“Let me see you. I shall not ask again for a time.”
plot (psych) bunny: aemond visits helaena to watch her
begins with innocent things: how his sister brushes her hair, how she does needlework, how she looks for interesting specimens in the garden grass. bit stalkerish? oh, he’s just her brother. escalates slowly (e.g. bathing, changing into something) until he starts coming to her when she is about to or has already retired for the night.
for helaena it’s really the means to first learn about her younger brother's feelings/desire for her.
she is not entirely comfortable. for reasons her mother has metaphorically beaten into her (your duty: aegon) + her character (it’s her innocence phase + this is her little brother who used to come to her after being bullied). aemond is also not straightforward about his intentions despite knowing helaena doesn’t do metaphor (no matter her own prophecies).
he is not entirely sure yet how to go about getting what he wants & not getting caught & retaining an “upright” image of himself/her. so he thinks he is thinking about what’s good for her; he can control himself if she will just meet him halfway. after she starts touching herself in his presence, it turns into a strange little secret they share; both disconcerted by different reasons.
as helaena marries aegon, things complicate between them.
helaena is made apathetic of her husband's poorly/mocking/monstrous ways - he remains her brother. she manages; she must - but also becomes resentful of aemond. he has left her in frustrating to navigate waters & pretends everything can & should remain as it has - with him coming to her & her giving. there's also jealousy at play on aemond’s behalf now (esp. after the twins are born) which takes a lot away from the initial innocence of the obsession. of its strange perverted comfort. though it is also a means for aemond to own what is his brother’s.
she learns more about him watching her than he does about her. to helaena it looks like aemond is sleepwalking. they all sleepwalk around her, though she is the one supposedly "not quite there."
one night, aemond asks her to do for him what she does for aegon. to talk him through how it usually goes while at it. he is agitated, she makes him drink wine first. it’s not nice, but a desperate sort of love that leaks through a bursting vessel that must somehow still hold (why?). all pent up, frustrated sense of injustice & desire; entitlement that is being acted upon now.
a part comes when her brother should fall asleep on top of her, and aemond notices the angry tears that have made their way into his sister’s eyes. then the slight panic - at understanding this brother does not pass out before anything can happen; at how he takes her, forcing himself to slow and gentle due to the scene becoming more and more unreal for him. but not letting go, now that he has her. forcing to forget resentment, begging softly for forgiveness as he moves inside her.
little maelor is conceived that night...
...as helaena reflects: looking numbly at the passed out aemond on whom the spiked wine (for the sake of the “realness” of the scenario) has finally worked. end of the pilgrimage. now her little brother knows what it’s like to take the elder’s place.
in fact, it’s how aegon finds them; choking down bitter laughter at suspicions having been proven correct – the set-up like a cart on fire hurtling toward a market stall; somewhat funny & pathetic. only more pathetic being his own image in all this being reflected back at him.
Well, all the girlies will either like it or they'll let me know otherwise.
(Note: The Characterization of Daeron is from another post I did where someone asked me to introduce the character my own way in the show)
Oh, so Daeron's your boy?
This is yo'boi?
Okay then, "Author", introduce me to ya'boi ...
Show out and roll out ...
How would you introdu
Well, live or die, here's my Helamond shot.
He could still see her falling.
He wanted to twist her beautiful curling locks in his hand, yank her head back, and demand to know why she was stupid?! She could’ve gotten killed! But instead, she is pressed hard against his chest – not being able to tell where she started, and he began. They were latched tight to his saddle, her arms about his neck. Her hot breath was in his ear, repeating nonsense over and over again – “A sapphire lost in the God’s Eye!” He felt her clutching him hard, nuzzling his neck, tears streaming down her milky cheeks. “A sapphire lost in the God’s Eye!” She was afraid, petrified.
Queen Helaena Targaryen was not made nor meant for a battlefield, to be in the air filled with cries of flame and roars of hate. Below them, fireballs of pitch and ruins of stone arced up at them from the catapults of the Velaryon blockade. The gleam of red, orange, and blue flames from burning ships reflected in the gentle tears of the young queen of the Seven Kingdoms as she sat astride Vhagar in reverse. Aemond’s left hand was clutching the handle of his saddle, the right firmly grasping Helaena’s leather clad arse to force her against him as they maneuvered above.
A fury, unbridled and murderous, came over him when the flaming arrows and exploding pitch halted. When he leaned over to glance down, his single eye bulged in rage. Fore there he was, landed on the damaged and half enflamed Velaryon flagship. The sleek and graceful creature of cerulean scale, a beast of royalty, sat poised for even the slightest flinch on the deck of the ship. A figure in golden dragon wing helm with masked eye guard and green streamers to represent the flame of Old Town at war, sat astride his majestic beast. All around him, the ashen and seared sailors of the beaten flagship gathered behind Corlys Velaryon who stood stalwart with his Valyrian Steel axe in hand, his white whiskers scorched.
