[smaragduseques]

SMARAGDUSEQUES ; private & independent portrayal of gwayne hightower for the house of the dragon verse, with book & show influences. triggering content will be featured so this blog is 18+. rules below cut. temporarily iconless. sideblog to crgnstrk.

CARRD. HEADCANONS. PROMPTS. PROMO.

my portrayal of gwayne hightower is primarily show–based with book influences. i am relatively new to the books so there may be gaps in my knowledge, though i have read through a lot of the content on the wikis. if i get something wrong, please do feel free to let me know so i can correct it!

this blog is mutuals only and low activity – this is a sideblog to @crgnstrk and so all follows will come from there. my discord is available to any and all mutuals.

triggering content is likely to appear on this blog due to the nature of the verse. i will try to tag everything accordingly but let me know if i ever miss something. triggers will be tagged with tw trigger

memes are always there for mutuals to send in, no matter how old they are or how many interactions we do/don't have.

this account is not spoiler free but i will tag any spoilers for up to a week past the episode.

this blog is multiverse & multiship. i am always open to discussing mains/exclusives as well.

[mythshire]

✦ ⋆ 𖤓 ⋆ ✦ 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐕𝐄 ··· a collection of injuries tended in silence, pain worn like armour, the intimacy of being seen at your worst. genre: hurt and comfort, angst, romance, drama.

• You're bleeding through your shirt. Don't tell me you're fine. • How long have you been walking around like this? • I'm not going to hurt you. I just need to see how bad it is. • You should have told me the moment it happened. • Hold still. I mean it. Hold still. • This is going to sting. Bite down on something if you need to. • You've been hiding this for days, haven't you. • Who did this to you? I need you to tell me who did this. • Stop being brave for five minutes and let me help you. • I've seen worse. I've also seen men die from worse, so let me look at it. • I found the bandages in the trash. You want to explain that? • Don't you dare apologize for bleeding on me. • Your hands are cold. That's not a good sign. • I'm not angry. I'm terrified. There's a difference. • Come into the light. Let me see your face. • You should have stitches. I know you won't go. So sit down and let me do what I can. • You're white as a sheet and still trying to stand up straight. • I could hear you in the night. I didn't say anything. I'm saying something now. • Don't look at it if it makes it worse. Just look at me. • It's not weak to let someone see you hurt. • You came to me. Of all the places you could have gone, you came here.  • Lay back. You're not getting up until the color comes back to your face. • I'm not going to ask what happened. Not yet. First let me fix what I can. • You've been holding your left side since you walked in. Think I didn't notice? • This is going to leave a mark. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. • I've patched up a lot of people in my time. None of them scared me like you do right now. • You could have died out there. You could have died and I would have been the last person to know. • Sleep. I'll be right here when you wake up. I'm not going anywhere. • You're allowed to make a sound. Nobody's watching. • I need you to stay awake for me. Just a little longer. Talk to me. • You're lucky the cut wasn't deeper.  • Stop apologizing for needing help. Stop it right now. • I've seen what it looks like when someone's used to this. That's what scares me most about you. • Tell me your name. Tell me what day it is. Stay with me. • You're going to be alright. I promise you.  • You went back out there after this? With this? • Nobody takes care of you, do they? That ends tonight. • I've been gentle with you. I need you to be honest with me in return. • You're safe now. You're here, you're safe, and I've got you. Just breathe.

[mythshire]

°⚔✧*:·゚  𝐎𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐎𝐑 ··· a collection of loyalty, devotion, battlefield bonds & broken vows roleplay sentence starters from knights and their squires. genre: medieval fantasy, hurt and comfort, mentor/protégé, honor and duty.

• A knight who can't control their squire can't control a battlefield. • I taught you better than this. What were you thinking? • That's a noble's crest. Where did you really come from? • I'm supposed to teach you honor, but I have none left. • I heard you defended my name in the barracks. That was foolish. • A squire serves. A knight leads. You're caught between both now. • I release you from your oath. You deserve better than this broken knight. • You're bleeding through your bandages again. Let me see it. • I told you to stay behind the lines. What part of that didn't you understand? • Polish my armor. We ride at dawn. • You swore an oath to serve me. That means listening when I tell you to run. • I can't knight you if you're dead. So stop trying to die for me. • Your form is sloppy. Again. And this time, don't drop your elbow. • You think carrying my sword makes you a warrior? • I'm not your father. I'm your knight.  • Take off your helm. Let me see how bad it is. • You rode into the fray without orders. You could have been killed. • I was your age once. I thought I was invincible too. • You're trembling. It's alright. Everyone's afraid their first time. • You're not ready for your vigil. I don't care what you think. • I watched you fall from your horse. I thought— • Your sword arm is getting stronger. But your footwork is still shit. • I took you on because I saw something in you. Don't make me regret it. • I'm teaching you to fight so you can survive. Not so you can be reckless. • You've earned your spurs. But you'll always be my squire first. • I didn't ask for your opinion. I asked you to sharpen my blade. • Take my cloak. You're shivering. • You can't cry in front of the others. You can cry in front of me. • I released you from your service. Why are you still here? • That armor is too big for you. You look like a child playing dress-up. • I told you never to touch my sword. So why is it covered in blood? • I can't protect you if you won't stay where I put you. • Your hands are blistered. You've been training without me, haven't you? • The king is offering me land and a title. I have to take a wife. You understand what that means. • You broke formation to pull me out. That's either loyalty or stupidity. • I taught you everything I know. Now you're better than me. • Don't look at me like that. Not here. Not now. • You've been knighted by the crown. We're equals now. I don't know how to— • I heard you screaming in your sleep. How long have the nightmares been this bad?• I never wanted a squire. I wanted to fight alone. • I'm dying. Listen to me—there are things I need to tell you before—

