ˡᵃᵐᵇ ⁱⁿ ᵃ ˢˡᵃᵘᵍʰᵗᵉʳʰᵒᵘˢᵉ.

back to the main blog hehe

[quvir]

back to the main @maereor

[quvir]

merging this blog back with the main blog bc i keep forgetting its there LMAO i'll answer my asoiaf drafts there :)

[0ldtowns]

⁀➴༯  ...  he  never  considered  himself  stupid  ,  but  right  in  this  moment  ?  ...  he  is  very  ,  very  much  stupid  .

he  has  never  sent  victor  away  .  always  it  has  been  the  last  thing  on  his  mind  ,  for  the  other  mans  presence  is  his  favourite  to  be  in  .  when  hes  with  victor  ,  he  feels  happy  ,  content  ...  a  bit  lighter  than  usual  .  he  feels  as  though  all  his  worries  fall  from  his  shoulders  when  he  is  with  him  .  should  a  relationship  between  a  squire  and  knight  be  like  this  ?  teeth  sink  into  his  lower  lip  ,  and  he  is  almost  worried  that  he  is  going  to  draw  blood  by  how  hard  he  bites  .  but  the  sting  of  pain  ,  it  almost  seems  like  a  wakeup  call  .

his  head  turns  ,  gaze  raises  and  his  eyes  seem  a  bit  watery  (  but  treacherous  tears  do  not  fall  ,  he  is  not  weak  !  )  for  a  moment  ,  he  does  consider  to  reach  out  with  his  hand  .  to  take  a  hold  of  the  other  mans  and  ask  him  for  forgiveness  for  his  brash  reaction  .  but  he  does  not  move  .  not  a  single  muscle  moves  ,  his  hands  remain  intertwined  ,  wringing  them  together  almost  painfully  .

❛  thank  you  .  ❜  is  all  he  says  ,  despite  all  the  other  things  gwayne  could  say  to  ease  the  situation  .  he  can  tell  ,  oh  ...  he  can  tell  that  victor  is  uncomfortable  ,  that  he  is  hurt  &  it  is  gwaynes  fault  .  ❛  i  appreciate  it  .  ❜  another  blunt  few  words  ,  before  his  gaze  is  lowered  again  .  he  has  to  look  away  from  the  other  before  he  says  things  he  will  regret  .

[quvir]

the knight raises his gaze to his squire , and sees a man flushed red with . . . what is it , even ? shame , embarrassment , anger ? perhaps all of the above———they swirl in victor's chest like a storm , teeth gnawing at the inside of his cheek , worrying away the flesh there. he ought not be so upset over being sent away. ought to know better than to attach himself , attach himself to anyone let alone a hightower , a knight of such high status. but gwayne usually seems to like it when he's near. gwayne whispers quiet scolds and offers look that tell him to be careful———he's never , never sent him away.

so for a moment , he thinks gwayne's attention may change his mind , provoke an apology———but instead , the man is blunt , he looks away and victor's heart plummets into his stomach. he's unwanted here. his presence , his company , his affection; all unwanted.

a sharp breath drawn in , he nods , a stiff , curt thing. ❛ right. ❜ its all he says before he steps away———finds gwayne's horse and does his job , forcing away irritated mumbles he might have offered under his breath. at least the horse is soft , accepts the press of his forehead against it's neck , arms wrapped around it.