Yet, he lowered his weapon.
Fore laying in the young dragon knight’s arms was a silver haired young woman in tight leather and stricken crimson scale armor. Baela Targaryen was staring at the figure who held her gently in wonder and amazement. For a moment she couldn’t understand it, couldn’t believe it.
He … he saved her life?
She had been felled by Vhagar as she rushed to save her grandmother whose dragon, Meleys, was held by a monstrous foot in vise by her pink rigged neck. But when she dove at her late mother’s dragon, the old bitch craned her head, her maw closing about Moondancer’s wing, ripping most of it off. Baela’s scream was shrill and lost in the wind as she fell to the earth, the sea rushing toward her like a green tinted wall. Her grandmother could do nothing but watch. In that last moment, the young beauty thought of her mother, her smile, her kisses, the warmth of her body as she read to her girls. Then, like a blue comet, a figure came diving in a flash, buzzing Vhagar, Meleys, Prince Aemond, Queen Helaena, and the helpless Princess Rhaenys line a typhoon wind. It gave chase to the falling girl like a bolt of lightning. An arm wrapped Baela’s waist and pulled her to a stricken and repaired breast plate with the worn engraving of the High Tower upon it. Suddenly, with a dip in her taut belly, they leveled out just a foot or so from the surface of the sea. It was then that she found herself in unfamiliar arms that held her tenderly … perfectly.
They had never met, but she knew of him, heard stories around the Painted Table. Jace spoke very highly of him, Luke admired him, Father hated him, and Rhaenyra did not wish to discuss him one way or the other. For Baela, she had no opinion of her cousin till the last fifteen minutes when Moondancer couldn’t keep up, Meyleys took his chained Morningstar whip in the head twice, And Grandmother’s nose broke against the sole of his boot when he unlatched himself from the saddle and came flying downward as she angled to burn Aemond and … Queen Helena. Baela thought she hated him, feared him, was frustrated that he and his blue queen were untouchable. But now she felt only shock … only …
What she had hoped Jace and she would find in time.
A bare ebony hand touched the silken green scarf of Queen Alicent’s favor that was wrapped about the mouth and nose of the helmeted dragon knight. She smelt the pleasing scent of her aunt as she leaned in and gave a peck to where she thought her cousin’s lips might be. Then, she cautiously slipped from his self-crafted and battle worn saddle, flush at his almost intimate touch helping her down. But whatever soft and looming emotions that fluttered in her heart soon retreated when the cerulean dragon craned her head back and gave a cry of threat at the girl’s lingering.
Quickly, Baela stumbled back to the open arms of her grandfather. For a time, Lord Corlys Velaryon and the Dragon Knight matched glares. It was an offering, the paying of a debt – for the life of one Driftmark heir had the other’s life been spared. And needing not to be told the context or meaning of the gallant gesture, Lord Velaryon took his axe in hand and placed it to his chest and bowed his head in gratitude. In response, the young knight simply gave his former captain and comrade in arms a familiar two finger salute before he urged his mount to take off in Valyrian. With a roar, the she-dragon lifted off into the air, flying low, back to Kings landing. And for a time, among the horror and terror of the “Dance of Dragons” there was glimpse of honor and mutual respect between Green and Black on that afternoon.
The battle was over.
But not at the Dragon Pit.
With an order in Valyrian, Tessarion clawed low into the dark. She could smell, hear, the snorting shuffle of livestock - victory morsels. However – and luckily – before Daeron Targaryen could remove his nicked and battle scared helmet, something hard and powerful contacted it. The blow rattled his brain like coppers in a jar. The young knight immediately found himself on the ground, a voice in sinister Valyrian shouting at him. Meanwhile, what sounded like his sister was protesting. Then, a hand grasped his battered breastplate and yanked him into a siting potion. There, in a murderous rage, was his brother Aemond, his single eyes nearly black in the darkness of the Dragon Pit.
“<Blood Traitor!>” He snarled at him in Valyrian. “<You spared our sisters would be killer! Craven pup!>” He punched Daeron again, making the winged dragon helm sing from the strike.
But this time the coppers didn’t rattle – only the cage of the dragon in his blood. In anger and madness boiling from the fight still coursing within, Daeron went right back into battle instinct learned from years of fighting on the Stepstones. He immediately swept a foot and heel kicked Aemond across the back of the knee. Then, when knelt, Daeron launched headfirst with his helmet, smashing its armored brow against Aemond forehead - drawing blood. With clenched teeth of rage, the younger brother tackled the older into the dust of the Dragon Pit.
Soon, they began rolling and punching, cries and snarls of curses in Common Tongue and Valyrian echoed into the vast arena. Around them the Dragon Keepers watched on neutrally with their tall staffs and scorched crimson and cream robes. Meanwhile, Queen Helaena paced anxiously as she covered her ears to drown out the violence and the stream of angry emotion from the men she loved that came on like waves of a typhoon that violated her sweet and gentle nature.
