men could cuss me out, call me every name in the book, say i'm worthless, say that everything around me has more value than me, mentally corrupt me and yet i'd still beg them to accept my apologies for being the stupid bitch i am
sentry and his fucking god complex. please. im leaving this in your capable hands.
god complex
oh my god, anon… you KNEW where to hit!!! also, i am so excited because you are the very first person to request sentry fic from me 🤭And, I have realized recently sentry’s suit has a belt… you know what that means. i only proofread this once, lazily, so please excuse me if there are any misspellings.
sentry!bob reynolds x reader
WARNINGS: 18+ explicit content, MDNI. smut, ass smacking, use of belt, bondage, use of superpowers during sex, degrading, mean!sentry, headlock, choking, slight hair pulling, rough sex, PiV, unprotected sex, breeding.
word count: 1,8k
the moment robert comes back home from the mission, your lips are on his. your hands tug at the front of his suit like you’re starving for him. you whimper against his mouth, trying to press closer, trying to take more than he’s willing to give.
he pulls back with a sharp scoff, eyes glowing with lust already. „greedy little thing, aren’t you?” his voice drips with disdain, chest rising against yours. “clawing at me like you’ve earned it.
you open your mouth to protest, but he doesn’t give you the chance. he lifts a hand, crooks two fingers, and you’re shoved back onto the bed by a force you can’t see. your chest is heaving as the sheets crumple beneath you. his super powers pin you down without effort.
he steps closer and when he reaches the edge of the bed, his hand goes to his waist. the metallic click of his buckle echoes before he slides the thick leather belt free from the loops of his suit.
then he coils it once around his fist, smirking down at you. the authority in his gaze makes your stomach flip. “you know what this is for, don’t you?”
the belt dangles from his hand, heavy, threatening, and he lets it drag over your thigh as he leans closer. you feel it sliding slow until it skims up over your hip bone.
the buckle brushes your butt as he drags it higher, circling lazy patterns over your body like he’s deciding where to strike first. every pass makes your pulse race, anticipation burning hotter than shame.
bob, or rather sentry watches you flinch as he plays with you, his smirk widening. “you know… i could make it hurt real bad.” he taunts, flicking the tip of the cool belt against your heated skin and making you gasp. „maybe i should.”
then he hits you with it. leather smacks against your bare ass and you cry out, jolting as the sting washes over you but his big hand presses between your shoulder blades, keeping you down.
„auch—!” you whimper, squirming beneath him.
“quiet,” he growls, swinging the belt again. the sound echoes, followed by your moan. “you don’t get to whine. in fact, you should be thanking me for even touching you.”
you squirm again, thighs trembling but he only laughs in that fucking cruel tone. the belt slides over your ass, teasing now, grazing the curve of your hip before he drags it up to your wrists.
“pathetic little thing,” he mutters, wrapping the leather around your hands, cinching it tight until your arms are bound. he yanks, tugging you flush against the bed frame, trapped.
sentry’s fingers dig into your jaw, forcing you to meet his blazing eyes. „thank me.” he sneers, tilting your chin up. „for even looking at you. without me—you’re nothing, you hear me?”
„yes!—thank you!” you mewl, looking back at him.
his gaze drags over your body then, lingering where the belt left its mark and he tsks. “look at that,” his knuckles brush over your skin, featherlight, cruel in their gentleness. “your ass is red already…”
he lets out a low, mocking chuckle. the belt binding your wrists creaks as he gives it another tug, testing the restraint. his other hand smooths down your back, then cups your ass, squeezing hard enough to make you flinch.