[0ldtowns]

⁀➴༯  ...  victor  has  bewitched  him  &  gwayne  doesnt  know  exactly  when  it  happened  .

this  should  feel  wrong  ,  he  is  sure  of  that  .  his  faith  ,  his  prayers  ,  all  for  nothing  .  all  forgotten  when  they  kiss  .  their  lips  seem  to  work  perfectly  ,  as  if  they  were  made  for  this  .  and  deep  down  ,  gwayne  assumes  :  maybe  they  were  .  all  the  wrong  paths  ,  all  the  other  people  hes  kissed  before  (  where  he  did  not  feel  like  this  ...  )  all  lead  him  here  ,  into  victors  arms  .

there  is  a  soft  tingle  that  runs  down  his  spine  ,  fingers  toy  with  his  hair  &  gwayne  wraps  his  arms  a  tad  more  tightly  'round  the  other  mans  middle  .  holding  him  closer  to  his  chest  ,  where  his  heart  beats  eagerly  .  almost  hard  enough  it  could  jump  out  of  his  chest  right  about  now  .  his  laugh  ,  the  sounds  that  slip  from  his  lips  are  like  music  to  his  ears  and  gwayne  sighs  contently  .

his  lips  part  ,  but  there  are  no  words  that  come  from  his  throat  .  he  indulges  in  the  feeling  of  his  kisses  for  a  moment  longer  ,  before  his  eyes  open  and  he  raises  his  hands  to  cradle  victors  face  .  thumbs  gently  pressing  into  cheeks  .  ❛  i  dont  want  to  stop  you  .  ❜  as  long  as  he  wants  to  keep  going  :  gwayne  will  let  him  .  ❛  i  want  to  keep  going  ...  ❜  now  that  he  knows  what  it  feels  like  -  &  thus  ,  he  leans  back  in  .  connects  their  lips  again  in  a  kiss  that  is  laced  with  some  more  desperation  and  passion  than  before  .

[quvir]

if his darling knight isn't careful , he'll invoke a very different sort of victor , a side of him gwayne hasn't quite seen yet———thus far revealed only in subtle glances , quietly whispered flirtations. their kiss becomes desperate , tongue pressed within gwayne's mouth and tangling with his , and victor's mind fills with every sort of filthy fantasy. in his mind , gwayne lifts him where he stands , holds him against the wall and has him then and there. victor imagines himself of his knees , gwayne looking down at him———and a noise flees from the back of his throat , muffled against gwayne's lips.

embarrassment flushes his cheeks , and suddenly if feels as if there's a fire between them , burning. he mustn't get too far ahead of himself. getting to the point of kissing was feat enough. ❛ forgive me , ❜ he whispers between kisses , nipping at gwayne's bottom lip , still giggling , ❛ i . . . i have wanted this for so long , gwayne. i've imagined you kissing me more than you realize. ❜

of course , he's imagined far more than that , but he'll save that for another time. tenderness overtaking him , ( and wanting still to hide from his embarrassment , ) he breaks the kiss again to hide his face in the crook of gwayne's neck , arms still 'round him , a yearnful hug in which he can't quite get close enough. ❛ tell me this won't be the first and last time. that you won't wake up regretting this. ❜

[polarean]

the care jameson craves is pitiful. it is beneath him : this is far from the first meeting that has ended in a brawl ( if his getting shoved down and kicked without offering much in the way of self - defense can be called a brawl ) and it won't be the last. he has seldom had a lover close enough to his heart to tend him, though, and has dealt with many wounds in his own haze of wine and milk of the poppy. it always hurts like this, of course. he always whines and complains and trembles and feels as though he may die of a bruise. except there is usually no one around. and here victor is, tenderly kissing him upon the forehead and probing for further injuries. it disgusts jameson a little bit, the both of them acting like this. but when victor's hand runs through his hair, he leans into the touch, and says, " won't you help me to the bed? " he'd managed to make it back to their rooms, and has no desire to go further. " and then a drink, yes. and milk of the poppy, if it's here. but don't leave to fetch it, if it's not. "