[bitterglories]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀FALLING INTO STEP BESIDE gwayne, daeron, despite himself, despite the welcome distraction his uncle's arrival had provided and the tension within him palpably easing with his presence, could not help the look he cast back over his shoulder towards the black space of the shadows into which the knight had disappeared, certain he was still there, lingering, watching him from afar, knowing as well as daeron did that this was not yet the end of their tense conversation, merely a temporary delay in all that had not yet been spoken between them being spoken. for but a second, the scowl was back in place as daeron let his head turn back around to face ahead as they made their way across the courtyard, but, with a clenching of his jaw, he willed it to fade away as he muttered his response, not fully trusting that they could not be heard over this distance.

“ he spoke out of line and i reminded him of his place. ” if only it were that simple, but daeron could not tell gwayne the whole truth — not without revealing parts of himself he'd recently come to know that he was not yet willing to share with anybody, that he was not even fully in the clear about, oft kept awake at night by his own circulating thoughts as of late, caught in the thorny grasp of questions like vines slung around him and the crushing pressure of guilt weighing on his chest, though he was not quite sure what he was even feeling guilty for. he hadn't done anything bad, at least it had not seemed that way. and now, he realised, there was a new guilt in keeping this from his uncle, when he'd never so readily kept secrets from him before, never felt as though there was something that he could not tell gwayne.

“ uncle, don't — ” he began, feet suddenly slowing to a halt on the clean white cobblestone beneath them as he turned to gwayne, fingers curling slightly into his sleeve, lip caught between sharp teeth, tugging on flimsy flesh, a nervous habit from his childhood days that had been impossible to shake, but he caught and stopped himself before he could inflict further damage and draw blood, though he was so close — the skin already visibly frayed and reddened in some spots from doing it one too many times over the recent days, “ don't give him trouble over it. don't bring it up, don't treat him any differently . . . promise me that you won't. ”

[smaragduseques]

as a child, he had wondered at times how his mother could always tell when there was something he was concealing from her, whether it be big or small. his father didn't appear to have the same talent for, but he suspected that was more for a lack of interest in querying him about it, rather than not knowing there was something wrong. it hadn't been until his nephew had fallen under his care that he had come to realise the truth of it, that when you knew someone so well, it was second nature to pick up on the changes in their moods like the changing of the wind, the set of a jaw or something in the tone of voice. so he could tell that there was more to the explanation, and that he had only the briefest glimpse into it, but he refrained from pushing with questions. daeron would tell him, or he wouldn't, and needling him about it wouldn't get them any further. he had enough faith that he would find out in time, if he needed to, for he'd never discouraged him from bringing any problems to him.

even so, it was a test of his restraint to look at daeron and see the echoes of the child he had been upon his arrival, and not insist on being allowed to involve himself with whatever had brought such worry to his nephew. a sigh followed the request, before finally inclining his head. "i promise to give him no trouble. i know you don't need your battles fought for you, as long as you remember you can come to me should you need to."

[bitterglories]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀THIS, PERHAPS, WAS THE ONLY TIME where daeron did not particularly mind the possibility of embarrassment from his uncle's jests and teasing actions: whenever he returned from long journeys, unscathed and well, at once ceasing all the worries that would plague his nephew each day and night whilst he was gone. all too gladly, he would have stayed in the embrace a little longer, let his hair be tousled and quipped about whether his uncle had come back bearing gifts for him or not, feigning offence at the mere idea that he had not, but, perhaps, now was not the time, for he had not forgotten about the young woman he had been conversing with either.

“ this is mila. ” he said with a smile as he drew back, the woman's face adopting an impossibly darker shade of crimson as the prince's gaze met her own once again, clearly not having expected the introduction, before she regarded gwayne with a polite, but nervous, simper, “ ser, i am happy to hear that your travels went well. i will not hold you up any further. my prince. ” another flustered exchange of looks with daeron and she was gone, hurrying off in direction of the gardens to return to her tasks, violet hues trailing her disappearing silhouette for a brief moment, before they settled upon gwayne's features once more.

now was the time. lips stretching further into a grin, he quirked a silver set of eyebrows at his uncle, “ so? ”

[smaragduseques]

he feared the poor girl might have combusted had she be held there a moment longer with how the colour of her cheeks had turned so vibrant, his murmured answer to her words offered more to her retreating form than to her face. she was not the first girl he had seen so flustered by his nephew, and would surely not be the last either. it wasn't much of a surprise, rather he would have been more nonplussed had the young prince not garnered such attentions. as much as she was surely a very pleasant young lady, she was swiftly forgotten once out of sight, saved perhaps to tease the boy about at a later point, a hand cupping his cheek in a fond gesture.

"so?" he queried as his brow raised in a mirror, feigned ignorance of what he was expecting, as if the routine was not the same each time he came home. gifts, and tales, but in that order specifically, and no matter how many times gwayne may pretend to have returned empty handed, there would always be something awaiting his nephew. "i don't know what you could possibly be awaiting."