Immediately, astride two white stallions, followed by a mounted guard of men in Hightower armor, the visage of the Dowager Queen Alicent and her Lord Commander Ser Criston Cole appeared with a clatter of hooves in the vast open space. The queen’s luxurious copper locks flowed like a banner as she raced into the Dragon Pit, afear of what losses she would face from the mission this afternoon. But instead she pulled back on the reigns of Ser Criston’s name day gift to her.
“Hey!” She called loudly in alarm.
In front of her was a tall figure in highly crafted black sable armor and a younger silhouette in stricken and cobbled pieces of battle-damaged Hightower armor and a weathered and patched cloak, rolling about. They looked like hounds in a kennel fighting over a bone or an errant challenge in the hall. They gripped and punched, Aemond pulling on the green streamers atop Daeron’s golden dragon helm, while Daeron was shoving Aemond’s face into the dust, metal squealing and rattling as they continuously rolled, trying to get and deny leverage to one another. All the while Helaena, in tight black leather trousers and matching scaled doublet of Dragon riding gear, paced around them, ears covered, and choking on the rapid words and phrases she said aloud to comfort herself.
“Aemond! Stardust!” She called out to them. “Enough!” Alicent leapt from the back of her horse, Criston grasping the bridle.
“Prince Aemond! Daeron!” Criston shouted as he dismounted, waiting for one of the queen’s guard to take their matching stallions’ reins.
Helaena marched away from her mother’s bracing grip as she watched her boys rolling around, shouting words she understood – even the foreign ones – and would never allow them to utter in her home, much less in public. With gritted teeth of determination, Alicent flung herself into the fray. She got hold of the back of the golden helmeted youth that wore the green embroidered scarf of her silken favor about his mouth and nose under his eye guard. With all her strength she put her youngest child in a choke hold and pulled with her slender legs and creamy hamstrings.
“Stardust … stop it!” She growled into Daeron’s ear as she got him upon his knees, prying him off Aemond. Then, with a startled gasp - not wearing shoes that carried the cobbled traction needed for such strenuous physical activities as pulling apart your two scrapping youngest children – Alicent fell backward, taking Daeron with her. She landed on her bottom; her arms wrapped like a vise about her youngest’s chest. There she held him as he squirmed against her.
“Oh, no you don’t!” She gritted crushing the back of his helmeted head into the crook of her neck, covering his eyes so he couldn’t escape.
It would’ve left him vulnerable for Aemond when he recovered, if the anger and bloodlust of the battle was not shocked out of the tall lean young man by a blast of cold. As he turned over onto his stomach to push himself back onto his feet to pursue his traitorous sibling, he let out a cry of shock and confusion when something wet and frigid thunder down upon him. With wide eye, Aemond glanced around - now soaking wet – to find Lord Commander Cole with an overturned bucket from the fire safety trough.
With a shiver and chatter, the outraged prince struggled to get to his feet – incensed at needing Ser Criston’s help. He pushed the man away, who only smirked in that annoying, know-it-all, way that his teacher and mentor always had since he could remember. With a wet rattle, Aemond ripped off his black helm with green plume and threw it down, his long silvery hair soaked and dripping. But when he saw Daeron still on the ground he made to approach.
“Don’t you dare!” Alicent’s voice was like a whip that cracked, keeping the lion at bay.
Ser Criston already firmly placed his grip on the young warrior prince’s breast plate in restraint. And each time that Aemond swatted his hand away, the Lord Commander’s other replaced it, retaliating by shoving him back further and further with his palms. Meanwhile, Alicent had gotten to her feet and was pulling Daeron’s arm till he found his own. The youth’s light armor – stricken breast plate, a shoulder plate on his sword arm, vambraces, and all covered by a tattered cloak she wove him long ago – made it easier for him to stand.
Yet, the moment he did, Alicent grasped her son by the golden winged dragon helm and slipped it from his head. Immediately a mane of her own waving copper curls in a half hazard messy ponytail slipped free. With his mouth and nose covered by her green favor, Daeron’s brow line and eyes were of such a striking match to her own face that she might have been looking into a gender bent mirror. Throwing his helmet away, Alicent reached up and pulled down the silken scarf to see the sculpted boyish stubble of copper hair on his chin.
‘Enough!” She snapped in his face, grasping Gwayne’s former breast plate and pulling it down so that Daeron was looking right into their matching eyes. No sooner had she done this, when she strode over and grasped Aemond by his prominent chin and pulled him down to make eye contact.
“Do-you-hear-me?!” She annunciated every syllable, nodding her son’s head with her cadence. Then, when she heard the petulant answer of the classic Aemond Targaryen non-answer of “Mmhn”, she tossed his head back. But she didn’t stop there.
