured that no earthly matter - salacious gossip, for example - could reach or affect him. For this, she loved.

“Oh darling, do sit still. The poor girl will braid your hair all crooked!” Exclaimed Aelinor. Elaena tripped out of her thoughts, feeling her maid’s fingertips all too keenly on her scalp, soft and nimble.

“Miriam wouldn’t. She’s too used to me moving around like a horrid mantis,” replied Elaena. Her mother chuckled, shifting her attention back to her book of hymns. Her mother, ever the devout. When Elaena was younger, Aelinor would bring her to the sept everyday to pray, but she got too fussy and easily bored. She found it uninteresting, a tedious chore when she could be with her cousins or visiting children instead. Though, she did like the septas. They were always nice to her.

“Has Aelora woken yet?” Asked the young princess, her foot tipping and tapping on the floor, playing blind men’s music. The girls had planned an outing to the market today, for the early morning, wanting to buy trinkets and cakes.

“I’m not sure, my love.” Aelinor said, signalling one of her maids to fetch upon Elaena’s question. The women nodded, scurrying out of the chamber like wind.

Elaena wondered if Aelora was still asleep. Or if she was even in her room. Her closest cousin loved to be with her twin, Aelor, so much that it wouldn’t surprise her if she was with him right now. Often times, they like to sleep together, side by side until their breaths and snores became a soft melody and the sun woke them. Elaena felt a tingle in her heart.

Love, she supposed.

When she was ten-and-six, she fell hard in love with a boy, Bronwyn Baratheon, ten-and-six like her and nephew to a Kingsguard, come to the keep to visit his beloved uncle. He was beautiful and brave, a whole head taller than her, and when she looked into his eyes, it’s like she saw herself. They were madly in love, much to the chagrin of her mother, who disliked the match, and his uncle, Ser Roland Crakehall, who disapproved of the princess getting in the way of his nephew’s ambition to becoming a Whitecloak. It was her beloved cousin, Valarr, who stopped her from eloping with the boy.

One hot summer night, leaning against her balcony and remembering Bronwyn’s touch, she heard shuffle. Looking back, she saw him. Valarr. His posture, so straight and poised, was recognisable. Her king-to-be cousin had always been kind to her. Gentle and observant, he had always indulged in her games and whims, delighted to be able to make his faerie-cousin smile. Tonight, he was silent while he approached her. Elaena would almost think he was upset.

“Dearest cousin,” she smiled wide, fast approaching him for a hug. “Why are you here? I’m shocked you’ve made the journey, how uncharacteristically inappropriate of you.” She teased, pulling back to look at him. The hem of her thin cotton shift felt funny brushing against her knees, it made her want to shake and dance. But his face was so stony, his eyes not meeting hers at all. He is upset, thought Elaena. At me?

“Valarr, are you alright?” She asked, worried now, dipping her head to force him to look at her. And in his eyes, it’s like he was breaking. His mismatched eyes was glassy. How strange she feels.

“You and that Baratheon boy, is it true?” He asked. She stilled. She didn’t know why, but she was scared of saying the wrong thing. What wrong thing? She didn’t want to anger him or scare him away. She felt like a little girl again, being chastised for breaking a precious bowl. How could he be angry at her?

“I-” she started, pulling away from him. Suddenly touching him felt too hot. “We are in love, cousin.”

He scoffed, staring up at her then, fast and sudden and angry. She’d never seen him so, not at her. “Love? He’s a fool, Elaena.” She could only stare.

“Your mother came to me, among others, in hysterics, begging me to talk some sense into you. They’re afraid you’ll go and elope with him. Or worse.” He spat. Elaena was still frozen. She felt cold, though her skin was shining with a sweaty sheen. Valarr’s eyes glazed over her right shoulder, her night clothe was down, leaving it bare. “Or worse? Worse how?” She questioned, chin up and eyes daring him to say what they both knew he was thinking.

Her heart was beating so wildly, she could scarcely breathe. She needed to be strong. Bronwyn and her, they’re a love match. She’s never felt this before, this strong and passionate fire, and she’ll never feel this way for anyone else again. How could she? But, standing in front of her cousin that night, she felt a strong pull in the bottom of her stomach, a fire she’s felt before, growing hotter and hotter.

“Don’t be daft, cousin.”

“Don’t call me daft.”

She’s angry now too. She could see his stare softening, regretting his words. No, not his words really, regretting that he’s made her upset.