[doronlaes]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀HE COULD HAVE LEFT IT THERE, kept his uncle in the dark, left him to wonder what he'd meant, or not, and not wasted another breath or thought on it, or on gwayne altogether, but gwayne's continued ignorance, which he was nigh certain was merely pretend and his uncle knew exactly what he was talking about, and denial only further fuelled the rage that had been brewing inside of him, hidden deep beneath the surface, nigh forgotten for a long amount of time, for far longer than it should've. but even amidst that rapidly increasing ire, aemond could not bring himself to say it more plainly, not when the matter was so insignificant and pathetic , when he shouldn't even be concerning himself with something so minuscule, even less now that he was older. he'd never wanted to go to oldtown to begin with — in fact, he had taken offence to it then, to his mother's audacity to even suggest sending him away, getting rid of him as she'd done with the youngest son. his place was in king's landing, he had known that already then, and naught had changed about that. truly, it had all worked out in aemond's favour in the end, and yet . . .

“ playing the fool to avoid matters you are not ready to deal with may have worked to silence my mother seven years ago, but it will not convince me. ” he was not even certain what alicent had made of it — she had never brought it up again, and that had been the end of it. his words should've been enough of a hint, but in the case that they weren't, he continued, “ i suppose it would be a reasonable assumption to make that the raven got lost, but that would not explain why it it still sits cawing its head off in the rookery now. ”

[smaragduseques]

it had been a foolish decision for alicent to allow aemond to know of the request she'd penned to him before knowing its outcome, she should have only mentioned it if it had been accepted to save all the embarrassment. perhaps he should have sent a reply, even if it had been a refusal, but what refusal can anyone make when the request comes from the queen, even if the queen was his sister? he hadn't thought the matter would ever arise once again, but if anyone would defy his expectations, he should have known it might have been aemond, having never much taken a liking to the boy even in his early visits to king's landing, as infrequent as they had been.

"it was not my matter to take responsibility for but your mother's." if aemond insisted upon addressing it, then there was little point in him trying to skirt around the edges, let them speak outright. when he had taken daeron in, he had not made an agreement to house any child of alicent's when she no longer wished to raise them, for even if it had not been her sole influence that had caused his eldest nephews to become the way they had, she had her hand in it. "oldtown was not the place for you."

[bitterglories]

@smaragduseques continued from here.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀A SWIFT ROLL OF VIOLET EYES, not the first in the past half an hour since he had been escorted off the training grounds to the maesters, clutching his bloodied side, was his answer to his uncle's concerns, albeit it came accompanied by a small grin tearing through pained grimaces as the maester's thick needle poked through skin again and again for the last of the stitches as his head lifted from where he'd been observing the maester's skilful fingers at work to face gwayne. “ i told you, it's nothing. when has someone ever died from nothing? your exaggerations would only serve to embarrass you, uncle. ” despite the jests spilling from lips, the mention of his mother caused his grin to falter somewhat, an expression he attempted to conceal by quickly shifting his gaze back to where the maester was handling his wound. though it didn't come without some guilt that promptly followed the notion, he wondered, if for but a brief moment, whether she would even care, or whether it may be more relief than shock to hear of her youngest son's untimely passing on the training grounds of oldtown. he did not want to think of his mother in such a way, did not wish to paint her in his mind as the cruel, uncaring monster he knew she was not, not to him, but he also could not deny the way the lack of recent letters stung. to be fair, he had started it, writing less to king's landing in recent years, oft too occupied with training and lessons and other endeavours, even more now that he was older, had grown into a man and no longer was the boy that once had arrived here, holding onto his uncle and equal parts thrilled and nervous about this new life in a place so far from the home he had known beforehand, now that interests had shifted and the young ladies and men of oldtown caught his eye more frequently, and now that tessarion had grown large enough to be ridden and being on dragonback had quickly become one of daeron's favourite pastimes, though they would not yet cross large distances, would not ride to king's landing to pay a visit to a family who not once in all the years he had been in oldtown had come to see him, not one of them. but, perhaps, a small part of him had wanted to see whether his silence would prompt her to pen more often, to ask what he was doing, how he was faring.

he shoved the thoughts away with a small wince when the maester applied a clear, burning liquid to the fresh stitches and prepared the bandages, sucking a sharp breath into his lungs, before lilac eyes found his uncle again with the next quip on his tongue, sadness returned to the darkest depths of his mind, where it oft lay, not forgotten, but crammed somewhere it could not reach him so easily, “ am i allowed back on the training grounds or am i on bedrest for the weeks to come because my uncle still believes i'm at risk of dying? ”

[smaragduseques]

he would pretend that he hadn't noticed the roll of his eyes, just as he had already ignored the gesture repeatedly, perhaps the same way he had ignored it since the boy had first arrived in oldtown for he never cared to spend his time scolding him. "i have never known nothing to require stitches." a shake of his head with the words, and perhaps daeron was right that his fuss was unwarranted, with any of the other boys who's training he oversaw, he would not have worried so greatly, not for lack of caring for them but only because his care for his nephew exceeded any other. despite his words, it was not for any thought towards what his sister might think, he was not unaware of the shortage of letters that came from her, and gwayne had long since stopped voluntarily sending updates unless requested. the time spent penning letters could better be spent on daeron himself.

had he not been injured, he might have earned himself a gentle swat up the back of his head for his witticism, despite the knowledge that gwayne had done little in his years in oldtown to curb his sharp and clever tongue, seldom having found anything other than amusement in it. "you need to learn when to take rest lest you injure yourself further. you'll break the stitches if you return to the training grounds too quickly."