[quvir]

if its here , jameson says , as if victor is ever far from his little relief. a fond little sigh , his head shaking , another kiss placed 'pon his lover's head. ❛ alright , come on. hold onto me. ❜ and without so much as a complaint , he helps his lover to bed. now , knowing that the severity of jameson's injury is precisely none , its hard not to snicker at the whining , the neediness of one who scarcely ever acts like this. it only serves to endear victor more , so as he places his dear , wounded darling into bed , he kisses him once to the lips , a smile offered against it. ❛ you poor thing. i'll get you everything you need , alright ? ❜ one more kiss for good luck , before he pulls away to pour a drink , rifling through his things for one of many vials of milk of the poppy. if he didn't care so for jameson , he'd protect this like a rabid wolf , growl at the thought of giving it away———lie , say there is none to give. but he can part with a little , just this once. ❛ shall i lie beside you , hold you until it doesn't hurt any longer ? ❜

[0ldtowns]

⁀➴༯  ...  of  course  he  thinks  this  is  nothing  but  a  bad  dream  ,  that  gwayne  is  not  real  ...  it  has  been  months  .

but  the  chest  that  hands  push  against  ,  is  very  much  real  .  and  the  shove  very  much  makes  him  take  a  few  steps  back  .  it  is  not  enough  to  lose  his  balance  ,  no  .  but  is  this  not  evidence  enough  that  he  is  real  .  that  he  really  stands  here  in  front  of  victor  .  living  ,  breathing  ,  alive  .  ❛  what  are  you  talking  about  ?  ❜  confusion  washes  over  him  .  it  has  taken  gwayne  months  to  come  here  ,  to  the  riverlands  .  and  now  victor  thinks  he  is  nothing  but  a  ghost  ?

dragged  aching  body  through  the  mud  ,  through  rain  ,  thunder  and  everything  bad  the  seven  kingdoms  had  to  offer  ,  to  now  stand  here  .  to  find  the  only  person  he  wanted  to  see  after  everything  he  was  (  forced  )  to  fight  for  burned  down  into  ash  .  hands  reach  out  ,  fingers  curl  'round  wrists  as  if  to  hold  him  in  place  .  worried  he  might  scare  him  and  run  off  again  .

❛  i  am  here  .  ❜  comes  his  voice  ,  same  old  voice  that  he  used  to  speak  to  victor  to  .  ❛  i  am  here  ,  i  found  you  .  ❜  finally  ,  oh  finally  ,  he  truly  feels  like  he  is  alive  again  .

[quvir]

the apparition stumbles , not an apparition after all. hands wrap around victor's wrists to hold him there , and his fingers curl , taking the fabric of gwayne's shirt into his grip and holding on tight , feeling the way it folds , lifts away from a very real chest with a very real heart beating within.

gwayne. this time he's real , or else victor is in the process of dying himself , becoming a ghost right alongside him. one hand flattens over gwayne's chest , now , trembling in its movement , resting there to find a heartbeat. victor nearly crumbles when he feels it , and gwayne speaks again and he can feel the rumble of his voice. a shallow exhale , stunned. ❛ gwayne . . . ? ❜ words come as a whisper , unable to find his voice , frightened if he speaks too loud that the vision might scare away.

❛ but you . . . i saw you———you died. you died . . . ❜ disbelief mingles with hope , which he tries so desperately to bite back; victor knows better than to hope. knows better than to doubt grief , doubt the lengths his mind will go in the name of torturing him. for so long , he'd wanted to join gwayne———so many times he nearly did , just for that ghost to watch him in disappointment. but gwayne doesn't look disappointed now. gwayne looks alive and he's breathing and victor can feel him. hollow eyes fix on his lover's , dark and sunken as his face. ❛ are you really real ? you're alright ? ❜

[quvir]

↪ @halfgigas . . . [ needy grind ] clothes still on, sender grinds against receiver until they’re both panting, desperate for more.

the hedge knight perches atop his thief's thighs , every movement there pressing his lower body to a yearning cock which pleads and pulses beneath victor's clothes. breathless , victor is , head thrown back against a tree , now and then opening dizzy eyes to gaze at duncan above him , looking away only when that dizziness makes the world start to spin around them. they're still clothed , they've barely done a thing , yet this is nearly enough to be victor's undoing.