“You!” She strode over to Helaena who turned away from her. But that wasn’t gonna fly today. She grabbed Helaena back by the arm and twisted her to face her. “What were you thinking?!” She yelled at her daughter. “You are the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms!” She shook the girl. “You cannot go flying into the middle of a battle or a dragon duel!” She shook her. “Why?!” She demanded of her daughter.
“A sapphire lost in the God’s Eye!” She snapped angrily at her mother. “Lost forever, never to be found!” Her voice cracked in devastation and fear.
A look of heartbroken and helpless confusion fell over Alicent’s countenance as she searched Helaena’s distressed face but found no recognition, no understanding. Teary eyes of falling anger glassed over as her hand reached out to pet her silvery blonde hair. But the girl turned away and paced over to stand by Aemond, covering her ears as she laid her head against his shoulder. The dowager queen took a shaky breath to collect herself before she walked the short distance between her two sons.
“What is going on?!”
“Baela dove on Dreamfyre while Stardust was playing with Princess Rhaenys! She could’ve killed Helaena if it wasn’t for Vhagar!” Aemond was incensed. The use of Alicent’s pet name for her youngest babe stung and seared Daeron when used against him in mockery.
“How was I supposed know that Helaena and Dreamfyre was going to go wandering into the middle of the battle?!” Daeron replied hotly. “I was supposed to be keeping the old hag and Moondancer busy while you opened a lane for the Blockade Runner!” He announced.
“Baela tried to kill our sister, your queen! And you decided to save her life! <You spared, boy>!” Aemond finished in Valyrian.
“I did what I thought was right!” Daeron countered forthright and chest forward. “There’s an honor in the way we fight!” He said stalwartly. “It’s what separates and distinguishes us from Daemon and his thugs!” He scorned in lecture.
“This is war!” Aemond cried angrily.
“Don’t!”
There was a dangerous snarl that was so heavy that it came out in a whisper from the young knight’s mouth. Alicent turned at the noise, the deep traumatic stress that set her motherly instinct aflame.
“Don’t you talk at me, Aemond, about war!” Daeron gritted his teeth, his eyes suddenly alight with memories or horrors undreamed upon the small rocky chain of islands that could not be unseen. “I know more about it then you ever will!” the young knight’s eyes grew haunted and his voice distant.
Alicent found herself at the youth’s side, her hand slipping into his, her eyes sorrowed.
“You read too many story books, brother!” Aemond grew fierce then, Helaena’s breath on his ear like the fanning air to the flames in his blood. He could still see her falling from Dreamfyre’s saddle when Moondancer slashed across her belly - Vhagar too big, too bulky, almost losing Helaena on the horizon as she fell. It was only by an instinct he couldn’t quantify, that he could … sense where she was. Reach out and take her hand when he couldn’t see her. The fear, the helplessness of almost losing her …
It made him fiercer than his dragon.
“There’s no room for heroes here, brother!” He stepped away, in front of their sister, as if to protect her from this valiant and noble fool with their mother’s face. “The guilt for whatever sins you weep about into our mother’s breasts in the night have no place in my army!” He said rancorously. “I hear Daeron “The Daring” was a champion, hero of the Stepstones – that he and his dragon Tessarion sank the largest war galley in the world at the Battle of Tara-Haj.” He scoffed as if it were some tall tale told in a tavern. “But I only see a mewling and wailing tourney knight! Mother’s arse a pillow while hiding behind her silk skirts and more worried about his own honor than protecting his sister, his queen!” He snarled, pointing the finger of prosecution at the handsome young knight.
“Careful, Brother …” Daeron fixed the tall man with dark look. “ <Don’t mistake murdering a boy and his hatchling for being a warrior.>” The youth replied with a deep distain in cutting High Valyrian.
“Hey-Hey-Hey!”
They drove so hard at one another that the only obstacle to their rematch was the crushing together of Alicent and Criston – back to back – as both young men were barely restrained by their mother and their mentor. Alicent squinted, gritting her teeth as she pushed back against her youngest, her arms wrapped around his torso, her cheek against his scorched and scared breastplate. Meanwhile, Criston’s lips were pressed in strain at he had Aemond under the arms trying to walk the slender spear of a man backward. Both the queen and her protector’s heads and hair were battered by flailing arms and hands striking at the other. Eventually, with a twist, Criston got Aemond off his feet, tossing him upon the ground. With a clank and sliding of metal, he dragged the violent young man by the back of his chest piece toward Helaena as he kicked and struggled.
“Stay down!” Criston snapped shoving the young prince back onto the floor when he tried to get back up.
