Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen - Tumblr Posts

I cannot believe that Daemon hasn't had a single vision with adult Rhaenyra. Imagine something similar to the second one with Viserys from episode 6, only this is with Rhaenyra after (or even during) Visenya's birth. (For non book readers: Visenya is the stillborn daughter born on Dragonstone in 1x10. Her name is given in the books but never in the show.) I would have loved to see him realize that he should have been with her and try to comfort her, and I also would have liked to see a bit more of his grief for his daughter. It could also have been a great way to explore his guilt about leaving her to deal with her grief alone, and would set the stage for their reunion and Daemon potentially apologizing to Rhaenyra. They definitley could have cut the visions of him fucking his mother and cosplaying as Aemond in favor of something that would actually help develop his character and his relationship with Rhaenyra. All in all, the visions have a lot of wasted potential, but I'm still holding out hope for next weeks episode.

I dream of cracking locks Throwing my life to the wolves or the ocean rocks

Guilty as Sin?//Taylor Swift

To Leave The Warmest Bed I’ve Ever Known

All those scenes of Daemon and Rhaenyra not being able to sleep without each other inspired me, so here’s a ficlet about our favorite pair of insomniacs. Title is from Tis the Damn Season by Taylor Swift.

Daemon’s bed was cold. Of course it was. Everything in this dammed castle was cold or damp, and most things were both. Even the hearths were near impossible to light, and on the rare occasions he managed to coax a fire from one, it did little to pierce the ever present chill that seemed to have surrounded him since he left Dragonstone. Since he left Rhaenyra. After their fight, he had stormed off on Caraxes without a word to anyone, eager to rally the riverlords to her cause, and sure that he would return in a few weeks, a moon at most, with an army flying her banners and serving as undeniable proof of his loyalty and love for her. The flight to Harrenhal had started to temper his rage, allowing regret to creep in. Perhaps he shouldn’t have left so suddenly. At the very least, should he not have first apologized for his words to his wife? But Daemon had never been one for apologies. Much better to return when he had something to give her, and let that do the talking for him. It had, admittedly, been a mistake not to send ravens, but he had not expected to stay for so long, and he was unsure of what exactly Rhaenyra would want him to say. He had considered sending a short, impersonal missive informing her that he had arrived in the Riverlands, and was preparing to raise an army, but worried about how such a letter might be received. Despite their recent argument, Daemon could not bear the thought of Rhaenyra believing he no longer cared for her. Not sending ravens had seemed practical at the time, but he had come to regret it, and now it was far too late. He could not have his first letter after such a long absence be an accounting of his failures. Any way he looked at it, Daemon knew he had failed. He had spent far longer than he intended in Harrenhal, and all he had managed to do was turn the riverlords against him. Daemon hated failing. He wished, more than anything, to leave this cold, miserable place, and fly home to Rhaenyra. Gods he missed her. Her absence was a wound that only grew deeper with each passing day. He craved her presence. The feel of her skin, the sound of her voice, the fire that burned in her deep violet eyes. She was the other half of his soul, his twin flame, they burned together. Not being by her side was a torture worse than anything Daemon had ever imagined. He could scarcely believe that he had survived ten years without her. The idea of just one was enough to make Daemon want to drive Dark Sister through his chest. During the days he could bury the pain of being without her under the physical exertion of rebuilding the castle, and his general annoyance towards everything around him. But at night there was nothing to save him from his thoughts. If anything, his cold, empty bed only served as a reminder of his missing piece. He glared at it, the physical manifestation of his mistakes, then proceeded to drop the expression with a sigh, crawling between the sheets.