“Elaena, tell me you haven’t done anything foolish.” He’s stepping closer to her now, his face so soft and boyish it made her head hurt. He’s touching her arms, rubbing them up down, like he’s done so many times before. She closed her eyes, releasing a breath and leaning into his touch. It’s so familiar to her, the feeling of him. Her stomach is a hole now, she’s feeling everything too deeply. His stare, his skin, his warmth.

“I didn’t.” She confessed, pushing herself towards him, only an inch as he’s so close already. Their foreheads touched, breaths mingling together like bubbles. He let out a sigh of relief, his shoulders sagging down. A weight off his chest, a weight he’s been carrying since he first saw the couple, chasing each other down in the garden. He hadn’t known why his heart was hurting so, but it burned him. His Elaena, with a boy who would never know the depth of her like he did.

They stayed that way for a long time. Holding each other, breathing in each other’s air. Occasionally, they’d be pulled towards each other even deeper. Their skins on fire, feverish and sweaty, until they fell asleep together, his chest to her back, on her feathery bed.

In the morning, he would kiss her forehead and sneak back to his chambers, not wishing to start rumours when one would have been put to rest, by he himself he swore.

Bronwyn departed from Kings Landing that same day. Elaena never saw him again. She wasn’t sure how that happened. Was it her mother? Or Valarr or Ser Roland or maybe his own will? She wondered and wondered but never got an answer, not brave enough to ask it aloud. Then, not caring. She had the embrace of her cousin to sleep to, what else could she need.

From that night, Valarr was hers. He’d always been hers, but that night everything changed so starkly. Suddenly they were meeting in secret every night - or almost every night. He’d gift her jewellery and books of poetry, delighting in seeing her with them. She saved her kisses for him, for his hand, cheeks, and lips. And his eyes sometimes too, if she thought he was working too hard, creases not leaving his forehead when he’d rest with her.

And every time they kissed, whether it was a quick one in hallways or hard, passionate ones in her chambers, she couldn’t help but feel a little lucky, as he had believed her.

The truth was, she and Bronwyn really was a love match. In all the ugly, filthy ways.

⋆˚꩜｡

“Surely I’d look better in this than the garish purple one!” Exclaimed Aelora, with all the haughtiness of a true born princess. She was comparing between a pair of lovely pearl earrings, dripping with sea foam and a gold and amethyst one, which according to her was garish. Elaena thought it was perfectly lovely. Well, lovely on herself perhaps.

“Buy the pearls then my love, and gift me the other one. I rather think it would suit me.” Aelora held up the purple earrings to Elaena’s ears, turning her head to different angles here and there, nodding all the while. “Yes, it is lovely on you! Who knew?” Elaena playfully swatted her arm while Aelora payed the old seller a silver coin.

As soon as the old lady accepted, the silver-haired princess stashed her earrings in her pocket and gave Elaena hers. The cousins linked arms, more friends than anything. The market was only beginning to get loud, all the noises of the world slowly waking. They had got there so early hardly any shop was open. They would have been greatly disappointed in having to wake so early if it were not for the Essosi jewellery stall, looking like it’s been opened for years, with a greying old lady as the keeper.

“What shall we have for tea time, my sweet? I’m so famished I want to eat all the treats in the seven kingdoms!” This made Elaena laugh, throwing her head back. “All is it? I hope you’ll still be happy when you’re big and fat!” Her playful jest was poorly received, as Aelora was horrified at such a thought.

“And have Aelor run away from me? Never say such a thing again, Elaena.” She only laughed. It’s hard to imagine Aelor running away from Aelora, as he is so often running to her. They were so hard in love that if Aelora awoke a pig tomorrow, he would undoubtedly still be by her side, slaughtering any man who dared turn her to bacon. The thought made Elaena giggle.

She breathed in the morning air, crisp and cold and it made her giddy all over. The keep could be so hard and stuffy sometimes. Beautiful, yes. Devastatingly so. Intricate tapestries with colourful tales for days, flowers in imported vases, soft lighting, and pretty courtiers galore. Despite all the beauty, the place could get hard to breathe in. Everyone always so deep in their work, hardly anyone had time for a little game! Even her dear Valarr - the thought of him gave her cheeks a red bloom - could be so serious at times, she’d have to smooth away his brows with her thumb to make him stop frowning.

A quick glance to her side, to catch sight of a stall selling jade bracelets, realized Elaena to the presence of her cousin, Daeron, oft drunk. He’s entering a tavern, steps steady, hair tied back.