[waveswallowed]

༄࿔*·⋅ starter for @smaragduseques.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀IN ALL ITS GLORY, whispering sound stretched before them, usually a lake of glittering turquoise sprinkled with the shapes of boats and ships of all sizes, their sails and banners a sea of colour, in the warmer seasons, now a muted greyish-blue in the rain that, once again, had started to fall from heavy, grey clouds after they'd made their way up here from the warmth of their quarters, thick fog spreading across the bay and the town attached to it, seeming to swallow everything in vicinity whole, palpable in a damp chill grazing skin from the nigh topmost part of the hightower, only the flame stretching higher still, emitting a warm glow somewhere above their heads that tore through the hazy veil. he'd been here a handful of times before, when he'd been younger, and nigh too long ago did it seem now with the last visit laying years in the past. it had felt different then, a new appreciation for what he stood to inherit having come with age, with leaving youth behind and entering adulthood, something deeper, a wonder linked with pride and readiness now opposed to the curiosity and astonishment at its vastness, which, at times, had felt a little intimidating, it had been then, but one thing had remained the same: the hightower had always been his favourite part of oldtown, only the unrivalled sensation of being on dragonback surpassing the thrill that came with being so high up, so close to the sky that, at times, the clouds floated close enough to the tall stone structure that they could be touched.

it was then that an approaching figure nearing the walls of oldtown caught his attention. a vagabond, surely, perhaps a hedge knight without horse or a beggar seeking shelter in oldtown, though there was a strange sense of familiarity to the shape of a man that only became recognisable upon second glance, dark eyes squinting somewhat against the thin spray of rain dampening his face and the distance separating them, palms bracing against the stone railing as he leaned forward. it was something about his attire, the way he moved . . . no, it couldn't possibly be . . .

“ is that . . . grandsire? ” indeed, it was otto hightower making his way through the gates and towards the courtyard, a slight stagger to his step, clothes sticking to him with damp and what, even from here, was discernible as a large amount of mud. he supposed that explained why he had not been in oldtown as they had assumed he would be after he had so brashly left dragonstone following a short, unwelcome visit nigh two moons prior after deciding, at once, that they all were ignorant and useless and he would no longer concern himself with any of them. “ fucking hells, it is. and i had hoped we had seen the last of him. ” was muttered as hands pushed away from the thick stone and he followed his father through a narrow arch back into the building, finding their way through luminous corridors and down steep, spiralling stairs, until they emerged into the courtyard just as otto set foot into it from the other side.

there was something undeniably humorous to the way he looked, once fine clothing clinging to his body like a drenched linen sack, fabric torn in some spots and smeared by soggy heaps of dirt and other unrecognisable substances, leaves and twigs sticking to his sleeves and his soaked hair, the pull threatening to tug luke's lips upwards just barely suppressed. “ he looks like he was carried here by the honeywine. ” he whispered to his father beside him, watching as his grandsire crossed the distance towards the hightower, at last taking notice of them, previously blank features quickly contorting into discontent as he lifted his arms, something slimy dripping off one drenched sleeve of a cloak that had certainly seen better days then and pooling on the wet cobblestone beneath him, gesturing their way. “ now look who we have here . . . my son and my grandson, waiting for me after leaving me to navigate the wilderness! ”

[smaragduseques]

he had not once begrudged the infrequent visits to oldtown, having known that with enough time he would be able to take more time within the familiar streets of his own childhood to show lucerys his inheritance. there was a distinct pleasure, a newfound form of pride, in being witness to the change that years had brought about in the boy. he had little doubt that he would, when the time came, cope well with the responsibility that would fall upon his shoulders. he drew closer upon noting the change in his stance, coming to lean his hands upon the wall beside him, attention similarly snagged by the figure that passed through the gates of oldtown. it seemed the peace of their visit might not be as long-lived as he might have hoped, for luke was right, despite appearances that suggested the man entering the courtyard below should be anyone but otto hightower, who would surely never appear so bedraggled and filth ridden.

"if only it was so easy to be rid of him." yet, despite all of otto's gripes and apparent distaste for them, gwayne had not yet found a way to be freed entirely from the presence of his father. though, if they were to suffer his existence once more, it brought some satisfaction that the man had to be in such a state for it, all brought upon him through his own actions he might add. the expression worn upon the knight's face was a near mirror of his son's, amusement threatening to break through, and his attempts to keep a smile off his lips near failed upon hearing luke's murmured words. "i think a dip in the honeywine might have improved his appearances."

his gaze dropped to follow the trail of muck that his father left, it was for the best they had stopped him before he'd made it inside or else whatever was dropping off him would surely ruin a carpet or two. "you wandered into the wilderness of your own volition, father. i didn't think you'd want us involved, after all you said."

[waveswallowed]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ SOMEHOW, NOW THAT THE silence between them, one which had been lingering for nigh a decade now, since both parties had left king's landing behind, was broken, the approach felt a lot easier, with the brief moment of uncertainty towards his reaction, the possibility of facing rejection and a clear disinterest in seeing him, fading away with the recognition, giving way again to confidence — the very same stubborn kind that had prompted him to mount his dragon and embark on a flight of this length in the midst of night without telling anyone of his intentions, knowing already now that there was no way he would make it back to dragonstone in time before anybody woke up and he might avoid being questioned. he found he did not care — he would think of something to tell them, mainly his mother. even so, gwayne was, despite the rather fond memories they'd shared, if only for a limited time, and of which luke likely only could remember a portion of, having been so young at the time, for the most part a stranger, one he knew little to nothing of, a fact that only further encouraged his curiosity.

