[m0n4rchs]

#𝐌𝟎𝐍𝟒𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐒       a  private  and  semi  selective,  independent  multi  -  muse  blog.     original  and  canon  muses  present.    21+ muses and muns only.     mature content will be present. written  with  love  by  is   (  twenty6,  she/her  ).

                               𝐠uidelines.      𝐦uses.

[unmak1ngs]

* closed starter! ━━━━ with @m0n4rchs.

dawn arrives,    and with it the hole that her mother’s absence already digs,    tender in the space between her ribs.     it seems unbelievable that the sun still rises,    still pours across the halls of the red keep,    gold and perfect and bright,    as though it were a welcome guest and not the timeless foe she wishes she could reverse.     the corridors are quiet.     servants and courtiers alike mourn the loss of their queen:     i am terribly sorry,    princess,    her sworn shield had added when delivering the news she had both feared and craved,    but his condolences felt like nothing,    tasted like nothing,    did nothing to undo the knot in her stomach,   the acid in her throat.     she cannot remember when she last slept.     one night before she had snuck out and stayed away until night bled into day,    then returned to her chambers to nap the afternoon away,    a slumbering glutton made to rest in the aftermath of excess.     upon awakening,    no light around her,    she had been warned that her mother did not have much time     —     and she had not rushed to her side.     her head throbs,    a cruel pulse behind her eyes that she cannot dispel.     you should have gone.     the thought comes,    again and again and again,    vicious,    relentless,    calling her every ugly name she has ever learned.     she is a liar,    a coward.     someone who had poured herself another drink instead of,    for once,    doing the right thing.         

now,    in the dreadful light of morning,    the truth is laid bare:     she can no longer ruin her relationship with her mother further,    she can no longer fix it,    she can no longer beg for forgiveness,    or perhaps the opportunity to atone for her sins.     viserra barely remembers deciding to leave her chambers.     her steps are unsteady,    be it from drink or from grief,    her hair tangled and wild,    her cheeks marked where tears had dampened,    and this time she does not mind the stares,    does not care if the maids whisper and the maesters shake their heads.     YOU CAN LET THEM KNOW WHAT YOU TRULY ARE,    AFTER ALL.     she moves with no clear destination,    following the desperate pull to the dragonpit,    yet she does not make it that far,    because she sees him.     her brother stands there,    strides into the keep as if the world has not crumbled beneath their feet.     she sees him and immediately understands that he stayed away all night.     while their mother died,    while she probably asked for him and begged to see her son,    her only son,    her boy.     

she has walked to his side without realizing it.     purple eyes fix on his features with intensity,    but at first she cannot speak,    words gathering on her tongue and rapidly withering,    morphing into dust,    dissolving.     what is she supposed to say?     (   try:     you weren’t there,    how could you not be there,    how could you leave her,    how could you,    how could you,    how could you!   ).     a thousand questions twist and turn,    sink their claws deep in her chest,    for it is not his face she sees when she rages.     it is her own.      ❝      —    you    …    !      ❞      her voice,    trembling and weightless,    is more gasp than demand,    slipping past teeth that long to clench into a cage.     this anger is easier,    she thinks.     fire is simpler than examining her own failings,    and placing the blame on another’s shoulders hurts far less,    thus she chooses to wield her sorrow just as she would any blade.      ❝      where have you been,    saerys?      ❞  

[m0n4rchs]

it had been a long night. the beginning of it, like always, saerys had found himself anywhere that was not the red keep. he could not bring himself to stay there, not when his mother lay upon her deathbed, not when no one knew when her last day would be. it was overwhelming and saerys could not stand to be suffocated by it any longer. perhaps that would be his undoing. perhaps the choice he made to leave was what ultimately took his mother's life — a child too afraid to say goodbye made her fate worse. it was silly to think about, saerys knows deep down he did not kill his mother, but what if? it is a thought that creeps upon him in the morning light. dirt covering his breeches from sitting in an alleyway in fleabottom all night. it had started in a tavern — something worn down, old; smelling of rotting wood and ale that should have made a prince's lip turn upward, but only made the high after better —, a goblet or two, perhaps even a few, had found their way into saerys' hand. the rowdy folk around him clasping him upon the back during their songs, none would dare if they could see the hair under his cloak and he surely would care if he was more sober, but he was not, so he welcomed it with a sway of his body. the news hit like a hilt of a sword over the head. the queen is dead! was shouted to through the place, whispers following after, but none that saerys could hear. not with the roaring in his ears and his heart pounding within his chest. he slips from the place then, folding into himself in the alleyway with a whole bottle of ale in his hand to drown out the voices in his head. saerys does not know if he fell asleep or if he had been too drunk to remember much after that. all he does know is that when he wakes up, when he stumbles his way back to the red keep, his mother is no less dead and he had been no less there to see her go. his sister's voice, the one he liked the least, is shrill in his ear a moment later. red-rimmed, violet eyes meet her own and he shrugs — a bad idea, he will know that later, "where does it look like i have been?" his voice is clipped, an anger that is misplaced threads through each word, the empty bottle of ale still grasped in his palm is waved in the air lazily, "are you upset because your favorite friend decided to spend time with me instead? or had you found a new one — your eyes show it, little sister."