Then, suddenly there was another splash of water that was thrown into Aemond’s face. With a spit and a snarl, murder was in his single eye as he turned to see which dead man it was. But instead, his fire was quenched in shock and confusion when he looked up to see that it had been Helaena with the bucket in hand. Her eyes were stern, her face cold – the same expression she gave Aegon. That single look of disappointment and displeasure alone stopped everything within Aemond in its tracks. He gave a pride saving grunt and “Mmnhm” as he turned his steely eye forward past Criston – pacified by his queen’s want.
“Enough! Stardust, look at me!” Alicent struggled with her little boy. “It’s me! Stardust, it’s me!” She said forcefully till he stopped wrestling with her. “It’s done. It’s time to stop!” She gave him a sobering shake, knowing of the madness, the manias, and flashbacks to war and violence that lived within him – how he suffered in their thralldom. It was only then, lost in her eyes, the soft melodic velvet of her familiar voice, that a sobriety took over him. Alicent grabbed Daeron by his ears and forced his head down. When their eyes matched, a fierce and stern look was wrapped in a loving sympathy.
“Okay?” She said softly.
“Yeah …” He replied emotionally.
“Yeah?”
“It’s fine …” He nodded, his eyes losing their sharpness.
“Go outside and wait for me and Ser Criston.” She ordered handing him his distinct dragon winged helm.
There was a half nod in his reluctance as there remained a fiery glare at Aemond - who was now laying down in the muddy spot, hands behind his head – waiting for his scolding as one does for the sunset in a flowery field. Meanwhile, Helaena looked at her little brother with a soft wilting smirk of love – assurance that she did not agree with their brother. But before he had left Alicent’s shadow, the queen grasped his arm and pulled him back to her. She cupped his cheeks and pulled his head down low to her.
“Reluctance to murder is not a weakness …!” Alicent whispered to Daeron, touching her forehead to his. The youth did not say anything, he simply nodded, letting her nuzzle and nip his nose in maternal affection and pride of his conduct that day on the field of battle. Then, she gave him a soft shove of parental steel, sending him on his way.
“Get up, Aemond!”
“…”
“Get up!”
With a noise of bemusement, the youth found his feet in a timelier manner than anyone was expecting. But his jaw grew tight when slender pale hands grasped his breast plate and pulled him close. Her hand gripped his chin once more and used it like a hinge as she turned his head left to right, checking the cut on his forehead and gashed cheek where Princess Rhaenys had caught him with her whip. Satisfied that nothing was serious, she let go. He did not respond when she gave a pensive shake of his chest in her hard grip.
“Thank you …” She sighed. “For saving Helaena, for looking after her.” She nodded.
“You don’t have to thank me, Mother.” He stood impeccably upright, immaculately postured. “I wouldn’t let any harm to come to her.” Aemond was more sincere than she ever thought possible. “You know that.” He nodded.
“Yes …” She replied. “And we’ve won a victory today. Our envoys have gotten past the blockade and are on their way to negotiate with The Triarchy. You and your brother have destroyed over a dozen Velaryon ships, and you’ve permanently maimed one Rhaenyra’s dragons.” Alicent praised.
“A day to be celebrated.” Aemond gave a nod.
“A day not to be squandered.” She corrected. “With baseless accusations and slander!” She suddenly snapped.
“He spared Baela –“ He began.
“And he saved your life and Helaena’s too when Rhaenys had you two right where she wanted! I watched from the Tower of the Hand from the Grand Maester’s telescope! Or do you deny it?!” Her eyes fixed on the stalwart and carful warrior prince.
“I do not.” He looked away.
Alicent turned Aemond’s head gently to face her. “We cannot fight a war against Rhaenyra and ourselves.” She said softly. “Perhaps, mistakes were made. Foolish things done!” Helaena had the decency to look chastised when Alicent’s gaze fell upon her in accusation. “But you cannot win this war on your own Aemond.” Her eyes glistened. “You and Daeron are the sole compliment of our dragon riders. When you’re out there, you need each other.” She placed her hand on the Targaryen insignia on his black breastplate. “Don’t bring the war home with you.” She stroked his chest.
She smirked softly when Aemond grabbed her hand and squeezed it.
“Of course, Mother.” He said dutifully. “I’m sorry if I …” He cleared his throat.
“It happens to all of us, my dearest boy.” She nodded. “Now get Helaena home … we’ll meet you there.” Alicent replied, needing only a glance to convey her plans to Ser Criston – a shorthand of sixteen years of devotion to one another. As they left, Criston clasped Aemond’s shoulder in comradery, the two sharing a nod of affectionate endearment as the Dowager Queen and the Lord Commander paced outside.
When they were gone, Aemond turned to find Helaena standing near him. Something different, relaxed, relieved, was in her countenance as they stood alone together in the vast hall of the Dragon Pit. A soft smile touched her face as she paced closer to him.
“It …” She shook her head cautiously. “It wasn’t today.” She said, his eyes fluttering shut at the soft and smooth warmth of the sun in her heavenly palms that stroked his cheek in reverence.
