ᝰ⠀ ⠀ NTRGYN ⠀ ⠀ ⸻ ⠀ ⠀ is an independent, multi-para, mutuals only, canon-derivative roleplay blog dedicated to NAERYS TARGARYEN, as depicted in george r. r martin’s a song of ice and fire and as envisioned by twenty-five year old eleanor﹙ due to a lack of source material ﹚.
❝ seven bear witness to the frailty of my heart. i have loathed where i should have only prayed — and so i will spend the rest of my days upon my knees, begging the gods to make holy what i could not make pure.
A STUDY IN . . . the woes of a queen, a youth stolen, a crown worn as penance, sacrifice, the erasure of the self, duty mistaken for virtue, devotion, praying to the maiden, kinship, the holy faith, motherhood, religious guilt, a life bartered at the altar of a dynasty, a dragon’s fire spent, a beauty cold and unearthly.
IN A COURT OF ﹙ affiliates ﹚. . . ꜰᴇʀᴀʟʀɪᴛᴇꜱ ᴍɪꜱʀʏʙʀᴇᴅ ᴏᴢɢᴏɢ
ON THE WINGS OF ﹙ mains ﹚. . . ᴡʀᴀᴇᴋᴀɢᴇ + ꜰᴏʀᴄᴇɴᴇxᴜꜱ + ᴅᴜᴛʏʟᴇᴅ + ᴍᴀɢɪᴋʙᴏʀɴ
GUIDELINES ! !
⁰⁰¹ ╱ age. due to the nature of the source material, as well as that of my own content, i won’t be writing with anyone below the age of 21. please make sure that your age or age range can be found somewhere on your blog.
⁰⁰² ╱ trigger warnings. this blog will include themes consistent with the world of a song of ice and fire, and thus all typical triggers associated with the series apply. discretion is advised, and i encourage open communication regarding any specific boundaries should you want to plot. although naerys’ marriage to aegon iv is an important part of her story, it will be referenced primarily as a plot device. her relationship with aemon will also be that of just brother and sister. while there are rumours of them being lovers, i will not be portraying their bond as romantic.
⁰⁰³ ╱ source material. while my portrayal of naerys will draw from the canon depiction found in fire & blood, much of her family dynamics, motivations, and personal nuances will be based on my own headcanons.
⁰⁰⁴ ╱ verses. this blog is crossover friendly. even if i may not have a verse written that fits your muse, you’re more than welcome to reach out or send asks.
⁰⁰⁵ ╱ shipping. i do engage in shipping and enjoy exploring character dynamics, but i won’t be doing incest ships. that’s a hard limit for me.
⁰⁰⁶ ╱ unfollowing. i’d appreciate it if you blocked me when you want to break mutuals. it just makes things easier and helps avoid the awkwardness of following each other again by accident.
all of the graphics on this blog have been made by @/raistudio, save for one set of dividers that are by @/selysie. the colouring psd used by the former are credited to @/gloomglimmer.
a drag path but it’s the way naerys has never known a mother’s affection and is constantly second - guessing herself while raising daeron because of it. sighs.
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍, 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐏𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐑, 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐃𝐀𝐘. her entire morning had been devoted to it, hours spent on her knees with hands clasped at her front with eyes screwed shut as every thought, question, hope is poured out to gods she can only hope were listening to her. could they be ? alicent had been wavering in once steadfast faith as of late--faith she had built herself on, or more like who she wanted to be, & made a pillar of what made her better than some other people. more righteous. more valid in her decisions or actions. was she ? it was not something she could currently bring herself to say or reflect on aloud because ... deep down ... she knew what the answer might be & facing it felt like something impossible. so, she returns to her chambers at a long morning as long veil is pulled from her head to be sat down table upon entry. shoulders, like mind, only feel slightly lighter as she comes to sit at her vanity. fingers are ridding ears of earrings when she smells something familiar, eyes glancing down to find the gift sat neatly before her.
@ntrgyn ASKED, he small prayer book had been rebound in deep green velvet, its margins filled with naerys’ own handwritten notes. she places the vial of perfume on top of it, smiling. its a soft blend of lavender, cedar smoke, and old parchment, meant to emulate the scent of the library chambers her mother and sister once sat together in. then, with the faint rustle of silk, she turns and steps out of her mother’s chambers, hoping she will be able to find some comfort in her gifts. they may be at war, but there’s always time to honour your mother.
slender fingers bring the small vile to her nose, eyes closing as she inhales & a smile spreads to her lips. 'the library ... ' is echoed in her mind before it is sat aside & prayer book held within hand, carefully, to be unbound from the tie holding it closed. fingertips turn page to the opening before brown eyes catch glimpse of specific handwriting about the margins--the smile she had worn widens, ❛ naerys. ❜ name is whispered with all the certainty in the world that her youngest had been so kind as to give her a gift. when had any of the others, save helaena of course, done that last ? she cannot remember. aemond used to, yes, but he was but a boy then ... soon he outgrew his mothers hovering, his tendency to give her tiny trinkets as surprises. coming to stand with book held in hand, feet begin to walk toward her chamber door as it is pulled open. she wished to thank her daughter for what had been given to her---so thoughtful, so sweet.
