nea - italian - she/her - greek mythology enthusiast - my ao3 - my wattpad - m.list - character list - get added to the taglist
✿︎ fandoms:
— riordanverse, harry potter saga, marvel (films and comics), star wars saga, dune, criminal minds, school for good and evil, grishaverse, cod, game of thrones saga, bridgerton and many in the works :)
So we know Aerion usually stays on his best behavior when Maekar is around, and that's why he only killed Hardyng's horse when Maekar wasn't there. But what if he acted out because Maekar specifically left to look for Daeron and Egg? Aerion's supposed to be the golden boy and daddy's favourite, but now suddenly Maekar is fretting over his missing brothers instead of paying attention to Aerion. Maekar skips Aerion's joust because he is more concerned with finding Daeron and Egg. Aerion's jealous ass was probably seething that his "inferior" brothers were stealing his limelight and Maekar's focus. Killing the horse both released his anger and ensured he earned back his number 1 spot as Receiver of Maekar's Undivided Attention. Just look at this face:
"Oh father isn't here for my joust because of those other two? Watch this then, uncle. Daeron and Aegon think they're so funny well I'm about to be hilarious."
now that I'm finishing the ballad, continuing to write thatw and writing that new targ reader fic it's just me and my world of ice and fire copy against the world
Cregan: “Cerwyn, have I ever told you how much I value and respect your council on women?”
Rodrick: “Wow no my lord”
Cregan: “Then why are you still talking?”
Idk if this fully fits but I just read the snippet you gave us and I thought this is sooo them (from my perspective) on them talking about princess🌚🌚
were you silent or were you silencED?
cregan ain't taking shit from cerwyn 💔 he knows the most close he's been with a woman has NOT been with the intention of marriage and he's NOT about to take any of his advice
sure!! i don't remember what i've shared about the next chap so far, but anyways, have a snippet!
“Lord Cregan Stark?”
The question comes from behind them — from someone who no doubt heard Cerwin’s indecent suggestion, no less. Cregan glares at Rodrick, who only shrugs smugly in reply as they both turn to greet their inquirer. “Yes?”
The lord who called his name out is a bit shorter than him, with curly, flaming red hair — a Tully, no doubt — with the same smile of a fox. He holds out his hand, which Cregan takes, “Lord Oscar Tully — a pleasure to finally meet the Warden of the North. You’re not too fond of ceremonies, are you? I’ve never seen you around here.”
The Stark’s nose crinkles — who does he think he is, the Golden Cloak of party attendances? “Well, there’s a lot to do up in the North,” he manages, not the best at formal gatherings, “I suppose you come here for the festive days often, then?”
Oscar nods gleefully, letting go of his hand, “Oh, I do. I’m a close friend of the princess.” he looks around for you, “She’s yet to arrive — she’s always had a flair for late entries, I’m afraid.” he smiles again — Cregan’s never seen someone smile so much in less than five minutes, also because there’s not much to smile about in the North. “You were one of her personal guests, she told me?”
The man raises an eyebrow. “Oh?” it’s weird for a princess to write one invite, let alone a few. He’s not the only one you wrote to?
Oscar feignes surprise, “But of course! There’s a list of selected people — either friends or the most prominent lords and ladies — that had a private invite. One written by the princess.”
Cregan’s eye twitches. Does that mean… that his wasn’t the only letter you sent out personally? He hasn’t slept for days thinking about how he could be able to avoid a princess who explicitly invited him, and you’ve sent multiple of those letters? Tully pats his shoulder, seeing his zoned out stare, “Don’t be so distraught, Lord Stark!” he adds gleefully, “You’re still one of the most eminent guests! I’m sure you’ll have time to thank the princess for inviting you and maybe ask her to consider an union, if you show her enough interest.”
He is absolutely not worried about talking to you. He’s worried about all the hours of sleep he lost, thinking he was one in a million. As Lord Tully gives them his excuses and goes toward his table, Cregan stays unblinkingly still under Cerwyn’s worried gaze. “Are you okay?” he whispers, “If you want, my sister’s the lady in waiting for the princess. She could probably get you an audience with her. If you suddenly changed your mind about rejecting her, you know… like any sane man would.”
“Shut it, Cerwin,” Cregan replies, inexplicably bitter, “I’m mourning my sleep.” and also the weirdly pleasing sensation of being the only one the princess wrote the letter to. Sure, he doesn’t want to marry you, but he was still flattered — he is but a man, after all. He couldn’t help it.