a whine escapes him , and a hand that had previously been gripping the grass around them , the rocks , anything he could find , reaches now to clamp over his own mouth instead , cheeks heating and shifting to a rosy shade. if only it were duncan's hand there , silencing him , pressing fingers into his mouth to muffle. he'll grab the knight's hand next time , if he has enough sense to think of it. now , though , he reaches up to pet over lover's face , a thumb over his cheekbone , as his body twitches and surges up to meet each of duncan's movements in kind. ❛ are you gonna cum just from this , sweet thing ? ❜ words are barely croaked out , utter desperation lacing every one. he tugs duncan down , just then , hides in his neck to plant disjointed kisses there , huffing against his skin as his desire pools low and torturous , another whimper offered where he is. ❛ i———fuck , i am. you haven't even touched me , and i . . . seven hells , duncan , just touch me , fuck it , i can't take this. ❜ and his fingers trace along duncan's waistband , eagerly awaiting invitation.

[lary5trong]

There was something refreshing about speaking with those not born to great Houses,   something his family discouraged insistently,   yet Larys continued to find wisdom and power in places some high-born folk fear to tread.   Even if all Larys had gathered were simple notions of life or to speak out of turn.   Though he had always found more.   Those that lend his eyes and ears,   either through persuasion or a hot blade.   Thankfully,   for some,   Larys preferred the former.   Especially when those remind him of home.  

“Sounds like you need encouragement,   a trip to home,   one would think that being in the biggest city in Westeros would be more inspiring but it does weigh on one quite a lot.   Doesn't it?”   There was not an offer in his voice,   he would not want to lose a helpful aide so quickly,   and there is no need for him to have Victor's eyes in the Riverlands; not yet at least. Larys let the young man's question hang in the air as he looks him over,   not looking for anything in particular,   but maybe he missed something.   Those of his status are better at hiding than they know.   "My body does not agree well with travel,   and my place is here," blue eyes look towards the rooves nearby in hopes to catch a glimpse of the towers of the Red Keep,   "more than walls and gates keep some in place.   Duty,   fear,   pay.   Those can be much more convincing reasons to stay."

[quvir]

a city so heavy , so crushing , which keeps its people rooted in place for the sake of so-called duty. victor hates it here , and moreso every day. would that he could go home to temperate air , to the green of grass swaying in the wind , the sound of a river rushing. yet ghosts there would be , at least the one———here , he's not free of his mourning but he can pretend it away , needn't worry about apparitions of his mother behind every tree. she might have hated it here too.

❛ i'm sorry to hear that. ❜ discomforted by his own thoughts , a hand raises to rub the back of his head , while victor shifts his weight back and forth , rocking on the balls of his feet. ❛ sometimes i wish this place wasn't so . . . opportune. i'd love to go home , make a decent living selling flowers or some shit , but . . . well. that's not realistic , is it ? ❜ barest hint of a sad smile———more than walls keep some in place , and sometimes its as simple as living , finding something that works and sticking to it. one must wonder how many in kings landing stay for just the same reason. ❛ when was the last time you saw home , m'lord ? ❜

[zaldarias]

there was enough awareness from her when it came not only to the men in her council   &&   their thirst for bloodshed but also her husband's .          he had brought her disappointment ,   embarrassed her when he should have been by her side ,   rather than against her .          now ,   off he was to harrenhal ,   still ,   she remained hopeful that he'd send word sooner or later ,   yet the more days that went by ,   the less she cared .          perhaps ,   if the gods were kind enough to her ,   an army would be gathered without the need of him being present .          the last thing she wanted to do was to give daemon free pass to do as he pleased ,   to make heads roll as he had claimed   ―   he would not care if they were innocent or not ,   he would not care if he would go against the queen's word .