SHE IS DEEP IN HER SCRIPTURES when the door to her chamber opens, the words of THE SEVEN still soft upon her lips, and the slight curl of them brighter at the sight of her ❝ MOTHER ! ! ❞ she sets the text aside and gathers her skirts as she rises to meet her. ❝ i was given to understand you would be occupied today ? ? ❞ she has always had a hand in the ruling of things, after all — had stood at her father's shoulder through the long years of his reign, a habit she has yet to abandon even as AEGON SITS THE IRON THRONE. for a moment, there is a bitterness to her features at the thought — fleeting, and not quite hidden, her smile dimming slight in the wake of it, but then her eyes fall low, to the book she carries.
SHE WOULD LIKE IT, to be sure. her mother had always been a woman of deep faith, but SHE ALSO LOVES HER CHILDREN, and so, there is not a gift in the world she would spurn from their hands. still, her fingers find the hem of her sleeve, sheepish, for ❝ admittedly, i wanted to give you something more fine, but i could think of little else. ❞ WHAT WOULD ONE GIVE A WOMAN WHO WANTS FOR NOTHING, after all — a queen, besides, who had long since ceased to need the offerings of others? ❝ i just [ . . . ] i thought the commentary might make it a lighter read. ❞
He was understandably annoyed; he had every right to be. As a prince, even though he wasn't directly in line for the throne, his actions during the trial of the seven had altered his course. He had recklessly changed not only his own fate but also that of his father by getting his uncle, the king's hand, killed. He never anticipated punishment, nor did he expect his father to be pleased, yet his actions had inadvertently made his father the next king. He thought he would receive something, anything, other than banishment. "You certainly have a way with words," he murmured softly as the woman continued to speak, addressing him as lord when he was, in fact, a prince. Although he had been exiled from the seven kingdoms and sent to this distant place, titles still carried significance, even in this miserable situation. "Make sure you remember that," he reminded her swiftly. He would act as he pleased and show her why his father had chosen to keep him at a distance until things settled down. "The hedge knight, you say? I find that hard to believe; it was merely luck, nothing more. I had him outmatched on several occasions," he added.
Indeed, in his mind, he had triumphed in the contest; he possessed the stronger faction, superior fighters, and loyal knights, with his own father and brother standing by him for protection. He had defeated the knight, injuring him and leaving him a bloody mess on the ground. Yet, the man refused to surrender, continually rising to fight again. "Is that what they are calling it?" The knight who had subdued the prince had a rather amusing sound to it, he had to concede, but his stomach churned and his teeth clenched. How he despised being made a fool by someone insignificant. This was far from over, not here, not now; that man would face consequences for his actions, and he would ensure it. His younger brother wouldn't be able to shield him indefinitely. "Sit," he instructed her, gesturing with his hand to invite her to take a seat at the table with him as he reclined for a moment.
’TIS A RATHER PECULIAR FORM OF VANITY, she has always thought, to cleave so fiercely to a fading legend during a time when wisdom would counsel silence — and so, ‘tis what she does, offering naught but a smile as she takes HER SEAT AT THE TABLE. ❝ i should think it stranger if they did not, as there has been but ONE OTHER TRIAL OF SEVEN IN THE HISTORY OF THE REALM. they will have forgotten about it in a few years time though, i am sure. ❞ ‘tis a poor comfort, and she knows it even as she offers it, but a man of his pride is rarely well - disposed toward honesty, and IT WOULD SERVE HER ILL TO PUSH HIM [ . . . ] past the point of reason, that is.
