Y O U   A R E   L O V E L Y
even in your madness

"𝕿he blood on my teeth begins to taste like a poem, like religion, like the way   you look at me."

⸻ "𝖄ou loved me—then what right had you to leave me?"

I.     IN CHILDBIRTH GRIEF BEGINS

     Lysara Rogare was not mad, the priestesses declared.

     They say the goddess had blessed her with immortal song, bestowed her with a gift to commune with the dead. The temple altar stands before her as tall as an executioner's axe, the blood on her lips smears against her thumb while she wrings her hands for absolution. They burn her body at the pyre of their false beliefs and she crawls through the ashes as a forsaken girl robbed of grace.

     The priestesses are mad, Lysara Rogare whispers.

     Yet she sees the past for what it once was, how the crabs had eked her fate within the sand and brine. She hears the call of elden beasts above the skies, the jagged hills darkening beneath the shadow of their wings. The sound of their shrieks trumpeting across the clouds like the crack of thunderheads above churning waters. It must be a dream, visions aroused by the taste of henbane and betel nut that stains her teeth red. The ghosts are not real, the gods do not exist, she tells herself in vain. But she sees the future for what it must be, how it comes in the blood of Valyrian folly and the sins of forefathers long past.

     And she dreamt, she dreamt for years enduring, of the boy whose eyes shone bright as sapphire and amethyst, the colour of moss clinging upon his raiments as sunfire kissed his silver crown. Her dreams were ever of ruin and misfortune, save for him alone. The one who would banish the ghosts in her ears, to tear away the veil that covered her eyes.

     Aemond Targaryen was not a fool, so his mother said.

     He prayed to the Warrior for strength yet only the Father would look upon him with disdain. It must be a curse, it must be a sickness, to crave for that which will destroy him. Lysara comes to him softly, like a wraith in the night, her hands as gentle as rain as it wraps around his throat. He sees her for what she is, staff bearer, doomsayer, the herald of the Stranger. Her name tastes of both greatness and madness upon his lips, silent prophecies sung of salvation and ruin.

     His mother was a fool, Aemond Targaryen whispers.

     For he knows the taste of forbidden fruit and Targaryens are closer to gods than to men.

⸻ "𝕴 burned so long and so quiet, you must have wondered if I loved you. I did, I do."

"𝖄ou said I killed you—haunt me, then! Be with me always—take any form—drive me mad!   Only do not leave me in this abyss,     where I cannot find you!"

H E R E   C O M E S   D E A T H
how sentimental

L Y S A R A   R O G A R E

𝕮onsort of the One-Eyed Prince, rider of Fortissax. The deathbed companion, mistress of grief and those who live in death. She looked pale, mysterious, like a lily, drowned, under water.

A E M O N D   T A R G A R Y E N

𝕿he One-Eyed Prince, rider of Vhagar. The second son, kinslayer. He looked like a cruel immortal, finding his spiritual feast in the agonies of a dying race.

M O R E D O   R O G A R E

𝕶eyholder of the Rogare Bank, wielder of Truth. Fourth-born son and scion of House Rogare. His eyes were the sea and that was how people drowned.

J O H A N N A   S W A N N

𝕿he Black Swan, courtesan of Lys. Lady of pleasures and poisons. She was the devil's favourite poem.

AUTHOR'S NOTE.

[ I ]      this story has gone through so many revisions but it is here to stay. i love my witchy daughter lysara and her dark brooding story with the one-eyed prince. inspiration that i've drawn on are from elden ring and hellblade on how madness and religion can often come hand in hand and the futility of gods waging war against one another. 

this is also a slight au where lys betrayed the triarchy in the war for the stepstones. i love the rogare family and how valyrian blood is still a thing in essos. lysara is actually a canon character and fashioned after her younger sister larra who actually married viserys ii targaryen. i thought she was a very interesting character who refused to adapt to westerosi customs and was called a witch by the court. so i wanted to recreate something similar with aemond instead lol.

[ II ]     essosi religion is widely varied and i thought elden ring lore would fit in so perfectly with awoiaf. if you don't know, elden ring is a game where the lore was written by grrm himself and it's also very fascinating, that man truly has a gift for worldbuilding but i wished he didn't leave so many gaps damn it. elden ring lore will be incorporated in this story as a new religion, similar to r'hllor and the red priestesses so there will be lots of references. for those who understand, i love you!

[ III ]     as to how lysara is able to tame and ride a dragon is very much taken from the ruminations of septon barth and how dragons came to be, where they originated from and the mysterious blood magic that bound them to the valyrians who originated from humble beginnings as shepherds around the fourteen flames and the reason for their incestuous marriages. these are things i was exploring with and i thought all the fan theories around it were very interesting.

[ IV ]     lysara is deeply misunderstood, she is not a dragon dreamer, nor a red priestess or a greenseer, but something else tied to a mysterious god. her family believes she's mad but the priestesses say that she's blessed. thus it's a neverending cycle of lysara accepting and denying her affliction. to top it off, she's being sold off to the targaryens by her family in exchange for more wealth and power.

[ V ]     this story is connected to my main story "winter's song" so you will see references to my characters in this story too ( daemon is not married to laena or rhaenyra, but my oc lyra stark ). but don't worry, you don't actually need to read it to understand this story since it will mostly revolve around aemond and the greens. this is a darker story than the rest of my hotd series though. please let me know what you think as you read, i would be so happy and grateful, and it also inspires me to write more!

[ VI ]     best read in dark, smallest font, with some dark classical academia music and a cup of hot tea or chocolate xx

COMPANION FICS

GLORIA REGALI

UNSUNG BLOODLINES