Catradora05



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    Cursed be the Kinslayer.
    (“A curse,” maids would whisper, finding dead falcons on the sills with each of Alicent’s labours, all of them gutted.)

    “I hope you’re finally happy,” his brother had told him harshly. Rhaenyra was gone, hers and Aemma’s belongings shipped to the Vale, and the little hatchling she had only mounted for the first time the year before missing from the Dragonpit. “You marry that Hightower whore, and I hope you don’t come to regret it, because we won’t come crawling back to you this time. Not after this, Kinslayer. Aemma will curse you from her grave, if she hasn’t already.”

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    23 Feb 2026

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    How dare Criston –
    How dare Alicent –
    And even her own father –

    She’d been letting the Hightowers choose their battlefields for years now, since she was naught but a heartbroken girl of eight who had lost her mother and brother in a single day. She had been letting them make their moves without challenge, but no longer.
    Alicent had worn a banner of War, and Criston had chosen his side.

    One should never poke a passive dragon, no matter how docile or pretty it appeared, lest they be faced with fire and blood.

     

    (Or; Rhaenyra and her sad, gay husband Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlboss their way to getting what they want)

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    23 Feb 2026

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    “I was last here as an envoy, and you sent me to my death. Now, I stand before you as judge and executioner, and sentence you all to death.”

    Or: Ivar Ragnarsson dies on the way back to Kattegat and becomes Lucerys immediately after Shipbreaker's Bay

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    22 Feb 2026

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    “All highborn Alphas of the Kingdom are coming for your hand, Lucerys. Much are already here, and more are to come. The King has ordered feasts every night until the Hunt, in your honour. You should meddle with them, talk to them, and choose one you’d like.”

    Luke straightened on his bed and looked at his half-sister as he processed her words.

    “You want me to choose my Alpha?”

    “Exactly,” Rhaena confirmed with a grin on her face. “This way, on the day of the Hunt, you won’t be the prey, but the hunter.”

     

    The King orders a Mating Hunt for his grandson, Lucerys Velaryon, an omega.

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    22 Feb 2026

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    Right as Rhaenyra was about to give up and flee her tour two months early without a suitor, she met Rickon Stark, the young future Lord of Winterfell. Perhaps she was putting too much stock in a prophecy that could've been decades, even centuries, away from being fulfilled. Still...

    From my blood come the prince that was promised, and his will be the song of ice and fire.

    Ice and fire.

    On the surface, Rickon could've perhaps been called boring if she was being ungenerous. But where she was fire, he was ice; it was clear beneath those cold eyes laid a very sharp edge. It shouldn't have been intriguing, but it was.

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    21 Feb 2026