the slip up did not go unnoticed by attentive ears and he wanted to tell him that he need not correct himself on that, that the name friends and family referred to him as was just fine, especially since the memories he had of gwayne from all those years prior made him out to have been a friend most of all, one of the first knights he remembered ever training with, and, whilst those at dragonstone were all capable and honourable men that had taught him and his brothers much by now, and most of whom were easy to be around, he, on occasion, had found himself missing the company of, but he also knew that, perhaps, it would be for the best to keep that distance, even more so since those very titles had, in some cases, helped in keeping the cruel tongues spitting accusations and rumours contained, and maintained a certain, if possibly feigned, sense of respect towards mother and sons. however, no one was here aside from them, and no one would ever know of luke's visit if he could prevent it, therefore his head shook slightly, a small grin twisting up lips, “ 'tis alright, ser. i do not mind. ” with that, he moved closer, finally emerging from the shadowy alleyway completely and crossing the vast, empty expanse of the courtyard to where the knight was standing, gaze lowering to the equipment he had just lowered onto the ground as he reached him, all familiar items, even if some looked a little different than on dragonstone, something equal parts sheepish and mischievous creeping into his expression then, though the grin remained intact as eyes sought the knight's, “ you wouldn't have. i did not pen a letter. ” nor told anybody who might have done so in his stead.

[smaragduseques]

he did not believe, even for a moment, that lucerys was supposed to be stood before him, not without prior communication and not at such a time that he must have left his own home in darkness, yet neither was he too surprised by that fact. he was intimately aware of rhaenyra's own mischief in her younger years, for without it, in part, he would never have come to her bed, and it only made sense that her sons might follow in those footsteps even if she had discouraged it. some traits seemed to run through a family line, no matter the outside influences, the same way he could pick out the hightower blood in daeron when he'd first come to oldtown. that knowledge should have been enough to tell him to encourage the boy to turn around and go home, yet his better judgement goes ignored this time. he will send him away again soon, not without regret for the inevitably short time for conversation, but not just yet. he was not that strong willed to deny himself the chance to know just a small portion of all that he'd missed in the ten years he'd been apart from them.

once he had crossed the remaining distance between them, looking at him with that grin that was as unfortunately infectious as it had been when he was a young child, gwayne's own expression softened around the edges, a smile forming upon lips. "then i hope you have at least conjured up a good excuse for your disappearance before you left your bed." the boys had never been stupid though, and that was half of the difficulty with them, they had the wits to get away with things for the most part. "i assume you have not come all this way to join in with the squires in their training."

[waveswallowed]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ LUCERYS WAS NOT SURE what exactly he had expected of gwayne's reaction to seeing him, yet what he saw in the moment he acknowledged him with words brought forth a surge of surprise, but perhaps that had less to do with gwayne and his attitude, the lack of surprise or the immediate recognition, and more so with the mood that seemed to hang across all of oldtown, palpable in the air in every corner of the town, something so easy, peaceful even, so different and far from the war and despair he had come to know so well, that he had left behind when he had set off south from duskendale. whatever warmth and sense of belonging he remembered feeling the last time he had been here, was absent now — he was every bit an outsider in this quiet, unmarred place, scarred in so many ways by something that seemed to not even have reached them yet.

the hood fell away from his features with a brief movement of his hand as feet carried him across cobblestone and closer to the knight, “ i believe your nephews are otherwise occupied. one dwells in the gods eye now from what i hear. ” that, in a way, aemond's life should have been his to take, he tried not to think about. if there was a part of him that had longed for revenge, then it had been able to recognise that there was a time and place for it, and that hadn't been it, not when he had been needed at his mother's side in king's landing, and, perhaps, considering his stepfather and his dragon, too, lay dead at the bottom of the gods eye now, it was for the best that lucerys hadn't been involved in the fight, or else there was a possibility that he would not be standing here right now, that he would not be speaking to who very well may be their last hope in securing a victory, in putting this needless bloodshed and loss to an end, at last, even if he was the only one who dared to recognise that, to even think of the rumoured father to bastards as an option. but even so, having defied death once before, he, at times, could not help his mind from drifting to the what ifs? as for aegon — nobody knew where he was. for all they knew, he long had succumbed to his injuries amidst his flight from the capital and no longer posed an issue, aside from those still loyal to him, but if someone could believe in the unlikely survival of somebody doomed for death, it was lucerys, living proof of fate working in odd ways.

“ had fate had its way, you would not have. ” there always was a bitter tang to it, speaking of what had happened, even if the words were subtle, speaking of how closely he had come to dying, and hadn't, despite all odds, but at least gwayne had not reacted as others had when he first had seen them again since the journey that should have meant his death — perhaps news of it had not travelled this far. perhaps it hadn't affected him as it had others in his family. either way, it did not matter.

“ and perhaps it is also the reason i thought to come here. i should have been travelling north. ” he followed gwayne towards the stables, stopping just short of the threshold to cast a glance up at the sky across his shoulder — bleak and grey and cloudy, no dragon visible, still waiting in his hiding place beyond the city walls, as he had been told to, but it wasn't there that his gaze dwelled, falling instead upon the banners adorning the top of the stony walls of the city. no sign of the usurper's green and gold among the sea of colours drifting in the cool wind. head lowering, he continued, entering the stables, quickly catching up with gwayne again. unlike at four and ten, when he last had been here, there was no gleam of wonder and curiosity in his gaze now as it set upon the equipment they passed; he was no longer a young prince carrying blades he knew how to wield, but had not yet had to use against another, eager to show off what he knew, what he had spent the better part of his life learning, either through words or friendly sparring. he was as much survivor as he was death now, a killer, a symbol of fear to those who knew what he had done, thousands dead to dragonflame he had willed forth from the gullet of the beast he rode, another couple dozen dead to his blade. whilst there was little of his own time as a squire, and his childhood altogether, he could remember, struggling with that still, seeing those young, zealous boys training with gwayne before had sparked something inside of him, a subconscious wish to go back to a simpler time, perhaps, a simpler life, something they still seemed have here, and that some of them may continue to have when they grew older and chose tourneys and jousts over battlefields. but none of them would be so fortunate if they did not put an end to this war.

