I Still Mourn For Lucerys Oh My God 😭 I Hope Hes Away Having A House On The Beach Carving Out Horses

i still mourn for lucerys oh my god 😭 i hope hes away having a house on the beach carving out horses and dragons out of wood for the local children bc my boy deserves everything and anything

imagine if the end credits scene of the last episode of the last season is just Luke somewhere alive and the entire war was for absolutely nothing (not likely but it'd be funny if it's aegon iii and jaehaeras wedding vows and it just pans over)

Imagine if Luke just spent his days as an amnesiac fisherman without even knowing that all the shit went down for absolutely nothing LMAOOOO

He really needs someone there to remind him that he’s a Prince, in case he was alive, frfr 😔

Spot the Difference.

The Favorite, pt. 4

summary: Let us embrace, even though we are doomed. From this point onward, the war becomes much more contentious among maesters. Some insist princess reader was kidnapped by prince jace, others say that it was love for the prince and loyalty to the queen which sent her to dragonstone by her own leave. The only thing anyone can agree on is that from henceforth, this is a war of queens. Whether one of black and two of green or one of black, one of green with a turn-cloak black princess in between is anyone’s guess.

cw: threats of kidnapping though no one is actually kidnapped, mentions of murder, little bit of angst, misunderstandings, jace sent someone to kidnap you but he's like really sad and stuff so its okay probably

notes: it’s just not poor helaena’s night at all

part 1 /part 2/part 3

word count: 3.1k

Alicent entered your chambers, her hands clasped and her face somber as she wondered how to deliver the news. It wasn’t you she needed to be concerned about with your father’s death but somehow she found herself thinking of consoling you. Perhaps it was because she found it to be the more comfortable task of the unpleasantness she’d had to endure the previous night and what she’d have to endure that day. She hated the very idea of your sadness but she loved the idea of caring for you in it. She loved the thought of taking you into her arms and shushing you like a babe. That would bring her such peace, help her reconcile everything. If only she could spend an hour or so comforting you.

You looked up as she entered, without word and with an air of sullenness about her. She sat perched on the couch near the window of your chambers, the dull light streaming in and illuminating your face, her reverent and tired eyes met yours. “Your father…” She managed to speak as she gently cupped your cheek.

It only took you a second to realize everything that needed saying. “He’s…gone on, has he not?” You take a breath, having anticipated this for a long time. You wait for grief but it does not come. Nothing does. Not even relief. His presence, as horrible as it feels to think, was as impactful in death as it was in life. Alicent was slightly disappointed that you’ve handled it so well and caught on so quickly. But at the same time, she is proud of you for your resilience and grace. She only wished you had just a little less, so as to need your mother a little more on this day. “My dearest love,” she says, stroking your hair.

You give her a weak smile. “Now what?” You asked because you know very well that there is certainly more to that statement. Your father is dead but everyone around has anticipated this for years. Your mother has been least subtle of all of them in her planning.

“Now…” Alicent hesitated, looking into your eyes. “We put things together and we crown you queen.”

Even quietly as Alicent had tried to keep the decline of Viserys’ health and his impending death, Rhaenyra was not blind. She knew her father was not long for this world. And so she had left to assume her seat as Princess of Dragonstone shortly before his death, narrowly avoiding becoming hostages without leverage. Alicent had hoped this could all be done easily, if she and her children had been trapped in the red keep swarming with green allies, negotiating her surrender would come quickly and hopefully without need for bloodshed. But likely on Dragonstone, Rhaenyra would be able to freely prepare for her ascension. They were running out of time before they could no longer keep Viserys’ death secret and although Alicent had made the most of it, there was still much to do. They needed the advantage, they needed to show Rhaenyra there was no need to fight against them.

You sat, your hands trembling as you watched your children at play, wondering how this would play out. You did not want your nephew robbed of his birthright nor killed nor made a hostage but it was your mother’s hands weaving this fate. What would you be now? A daughter of Queen Alicent or the wife of Prince Jacaerys? The two things seemed in conflict, now more than before. You’d have to deny one to claim the other. The middle ground of a brewing war was simply a place for people to fall through the cracks to one side or the other anyway.

To be honest, all love and duty aside, you were a mother and thus a pragmatist by necessity. You had to choose which you believed would be the winning faction so that your children would live and be crowned. The distinction didn’t need to be made just then. It couldn’t be, anyway. You’d play the role which most befitted you. But that did not relieve the knot in your stomach at the thought that for one side to prevail, it would mean the death of your mother or the father of your children. Neither of which you could imagine giving up even with the blade above your head. You knew it would come to bloodshed, you could only hope morbidly that when it did, it was only the blood of people you could live on without. You could only hope that the blood of your children would be spared if nothing else held sacred.