❝ THAT, TOO, IS WHY I AM HERE. ❞ she reaches for the flagon of wine, tipping it toward his cup. ❝ my father seems to consider you as gallant in knighthood as you are noble in birth ; A MAN OF SIMILAR DISPOSITION, if you will. ❞ her smile tightens, the words rather bitter on her tongue, and sets the flagon aside. ❝ HE HOPES TO SEE YOU RESTORED TO YOUR POSITION, which may well happen sooner should you help us take action against THE GOLDEN COMPANY. ❞ if the rumours hold true, they would need to be dealt with, for ❝ IT APPEARS THEY ARE LED BY A BLACKFYRE PRETENDER. ❞
@ntrgyn cont'd
SHE LOOKS AT HIM THE WAY ONE LOOKS AT A WOUND THEY CANNOT STOP TOUCHING: hurt [ . . . ] and helpless [ . . . ] and a little angry. she turns her face, chin lifting just slightly. ‘tis rather childish, she thinks, but she would not have been able to bear the sight of a kill still warm either way. she had never really had the stomach for it — for the festive cruelty of it. ❝ YOU ALREADY KILLED IT THOUGH. ❞ she says it low, fingers moving slow and absent in her horse’s mane as she looks at it despite herself, still and bleeding. ❝ the deer, i mean. ❞ its doe eyes sit round and empty, staring up into the trees while her eyes find his, frowning. ❝ DO YOU LACK FOR FOOD, my lord ? ❞ by his way of dress he should not, but she had known even KINGS to want for stranger things.
Robb was knelt beside the kill, and he supposed he understood that a lady - perhaps even a royal by the look of her - like herself would be set on her nerves, but he did not appreciate the condescension. Still, he was a knight, and would be kind and courteous. "My lady," he chanced, hoping the title was suitable enough given that she was likely a princess but he was not entirely sure. "I am not a lord, but a ser. A hedge knight. I suspect I lack for food more than you may understand, and whatever I leave over, I can sell to make myself some money. Would you begrudge me it?"
❝ OH [ . . . ] ❞ shame burns her cheeks a bright red. ❝ no. no, of course not. i was only [ . . . ] ❞ she sighs, HER HEAD DIPPING SLIGHT with a hand pressed gentle to her chest. ❝ I APOLOGISE. i was under the impression you were hunting for sport rather than necessity. ❞ court had been rather quiet of late, and idle lords had taken to hunting the way they always did when there was NOTHING PRESSING LEFT TO SCHEME ABOUT. she lowers herself to a crouch before the prey, before the man, and swallows thickly. ❝ do forgive me. ❞
Aemon entered her chamber with bounce in his step, nodding to her ladies in a polite gesture. He wanted her to be the first to know; before their father, before their brother, before the court - she was his dearest friend in all the world. He felt like a maiden meeting her betrothed. Taking a white cloak was not so different, he imagined.
❝ BROTHER ! ! ❞ comes the bright, unguarded voice of a little girl who has not yet learned to temper her joy. she rises to greet him, her hair falling plain about her shoulders as she does. ❝ oh, of course — you needn’t even ask. ❞ she glances back at her ladies as they leave, smiling, and TAKES HIS HANDS IN HER OWN to lead him towards the cushioned settle. ❝ come, tell me everything ! ! ❞
𓂅⠀ ⠀ @heartofchivalry⠀ ❛ gets caught staring at naerys and immediately looks away⠀ .
SHE TURNS HER HEAD, violet eyes sweeping the length of the training grounds below in search of the mismatched eyes of the knight she knows has fixed his gaze upon her. she rests her hands over the balustrade, watching as he then looks away as if caught somewhere tender. ’tis the sort of thing that may have stung, to be deprived of the dark of one and the green of another. still, his armour bears the grime of a long morning's work, and his hair sits dark with exertion where it clings to his temple. ❝ ’TIS THE KING’S COMMAND, i hear. ❞ she turns then, frowning yet as her lady continues, knowing the queen prefers to be kept abreast of what concerns HER LORD COMMANDER. ❝ [ . . . ] they are to BE MADE READY IN THE EVENT OF WAR. ❞ a precaution, perhaps, HAD IT NOT BEEN AEGON WHO’D SAID IT. her hand tightens over the stone at the thought, a faint tremble working its way into her fingers. ‘tis brief, however, as she soon finds blood stains the whites of her beloved knight.
❝ my queen ! ! ❞ the voices of her ladies mix with those of her guard, one rushing to keep pace behind her while the others rise to meet her as she descends — and yet, she steps past them without so much a word, reaching instead for THE ARM OF THEIR LORD COMMANDER. ❝ ‘tis enough. ❞ while she knows she cannot drag him even if she tries, the look she fixes him with leave him no more choice than if she can. ❝ see to the infirmary at once. ❞
HER EYES DART ABOUT IN EVERY DIRECTION, catching at shadows and doorways as they pass. ❝ would it not be wiser to wait a moment longer ? ? ❞ she asks, still rather reluctant, as the other wedges a chair against the door. ❝ AEMOND MAY YET BE AWAKE. ❞ he usually is, of late. ❝ what if he were to give chase ? ? ❞ she looks up at her then, hands small as they close around the railing. ❝ what if skaargaster refuses to carry another rider ? ? ❞ she swallows, her gaze FALLING DOWN the side of the red keep to the courtyard far, far below. still, she would have to make it to the dragonpit one way or another, one day or another.