“fragile little thing, aren’t you?” he mutters, giving a sharp smack with his palm this time, as if you weren’t even worth the effort of the belt.
the mattress dips as he positions himself between your legs. “ass up.”
the command leaves you no room for refusal. your wrists strain against the belt as you obey, arching your back, raising your hips for him. the sheets crumple beneath your knees and your breathing turns ragged already.
suddenly, sentry uses his superpowers again. the invisible force slides along your thighs. your muscles quiver as his power pries you open, spreading you wide without a touch and you cannot help but gasp out loud. a whimper slips past your lips.
you shiver under his control and sentry’s dark laugh fills the room. “good girl.”
he leans back a little, just to take you in. his eyes roam shamelessly over the sight of you, wrists bound, ass up, thighs shaking as his power keeps them spread wide. you can feel the weight of his gaze more than the invisible force pinning you down.
“you’d fall apart without me holding you open like this.” his hand drags down your spine possessively, until it rests heavy on your hip. he squeezes it hard enough to make you wince.
he clicks his tongue, shaking his head as if disappointed. “fuck—already dripping. you think you deserve me to touch you like this?”
you look so helpless, desperate against the hold of his powers. “please! please, robert! i’ve been a good girl!” the words tumble out of you, choked and needy.
everything stills.
“robert?” he repeats and his grip tightens until your skin burns under his fingers, bruising your body. “do i look like some man you get to beg by his name? is that what you think this is?”
he pulls you by the hair, yanking your head down until your face hits the pillow with a soft thud. the force makes your voice break on a moan which is easily muffled against the fabric.
he doesn’t let up. instead, he leans down, sliding an arm around your neck and pulling you into a rough headlock beneath him. “say it again. call me that again, i fucking dare you.” his voice is deadly as he pins you there, forcing you into submission.
”sentry!” you correct yourself. „sentry… please just… please!”
“that’s better,” he replies, letting the tiniest hint of approval slip through. “good girl knows her place.”
his chest presses against your back, heat searing into your skin. the invisible hum of his power vibrates through the mattress, through your bones, holding you still even as every nerve screams in anticipation.
“you want me to fuck you, huh?” he murmurs, voice rough, teeth grazing the shell of your ear. “want my cock to stuff you full?”
„yes! yes, sentry!” your hips twitch instinctively against him, even restrained, and a shiver rolls down your spine. you whimper, words get caught in your throat under the pressure of his hold.
his free hand drags down the front of his suit. the harsh rasp of the zipper splits the silence and he groans low in his chest as he frees himself, thick cock springing heavy into his palm, already hard and leaking.
he strokes himself lazily, deliberately slow, letting his precum smear over his fist as he presses closer against your back. the blunt head drags along the curve of your ass, leaving a slick trail over the marks he painted there earlier with his belt.
the swollen tip of his cock drags lower, nudging between your thighs until it finds your folds. he teases you mercilessly, sliding along your slick seam, smearing wetness over his length without giving you the relief you’re begging for.
„please,” you choke out, voice muffled by the pillow. “please, just fuck me—”
he snarls, grinding the head against your entrance without pushing in. “that all you’ve got? begging like a dumb slut? you think i’m gonna give you my cock just because you cry for it?”
you sob, hips trembling as he keeps rubbing against your cunt with maddening pressure. “sentry,” you plead and your voice is actually cracking. “please—i need you, i need your cock, i’ll be good, i’ll—”
his arm tightens around your neck, dragging you impossibly closer into his chest as he growls against your ear. „tell me what i am, sweetheart. tell me i am your god.”
you cry the words out, barely able to breath. “sentry… you’re my god. you’re mine. please—please, sentry, take me.”
for a heartbeat he’s almost gentle. there’s a moment of softness as he presses a slow kiss to the crown of your head. then his hand tightens around your neck and without a warning, he pushes forward.
his cock splits you open in one brutal motion. the stretch takes your breath away, and you cry out into the pillow as he buries himself to the hilt. heat sears through you where he sits, filling you completely, every inch of him claiming you.
“fuck—this pussy,” he growls, voice rough. his hips rock once, twice, pausing to let you feel the full weight of being filled by him. the motion is slow and punishing, measured so you taste him every pull and push.
he begins to move with intent—hard, inexorable thrusts that make you scream. the bed trembles, leather creaks, his breathing is ragged in your hair. each slam of his hips snaps through you.