After a mad scramble to cobble together everything necessary for Aegon’s coronation, including his presence, plans proceeded. Dressed in a fine, deep green gown to match your mother’s, you stood at Aegon’s side, anxious. You had not seen him all day, whatever emotion he wished to hide from you out of shame, it had mostly cleared away and left some semblance of a man who’d be able to stand on his own at your side looking not like an unworthy older brother but a husband— save for his eyes which you knew had shed tears recently. You could almost pity him if only you didn’t have much more to cry about. Your mother, who had not mustered a genuine smile during the whole farce, managed to sincerely smile as she placed a crown on your head and knelt to you. “My queen,” she murmured, taking your hand in hers and pressing a kiss to the emerald ring on your finger. That was the only brief moment wherein which you felt comfort that day. When her lips left your hand and you were made to stand only next to Aegon as his queen, you felt what you had been desperately trying to avoid since birth; alone, bare, defenseless. It was then that all the implications of what was unfolding hit you at once and a tear slipped down your cheek.

You looked back at Helaena whom you had not seen until now because you were being prepared for coronation in a lavish fashion. Her face read the same dread and fear, her eyes met yours and flashed with wariness. With warning she was desperate to hear spoken but could not. Her voice was lost, her words devalued long ago. All she had was the frenzied gaze she gave to you before a horrible rumble shook the ground.

Through the floor with a sickening crack rose Rhaenys astride Meleys, her expression solemn and unimpressed. The peasants climbed over each other for whatever exit they could find, stepping on the bodies of those killed and screaming for the terror of being faced against a kind of beast they only ever saw in flight, for being crushed under rubble or sent falling. They sought their escape and went without Rhaenys’ halt. But there was no such escape for you, who was cornered in with the rest of your family. Alicent stood in front of you, Aemond stood to the side trying to appear unafraid even then as though he’d draw his blade and strike Meleys with a sword smaller than one of her teeth, Helaena hid behind him but her expression read as almost relieved, Aegon was glued to your side, uncharacteristically brave as though his body would shield you from dragonfire; all of you, the whole wretched lot, looked up at her and waited for flame.

It did not come. Rhaenys retreated which relieved you as much as it frightened you. You saw it in her eyes, she contemplated burning you all alive but when her gaze found you, there was a certain… pity. You got the sense you were what held her back in the moment, but what was next? What could be done when you were not there, teary eyed and pitiful? Your mother brought you into her arms, trembling herself, muttering placations that you could not hear over the ringing in your ears. Your mother could not protect you and inevitably you would lapse in protecting her. You held her tightly, your mind going numb with grief for the future. This was the first time you saw it, the utter helplessness of war. It had begun before your eyes.

The red keep had taken on a dimness, even drearier than before. Shadows cast up and down the halls, no candle could brighten the heavy atmosphere, though that did not stop anyone from trying. Your mother had the servants light candles all over. The night had begun to come earlier, the daylight stark and scarce. You now resided in your mother’s old quarters and she in Rhaenyra’s. You didn’t like the change, your mother’s bedroom felt haunted for as long as you could remember, but especially now. Your sister had said something eerie about it when you’d had her in your company. “It is all awash in red,” She’d gasped upon entering with her children holding to her skirts.

The atmosphere everywhere was indeed awash in blood, if that was what your sister meant. The death of your nephew at the hands of your brother hung in the air everyday as a reminder that there was surely more blood to be shed. That war had not only begun but had begun with a bitterness, a recklessness that would reflect on them surely. Precarious grounds, bloodsoaked. This was a desperate melee wherein which you could see the white of your opponents eyes. Feel the warmth of their blood.

Therefore, it was laughable that your mother was trying so hard to comfort you. Her eyes plead with you to believe in her rather than the cover of lasting night which had blanketed all of you. But you no longer believed in her as you once did. And that was a horrible thing. There was no more safety in your mother’s arms. No place to hide. You had been exposed like a festering wound opened up to the air. All of you had been. There was no more safety in anyone in the keep. Your brother had not yet realized this. He thought himself a fully fledged king now and presumed this war would be his victory, for everything was done for his sake. More so than anything in his life before. He reveled in it, despite everything.

He should have known better. But why would he? He might have expected you to praise and uplift him as well, for he tried to appear very kingly in your eyes but you were in no mood for it. You wished to be alone with your children much of the time or with Helaena and her own; and your mother permitted it. The news of Rhaenyra’s stillbirth had reached your mother, she worried that somehow it would be retributed through you so she pleas with anyone with a modicum of influence to keep him busy. The council did indeed answer to her in this regard, they did keep his head swirling with vague responsibilities which kept him from your bed. You had already given him sons and a daughter, there was no need to chance the gods again. There was no need to risk losing you on top of everything slipping out from under her. It was vaguely suggested by Criston that it would lift your spirits to see him win their family’s safety which was the only thing that caught his attention fully. Yes, to fight this war valiantly, to bring his poor lady wife peace, to have you looking pleased with him again. He would be a hero in your eyes and there was no greater ego boost than that.

That was why you were alone in your chambers that night. Aegon was somewhere gloating in his new rise to power, languishing in the war effort and fantasizing about spilling more blood for sake of your safety. There were spies among you, no doubt. Sympathizers to your half sister or those who were simply easily bought. You had not, in your mounting fear, considered that. Not until, in the silent dark of night, a hand pressed to your mouth and your eyes flew open with a surge of fright.