          ❛ ⠀ careful . ⠀ ❜          that was all that came out of her mouth once her son's name was spoken ,   gaze hardening as she stared him down .          rhenyra had finally come to terms with his loss ,   which did not mean it hurt any less ,   she was finally able to hear his name without feeling that knot in her throat begin to form .          nevertheless ,   the reminder of how he was taken from her was not something she appreciated .          her attention shifts to her hands as he speaks of her half-brothers ,   the traitors ,   showing little to no interest as they're mentioned .          though the corner of her lips twitch at the mention of the pretender   &&   an eyebrow arches .          ❛ ⠀ did he now ?          hm ,   good .          i have no pity for him . ⠀ ❜          she means every word ,   because why wouldn't she ?          he had showed the kind of person he was not only by stealing what was hers but by allowing his brother walk around with no repercussions after what he had caused .          eyes return to him ,   head leaned slightly .          ❛ ⠀ why are you telling me this ?          you know i do no longer care for them .          they are traitors ,   they must be punished as such . ⠀ ❜          

[quvir]

a heavy ache brews beneath his brow , spanning across his forehead , behind his eyes. no amount of wine could banish this from him. dizzying , it is , speaking of these things———the mood ebbs and flows like the sea , wave after wave crashing around them. shaky fingers attempt to rub the tension from his head , which shakes in the meantime. ❛ we're goin' around in circles , rhaenyra———you're the one who brought up not making enemies , not letting innocents die. ❜ sighing , he abandons his cup on the table to lean back instead , head tipped back towards the ceiling. ❛ i'm just sayin' we're well beyond that , obviously. ❜

she hardens , and anxiety grips about victor's heart like a hand , squeezing. never has victor feared rhaenyra , not his friend , never her. yet old habits die hard———and grief is a war in itself , one you don't come back from the same. he knows that well enough. ❛ and i'm tellin' you this 'cause its my job. i see things , i tell you about them , and i'm honest with you. has that changed ? ❜ truly , he doesn't want to irritate , to create any sort of rift between them. he is both her friend and her shadow , childhood companion and a raven perched on a windowsill , ever listening. his is a well earned loyalty , and he has no plans to squander that now. but she's always wanted him to be honest. no spy worth his salt would sugar coat. head swivels , gaze on her yet again , softer. ❛ i'm not tryin' to earn him pity from you , fuck that. i'm just sayin' , if you think about it . . . a usurper crying in the act is unusual. and running away from it ? makes one wonder. i don't know , it just makes me curious. maybe if he'd kept the tears comin' , we could've done this peacefully , but now all he does is run his mouth. ❜

[0ldtowns]

⁀➴༯  ...  he  has  been  watching  @quvir  for  a  while  now  ...  unsure  if  ,  when  and  where  the  right  time  would  be  to  show  himself  .

his  stomach  still  aches  .  the  wound  itches  every  now  &  then  ,  but  it  has  been  taken  good  care  of  .  he  no  longer  feels  as  if  he  has  to  die  ,  he  no  longer  feels  guilty  ,  he  no  longer  feels  pathetic  .  and  now  ,  all  he  needs  to  feel  complete  again  :  is  victor  .

to  play  pretend  to  be  dead  hurt  more  than  actually  dying  .  to  know  that  victor  cannot  get  to  him  ,  that  he  cannot  help  him  from  the  battlefield  -  but  at  least  ,  he  is  alive  .  well  ,  at  least  his  body  moves  .  the  dark  circles  under  his  eyes  look  as  if  he  hasnt  slept  in  weeks  ,  and  gwayne  is  almost  sure  that  he  heard  him  mumble  to  himself  .  but  now  ,  now  its  really  time  to  get  to  his  feet  .  ignore  the  slight  sting  of  the  wound  ...  and  approach  the  man  hes  been  looking  for  .

one  step  at  a  time  .  slowly  and  carefully  ,  until  hes  behind  him  .  a  hand  raises  ,  and  his  fingers  tap  against  his  shoulder  gently  .  ❛  vic  ...  i  am  here  .  ❜