Daeron was the oldest of the litter of cousins. She supposed he was quite handsome, with his light brown hair and heady purple eyes. When he cleaned up, few and occasionally, he’d really look like a prince.

He was kind but distant to her. Always in his cups, drinking drinking drinking. Lost to his nightmares and dreams and worlds on fire. She wasn’t sure if they were real.

“I see Daeron in that tavern over there, my love. We should pay him a visit!” Suggested Elaena. The last time she and Daeron spoke, was during her birthday, in which he congratulated her on turning a year older. He’d called her pretty then, said her eyes got darker, plum-like.

“Oh must we? He’s a terrible drunk, no fun at all…”

Elaena knew well enough this meant Aelora didn’t want to greet him. She understood why of course. He is a terrible drunk. His skin was sullen and pale, cheeks flushed and breath sour, like grapes. He swaggered and hunched, when really he’s the tallest of the lot. When in company, he’d either be deathly quiet or so loud and buzzed as bees that he’d have to be knocked down to finally be shut silent. It was Aerion who’d delight in doing so, not that he’d let anyone else touch his brother though. She supposed it was sweet, but he’s so cruel who knew if he thought it was so.

Though Daeron and her weren’t close and barely spoke to one another, she always thought of him. In her mind, she wondered what it would be like to be so frightened all the time. Then she’d feel sorry for the drunken prince, promising to herself to be his good friend, which she never did of course. He’s such a terrible drunk.

“Would you be terribly cross with me if I wanted to, still?” She asked, coaxing her question with honey and lemons. Aelora sighed, “You’d leave me?”

“Like you left me yesterday for Aelor?” She replied, snarky, though there was no bite to it.

“I didn’t know you were so close to dear Daeron, cousin,” Aelora smirked, her face electric, wild and knowing. “Valarr would not approve,” tutted she.

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Swatted Elaena, and she left her with the guards to head to The Nettle - the name of the tavern, as noted by the sign.

The thing that struck her the moment she entered was: how empty it was. She had expected it to be bustling, full of people who’d be drinking, laughing, jostling, or singing a bawdy tune loudly, all the occupants a family for a song. But it was so quiet, which was fairly understandable as the sun had only started to lift from its slumber not three hours ago.

There were many tiny wooden tables, rectangular and clean. Two or three or four chairs for each, a bench for some. There were two workers in the tavern, a young girl in deep red and a bearded man, both at the counter. They looked busy but she didn’t know what they were doing exactly, just a work of hands.

“What are you doing here?” Spoke a voice to her left. Daeron. His voice was surprisingly steady.

She turned to face him and replied as charmingly as she can, “I was at the market with Aelora. Saw you coming here and thought to pay you the pleasure of my company.”

He nodded briefly, not quiet believing her, then walked to a corner table. No windows, just walls. She followed behind him, his shoulders broad. He sat on a chair and she on a bench against the wall. On the table was a cup of wine. He took it then gulped down a long swig. She raised one of her eyebrows, a scoff leaving her pink lips.

“You’re disgusting.”

“And you’re here,” he sighed, thumping his empty cup down. With raised hands, he signalled the girl at the counter to come refill his cup.

“So,” he started, wiping droplets of wine from his lips, “Tell me, how is sweet Valarr?” She scowled slightly.

There are prickles all over her skin at yet another mention of her lover. Though they tried to be discreet, they were proper horrid at it. It was an open secret really, the prince and his fair cousin. Though Valarr was devoted to her, Baelor would never allow them to marry. There had been talks for years and years of marrying him and Matarys off to foreign ladies across the sea to strengthen the court, the burn of the Blackfyre rebellion was still seared on everyones flesh. She understood of course, and even got a slight thrill from it. After all, some girl from Lys or Tyrosh might have his hand, but in the end, she’s the one with his heart. She’d always have it, and that brought a smile to her face.

“I wouldn’t know.”

He laughed. The girl in the deep red dress came then, with her jug of wine roses. She poured some into his cup, stopping only when the wine was about to spill over. She’s familiar with his habits then. “Leave it.” He ordered and she left the jug on the table, walking away at the exact moment he drank, so curt and cold.

A thought crossed her mind then. Had he and the girl been lovers? She felt a twinge of jealousy in her heart, but how stupid.

So she asked Daeron just that.

He barked in laughter, which made her laugh a little. “Are you mad?” He said, taking small sips, his cheeks flushing a deep red.

“Well, were you?” She asked again, but he wouldn’t answer. He only put his cup down, staring with amusement at his silly cousin. It occurred to him at that moment how dark her eyes were. Large pools of black. No, purple, wasn’t it? He thinks he remembers it being purple. Gods, were her eyes dark.