“say it,” he demands with clenched teeth. “tell me you belong to me.”
“i—i belong to you,” you gasp, voice breaking on the words as his cock pistons inside you. “only you, sentry.”
he huffs a sound that’s half-laugh, half-growl, and drives harder, faster, testing the limits of your noise and your need. the slick, wet sound of him fucking you fills the room as your body rides each brutal pull.
“mine,” he spits, pressing his forehead to the back of your head, as he pushes you into another high, relentless set of strokes.
„sentry…” you moan out quietly.
he hums against your skin. “hm? what you need, baby?”
you can’t even form words anymore. tears spring to your eyes, hot tracks cutting lines down your cheeks as the pain-pleasure edge tightens. your sobs slip into the bed and sentry watches them with a sick smile on his mouth.
“oh,” he rasps, voice thick. “you’re close, aren’t you? you gonna fall apart for me?”
and all you can do is nod desperately in response.
“then cum for me, babygirl. show me who this pussy belongs to.” he hisses, fastening his thrusts and hitting your sweet spot just right.
the movement of his hips is a jolt that lights the nerve endings in your spine on fire. your vision turns white as he sends you over the edge.
your orgasm rips through you. you try to clench your thighs but his superpowers hold you open as he fucks you through it.
„yeah, that’s it.” he says, chasing his own release, his pace never faltering. „soaking my cock… fuck—i’m gonna cum inside you.”
he buries himself to the hilt and holds you there as he spills his cum inside you. he fills you until it begins to leak out and stays pressed tight, grinding into you, making sure every drop stays where he put it.
„take it. take all of it. that’s what you’re for.”
// A HOTD X AKOTSK AU // BAELOR TARGARYEN X OFC //
SUMMARY: Aeleanora Targaryen was raised to be untouchable. Then she comes home, grows bored, and starts wanting the one man disciplined enough to make it interesting.
Baelor Targaryen has survived war, court, kings, marriage, fatherhood, and duty. He is less prepared for a princess in red silk realizing she likes the way he looks when he is trying not to want her.
☙──────────✧──────────❧
NOTE: This fic contains HEAVY OC WORLDBUILDING AND ORIGINAL(ISH) MYTHOLOGY. A reader guide is provided below for clarity + context <3
AU Premise: Divine blood-line Westeros (not standard canon rules).
OC: Aeleanora Targaryen.
Themes: Control vs. hunger, divinity, power, restraint, inevitability.
Tone: Dark, psychological, slow-burn tension.
Relationships: Prince Baelor "Breakspear" Targaryen x OFC
Relationship Vibe Note: This is a secret romance between two people who are entirely too good at lying in public and entirely too bad at staying away from each other in private. Baelor is not here to tame Aeleanora into sweetness, and Aeleanora is not here to be handed to him like a prize mare with a crown. She is his political equal, his sanctuary, his worst headache, and the bratty little godling testing every inch of his restraint. He is her safest place in a world that keeps trying to make a weapon of her, which naturally means she spends half her time trying to bite the walls of that safety to see if they hold. Secret meetings, council work, stress relief, dangerous tenderness, and a very exclusive dirty mistresses club <3
CONTENT WARNINGS [PLEASE READ]: 18+ // MINORS DO NOT INTERACT (MDNI); Dark/mature themes; Explicit sexual content; Virginity loss / first-time sex; very soft Dom/sub undertones; Praise kink; Power imbalance dynamics; Age gap relationship; Targcest (I couldn't bring myself to do full blooded niece and uncle so these two are technically distant cousins by blood); Possessive romantic dynamics; Trauma, implied & discussed; Non-graphic references to sexual assault; Blood, violence, and political coercion; Run-on sentences; Themes of Self-hatred; Adultery (dw Jena has a ReachDaddy rearranging her spine every night); Infertility; Its just a litttleeee psychosexual horror in here sorry; Lil bit of breeding kink.