❝ alright then. ❞ she pulls herself up onto the railing, arms spread LIKE A BIRD BRACING AGAINST THE WIND. still, ❝ ‘tis terribly unwise. ❞
her hands are always cold. even in summer, wrapped in furs before a hearth built high enough to roast a boar, naerys’ hands stay pale and bloodless. the maesters say ‘tis a weakness of the blood, that it is thin and slow to warm [ . . . ] and so, she would occasionally be found trying to breathe warmth into her palms, or curl her fingers tighter around her cups in the mornings.
it could be rather exhausting at times, however.
a body that bruise too easily. that tire before it should. that seems, always, to be recovering from some illness no maester can name and no rest can cure. a child of fire is what she is, and yet, she cracks like ice at the slightest gust of wind : embarrassingly [ . . . ] pathetically.
𖥔⋆｡°✩ LOVESICK FOOLS ⸻ a collection of action prompts centered around sweet moments, lingering affection, and the little things that make love feel warm. adjust as necessary. add + reverse as needed.
sender falls asleep against receiver's shoulder halfway through a movie.
sender pulls receiver closer by the sleeve of their sweater.
sender wraps a blanket around themselves and receiver.
sender hooks their pinky around receiver's.
sender rests their head in receiver's lap.
sender presses a quick kiss to the top of receiver's head.
sender quietly cleans up after receiver while they're distracted.
sender saves the last bite for receiver.
sender writes love notes and leaves it somewhere receiver will find it.
sender curls up beside receiver on the couch.
sender grins every time they catch receiver looking.
sender snaps a candid photo with receiver when they aren't paying attention.
sender bumps their shoulder against receiver's while walking.
sender dramatically flops across receiver's lap.
sender nudges receiver's foot beneath the table.
sender automatically looks for receiver in a crowded room.
sender shifts a little closer to receiver without realizing it.
sender lets their knee rest against receiver's.
sender finds an excuse to sit beside receiver.
sender lights up the moment they spot receiver.
sender lingers a little too long after saying goodbye to receiver.
sender watches receiver from across the room with a soft smile.
sender gently wipes something from receiver's face.
sender points out constellations to receiver while the two of them lie beneath the stars.
sender ends up covered in flour while baking cookies with receiver.
sender pulls receiver into an impromptu dance in the middle of the kitchen.
sender absentmindedly doodles on receiver's hand while the two of them talk.
sender gets caught staring at receiver and immediately looks away.
sender carries receiver after they admit they're too tired to keep walking.
knowing what happens in the first episode after having read the books i will not be watching it, thank you very much. see y’all next week after i’ve seen episode two 🙂↕️
SMILES FOLLOW THEM INTO THE GODSWOOD FOREST, and eyes find hers to hold, bright with something she had not seen in months : HAPPINESS — worn plain, for, at last, there is cause for celebration. at last, SHE IS TO BE WED. her hands laced shy, she looks to him, to her BETROTHED, his hair of gold and his shoulders slim. ‘tis the son of ZOBRIEDAR, » A BOY OF THE FAITH « per her mother’s [ reassurance ] account. she wills herself to smile for it, even as her hand finds the SEVEN - POINTED STAR by her neck — seeking, as she always had, some small absolution. still, ‘tis a kinder fate than the one the gods were said to have intended, although ❝ it must have come as rather a shock to you. ❞ this — THEM, she means. ❝ i confess, i had not expected lady visenya to agree to it. ❞ be it their betrothal, or THE WAR THAT WOULD SUCCEED IT.
i’m going on a three-week getaway trip with my best friends [ it’s our 10-year anniversary teehee ] so activity will be rather scarce, if not non-existent.
you’re lonely but it's okay. it’s okay. it’s okay. you’ve always been okay except you're not and somehow you've made yourself and everyone else around you believe that too. connection to anyone is harder than you could have ever dreamed when you were young and unloved and invisible to everyone who was supposed to care about you and save you from the voiding hollowness in your chest, in your throat. you smile and say you're okay and you are, or at least you tell yourself you are, but is anyone even worried? you tell yourself that they are or maybe that it's good they aren't. you’ll be okay, one day. one day.
TAGGED BY . . . @heartofchivalry — thank you for tagging me < 3
TAGGING . . . @zaldarias @forcenexus @wraekage @dutyled @magikborn @misrybred @westsgem @knightcrowned @fallesto @st4nheight @thygraves @craveheart @mrhopkns @fatenull @lykosog @syndaerys @zobrizys @gachcuid @14thconvocation and anyone who’s up for it ! !