His friend raises his hands in surrender and tries to hide his snickering.
Lord Stark is approached by quite a number of lords and ladies alike after the encounter with Lord Tully, and everyone who talks to him ends up wondering what could have possibly provoked such a foul mood from such a well-known to be just lord. Cregan is downright sulking, he has to admit, and he doesn’t even know why — he’s technically grown out of the sulking phase by, at least, twenty years. That doesn’t deter him from continuing to do so, unfortunately.
“Why do you seem so upset about it?” Cerwyn teases him, and Cregan swears his jaw never looked more punchable than now. “You kept insisting on rejecting her earlier — do not tell me that now that you know that there could be competitors for her hand you’ve had a change of heart!”
Cregan takes a sip of his wine and can’t help but think that he loathes southern beverages, and misses his northern ale. “Rodrick, we’ve been friends for how long?”
Cerwyn settles in his chair like he’s waiting for a hurricane. “Over a decade, my lord.”
The latter puts two fingers between his neck and the dark blue doublet he’s wearing, trying to ease the pressure being put against his scruff. “One would think you would’ve learned when to shut up in favour of not fouling my mood even more in such a large period of time.”
sure!! i don't remember what i've shared about the next chap so far, but anyways, have a snippet!
“Lord Cregan Stark?”
The question comes from behind them — from someone who no doubt heard Cerwin’s indecent suggestion, no less. Cregan glares at Rodrick, who only shrugs smugly in reply as they both turn to greet their inquirer. “Yes?”
The lord who called his name out is a bit shorter than him, with curly, flaming red hair — a Tully, no doubt — with the same smile of a fox. He holds out his hand, which Cregan takes, “Lord Oscar Tully — a pleasure to finally meet the Warden of the North. You’re not too fond of ceremonies, are you? I’ve never seen you around here.”
The Stark’s nose crinkles — who does he think he is, the Golden Cloak of party attendances? “Well, there’s a lot to do up in the North,” he manages, not the best at formal gatherings, “I suppose you come here for the festive days often, then?”
Oscar nods gleefully, letting go of his hand, “Oh, I do. I’m a close friend of the princess.” he looks around for you, “She’s yet to arrive — she’s always had a flair for late entries, I’m afraid.” he smiles again — Cregan’s never seen someone smile so much in less than five minutes, also because there’s not much to smile about in the North. “You were one of her personal guests, she told me?”
The man raises an eyebrow. “Oh?” it’s weird for a princess to write one invite, let alone a few. He’s not the only one you wrote to?
Oscar feignes surprise, “But of course! There’s a list of selected people — either friends or the most prominent lords and ladies — that had a private invite. One written by the princess.”
Cregan’s eye twitches. Does that mean… that his wasn’t the only letter you sent out personally? He hasn’t slept for days thinking about how he could be able to avoid a princess who explicitly invited him, and you’ve sent multiple of those letters? Tully pats his shoulder, seeing his zoned out stare, “Don’t be so distraught, Lord Stark!” he adds gleefully, “You’re still one of the most eminent guests! I’m sure you’ll have time to thank the princess for inviting you and maybe ask her to consider an union, if you show her enough interest.”
He is absolutely not worried about talking to you. He’s worried about all the hours of sleep he lost, thinking he was one in a million. As Lord Tully gives them his excuses and goes toward his table, Cregan stays unblinkingly still under Cerwyn’s worried gaze. “Are you okay?” he whispers, “If you want, my sister’s the lady in waiting for the princess. She could probably get you an audience with her. If you suddenly changed your mind about rejecting her, you know… like any sane man would.”
“Shut it, Cerwin,” Cregan replies, inexplicably bitter, “I’m mourning my sleep.” and also the weirdly pleasing sensation of being the only one the princess wrote the letter to. Sure, he doesn’t want to marry you, but he was still flattered — he is but a man, after all. He couldn’t help it.
His friend raises his hands in surrender and tries to hide his snickering.
Lord Stark is approached by quite a number of lords and ladies alike after the encounter with Lord Tully, and everyone who talks to him ends up wondering what could have possibly provoked such a foul mood from such a well-known to be just lord. Cregan is downright sulking, he has to admit, and he doesn’t even know why — he’s technically grown out of the sulking phase by, at least, twenty years. That doesn’t deter him from continuing to do so, unfortunately.
“Why do you seem so upset about it?” Cerwyn teases him, and Cregan swears his jaw never looked more punchable than now. “You kept insisting on rejecting her earlier — do not tell me that now that you know that there could be competitors for her hand you’ve had a change of heart!”