No tradwife shit here <3 || Aeleanora is for my fellow oddballs. My pretty and off-putting girls :)
[MASTER LIST] || WIP - WC: 405.9K and counting :) || I update 1-2x weekly!
Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3A // Part 3B // Part 3C // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6A // Part 6B // Part 7 // Part 8 // Part 9A // Part 9B // Part 9C // Part 10 // Part 11 // Part 12A // Part 12B // Part 13 // Part 14 // Part 15A // Part 15B // Part 15C // Part 16 // Part 17 // Part 18A // Part 18B // Part 19 // Part 20 // Part 21
⚔︎Read it on: AO3 ⚔︎ || ⚔︎Read it On: Wattpad⚔︎
READER GUIDE + AU Summary:
[Setting]
Takes place in a canon-divergent Westeros. Magic flourishes throughout the realm.
Dragons still exist and are central to power. Since no Aegon/Rhaenyra/Alicent I made it so the Blackfyre rebellion happened earlier and served as the Dance but a few adult dragons survived and were able to replenish a bit of the population.
The ruling class are immortal, magical beings that were the result of generations of gods and demigods breeding with humans called Valyrians. (Was originally a vampire AU!! but i needed the divinity element to be huge and didn't want to incorrectly execute fae or vampire rules so hence odd immortal species is born. I couldnt come up with a good original name even though I tried)
The realm operates under both political and unseen divine systems.
Dragonstone remains the seat of power instead of Kings Landing. I fucking hate the Red Keep for some reason I need them to be able to get to their dragons the same way I can get to my car in the driveway. They also have magical infrastructure so like, terraforming. The Red Keep still exists, but Kings Landing crawls with humans and they use it for dealings with mortals. They're still blood magickers and tyrants who stole lands and enslaved people. The immortal/mortal divide plays a big role in unrest.
[Core Power Structure]:
The Crown → External authority, rule of the realm.
The Hand → Strategy, governance, internal control.
The Council → Specialized power (coins, ships, whispers, etc.)
Aeleanora's Role → Intermediary authority (petitions, envoys, internal disputes)
**This becomes important very quickly in the story.
[Religion & the Divine]:
The Seven are real, but they are not as mortals understand them. They operate within the divine realms, separated from the realm of men by the Veil.
Most religious knowledge in this AU consists of incomplete and distorted versions of ancient history. The Faith remembers the gods through softened symbols, moral lessons, and thousands of years of mistranslation. The beings behind those symbols are older, stranger, and far less benevolent.
The Seven, very briefly:
The Father governs judgement, law, lineage, and the keeping of the dead. He is less a kindly patriarch than the divine principle that everything must possess a proper place.
The Mother governs life, healing, creation, and continuance. She is not simply maternal mercy. Life can be generous, possessive, ravenous, and willing to preserve itself at any cost.
The Maiden governs love, beauty, sex, desire, and obsession. Mortal doctrine remembers innocence because mortals found the truth considerably less comfortable.
The Crone governs fate, foresight, consequence, and the paths by which one moment becomes another. She carries a lantern because someone must see where every road ends.
The Warrior governs courage, conquest, violence, and conflict. He represents both the strength that defends civilization and the appetite that repeatedly destroys it.
The Smith governs creation, craftsmanship, structure, and transformation. He gives form to possibility, though even the gods cannot always control what becomes of the things they make.
The Stranger governs death, endings, passage, and the unknown. The Faith depicts the Stranger without a face because there are some truths even worshippers know better than to look upon directly.
These descriptions are still only mortal approximations. The Seven are not neatly divided into good and evil, nor are they distant embodiments of virtue. They are coded more like the gods of Greek mythology: cruel, fickle, petty, passionate, extreme, and capable of loving something so fiercely that entire realms suffer for it.