“Princess,” A man’s voice whispered from just above you, his breath stinking of ale. “You’d do well to listen to me. I am here on behalf of Prince Jacaerys. He has bid me bring you and your little ones to him. I intend to do so with as little force as you will allow. Tonight, danger is afoot this keep, I am not the only one who has come on behalf of a prince. There are men who’ve come to claim your brother’s life, mayhaps any one of your lot who try to stop them. I come to spare you from seeing their heads dashed off. Do you understand me, Princess?”

You could not see his face in the dark. A little candle remained burning in the corner of the room on a table but it only illuminated his hair just slightly. His face was a void. You trembled with the effort of trying to calm yourself enough to think about what you were to do.

“Do you understand, Princess? I’m not here to harm you but I do intend to lead you safely to the prince at Dragonstone as I am command, I come to spare you from what will occur whether bound and gagged, dragged out of the keep by my own hands or without a single mark of struggle and on your dragon, can only be your choice. Me, I do prefer the second so I only bid that you nod to show me you understand.”

You nodded, still searching the darkness for anything you might recognize in his features. You saw the glint of a long blade in the dim light and shivered.

“I’ve cut down all those who might stop me but if I lift my hand and I hear you scream, you’ll make my choice for me, I’m afraid— at the risk that other ears that might be sneaking about, close enough to hear you. If you can manage to remain quiet, I'll allow you to wake your children calmly and leave at your own will. I'll spill no more blood than I already have. I will allow you to spare them being dragged barefoot down the streets.” He then lifted his hand from your mouth and you took a shuddering breath as he gradually released you from his grasp. You turned to your children, gently rousing them from their sleep and bidding them be quiet. You hadn’t the patience or mind to craft a sweet lie for them, you didn’t tell them anything, you only took advantage of their sleepy confusion as you prepared them for leave.

You, clad in a thin nightgown and clinging to your children who were still half asleep, rushed down the hall with the man right at your heels. Your guard was missing, your ladies in bed, your mother…you were alone in this. He was herding you down to the dragonpit, you thought that to be a good sign, had he any inclination to hurt you, he would not want you in sight of a dragon who would turn him to ash should you so much as scream. Maybe he truly was sent at Jace’s will, for who else but someone from his faction would call you “Princess” rather than Queen? You couldn’t fully consider it with your mind overwhelmed by fear. Fear always set your mind to an endless buzzing, no thoughts ever completed or followed to conclusion, only half suppositions of frightening ends.

When you reached the dragonpit, it was as though the man disappeared into shadow, for you could no longer hear his steps nor see him over your shoulder. Still, you were set upon a task asked of you, you would not forsake and risk everything. There is danger afoot this keep. Fear made you docile, a lamb to slaughter. You strapped Viserra, who had begun to whine for sleep and confusion, to your chest before chaining your sons in front of you on the saddle. Mother, please…you thought before taking flight. You didn’t even know what you were asking for. For your mother to appear now? In the presence of a man who would surely take her head off before you could say dracarys if he were to be interrupted? Perhaps there was still just a part of you which believed your mother could still save you. Maybe you were only begging her forgiveness for fleeing like a coward and leaving her to the yet unrealized danger the man had spoke.

It was a long flight with the man’s words echoing in your ears again and again. You were in no place to make sense of it, only to feel your chest tighten with dread, to gasp the thin air of the sky into your trembling body as you replayed the memory obsessively. As the red keep disappeared, you did not dare turn back as though danger were still at your heels. What would become of those you left behind, you could not even bring yourself to wonder. All you could bring yourself to do was pray, spending the air in your lungs to whisper prayers your mother taught again and again

Shortly after you’d taken flight, Helaena went to your room with Jaehaera in her arms, panicked and searching for you. She called out to you and when you didn’t answer, she grabbed the candle and went to your bed where all she found was the imprint of where your body once laid on the bed. She let out an anguished breath, stunned into a surprised stillness. She shouldn't be surprised, she had known this but why did it hurt so much? If she knew, why did it hurt her? “She has abandoned me, finally…” She thought and a horrible emptiness took her over. Several minutes she stood there frozen, looking at the absence of your body before going to your mother.

When you arrived at Dragonstone, as promised, Jace awaited you. You wanted to demand answers from him for what you'd faced but he...he looked as though he'd been crying, his eyes flat as devoid of light like the dark of the dragonpit. And you, in desperate need of someone's arms and comfort, went into his. He accepted you gladly, stifling a sob as he buried his face in your neck. Fool as you were, you could not ask him, not yet. You took a moment to be with the grief of it all and the horror still ahead of you. Somehow, it was easier to bear in his arms even if you feared what had been done in his name. The relief that you remained alive with your children far outpaced your outrage and confusion in that moment and so you stood in his embrace, weak and war weary, not knowing that the worst was still yet to come. Stripped down to the barest of needs, the two of you.

The blood could be retributed later. Right then, you craved the sweetness of being held.