the targaryen dynasty - the queens of old
“they live within you, daenerys stormborn. the warriors, the history-makers, the beloved, the sad and unfulfilled, the ones designed for greatness, the scarred ones who did their duty. you have queens blood in you.”
Queen Naerys Targaryen
“…it was said that only her son Daeron and her brother Aemon knew how to make her laugh.”
Songs speak of his doomed love for his brother’s queen, his own sister, Queen Naerys. He supposedly cried when Naerys married their brother. He defended the honor of his sister, Queen Naerys, against the slanders of the “evil” Ser Morgil. He also won a tournament, disguised as a mystery knight, known only as the Knight of Tears, so he could name his sister , Naerys, the Queen of Love and Beauty in place of the king’s mistress.
fancasts by summerhall’s “the reds & blacks - a targaryen and blackfyre dreamcast”: Aemon, Naerys
ohvesuvius asked you: Would a Prince Aemon the Dragonknight/Queen Naerys graphic be too difficult?
the reds & blacks - a targaryen and blackfyre dreamcast
naerys targaryen
→michelle williams
She hears her before she sees her. The rhythmic tap-taping of heeled shoes against marbeled floors echoes throughout the sept, empty save for two. The woman stops beside her, her skirts shifting with the end of motion, and sending a wave of sweet Lyseni perfume through the air. On her knees, the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms wrinkles her nose. I would command her to kneel before the Mother, were she not heavy with child, she thinks as she rises to her feet. As much as she wished it different, Naerys was still queen, and she would not be towered over by the king’s mistress.
Serenei of Lys stands tall beside her, affrontingly beautiful in the candlelight of the sept. Her arms rest over her stomach, and her eyes stare up at the Mother with something like reverance. “Who do you pray for, Your Grace?”
Everyone. Myself. Instead, she answers truthfully. “You. Your child.”
There is a moment, a fleeting, quickly ended moment, when the awe Serenei holds in her eyes for the Mother focuses on her. “Why?”
Because you live. Because you are a woman. Because you could be my way out. “It is my brother’s child you carry.”
She twists her lips into a half smile. “It is your husband’s child I carry.”
Naerys finds herself wearing a matching smile. “That too.” She has no reason to like the latest of her husband’s conquests; on the contrary, she is expected to hate her with a passion, to shame and scorn her at every turn, for the simple crime of usurping her rightful place in her husband’s bed. But Naerys wanted no place in her husband’s bed, she never had, nor had she ever begrudged the misguided women that did. My place is here, in the home of the gods, serving them. She had never given up hope that Aegon would release her from her marriage vows, that he would find a better queen to replace her. She hopes that he has found one in Serenei of Lys. “Do you love my husband, Lady Serenei?”
To her surprise, the woman laughs. “No, Your Grace.”
Naerys begins to smile. Perhaps he has finally found my replacement after all. “Neither do I.”