halting when gwayne did, he watched him from a small distance, trying to gauge him, make sense of him and how he felt about him being here through his body language, before asking the question that had been lingering on his mind since he had reached the city, one he felt he needed an answer to before he could attempt to get his help, “ why has oldtown not declared for aegon? ”

[smaragduseques]

news came in pieces when it did arrive, much of it through rumour and gossip as opposed to any official sources, the letters from his kin having long since been abandoned when a number of them had already gone unanswered. he had heard of luke's supposed death, and if he was asked by lucerys, he would not lie and say he had not had cause to grieve, even if it could not be done publicly. in the same way, he had heard rumours since of the young prince's miraculous survival, and he had dismissed them initially as an impossibility, a rumour that had sprung forth from misunderstanding, until there were too many different tales that featured the second son of rhaenyra for it to be nothing more than idle gossip. he had heard equally conflicting stories as to aemond's fate, some saying he was alive and well, some saying the same as luke. he did not find himself feeling much remorse for the confirmation that the former was the more likely fate of aemond, never having taken to the elder of his nephews as he had with daeron. his sympathy for the both of them was lacking, and he did not think they would have lingered long upon the memory of him if positions had been reversed.

"then i am glad fate did not have its way this time." he answered, simple yet truthful. they could all have been gone within the blink of an eye, and that still may yet happen with both jacaerys and joffrey gone, but not all was lost beyond the walls that contained the peace of oldtown. the question was inevitable, and one that had already been asked by numerous people, numerous times, though often not as direct. he preferred the straightforwardness of it, for they both knew that this visit was not out of some curiosity to discover some truth or gain an understanding, but a necessity.

"many reasons." he had daeron to think of, for one. had his nephew vocalised a strong desire to give his support to his brothers, then there would be little gwayne could do to refuse him, yet he would not invite the war to them, he would not push him into it, and risk suffering that loss. aegon did not deserve the loyalty of alicent's youngest, had done too little to earn it. "i disagree with what they did to your mother. there was no honour in it."

[threesonsofyorks]

JACOB COLLINS-LEVY and JODIE COMER as King Henry VII and Queen Elizabeth of York The White Princess (2017) — Episode six

[waveswallowed]

starter for @smaragduseques.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ EACH TIME ANEW, it was strange how familiar a place could feel, even if the memory attached to it was feeble, felt so distant it may as well not be true and merely a figment of his mind created in a hopeless search for answers to a past nigh forgotten entirely, a difference lucerys, for a long time, had struggled to be able to tell, and even stranger was it with oldtown, a place he could hardly remember ever visiting in the past, apart from the one, faraway memory that had brought him here, one that, whenever he thought of it, came with a feeling of warmth, of something good, a sensation so inexplicably prominent, so real, it had brought forth the decision to come here and seek out a person he knew just as little of other than his name and the face the memory presented to him, only knew that, he once upon a time, must have felt a connection to that had been of a palpably positive nature, rather than join with the host of the north that had set off south by now, or find shelter with the allies who had promised fealty to the overthrown queen in the vale, as he had promised his mother he would when they had hesitantly parted ways at the harbour of duskendale, knowing already then that he would travel to oldtown and meet with the man who was rumoured to have fathered him instead, attempt to bring oldtown to their side. there was a bitter tang to it, a certain weight, to having lied to her, especially when she had been so miserable ever since they had been forced to leave king's landing, ever since the night her throne and realm, once again, had slipped from her fingertips, another of his brothers had fallen before his own eyes and those of his mother and the dragons in the pit had met cruel ends, and when she had been so against letting him part from her in the first place, fearing for the remaining two of her children, one of which she nigh had lost once before, until he, with some help from the allies who had housed them, had finally managed to reassure and persuade her to let him go. he only could hope now that they had made it safely back to dragonstone, and that aegon's presence would provide her some comfort whilst he couldn't, as he made his way through cleanly, cobbled streets he knew only from a memory, hood drawn over his face, hand, beneath the cloak, resting upon the hilt of his sword, something disturbingly peaceful to his surroundings here, especially opposed to the capital, as though the war had not yet arrived here.

it was a great risk, coming here, he knew that, for the man who may be his father equally was the brother of the dowager queen who had aided the usurper in stealing rhaenyra's throne — whilst oldtown not having declared for any side thus far, at least as far as he was aware, without doubt posed an opportunity, one he was willing to try to seize, he also knew that he could not possibly expect any sense of loyalty towards a possible bastard son he hardly knew. he would simply have to trust that this would work out or that gwayne, at the very least, would listen. and if not, then he would have to trust that they would not be so foolish as to seize a dragonrider, for, this time, his dragon would not remain hidden, never to be seen by the people of oldtown — he would wait, as he had been told to, but only for a time, then he would take to the skies, and he would not be leaving without lucerys. and, wilful as their nature was, a dragon needed no commands to set alight a town if it felt like it. but, despite the risks, despite how foolish it may be to even attempt it, he couldn't not try, not when this might be the very last of the options they had of securing help and a powerful alliance.

he found him ( again ) near the training grounds, surrounded by squires — only when the crowd dispersed and only gwayne remained, he moved closer, waiting until he truly would get him alone, before drawing his attention, “ gwayne hightower. ”