Daemon turned to face the side he always left empty, as though he expected Rhaenyra to appear in his bed in the middle of the night. He couldn’t help it, they had shared a bed for six years, during which they had spent barely ten nights apart. Who could blame him if he still left his wife’s side untouched? He stretched his arm out across the bed, reaching for someone he knew he would not find. He let his hand drop to the mattress with a scoff, irritated with himself. He hoped that Rhaenyra was sleeping better than he was. She would need rest after dealing with her Small Council all day, even more so now that Rhaenys was dead. Daemon worried for her. She was prone to nightmares when she became stressed, usually towards the end of her pregnancies, although it had happened again when they were in Kings Landing to defend Luke’s inheritance. She would wake in the night, shaking, often with tears streaming down her beautiful face. When it had first happened, just before Aegon’s birth, he had woken to find her sitting up, a hand over her mouth as she tried to muffle her sobs. He had taken her into his arms, and held her against his chest until her tears stopped flowing and she stilled. He had not asked what had woken her, the hour was late and Rhaenyra had seemed exhausted. All he had done was hold her as she slept, wondering what could possibly have incited such a reaction in his proud, fierce wife. She had given him his answer the next morning. It was normal, she had insisted, for her worries from the waking world to occasionally follow her into sleep, he needn’t be concerned about her. When he had inquired as to what worries had left her so shaken she had hesitated. Daemon, in an attempt to be comforting, had brought his forehead to hers. Rhaenyra’s hand had dropped to her swollen stomach, and she had admitted, voice shaking, that whenever she drew near to the end of her terms, her childhood fears of the birthing bed would return to haunt her. Daemon had drawn her close, promising that she and the child would be safe, and the next night when he found her tearstained and trembling, he had held her again, and the night after, and after that. By the time she was carrying Viserys, she had only to shift closer to him and whisper his name, and he would open his arms for her and stroke her hair until she drifted off. Although she had never said it, Daemon suspected that until then, she had endured the nightmares alone. He had made a vow to himself, on the second night, that as long he lived, she would never have to suffer through it alone. He prayed that he wasn’t breaking that vow. With a sigh, Daemon pulled himself back to the present. His mind had gone down quite the depressing path tonight, although that was becoming commonplace. Still, he needed sleep. He could not lie here and stew in his regret until then sun came up. He let his weariness crash over him, pulling him down into the depths of what would likely be a restless sleep. He hoped he would dream of her, but he knew he was unlikely to be that lucky. Daemon drifted off, one arm still outstretched, reaching for Rhaenyra.

Rhaenyra woke with his name on her lips. “Daemon,” she whispered, hating the way her voice trembled with unshed tears. When he didn’t respond, she tried again, more forcefully.“Daemon,” still, he said nothing. He must be sleeping quite deeply, she thought. She hoped she wouldn’t wake him, he needed sleep just as much as she did. Quietly, she reached across the bed, intending to slip into his arms while he slept, as she had done countless times before. She was met with empty space and cold sheets. She remembered, suddenly. Daemon was at Harrenhal, and had been for some time now. He hadn’t even bothered to send a raven. Rhaenyra got out of bed and threw on a robe. She pulled it tight around herself, as though it would keep away the memories of the nightmare that had dragged her from sleep. It was the same one she’d been having for weeks now; Luke, flying before Vhagar only to be devoured, the scrap of his cloak she had found with Arrax’s wing. Her poor Visenya, scaled and horned and dead. Even her father had come back to haunt her, half his face missing, screaming that he had made a mistake, that she could never be Queen. Rhaenyra shuddered, and walked over to the window overlooking the beach. She felt a sudden surge of longing for Daemon. How many nights had she spent in his arms, head resting against his chest while his heart beat steadily next to her ear? How many hours had he held her, running his hands through her hair and pressing kisses to her head until she was lulled back to sleep? She missed him terribly. She had taken for granted what a comfort it was to have him next to her. When he came back she would appreciate every minute with him. If he came back. Although none of them would say it outright, she knew her Small Council was starting to doubt his loyalty. Logically, Rhaenyra knew she should at least consider the possibility that he had betrayed her. After all, he hadn’t sent a single raven, and they certainly had not parted on good terms. But, for all his faults, Daemon had always been fiercely loyal to her. He was a touch too eager for bloodshed, but he was still willing to defend her against anything. He had proved enough when he took Vaemond Velaryon’s head. Just the thought of him betraying her was more than she could bear. Her husband, the man that she loved, the other half of her soul, turning against her? Rhaenyra shook her head. It will not happen, she thought. Daemon is temperamental, but he will not turn against me and our children. I would rather he be dead. She regretted the thought as soon as it came. As unbearable as the idea of Daemon betraying her was, the idea of a world without him was comparatively worse. A world without Daemon, without his fire, his love for her and their family, a world in which she would never hear his voice again, or be held by him again, or feel his lips on hers. The thought brought fresh tears to her eyes. She blinked them away furiously. He is not dead, nor will he be dying any time soon. He is simply hiding from our disagreement like a petulant child. The last thought forced some of the grief from her mind, but still, the thought of a world in which Daemon no longer lived haunted her. Rhaenyra stalked back to their bed and cast off the robe, before slipping back beneath the heavy blankets. She lay there, until sleep found her, and with it more nightmares. This time, she saw her husband, laying dead on some battlefield, Dark Sister in his hand and Caraxes’s broken body under him. She screamed as she ran towards him, and shook him violently, like she could force life back into him. But he remained still, glassy lilac eyes staring sightlessly up at her. When she woke again, the sun was peaking through her windows, and one of her hands lay stretched out on the bed, reaching for Daemon.