Some divine forces still influence the mortal world directly, and the boundary between gods and mortals is…unstable.
Different gods once ruled the creatures and peoples of different lands, but what if the Seven Who Are One were themselves responsible for a war among the gods that ended in the Doom of Valyria? What if it was not merely their followers who carried the Faith into Westeros? What if the Seven Heavens and Seven Hells were created so they could govern the divine, the living, and the dead?
[The Order of the Veiled Hand]: A hidden order within the Faith. Lead by the Lady Mysaria, Master of Whispers. (aka AU in which I give the Targs an intelligence agency like B613 from Scandal and Mysaria is Command).
Publicly: Silent sisters, Septas, Scullery maids, Ladies maids, Whores, handmaids, Ladies, governesses. You would never, ever know.
Privately: assassins, spies, thieves; huntresses and keepers of dangerous knowledge.
They serve as a covert extension of both religion and state power. Think like female version of the Faceless Men and Sorrowful Men but ran in Westeros by The Crown. Immortality of the ruling houses lessen the gap between Gods, Targaryens, and Men. Ruling the realm through secrets where the dragons are the decoy.
[Tone & Themes]:
Political control vs. personal autonomy.
Power as structure, not spectacle.
Grief, restraint, and inherited responsibility.
Divine systems operating beneath mortal ones.
The Gods are coded like Greek Mythology, they're cruel, fickle, petty, extreme.
Women as controlled power, and what happens when that control shifts.
OC/AU CHARACTER GUIDE
❥Princess Aeleanora Targaryen "The Dragonheart" (OFC)
*Daughter of: Queen Aemma Targaryen [deceased]; King Viserys I Targaryen [deceased].
*Sister of: King Jacaerys Targaryen.
Role: Princess of Dragonstone, Heir to the iron throne, Emerging political intermediary, Cosmic anomaly.
Rider Of: Dreamfyre. She also has a cradle egg that has not hatched.
Weilder Of: Aeleanora's abilities are unknown to the public. Many presume her abilities are intangible, nothing of consequence.
Notable Traits: Aeleanora is a winter-bright blade left in sunlight, but when she goes cold, she does so completely, leaving nothing behind that resembles warmth.
Physical Description: Aeleanora’s beauty is too deliberate and too precise to be entirely natural, even here. All sharp lines and soft contradictions, with feline eyes and a mouth made to unmake restraint. Pale hair falls in long, silken waves, her silver-blue gaze heavy-lidded and quietly knowing. Her skin catches light too easily, holding it a fraction too long, as though it does not pass through her the way it should. She moves with a predator’s grace, all control and intent, as if nothing around her happens without her allowing it.
❥Prince Baelor "Breakspear" Targaryen (AKA: The Hammer)
Son Of: King Daeron II Targaryen [Deceased]; and Queen Myriah Martell [Deceased].
Brother Of: King Viserys Targaryen [Deceased]; Prince Aerys Targaryen; Prince Rhaegal Targaryen; Prince Maekar Targaryen.
Husband of: Lady Jena Dondarrion.
Father of: Prince Valarr Targaryen; Prince Matarys Targaryen.
Role: Hand of the King.
Rider of: Vermithor "The Bronze Fury"
Weilder Of: Storm.
Notable Traits: Disciplined; Politically intelligent; Dryly affectionate; Deeply dutiful; Emotionally self-denying; Stabilizing presence; Capable of immense tenderness buried under control; Frightening when he finally chooses selfishness. He does not break easily, but when he does, it is not quietly.
Biography:
King Daeron II Targaryen and Queen Myriah Martell always wished that their second son, Baelor, had been born first. Their firstborn, Viserys, would be more content traveling the realm and poring over his Old Valyrian and Westerosi histories. Baelor understood duty, responsibility, discipline, and restraint far more than Viserys ever could.