[smaragduseques]

alicent and otto both had appealed to him upon numerous occasions, impressing upon him the need for oldtown to offer support to them in the war in order to restore the peace the realm had known before viserys' death, letters and letters that he had been unable to answer with what they had hoped to hear. he had never been foolish enough to state outright what it was that kept him from offering support to his nephew, too aware that any acknowledgment of the cause of his lingering loyalties towards rhaenyra could still be used against her and her surviving sons. the longer that oldtown held out from declaring for one side or another, the darker the storm clouds he could feel lingering just beyond the city's walls, the threat of being forced into the middle of the fight no matter their refusal. the peace remained, however, no dragonfire coming down upon them to force their hand, no attacks or sieges. life as normal.

it had to break eventually, and perhaps a part of him was relieved that the anticipation of it would finally be relieved. this time, his expression did not falter when his attention was drawn to cloaked figure, only shifting into a wry smile. "i wondered who would be the first to come in person. i think i knew it wouldn't be my nephew." he bent down to collect a stray training weapon left behind by one of the squires, gesturing for lucerys to follow him as he walked towards the stables to return it. "i had thought i might not see you again." feared it, if he were to be honest. he had not seen either of the other two since he had left them, and now never would.

[waveswallowed]

starter for @smaragduseques.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ FOR LONG WEEKS, the thought had been lingering on his mind, unspoken, ignored at first, until it had grown so prominent it no longer could be shoved away as but mindless notions, some ridiculous wish that may have originated long ago, sometime in his childhood and followed him into adolescence, resurfacing as though it never had left, as though it always had been there, lingering at the back of his mind, biding its time. it was silly to even think it, that much lucerys knew — laenor velaryon was his father, always had been, always would be, even if he had quite suddenly passed when lucerys had been but five years old and no longer been a part of his life since. gwayne hightower, on the other hand, was naught but a rumour, a cruel rumour, for which tongues had been pulled out and heads taken in the past, one which never was addressed, nor should be spoken of, for it was easier that way, for all of them, from the woman who may have borne his children, to the sons he may have fathered and left behind.

the castle was quiet that night, too quiet, as it always tended to feel before something happened — it was in that lingering quiet that had fallen soon after supper and lucerys' retreat to his chambers, soon followed by other residents of the ancient fortress in the hours that had come after, that the decision, at last, came, and it, despite its nature, despite the risks it bore, came easy. the hour of ghosts had just begun approaching as the prince made his way from his chambers through tangled, dark corridors and onto the grounds of dragonstone, the air chilly and curtained by thick, grey tendrils of seasmoke rising up the cliffs, arrax not yet asleep where he found him in his usual spot within the pit, as though he could sense his bonded rider's intentions that night ( which he more likely than not could ). quietly, thick chains were loosened, and rider and dragon slipped away, at least as quietly as a dragon that size could move, taking to the sky once stony, warm walls no longer confined them, higher and higher, concealed by the clouds and scant light of a new moon against an otherwise black sky. for hours, they flew, across the country, west and then south, coming to a landing just past the hour of the nightingale, morrow and, with it, sunrise, still some time away at this time of the year. woodland concealed their descend, and within it, upon a clearing wide enough to fit a dragon, but buried enough between tall evergreens and foliage that he should not be so easily spotted, arrax remained, hidden betwixt trees and far enough away from where anyone may wander, whilst lucerys found his way through dense forest to the river's edge, and soon enough, the city he was searching, passing tall stony walls and walking slippery cobbled streets, where the cool breezes sweeping past him carried a pleasant scent of something sweet and flowery.

perhaps, it had been foolish to come here, to oldtown — he hardly knew if the man he was searching still looked the same as he remembered him from his childhood, nor if he even was present, and even less did he know how he would take to seeing him, or even if he would recognise him, having long grown from the five year old boy he had been when they last had seen one another in king's landing, shortly prior to their relocation to dragonstone and gwayne's, as far as he was aware, return to oldtown, but having come so far now, turning back seemed like no option, at least not until he could be certain gwayne was not here. it was then, as luke rounded yet another corner connecting one tidy, small alley to another, that he saw him, or rather, saw someone, near what seemed like vast stables, inside which horses were waking and whinnying, carrying something from an open door within the stone wall onto the square before the stables. training equipment. staying back long enough until the figure turned just far enough for him to catch a glimpse of his features, the very same features he remembered dimly of the knight he had known in king's landing, he then stepped forward, leaving the shadows of the alley behind, “ gwayne hightower. ”

[smaragduseques]

it had been for the benefit of all of them to place such a distance between himself and rhaenyra's family, for there could be no place for him alongside them, not without bringing further harm than had already been delivered through rumour alone. it did not sit easy, especially in the earliest days of his departure back to oldtown, knowing that word of the three young princes would be unlikely to reach him there, until the day something that was of importance to the realm arrived. he could not ask after their training, or their lessons. he knew nothing of how they had changed as they had grown, only the images of them in their earliest years remaining burned within his memory. he had learned once before, in his own childhood, how to move forward when a loss seemed to change the entire world around him, and even if they were still living and breathing, the grief of their absence was felt no less strongly.

oldtown's streets were quiet at such an hour in the morning, but it wouldn't be long before the city began to wake and he would have young squires descending upon the courtyard, with all their eagerness and enthusiasm. the training weapons held within arms were lowered to the floor as a voice spoke from behind, the polite smile intended to greet the boy faltering a fraction. it did not matter that he'd only been five years old the last time gwayne had seen him in the end, he could place those same features into this older version with ease, only grown into himself.