“Tell me,” She pleaded, half-laughing. She reached across the table to touch his hand.

“Tell me.” She asks again, voice slightly deeper, staring at him and staring. He feels dizzy. Taking his hand back and pulling it under the table, he rubs it with his left thumb, silently stroking the patches of skin she had held. It’s so warm.

“Why are you here?” Quietly, like a mouse. There was a tick in his jaw, he looked handsome.

A curl of hair fell over her shoulders then, her eyes softened. With an almost apologetic smile, she reached across the table and tousled his hair, “You’re quiet lovely, you know.”

Their eyes locked. She smiled sweeter, untangling her fingers from his sandy locks to take his cup. He should have stopped her. No lady should be drinking in broad daylight, least of all in a dirty tavern with her dubious, irresponsible cousin.

Her gaze never left him as she finished.

⋆˚꩜｡

It was almost sundown when they reached the keep. The sky was purple and romantic, billows of white fluff only making the scene more hazy.

Daeron had ushered her out The Nettle as soon as it started getting rowdy, and relented to her sweet pleas of strolling through the shops before returning home. She saw nothing of interest but enjoyed the silent company of him. He was very drunk then, but functioning well enough. At least he could walk straight. She had no doubt though that if trouble had come, he wouldn’t have been able to do lick about it, which both amused and concerned her. Mostly amused.

As a child, she remembered how fierce Daeron used to be with the sword. Many a mornings she would come down to the training yard to watch the boys spar and tally. She thought it was funny how they moved, like horrible dancing. Valarr would always come talk to her, cracking jokes and clever comments to keep her entertained. He’d often sneak glances her way when he was on the grounds, sword in hand, beads of sweat trailing down his face, but it never distracted him. He was very focused, her gallant prince.

Daeron was the best of them though. He was big and strong, lithe and adept with the longsword. He’d always laugh, big and beautiful, like it was too easy and it’s all just a silly game to him. He’d give a hand to his opponent if he knocked them down, smiling, and say, “I’ll go easy next time.” He never did.

But that was before the dreams got too clear and frequent. Before it was too big a burden for any boy to bear. It confused her watching him slowly go mad.

She used to like cheering for him too, at which point he’d turn to face her and give a deep exaggerated bow, which delighted her even more. When he earned himself as The Drunk, she’d stop coming to watch. Because it was painful or embarrassing, she couldn’t tell.

They walked quietly to the keep, silence the third companion. But it wasn’t awful, it was shy.

The birds were singing like flutes when they ran into Valarr in the halls. He paused, his eyes narrowing in confusion, “Where have you two been?”

“At the market. Though there was nothing there.” She answered, reaching to be beside him, to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. He was warm and smelled like books and rubies. She breathed in his scent, her stomach tingling. She wanted to kiss him then, but stopped herself. It felt unkind, somehow.

“I’ll leave you two be. Farewell cousins.” Daeron said curtly, a sarcastic lift on his face. He nodded to Valarr, then Elaena, where his gaze lingered a little longer. Then he turned and left, leaving them alone.

“I didn’t know you both were so close.” Valarr questioned, to which she scoffed, “Don’t be silly. We’re not!”

They walked hand in hand to her room, in a slow lazy dream. Finally, they reached the familiar corridors where her room was situated. It was so quiet, the place only starting to get dark. They had passed a few servants lighting candles in the hallways, none cared that they were hand-in-hand.

She thought of how there are so many things to do yet, but for some reason she was already sleepy. She yawned, stretching her arms out and leaning against her large wooden door so she was chest to chest with him. Valarr looked amused, looking at her like she was a little mad. “You’re tired.” He remarked, embracing her, his fingers gently placed around her forearms. She leaned into his touch, feeling girlish.

“I know. And I haven’t even done anything.” She lilted, then continued, coming closet, “Will you come inside?” Softly, lover-like.

“Do you think I’d say no?” He kissed her hand. She giggled, crashing into him eagerly as his hands reached out to open the doors. They were breathless and happy, alone together as the moon glittered. She reached under his shirt, wanting to feel the planes of his hard chest against her hand. Her kisses were starting to get sloppy as she made her way down his neck.