Cregan takes a sip of his wine and can’t help but think that he loathes southern beverages, and misses his northern ale. “Rodrick, we’ve been friends for how long?”
Cerwyn settles in his chair like he’s waiting for a hurricane. “Over a decade, my lord.”
The latter puts two fingers between his neck and the dark blue doublet he’s wearing, trying to ease the pressure being put against his scruff. “One would think you would’ve learned when to shut up in favour of not fouling my mood even more in such a large period of time.”
are you planning on having a maekar targaryen daughter? please say yes.
i do!! i'm writing one at the moment, even if it's just a draft for now :) i was planning to make it various x reader... have a snippet
Daeron is the first to find you, of course — he must’ve followed you from the passage he watched you disappear in. He’s stumbling when he finally manages to sit beside you in the small alcove you found refuge in, hidden from the corridor by the pillar under a statue of who-knows-which-one of your ancestors.
When you look at him, eyes red with tears and a look that says, How did you find me?, he just shrugs. “You and Aerion hide here when you don’t want to do the lessons with your septa,” he mutters, low and sluggish, “I just happen to be the one who showed it to Aerion first.” he moves uncomfortably between the wall and you, “I must say, though, we fit it better when we were smaller.”
You hide your face back into your knees, a sob shaking your shoulders. “Father loathes me,”
He huffs, laughing, and it’s just then that you sense it — the smell. Daeron reeks of both wine and ale, something far worse than the occasional cup you thought he was drinking. “Father dislikes a lot of things — me, for starters. Then the courtiers. Then the stray animals Aemon drags in from the gardens. Then Aerion whenever he messes his lessons with Septon Marlen up. Then–”
“Get to the point,” you snap, already irritated by his smell alone. “Gods– since when did you start to drink?”
Very indelicately so, he replies with a burp. “Dunno. Heard some knights talk about how it muddles the mind and I thought I’d give it a try.”
You’re aware of Daeron’s dreams — the insistent, constant and vague suggestions about the future that he can’t seem to shake off his sleep. When mother was alive, they were easier to handle — she’d sit with him until dawn came and they’d both fall asleep on the daybed after a whole night spent talking. Without her, you’ve been hearing sobs — sometimes even screams — coming from his chambers late at night.
Aerion makes fun of him for it; as the years pass, he’s becoming cruel rather than simply mean, and that hurts to watch. Being twins, the two of you have always been the closest, but even you feel like you can’t keep him away from the pit he’s falling into. When you’d innocently asked a new come maester how to make your twin become politer and your elder brother get rid of his dreams, he’d just grimaced, and informed you hushedly that unfortunately, the seeds of madness are sewn into the womb, and that no one holds power over certain things such as your brothers’ afflictions.
When you’d asked him if that meant you’d turn mad too, considering you and Aerion had shared the same womb for almost ten moons, he just shrugged. “Only time will tell, Princess.”
You’d promptly started crying and ran off to tell Aerion, who told Daeron, who told your mother, who told your father — and before you knew it, the new maester had been sent back to the Citadel, and Maester Melaquin (tired, exasperated, old Melaquin) was the only Maester to remain at Summerhall again. And before you knew it, the old man was stealing you away from your septa’s lessons, and explaining to you why you wouldn’t turn out to be mad, and how your brothers weren’t crazy, either.
You blink, brows furrowed. “And is it working?”
Daeron blinks too, and hard — almost a squint. “What?”
You wince. “The wine, brother.”
He lets out the same little nervous laugh as before, “Oh, yeah, forgot we were talking about that.”
So I just got caught up on the dragon and wolf series and OHMYGODDDDD ILY and the series so much 😭 (Rhaenyra Def should have had a first born girl bc GIRLBOSS!!)
Here is a little something something for it bc I am cackling at the memes 😭 (also Aegon and princess being a chaotic duo in the future maybe????)
Princess: so, did you do it?
Aegon: yeah, I had to play dumb though
Princess: was it hard?
I'm happy you liked it so much!! also I'm not really sure we're ever going to explore westeros' future after the princess and cregan die, but I just know that egg is going to be born one way or another because he HAS to get his sassyness from someone... and that someone is his great-something grand mother the PRINCESS 💜
reading all these asks six months later is literally heartbreaking you guys were WORRIED about me and I just felt too embarrassed to update on the fact that I had a writer's block 💔💔💔 ANYWAY I'm doing better now and I hope you're having a good time too 💕💕💕