It was because of this that he never even thought of pushing his brother to abdicate; instead, he pushed his brother to be a better King. Why? Because someone believed that if the two worked together, Westeros would reach new heights that Old Valryia ever could, even when the gods lived among them.
That someone was right. As his brother's Hand and Heir, Baelor had singlehandedly brought Westeros to its height as a civilization, with 300 years passing since the last hint of conflict (i.e, an uprising that resulted in the loss of King Daeron and the ascencion of Viserys as king). However, as the years passed, his shoulders became heavier and heavier with the weight of expectation. He soon realized that while he excelled at ruling, he hated the external pressure that came along with it. The hand pin he wore on his shoulder weighed nothing compared to the weight of the crown looming over his head, should anything happen to his brother. When the opportunity came to abdicate under the guise of love and honor, he made a selfish decision for the first time in his immortal life.
Physical Description: Canon - Bertie Carvel as Baelor Targaryen in AKOTSK.
❥King Jacaerys Targaryen "The Young King" (OC)
Son Of: Queen Aemma Targaryen [deceased]; King Viserys I Targaryen [deceased]
*Brother Of: Princess Aeleanora Targaryen.
Husband Of: Queen Laena Velaryon.
Role: King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm.
Rider Of: Silverwing "The Lady of the Sky"
Weilder Of: Ice
Notable Traits: He is a whimsical king in the Old Valyrian sense: artistic, thoughtful, dreamy, prone to beauty, ideas, and symbols. But beneath that softness lies the potential for genuine strength. He was crowned too young and burdened too early, and much of his early reign is defined not by a lack of ability but by the simple fact that he has not yet lived long enough to grow into his immense potential.
Biography:
His uncle, Prince Baelor, passed his claim to the Iron Throne to Jacaerys after the birth of Princess Aeleanora. Jacaerys was crowned the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms shortly after his parents were killed after his 16th nameday. The youngest king to ever sit the throne.
Jacaerys swore an oath to love and protect his younger sister in the wake of the loss of their parents. He named her the heir apparent to the Iron Throne right before her 9th nameday.
With the help of the remainder of his parents' inner circle (especially his uncle), The Young King quickly rose to the occasion in filling his father's shoes, soon to outgrow them.
For reasons even Baelor does not fully understand, his uncle finds shaping Jacaerys into a king far more rewarding than propping up his elder brother ever was. Viserys had to be carried; Jacaerys can be taught. He wants to be worthy and has what it takes to do so. To his uncle, that makes him easier to love and far more painful to watch struggle.
Physical Description: I’ve always had such a thing for Harry Lloyd as Viserys Targaryen in GOT like hes SUCH a cutie so this is what I imagine Jacaerys looking like. Also he has violet eyes.
❥Princess Rhaenys Targaryen
Daughter Of: Lady Jocelyn Baratheon [Deceased]; Prince Aemon Targaryen [Deceased].
Wife Of: Lord Corlys Velaryon.
Mother Of: Leanor Velaryon; Queen Laena Velaryon.
Role: Matriarch of House Targaryen.
Rider Of: Meleys "The Red Queen"
Weilder Of: A form of spatial manipulation often mistaken for movement. Rhaenys does not simply cross distance, she folds it. To those who witness it, she appears to vanish and reappear in a single breath, as though space has yieled to her will.
Notable Traits: Composed, calculating, and immovable. Rhaenys does not raise her voice to command or attention. Where others rule through presence, she rules through inevitability.
Biography: Rhaenys has outlived kings, wars, and expectations. She understands power as something to endure. In a court that bends toward spectacle and volatility, she remains constant in watching, measuring, and ensuring the survival of her bloodline at any cost.
Physical Description: Canon (book/tv mashup) - Eve Best as Rhaenys Targaryen in HOTD but with the ASOIAF dark hair and violet eyes.
❥Queen Laena Velaryon
Daughter of: Lord Corlys Velaryon; Princess Rhaenys Targaryen.
Wife of: King Jacaerys Targaryen.