“What wasn’t?” He asked.
“I saw a sapphire lost forever in the God’s Eye …” She replied, a single tear falling down her cheek. “And I thought it was today.” She nodded. “I thought it was today.” She repeated in a strangled whisper of dueling relief of the hour and fear for the unknown of many tomorrows.
Then, to assuage her, Aemond removed his eyepatch to reveal the sapphire that she had once given him, breaking it free from her favorite necklace as compensation – replacing something she loved with something else just as precious.
“Not today.” He said confidently.
He did not flinch nor blink when her finger reached out and touched the sapphire, his hand grasping her own, leading her digit across the smooth surface of the jewel.
“Not today …” She whispered again, a sobbed little chuckle.
Then, he took her in his arms as she clung to him, crying happy tears as his strong jaw nuzzled the silky locks of her silvery blonde hair.
Perhaps one day a sapphire will be lost forever to the God’s Eye …
Can we appreciate for a moment the talent of Aemond and Criston as actual leaders.
Spoilers Ahead.
People often times forget because of Aemond's major fuck ups toward the end of the war.
But Criston and Aemond did the Lord's work for a good portion of the conflict.
One cannot impress how undermanned the Greens were for the entire war. The Greens only ever fielded two dragon riders at a time. Aemond on Vhagar and a shifting roster of either Aegon on Sunfyre - for the early stages of the war - and Daeron on Tessarion who was always kept in reserve till at utmost need.
Through a good portion of the war Aemond was the Greens only Dragon Rider in active combat. While Aegon was so badly wounded that he was barely alive and Daeron was left to guard King's Landing and Alicent - also because Aemond and Criston were super protective of him.
Also, House Hightower is a collection of soft boy fuck ups. They had the largest house with the biggest army and they couldn't even get their men out of Oldtown. They were getting rocked monthly by smaller armies from the Tarlys and Rowans, it's fucking embarrassing. For the duration of the war, till they were forced to send Daeron south to take over and reorganize the Hightower forces into a cohesive army, there was no help from Oldtown.
Don't get me wrong, when Daeron finally got them moving, they ate and oh did they fuck. But that's after the disasters of the "Butcher's Ball" and the fall of King's Landing.
In the meantime they were going against an enemy with twelve - TWELVE - dragons and the support of three of the largest houses in the realm. Meanwhile your main support is with the Common People and your most powerful ally is buried by bureaucracy in Oldtown.
And even then - EVEN THEN - Aemond and Criston outfoxed Daemon for most of the war, continued to keep the realm together and rule it deftly, and even - at one point - caused the Blacks to almost give up, despite their dragon advantage.
Daemon is like 'we need Harrenhal to cut off King's Landing.' And Criston is like 'Yeah, you do ... that's why we're here' and they fuck the Blackwoods and Daemon, sending them scurrying away. Making Daemon realize that they need Dragon Riders, cause they can't beat Criston and Aemond in the field.
Cause my boys are just. that. good. at this business.
Also I love the Pokemon battle at Harrenhal between Alys and Criston.
"Alys uses "Sexy Booby Magic" - Criston is unaffected."
"Criston uses "Devoted Piety toward his Queen""
"Alys is confused and attacks herself"
Even with plot armor and G.R.R. Martin's blessings as being his fave, the Blacks still couldn't overcome Alicent's boys.
Of course, then Aemond got cocky, and Daemon taunted him into acting without thinking - Sexy Booby Magic will do that to a man. And the whole thing slipped away.
But for a moment there, even with the Dragon Seed Riders. Aemond being actually a good and popular regent. Criston holding it down on the field of battle as Hand and field marshal, and Daeron destroying all the Black forces in the South in one decisive blow - and all on his own - made the Blacks almost throw in the towel.
Listen, it's in the book. When they found out that our boy Daeron was in Oldtown and was rebuilding that Hightower army from the ground up. They all knew on Dragonstone that they were straight fucked.
If Aemond had only listened to Alicent and Criston, man. If they had just waited for Daeron to get those good old southern boys up and moving to join the Lannisters, Daemon would've been done, and it would be a wrap for Team Black.
The Tullys and the Starks would've been no match against Daeron and Tessarion - They weren't at Tumblestone. And especially not with the full might of his elite forces and the Lannister host combined. I mean, yeah, maybe the Blacks would've still beaten Criston, maybe Aemond would've still chased Daemon, leaving Criston twisting in the wind. But the entire Black Army would've been caught between Daeron and Criston in the Riverlands. And Rhaenyra would've never been able to hold King's Landing long without the main Black forces who would've been surrounded at Harrenhal.
Love, guys ...