[fatedriiiven]

the  princess  finds  herself  wandering  about  the  keep,  as  she  does  often.  her  children  are  both  off  in  their  lessons  and  so  her  attention  can  be  paid  elsewhere  for  the  time  being.  it  is  saerys  that  she  gravitates  to  first,  seeking  out  her  middle  brother  with  haste.  first  she  tries  his  chambers,  only  to  be  told  that  he  is  not  there  and  instead  has  ventured  elsewhere.

so  she  sets  out  on  her  search,  visiting  upon  several  places  that  she  has  known  him  to  haunt.  he  isn't  in  any  of  those  spots,  either,  and  that  is  when  she  begins  to  feel  concern  building  in  her  chest.  had  he  ventured  into  the  city  again?  she  always  hates  when  he  does  that,  worries  for  his  safety.

eventually,  she  finds  herself  in  the  gardens,  aimlessly  wandering  about.  and  finally,  by  some  chance,  she  notices  him  –  sat  directly  in  front  of  a  bed  of  golden  roses  that  had  been  planted  for  their  late  mother.  daenyra  frowns,  knowing  all  too  well  how  her  brother  feels  regarding  the  situation.  her  own  feelings  are  complicated  as  well.

❝  worry  not,  brother,  ❞  she  says  softly,  inching  her  way  closer  and  closer  to  where  he  resides.  ❝  i  did  not  come  to  bother  …  if  you'd  prefer  silence,  i  will  gladly  sit  in  it.  ❞  it  wouldn't  be  the  first  nor  the  last  time  the  two  siblings  simply  enjoyed  one  another's  presence  without  a  word  spoken  between  them.  ❝  but  if  you  wish  to  speak,  know  that  i  will  always  listen.  ❞

[m0n4rchs]

saerys never means to be so cruel with his eldest sister. (the only one he would reserve that for would be viserra, but even then, he holds his sisters dear to him.) she deserved better, he knew that. he knew he was too grown up to still act a child, but saerys had never been good at expressing things well. hell, he never even tells her he loves her. why would he tell her other things? though she should be free of his moods, she was not the cause after all. that was reserved for the woman whose eyes daenyra held and who saerys mourned every day of his life. however, he does not know how to say this to her, so he does not. his mouth goes back to the thin line it always is and his posture is rigid even in the proximity of a family member — his eldest sister for seven's sake. "i do not know how to speak," saerys' voice is not quite soft, but not quite as curt as it was before. a fine balance in between that he toes the line of too often. yet, what he says is as truthful as daenyra has likely heard from him in a while — an earnestness in his tone that does not come regularly. "do you find it hard to do, sister?" when he looks at her, when violet meets green, there is a glaze upon his own that would be called unshed tears were he to be honest with himself and her. "mother did not," saerys began, eyes turning back to the bed of flowers in front of him, "she would talk and i would listen. she had no expectations of me and i miss it—" i miss her is what is left unsaid, an admission that felt weak. "but what am i speaking of expectations when i am sat next to the heir to the iron throne? surely my woes are nothing in comparison to yours."

[m0n4rchs]

closed for. daenyra targaryen, @fatedriiiven. muse used. saerys targaryen.

saerys was not particularly happy about where he had found himself. the knees of his breeches covered in dark remnants of dirt, rivaling the gorgeous patch of golden roses that had sat in front of him. his mother's favorite. even looking at them now sent a jolt of searing hot pain through his spine, his fists clenching at his side and a phantom throbbing in his hip. it was pathetic. it'd been years since she had passed, years since saerys let the guilt of that night eat him up inside. since he had let viserra yell at him when he had gotten back to the red keep, let himself yell back at her as rage began to bubble up inside of his body. he should be over it by now. should realize his mother was gone for good, that he was not going to hear her call out to him any longer. ("sapling!" jeyna tyrell's voice had always been tender, loving and sweet when she spoke to her children. even when she was calling his name from across the courtyard, "come have tea with me!" her smile would make saerys move mountains, even has a young babe.) the crunch of footsteps makes him seize up, like most company usually does and now? as he lays bare in front of a shrine of flowers to his mother? he wishes the seven would swallow him up and refuse to spit him back out. "i am not the best company right now, sister." saerys' voice is clipped, words burning out of his throat as he says them, "finding another to bother might be a wise choice."

[m0n4rchs]

closed for. meghan daly, @bittcrsweetmemxrics. muse used. riley campbell.

riley doesn't know what draws him to the bar. well, he knows that he needs a drink after the day he's had. sadie and tyler had been running him around all day, from drop offs in the morning to picking them up after practice. not to mention the full day's work he had in the fields, it starting before the sun even rose and continuing until it was nearly set. and his particular day wasn't one he looked back on fondly or rather he did, but not much anymore. the day that was supposed to be the catalyst for the rest of his life — a shiny ring, a beautiful woman he loved, and a family they were going to start eventually — and now he's alone; had been alone for quite a while now and thinks he might be forever. so yeah, he needed a drink and needed one badly. the bell above the door dings, his large frame pushing through as familiar gazes pass over him. a couple of head nods in their direction is suffice enough, a greeting that doesn't force him to engage more than he wants to right now and he definitely doesn't want to. not when her face flashes behind his eyes every time he closes them. it makes him not want to blink any longer. "usual," riley's voice is gruff as he greets his friend across the bar, being offered a bottle of the cheapest stuff because that's what he likes best. it tastes as good as it can as it slides down his throat, a hearty gulp he needed to calm himself while his eyes turn to the person next to him. it has to be a joke when he sees their face. a dream or something. she couldn't be here now of all times, couldn't have decided that coming home to their shitty fucking home town now was a good idea. "tell me this is a dream or this day just got worse." it's not supposed to come out as harsh as it does, but he can't take the words back after he's already said them.