Role: Queen of the Seven Kingdoms; emotional and social counterbalance to the Crown.
Rider of: Vhagar
Wielder of: Water.
Notable Traits: Effortless, perceptive, and dangerously intuitive. Laena understands people in ways that cannot be taught. What they want, what they hide, and what they refuse to name. She moves through the world as though it belongs to her, and more often than not, it does.
Function in Story: Laena acts as both mirror and catalyst to Aeleanora. Where Aeleanora is controlled, Laena is instinctual. Where Aeleanora resists desire, Laena recognizes it immediately.
Physical Description: Canon - Nanna Blondell as Laena Velaryon in HOTD (with the violet eyes bc lets match with mama).
❥Lady Mysaria "The White Worm"
Daughter Of: Bastard born to a Valyrian lord and sold in a land she didn't get a chance to learn the name of before she was sold off to the slave trade.
Role: Master of Whispers; Leader of the Order of the Veiled Hand.
Weilder Of: Cerebromancy. Mysaria can see into anyone's mind, and can rearrange it accordingly, to her will.
Notable Traits: Omniscient in practice, if not in truth. Mysaria does not need to be seen to exert control. She exists in information, in secrets, in the unseen currents of power. Nothing moves in the realm without her knowing why.
Function: The bridge between divine knowledge and mortal manipulation.
Biography:
At 20 years old, Mysaria was bought in Essos by a Westerosi lord who wanted her company on his sail home. She ventured into his mind one night and found that him and his house were planning an attack in protest of a new tax allowed by the crown for houses that hold important crossings.
When she arrived in Westeros, she knew of nothing, and did not even speak the common tongue, but she remembered venturing into the mind of her madame one night when she was a teen and learned the truth of the Silent Sisters. She was instantly enamored by them. When the lord who bought her brought her back to Westeros was asleep one night, she slipped out of the keep and escaped with the help of a stable boy and scullery maid that she had befriended when they helped her learn some words in the common tongue.
After weeks and weeks of travel by foot and slipping into the minds of others to compel them to do her bidding, she made it to the citadel and sought out the Silent Sisters and presented herself as a widow. After years of working as handmaiden of death, she wondered if what she saw in the mind of her madame was only a fever dream or a story the woman had made up.
Throughout this time, she tried to slip into the minds of her fellow sisters and her elders, but for the first time in her life she couldn't breach their mental barriers. Out of frustrating, she tried slamming into the mind of one of her elders after she was punished for something Mysaria couldn't bring herself to care about. Mysaria thought the elder was going to dispose of her, but instead, she was offered the blood oath and initiated into the secret order of Silent Sisters, where she met Princess Seraphyra.
They quickly became eachothers dearest friends, and upon their initiation and completion of their training, Sera brought Mysaria back to court with her and told her lord father, King Daeron, about Mysarias telepathic nature. King Daeron agreed that she was too powerful to pass over when she showed him what she could do. Mysaria was taken under the wing of King Daeron's Master of Whispers and trained to serve him and the king.
After the death of the Master of Whispers, who served King Daeron's grandfather, his father, and then King Daeron, Mysaria was initiated as King Daeron's new Master of Whispers towards the end of his reign. At this point, Mysaria was running a world wide network of whores, spies, assassins, urchins, merchants, servants, etc.; a major information market that some of the histories argue was where the true power of the Targaryen dynasty lay.
Lady Mysaria feels personally that she now owes her life both to the Silent Sisters and to Seraphyra, and to the family that took her in and treated her like she was a part of it. She pays this debt through her service to King Jacaerys and her love for her dear friend Sera by proxy of her daughter.
Physical Description: Canon - Sonoya Mizuno as Mysaria in HOTD
❥King Viserys I Targaryen [deceased] - (OOC-ish)
Son of: King Daeron II Targaryen [deceased]; Queen Myriah Martell [deceased].