Your braids like a pattern Love you to the moon and to Saturn

Seven//Taylor Swift

I have a feeling they’re saving the return of Rhaenyra’s necklace from Daemon to after he dies. I know I’ll be heartbroken whenever she finds/wears the necklace again 💔

oh…

Rhaenyra getting a raven with news of Daemon’s death and opening a long forgotten drawer with the necklace inside. Rhaenyra holding on to the last piece of her husband while she cries. Rhaenyra wearing it when she faces Sunfyre for the last time, and it being the only thing that survives since Valyrian Steel doesn’t melt. Aegon finding it after and holding on to that last piece of his parents.

oh…

Guys I miss Daemyra

Am I hallucinating or is that the same dress? And if it is the same dress, what do we think it means?

It's so telling that TG and Alicent stans constantly undervalue the lives of Rhaenyra's children. They scream feminism and progressiveness until it comes to the Medieval hatred of bastards. Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey are children who died because the Greens usurped their mother. Lucerys was thirteen when he was eaten alive by Vhagar, Jacaerys was sixteen when he was killed by crossbow bolts, and Joffrey was 13 when he fell from Syrax and ripped to shreds by looters. How is this horror so easily excused by TG in the name of their rapist king, his power hungry mother and grandfather, and his war mongering brothers? Of course the deaths of Helaena and her children are tragic, none of the Team Black characters deny this (except maybe Daemon). Rhaenyra condemned the actions of Blood and Cheese and gave Maelor a Targaryen burial. She never discounts their deaths because they are the usurper's blood. Also how are Lucerys and Joffrey not innocent children? They didn't fight in any battles, they never killed anyone, Lucerys' greatest crime was protecting his brother. Fuck, if they count Alicent as a child bride at 16, then Jacaerys was child too. None of Rhaenyra's children deserved death and their lives are no less important because their parents (in the show) weren't married and it's monstrous to believe that.

team green stans they're so disgusting, they're not even ashamed of being misogynistic with their jokes

So true, they will go on and on about how Rhaenyra doesn't deserve to live because she had bastards or because she dared to stand in the way of Aegon. They're so delusional that they don't even notice they're spouting the same shit the lords of Westeros say.

There's a reason why GRRM wrote about the patriarchy and intense misogyny of Westeros, and it wasn't so certain fans could write meta after meta about how the patriarchy is actually right. Just because Rhaenyra is flawed and hasn't devoted herself completely to the men around her, she's a demon in the eyes of thode who wrote about her and the TG stans.

So many people try (halfheartedly) to justify their misogyny by saying "that's just how it is in Westeros :)". One of the points of F&B is to point out how flawed Westeros and planetos are. People purposely taking GRRM'S point and distorting it to support their misogyny is disturbing and ridiculous.

The Realm's Delight on her merry way to make a statement

-My love, our daughter steals the attention of all the men here. Although I would have chosen another gown for the occasion. Black is a colour best suited for widows, princess. - she said, turning directly to Rhaenyra. - I think our daughter would have looked far better in a lighter tone. Perhaps pink, or even a lavender coloured dress. Don’t you agree, Viserys?

-I think my beautiful girl would look good in any colour.

Rhaenyra suppressed the urge to speak her mind to the queen, at least fully.-Black and red are the colours of a Targaryen, your grace. - she says. - There is no surprise to be had at my choice.

The Blacks & the Greens by @sweetestpopcorn

Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen (16)

THE PRINCESS OF DRAGONSTONE

Daemon + Rhaenyra icons

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