[quvir]

its difficult to say how long its been since gwayne hightower died. victor hasn't been keeping track of his days———he lost them long ago , addle-minded and numb with anything he could get his hands on , nursing away his pain as if it were a sported injury , still bloody. coming home hadn't helped him any. the river-air refreshed and the green of the grass beckoned him back , but the riverlands still sit heavy with loss , his mother's ghost dancing in every field of flowers; now joined by gwayne , his only love , two halves of his heart both dead and haunting.

something taps him , and its not the first time he's whirled around at a feeling , a voice , only to find nobody there. nor is it the first time he'd blinked and seen gwayne before him———hovering over the foot of his bed or slouched in a corner , bloody and tear-stained , calling for victor , dying again and again. victor had taken to apologizing , to sobbing it in his sleep. i couldn't save you. i never save anyone. now he looks at gwayne and nearly crumples; eyes dark with defeat , his shoulders sagging.

❛ stop . . . ❜ a pleading groan , equal parts broken by this apparition and wroth with it , ❛ just—just stop , leave me alone , i can't do anything about it. ❜ he sounds all too heavy , hoarse and hiccupped are his words and his head shakes , as trembling hands reach forward to push this ghost at the chest. ❛ i know you're not here ! ❜ but the phantom stays , his hands don't go through———victor blinks and gwayne is still standing there , warm and solid , and his eyes go wide.

[quvir]

all the suffering i endured today was preparing me for the bit of writing im about to post here yeehaw

[quvir]

thinking abt making an entire alt verse of a plot idea i bring up frequently of amos and vic pretending at nobility / making up their own house to climb the ladder like everyone else for means of riches and power... hmm...

[quvir]

↪ @valourr . . . ❛ — you keep questionable company . ❜

lively is the tavern around them , blustering with dance and drink , laughter ringing loud enough to be heard well down the road. victor has kept valarr far enough away from prying eyes , stuffed them into a corner away from the thick of it all———yet still , he laughs along , prods at valarr now and then when joining in with the sung songs. this is his idea of fun. not the stuffy day-to-day of the princeling and his peers.

leaning sideways towards the other , shoulders bump jovially together , more wine poured into his friend's cup. ❛ is that so ? i've got terrible news for you , then. ❜ another cup of his own , drank down in one go———victor's vision is beginning to blur , the room around them spinning. he pushes the cup into valarr's hand , free hand resting on his shoulder. ❛ you're the company i keep. might be the most questionable of 'em all , honestly. ❜

[syndaerys]

Brow arches at the conditional ' yet ', but even before the temptation of work is handed to Victor, Astarion always knows his cooperation can vanish like a whisper. He hopes it doesn't come to that; he needs the sneak-thief, more than he probably knows. It will be a great effort to wrest the secrets of King's Landing from the mouths of those unwilling; it will be much easier if they are simply… volunteered. To get to such a point means trust, something he lacks as person unknown to the streets.

The coin he folds between his fingers is held out between them. An offering, and a promise of more to come. ❝ I hope to keep your allegiance, uncertain as it may be. The difficulty comes from your boss… I'm concerned of the authority he holds over you, and I can see that if he doesn't like something, he'll kill a deal before it gets started. I can't have that. ❞ Gloved hands fold back under the drapery of his cloak, his fingers touching at the pommel of a stowed blade. ❝ I'm hearing talk of a local thug, or several, throwing their weight around an establishment they frequent. This job is… personal for me, you see. Some listeners of mine have conveniently disappeared, and I suspect this person convinced my people to flee, taking my infromation with them. Find out who this thug's handler is, who they talk to and the like, and send for me. I'll be in King's Landing a while yet. ❞

Astarion takes a step past Victor, as if about to leave, but something stops him. The lingering ❝ Are you hungry, Victor? If you've the time, I'd love to talk to some more. ❞