Brother Of: Prince Baelor Targaryen; Prince Aerys I Targaryen; Prince Rhaegal Targaryen; Maekar I Targaryen.
Husband Of: Queen Aemma Targaryen [deceased].
*Father Of: King Jacaerys Targaryen; *Princess Aeleanora Targaryen.
Rider Of: Meraxes [Deceased].
Weilder Of: Wind.
Biography:
Viserys never wanted to be king. He would, however, go down as one of the greatest Kings in history due to the help of his beloved Hand and younger brother, Prince Baelor "Breakspear" Targaryen.
He and his lady wife Aemma died dragon riders' deaths in a battle in Essos, where divine influence put their daughter's identity and life at risk.
❥Queen Aemma Targaryen [deceased] - (OOC-ish)
Daughter of: Daella Targaryen [deceased]; Rodrick Arryn [deceased]. I'm making it so royal children are named for the royal house instead of taking the fathers name.
Mother Of: King Jacaerys Targaryen; *Princess Aeleanora Targaryen.
Rider Of: Dreamfyre
Weilder Of: Dreamwalker. She did not have Dragon Dreams, but she could manipulate the dream realm and was a huge part of the Targaryens' coming out on top in the rebellion. Despite losing many dragons, the information she plucked from the heads of lord commanders while she slept was what ultimately won them the war, sending the realm into an era of peace.
Biography:
At the time of her birth, there was a human uprising that led to her parents sequestering themselves in the Vale. Shortly after the birth of her and her twin sister, the Vale was stormed by rebels, which resulted in the death of their parents. The pair of Targaryen princesses, twin sisters, were brought safely back to Dragonstone, where King Daeron and Myriah Martell raised them like they were their very own daughters.
Died a dragon rider's death with her Lord Husband, Viserys, and Meraxes, in a battle that occured 9 years before the beginning of the story. The realm thanks The Seven. for blessing her with an immortal heir and an immortal spare before her death.
She and her husband raised her neice, Aeleanora Targaryen, as their beloved daughter and second child; however, no one outside of their inner circle knows this.
By the time the babe was born, the story had already prepared itself for the realm: Queen Aemma had suffered a difficult confinement, but both mother and child survived. No one looked twice. A royal pregnancy hidden behind closed doors was ordinary, but a god-born child hidden in the cradle of a queen was not, which is precisely why the deception worked.
It helped that Aeleanora was born with eyes that could easily be read as kin to Aemma's Arryn coloring, especially by those who saw only what they expected to see. It also helped that, in childhood, she appeared to possess no remarkable power beyond a princess's rank, a dragon's favor, and the ordinary strangeness of the blood of Old Valryia. Hidden in plain sight, she became invisible in an impenetrable fortress
Queen Aemma discovered that divine influence put her daughter at risk when she was manipulating the dream realm, causing her death shortly after her and her husband neutralized the threat in ambush disguised as a meeting of the minds.
Wife Of: Seraphyra has never been married, according to public knowledge…
Mother Of: Princess Aeleanora Targaryen.
Rider Of: Balerion, The Black Dread [presumed deceased]
Weilder Of: Healing magic. One of the most powerful the world has ever seen.
Role: Haunting the narrative.
Biography: Seraphyra is assumed to be deceased by the realm. During the reign of King Daeron II, the legends say she dismounted The Black Dread during an old uprising to heal her favorite cousin, Prince Baelor, who was crushed under his own mount when the dragon was struck out of the air by a scorpion. Baelor and his dragon both should've died that day, but Seraphyra was able to bring them both back at the cost of her own life. So filled with rage and grief, Balerion brought Seraphyra's body back to his homeland, Valyria, to grieve. No one has heard his song in the wind or seen his giant shadow across the horizon since.
Seraphyra does not leave the story when she disappears from it. She lingers in every chamber she once brightened, every grief she left behind, and every person forced to go on loving a woman memory has made even more dangerous than life did.
