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Night fell on Ashford but the air was not full of prosperity and revelry anymore, the death of Prince Baelor left a cumbersome cloud of grief upon all; and especially on his eldest son, Valarr. All he could do was stare into his reflection within the crimson wine and pray the next sip would suppress his painful ache.

#a song of ice and fire #fire and blood #house of the dragon #oc #valarr targaryen #akotsk #akot7k

blessing before the joust

#fire and blood #a song of ice and fire #akotsk #valarr targaryen #targaryen oc

Maekarlings

#fire and blood #a song of ice and fire #house targaryen #house of the dragon #maekar targaryen #akotsk #aerion targaryen #daeron targaryen #aegon egg targaryen

hc is maegor is sensitive to the cold

#fire and blood #a song of ice and fire #house of the dragon #house targaryen #maegor targaryen #king maegor #maegor the cute

got that shit on m’lord

#hotd cregan #cregan stark #a song of ice and fire #house of the dragon #house stark

Hiii sweetheart. I've always wanted to know your opinion on the character of Daemon! He's usually hated for obvious reasons (nyra), but you draw him a lot and it makes me curious! Personally, I really love Daemon, and I get so emotional whenever I see that you've drawn more of him!!!

<3 hiya !!

I find daemon a character of comfort mostly for his era with Laena & his daughters—preferring the book more. The events including Rhaenyra and everything during the dance are not a part of what I enjoy !! He’s a morally grey character and those tend to be my favourite ones

a model father or husband is not what you’ll find in him but he wouldn’t be daemon otherwise, and I really enjoy caraxes too so i naturally drifted to daemon; and the fact that he is played by matt smith too is a benefiting factor.

im so happy you enjoy him as much as i do !!

#fire and blood #a song of ice and fire #hotd daemon

sniffle ily maekar and first born daughter aerea sniffle cries

#fire and blood #a song of ice and fire #akotsk #house targaryen #a knight of the seven kingdoms #targaryen oc #oc #maekar targaryen

Dragonsong & Needlepoint

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Aerea harboured quieter parts in herself, fragile and almost hidden. Her health was ever delicate, so she was kept confined within comfy halls and solars, this guided her to pick up the expectations of being a princess; and Aerea was particularly skilled in needlepoint.

Her careful stitches formed intricate patterns, coloured thread pulled through, over, and under fabric creating dragons, flowers, or whatever was her current muse. These patterns adorned her brother’s gear before her marriage, and now Valarr was decorated in those very designs too.

It was Aerea who embroidered the funeral garb for her uncle, Baelor—her hands steady despite the weight of grief. Crimson poppies bloomed across fabric, each deliberate and displaying the unfair sacrifice that happened. Her chest was heavier with each stitch, tears bubbled in her eyes and clouded her vision every time Aerea worked on the stitching. By the time it was finished and dressed on Baelor, Aerea’s thumbs were pricked dozens of times from trembling, hidden behind clasped hands or sleeves.

Music too offered her a vice to open herself up.

Her harp would usually have sung soft melodies as enchanting as the princess, however the night of her uncle’s passing not a single string was plucked without her heart tugging with it.

The sound that came from the instrument was raw, long, and aching—identical to the mourning song of a grieving dragon that would carry over seas. Those who heard it spoke of unease, the upset had even the optimistic princess slowed down to quiet tears.

#fire and blood #a song of ice and fire #house targaryen #oc #baelor breakspear #akotsk #a knight of the seven kingdoms #targaryen oc

Aerea Targaryen

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She possesses the same illness as her ancestors, following the same trodden path of being a paramour to her brother and a drawn interest to the dragon Ifrit—a great beast of old that never truly died.

Parties drew her attention, being fawned over and adored were the life she thought best fitted for herself. Everything that came with being a princess, the dresses, the feasts, and the events each grand celebration came with. Aerea favoured tourneys the most, the place where Aerion would ride in honour and brutalise those seeking to overtake his position as beloved—or simply those who allowed their eyes to linger on his sister too long.

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Aerea would purposefully charm and hire lords or knights enchanted by her to ride in her name—not for House Targaryen, solely her—and they obliged.

Emboldened by the princess’ favour, they would ride the high of besting lesser participants at each tilt and bask in the crowd’s applause. That would be until the beating hooves of Aerion’s palfrey riding in, the armour clinking like a grim bell of incoming doom.

Men never left the event in one piece or without a fracture, Aerion was possessive and greedy, his violent nature flared when meeting with his sister’s “champions”.

Aerea would be filled with faux concerns for the bloodied victims but soon distracted by her brother riding up to the royal box with that smug smirk of his. Aerion was quick to preen under her attention, Aerea’s silk handkerchief handed to him to dab at his face or even taking her hand to kiss the knuckle. They were identical in looks, mind, and nature when it came to these twisted games of cat and mouse with unsuspecting men.