“Elaena,” warned Valarr, but he sounded weak. All breathy and low. She wondered if she pursued this, might he finally let them couple? But that was wishful thinking, he was too strong for that. In all the times they’ve been in each other arms, the one thing they’d never done was make love. He cared for her too much to ruin her, especially when they both knew she’ll never be able to call him husband. So they play, and play and love but it never went as far as it had with Bronwyn. Sometimes it would upset her, most of the time it was alright. Especially when she can see how much it pains him so. She liked seeing that.

They sat together on her bed, cradling each other like at any moment now one of them would run away. They talked softly about his day - how worried his father is with all the Blackfyre talk starting again - and hers. She showed him her new bought earrings, and he showered kisses on the petal of her ears. They laughed here and there, about simple things like how silly little Daella looked today while she tried to harangue Aemon, but never too loud in case someone would hear.

After a moment, her eyelids fluttered, shutting and unshutting. She had to fight to stay awake, but she wanted to. The last thing she remembered before drifting surely to sleep was the reassuring feel of Valarr’s kiss on her forehead. She let him leave, dreaming of dragons and pearls and pretty cousins. A tug on her lips, a soft snore.

note. woahh thank you if ur here! idk what this is might do a more playful modern au

winterhalters

historical sisters (2/∞) Eugenia and Athina "Tina" Livanos (The 'Livanos Sisters')

The Livanos sisters were the daughters of a Greek shipping tycoon, and became well-known in society circles as the glamorous wives of Onassis and Niarchos, the two most powerful figures in the postwar shipping world. Their rivalry spanned decades and extended to jewelry, designer clothes, artworks, homes, properties and yachts, spearheaded by Tina. Ultimately, however, their legacy would be cemented as that of two melancholic figures, trapped in loveless marriages and waning through the years under the wistful gaze of European society.

aliasmard

daeron listen to your dad

thefollyofsilly

MODERN AU TARGS HEADCANNONS

Aegon is the little brother that invites you to play games in his iPad and when Maekar takes it away because the screen time timer went off, you find out he is also a "you got games on your phone?" kid.

Daeron is such a oldest daughter core. But to the point of alcoholism (like the rest of us) that he was looking at the proof and not the brand

Aerion is such an asshole but a smart one. He's like historian in his class and trying to beat the shit out of or plant a cheat sheet in the valedictorian candidate

Aemon is such a sweet middle child that is definitely the ones Maekar and Dyanna praise God for. The other kids have been threatened with or sent to camp, Catholic school, military school but he's so chill and sweet. He gets along with all his brothers and sisters and won't snitch on them if they knock off Maekar's favorite decorative mace off the wall

Daella was thought to be nonverbal autistic when she was a kid because she didn't talk much. But actually her brothers just interpreted and spoiled her to the point she didn't know how to talk for herself (happened to a friend of mines's kid. Her older children would interpret the babbles and she didn't speak until she was almost four)

Rhae is the Disney kid. She has begged Dyanna to take her there but she keeps getting into trouble for letting Aegon use her screen time when he's not allowed to be on the iPad. Dresses as Cinderella because "she's blonde like me mama"

Dyanna is like the mom that whoops her kids with a flip flop. She won't publicly humiliate them in a shopping center but she will on the silent car ride home by just turning in the passenger seat and staring like this

Maekar loves all of his children. He takes Aegon and Aerion fishing and tells them if they don't shut up the fish will be scared away (typical dad shit). Plays princess with Rhae and is forced to wear eyelashes that are carefully applied by Daella. He bought Daeron his first "legal" drink that was a Irish car bomb and caught his laugh when to shot out his nose. He drives Aemon to all his extra curricular activities like group study or tutoring until he has his own whip.

Baelor is the fun uncle that brings his Valarr to visit his cousins but brings flowers for Dyanna and a bottle of wild turkey for Maekar. He also gives Aegon a shit ton of candy and tells him not to tell anyone because everyone knows that Aegon will have a sugar crash from the seven hells.

Valarr doesnt really like any of his cousins but when he's at the family reunion, he immediately goes to Aerion's room where all the kids are huddled around a huge flat screen tv playing COD Zombies. Aerion and Valarr are also rivals because guess who is the valedictorian candidate? Valarr is! He also knows that Aerion keeps trying to plant shit on him like a vape or dab pen but he throws them out before he gets searched.

BONUS: DUNK AND LYONEL

Dunk and Lyonel are Maekar and Baelor's drinking buddies. Lyonel can't hold his liquor for shit though and usually breaks a lawn chair. Dunk however is like the little kids monkey bars. He'll lift the little ones and throw them up but will tell Daeron and Aerion that they can't beat him in a arm wrestling contest.