[quvir]

one coin is offered , and victor wants nothing more than to snatch it from the other's hand like a starved child , check its sparkle in the sunlight———but he's been trained better than that. such behavior tells too much , makes one look desperate; that's a weakness. so he looks at it half-bored , taking it only after a moment , tucking it into a pocket without so much as a glance. ❛ i act of my own free will , ❜ response is snide , near to offended , ❛ but amos isn't one to kill a deal if its good. not without good reason. ❜

head tilts , gaze glazing over astarion , curious. an unconventional way of offering a job , worrying after someone's employer in the approach , speaking almost ill of him. most aren't brave enough to so much as speak amos' name. victor squints at the man , folds arms over his chest and offers a curt nod.

❛ it'll get done. i'll find you when i find somethin' out. ❜ its simple enough. and just as astarion seems to be , victor moves to leave , the hood barely tossed back onto his head before his departure is interrupted. still turned away from the other , he turns the question over in his head. what game is he playing at ? victor is a thief , he's smallfolk. of course he's hungry. it may as well be a trick question. but why ? talk about what ? it feels like a trap———but he really is hungry. an easy shrug falls from his shoulders , and he turns to astarion again , puzzled. ❛ right now ? sure , if you like. what's this about , though ? ❜

[quvir]

↪ @rhaeyar . . . " do not fear me… everybody else fears me . "

doe-eyes fix upon rhae's , gentle hands reaching upwards to cup his face , thumbs brushing over cheekbones. ❛ i don't fear you , rhaeyar. why should i ? ❜ further up his hand goes , victor leaning up onto his toes , brushing fingertips through rhae's hair , pushing it behind his ears. there are many things victor fears , many people———rhaeyar has seen it. he's timid as a mistreated dog , walking about his life anxiety-ridden and shy , ever looking over his shoulder for threats , for enemies , for amos. never rhaeyar. if he's looking for rhaeyar over his shoulder , its to keep him close , to show him something.

❛ you've never given me reason to. i think i'm safer than i've been in a long time , with you. ❜ its a tender admission , perhaps more tender than is welcome———but its entirely the truth. there's something lighter about him , now. he still jolts at the movement of shadows , still whimpers when the thunder rolls too loudly , but he's smiling again. its easier to breathe. he wants to hug the other , but hesitates———somehow deciding its less forward to rest his forehead against rhaeyar's chest instead , allowing space for a hug should he wish it. ❛ who fears you ? surely not everyone. your enemies , perhaps , but that's a good thing. ❜

[quvir]

↪ @zaldarias . . . please don't let them know that i'm here .

victor has been staring at rhaenyra , blank-faced and processing exactly what he's looking at , but now———the look he pins her with is exasperated , littered with utter disbelief. ❛ fucking obviously , rhaenyra. why would i tell anyone that ? ❜ he paces away from her , a hand rubbing his forehead , pushing back the hair that falls into his face.

these friends of his will be his demise. rhaenyra has been the main cause of his stress since they met , and that hasn't changed well into their adulthood. head shakes , and he motions to the walls around them. ❛ how the hell did you even get here without me ? there's a reason i take care of your secret meetings , you know. ❜ she's clever , too clever , to take notice of the way he always brings her , to commit it to memory and come herself. especially knowing he's here to cover for her , jump in should anything go awry. gods damn her. he really should have expected this. this is her home , after all , and rhaenyra targaryen has never been a helpless maiden. but she could have asked if she wanted to come here. ❛ you———if i weren't so angry with you right now , i'd be really impressed. alicent is with helaena , just , let me go get her. that is why you're here , right ? you're gonna make me go grey. no wonder you people have silver hair. ❜

[syndaerys]

𝑆𝑌𝑁𝐷𝐴𝐸𝑅𝑌𝑆 — an original valyrian house, featuring an alternate verse for astarion ( from bg3 ), created for the world of a song of ice and fire. sideblog - follows back from alcriti. by killi.

... & WHEN VALCERION MADE LANDFALL ON THE ISLAND, he created a house of his own...