Aemond out there looking for redemption for "Blood & Cheese" running off half-cocked to rescue Alys from Daemon - remembering what happened to Helaena. Criston running headlong into a trap with his men outside of King's Landing trying to rescue Alicent. And Daeron (Maybe or Maybe not) dying in an act of supreme gallantry at the very end of the war by saving his men and his foes lives by going toe to toe with Vermethor (The Bronze Terror) when the largest dragon on earth goes crazy and starts killing everything and everyone.
Nah but for real how did the Black team fumble the war so bad? Like they had the upper hand in the number of dragons so all they needed is to tag team on each Green dragon and then the war would be over in a minute and then spoiler alert Rhae's lazy ass wouldn't be a hot meal.
Because they're not very good politicians, frankly. The unevenness of the power in the Dance versus how things actually shape up just goes to show that military might isn't everything. The Blacks mostly fumbled because they don't act politically, I mean the season finale perfectly demonstrates that when the Greens send their unmarried prince and the biggest dragon in the world with a proposal for Borros Baratheon while the Blacks send a teenage boy (instead of the literal Baratheon that is on their team) with a note reminding Borros that his dad made a promise to back Rhaenyra. House Targaryen has almost always completely disregarded the value of good politicking while House Hightower has been one of the most powerful families in Westeros since LITERAL prehistoric times because of good politicking, so despite their martial weakness it's not a surprise that the Greens put up such a solid fight.
I think the Targaryens were bad at politicking because they were lazy - they let their dragons and the threat of dragon fire do the work. And it generally works when the opponent don't have dragons.
Interestingly, Daenerys make the exact same mistakes. Politicking bores her - and she increasingly leans on her hard power to get what she wants. That is going to get even worse now that he dragons are big enough to ride.
I'll also add that Team Black lacked three essential things needed in a war.
1.) Skilled Fighters
2.) Battle Commanders
3.) Charismatic leadership
Daemon was a skilled fighter but only when he wanted to be. His defining feature in the war is running away - a lot. Dude has no problem abandoning his men if things look dire and flying back to Dragonstone.
The Dragon Seed Riders - who are cool in concept - actually don't do anything of relevance. They fight in a few easy battles, they destroy Kings Landing, and rape Alicent and Helaena. But they shit themselves bloody when faced with an actual Dragon battles against Aemond or Daeron.
Two of the Blacks most powerful Dragon Seed riders are so terrified of Daeron at Tumblestone that they switch sides rather than have to fight him.
All of the Greens commanders in the field - Criston, Aemond, and Daeron - are elite fighters. Criston and Daeron are genius level Military minds. And most importantly, all of their men adore them and they genuinely care for their men.
Like OP said the Blacks had a ton of advantages but their arrogance and hubris was their downfall. They expected men to die for them, because, that was the way it has always been. They disregard the cost to the common people and brutalized them at every turn. They had cool allies that turned out to be dumb war criminal knuckle draggers that were so stupid they couldn't spell cat if they were spotted the 'c' and the 'a'.
There's more to war than numbers and claims, my friends.
Ok I haven't read the books.. but basically Aemond and Aegon didn't do anything to rescue Alicent and Helaena from Rhaenyra? that's true?
Umm ...
It's a little more complicated then that ... and not.
Spoilers Ahead!
Aegon is terribly - Terribly - wounded in the first ever battle between the Greens and the Blacks at "Rook's Rest".
Basically Criston hems in the Velayron army at a castle called "Rooks Rest" and before storming it, he challenges Rhaenyra at Dragonstone to come out and fight. But Rhaenyra refuses to answer it and she won't allow Jace to answer it either. But it's a political nightmare, because, people start to think that the Blacks are craven if they don't answer the challenge to battle, especially to save their own soldiers and Bannerman.
So, instead of going herself, Rhaenyra sends Rhaenys in her stead - which is a political disaster. Rhaenys attacks the Green forces that are besieging the castle of Rook's Rest. She also, specifically, goes after Criston.
But Lord Commander Cole basically plays a game of chicken with Meleys and kinda humiliates Rhaenys in the process, cause he's basically just sitting there, no blinking as a dragon continues to try and strafe him and he just kinda sniffs, which is disheartening to the Blacks and her own men.
Eventually, Criston gives the signal, and from the sky both Aemond and Aegon descend from the sky on Vhaegar and Sunfyre and they battle Rhaenys while the main Green forces assault the castle.
In a last desperate attempt of victory, Rhaenys has Meleys grabs a hold of Sunfyre and drive him to the ground. but Vhaegar grabs hold of Meleys by the neck with her feet and the three dragons slam into the earth and Rhaenys is crushed like a grape - there is literally nothing left of her to even send back. But the force of the impact, plus Meleys not letting go till the last minute meant that both Aegon and Sunfyre got caught up in it. And both are near mortally wounded in the battle and never really ever recover.
The Dragon fire from Meleys death rattle melts Aegon's steel gauntlet to his hand, permanently fusing the steel to his body. And for the majority of the war Aegon is in terrible agony and sleeps most of the day drugged up. Alicent and Daeron - mostly cause he's her sworn shield and he goes wherever she does - are the only ones that visit him. The book makes a thing about the fact that Helaena refuses to tend or even see him.
Afterward they capture the castle of Rook's Rest and most of the Velaryon forces and deny to Rhaenyra a beachhead from Dragonstone. They parade Meleys body through King's Landing and mount her head at the main gate as a trophy and warning.
The political fallout is considerable for Team Black.
Rhaenyra is branded a craven throughout the realm, because, Aegon showed up to fight for his crown while Rhaenyra hid and sent another woman in her stead. The fact that Criston Cole was fearless in the face of dragon fire undermined Team Black's effort of ruling by fear through dragons. And a furious and enraged Corlys begins to reconsider supporting Rhaenyra along with a many of her bannermen for her chickening out. All the momentum that Daemon had in the Riverlands with early victories basically comes to naught.
Also, now, instead of the puppet Aegon on the throne, Aemond is named regent and protector of the realm. Which means instead of a constant tug of war with Otto vs. Criston and Alicent. For the first time the Greens have a consistent and decisive leader that has his own mind - and it's a pretty good one too.
From then on, Aemond and Criston outfox and outfight Daemon and push the Blacks to nearly the breaking point.
As for why Aemond never tried to rescue Alicent and Helaena?
This is a matter of interpretation. Not mine, by the way, I mean "House of the Dragon" vs. "Fire & Blood".
Unlike the show, which portrays Aemond in a more complex light, giving him a deep devotion to his family and a unrequited love for Helaena. In the book, Aemond isn't that duty bound. There's, really, no hint that he actually cares for anything other his own glory. He fights for his family, but there's nothing saying that he is actually all that interested in them - especially at the end of the war.
Now, don't get me wrong. GRRM has basically said that "House of the Dragon" is the absolute definitive version of the events. So, I would consider Show!Aemond more legit than Book!Aemond. But as for Book!Aemond .. he was kinda doing his own thing at the end ...
But then, so was everyone else.
The War, in general, spirals completely out of control till basically no one knows why they're fighting anymore. Motivations and causes are completely lost and it's basically a free-for-all of death, suffering, and mayhem for whatever reason suits.
After King's Landing falls to Rhaenyra and Criston dies at the "Butcher's Ball" trying to rescue Alicent. I think that Aemond basically just kinda gives up. He fucked up so badly that I think he feels that he lost the war. So he basically goes nuts and starts just destroying everything - egged on by Alys. I think he simply gives up and is just waiting around for his final confrontation with Daemon - who also feels the same way at the end of the war as well.
He knew he was meant to die in the war and he was just basically waiting around for it to happen.
Daeron, also embodies that shift of prospective in the war. But when he takes command of the Greens, he takes the initiative of bringing peace and justice back to a nihilistic and apocalyptic conflict which is one of the worst cataclysms ever seen on Westros since the "War for the Dawn".
He doesn't want to be king, he's not particularly fighting for Aegon, he just wants Alicent back and take her somewhere safe.
Then the narrative shifts from Aegon and Rhaenyra fighting for the crown, to a rivalry between Aemond and Daemond, to the final form of a crusade by the common people that is led by the last good man to end the reign of terror. It gets about as Black & White as Martin ever allows anything to get at the climax.
Also, if that doesn't convince you.
From a practical level. When King's Landing falls, all ten of the Blacks dragons are at King's Landing. I don't think Aemond could go in their alone, guns blazing, and get Alicent and Helaena out alive.
Part of the reason for the second Battle of Tumblestone. Was because, Daeron and his army was stuck outside in the suburbs of King's Landing trying to figure out how they were going to attack the Capital without Rhaenyra outright killing Alicent. It's basically the reverse of when the Frey's were besieging Riverrun in "Game of Thrones".
Everyday Rhaenyra is proverbially standing Alicent out on the ramparts with a noose around her neck, threatening to push her off if she sees Daeron and Tessarion anywhere near King's Landing.
So, even when the war was basically over, when Daeron had elite forces and three dragons - in theory - and the full support of the common people of King's Landing, he still couldn't get in their to rescue Alicent ... well, officially.
There is a conspiracy theory that he survived the fight with Vermethor, got to Alicent when the common people stormed the Red Keep, and kept her safe till the Baratheon's arrived to restore order. I mean, there's a reason most people thought for fifty years that Daeron was still alive ... and that Alicent just kinda disappeared from history. Also, the Daynes of Starfall have white hair and violet eyes ... a lot of the women have names that start with "A", and Starfall is very close to Oldtown.
I've gone from cautiously enjoying the romance between an uncle and niece to screaming letting everyone know I ship a brother and sister in less than two months.
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