"luke." his name slipped free without thought, a hastily added correction to my prince followed, the honorific almost stumbled over when his speech was smooth on any other occasion. "i hope i haven't missed any ravens telling me you were visiting." why are you here?

[smaragduseques]

it's the way my gwayne muse is about to burst out of me after one singular leak about him

[ohisms]

✱˚｡⋆ ↪ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐅𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐂𝐋𝐔𝐁.   (   a collection of violence & injury - based action prompts. adjust phrasing / reverse roles as desired. mature themes ahead. absolutely do not use these for non-con.   )

[ 01. ] sender takes receiver down to the ground during a fight. [ 02. ] sender leaves scratches / bruises on receiver's body. [ 03. ] sender cruelly applies pressure to receiver's [ wound / bruise ]. [ 04. ] sender lightly trails a sharp knife across receiver's cheek. [ 05. ] sender wraps a hand around receiver's neck & cuts off their oxygen. [ 06. ] after a long - winded chase, sender finally corners receiver. [ 07. ] sender holds a knife to receiver's throat, blade nicking their skin. [ 08. ] sender pushes receiver into a wall & pins them there. [ 09. ] sender has poisoned receiver's [ drink / food ]. [ 10. ] sender aims a loaded gun at receiver, cocking the hammer. [ 11. ] sender suddenly throws a punch at receiver during a confrontation. [ 12. ] sender hurls an item across the room at receiver's head. [ 13. ] sender forcefully pushes receiver's head underwater. [ 14. ] sender unexpectedly arrives at receiver's home covered in blood & bruises. [ 15. ] sender pleads for receiver to help them with hiding a body. [ 16. ] sender is knocked out during a fight, & wakes up in receiver's home. [ 17. ] sender gently dabs the blood from receiver's face with a wet cloth. [ 18. ] sender crafts a tourniquet from their own clothes to stop receiver's bleeding. [ 19. ] after severely wounding receiver, sender approaches them menacingly. [ 20. ] sender takes receiver by the throat & lifts them off the floor. [ 21. ] sender licks receiver's blood from their fingers. [ 22. ] sender viciously bites receiver during a struggle. [ 23. ] sender draws receiver's blood for the first time. [ 24 ] sender grabs receiver's hair, forcing their bloodied face up to look at them. [ 25. ] sender straddles receiver to pin them to the floor.

[ 26. ] receiver wakes up tied to a chair, sender standing before them. [ 27. ] sender threatens receiver with torture in order to extract information. [ 28. ] sender is severely injured & receiver must dial an emergency number. [ 29. ] sender, bleeding through their bandages, faints in front of receiver. [ 30. ] sender goes to strike receiver with a [ blunt object ]. [ 31. ] finally in position, sender can't make themself kill receiver. [ 32. ] sender intentionally breaks one of receiver's bones to demobilize them. [ 33. ] sender deprives receiver of sustenance for an extended period of time. [ 34. ] sender slaps receiver across the face in a moment of anger. [ 35. ] through [ coercion / force ] sender makes receiver kneel before them. [ 36. ] sender prepares to make the killing blow upon receiver. [ 37. ] sender jumps in front of a strike meant for receiver. [ 37. ] after a third party threatens receiver, sender takes revenge & attacks them. [ 38. ] sender has taken a third party prisoner as an offering to receiver. [ 39. ] sender, in a frenzy, hunts receiver through the vast dark wilderness. [ 40. ] receiver is trapped in a maze-like structure with sender hunting them down. [ 41. ] sender draws receiver a hot bath to soothe their wounds. [ 42. ] sender begs receiver not to succumb to their injuries. [ 43. ] sender harshly takes receiver by the chin, forcing eye contact. [ 44. ] sender is in the hospital, severely injured, & receiver just got the news. [ 45. ] sender is the first person receiver sees after returning to consciousness.

[faegfx]

𝐬𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝  ,  𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡  𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞  .     ݁˖ ❀ ⋆｡˚        a  series  of  romantic  gesture  prompts  inspired  by  historical  fiction,  period  dramas,  classic  fairytales,  poetry,  and  more.  will  likely  be  updated  in  the  future,  so  please  do  not  add  onto  this.

[   HAND   ]     ,     sender  kisses  receiver's  hand.

[   COURTESY   ]     ,     receiver  kisses  sender's  hand.

[   KNUCKLES   ]     ,     sender  kisses  receiver's  knuckles.

[   AFFECTION   ]     ,     receiver  kisses  sender's  knuckles.

[   TENDER   ]     ,     sender  kisses  receiver's  forehead/temple.

[   CARE   ]     ,     receiver  kisses  sender's  forehead/temple.

[   LIPS   ]     ,     sender  kisses  receiver  on  the  mouth.

[   SEALED   ]     ,     receiver  kisses  sender  on  the  mouth.

[   HUG   ]     ,     sender  hugs  receiver  close.

[   EMBRACE   ]     ,     receiver  hugs  sender  close.

[   KNEEL   ]     ,     sender  gets  down  on  one  knee.

[   REVERENCE   ]     ,     receiver  gets  down  on  one  knee.

[   OFFER   ]     ,     sender  offers  their  arm  for  receiver  to  join  them  somewhere.

[   JOIN   ]     ,     receiver  offers  their  arm  for  sender  to  join  them  somewhere.

[   ENVELOPE   ]     ,     sender  writes  receiver  a  love  letter.

[   LETTER   ]     ,     receiver  writes  sender  a  love  letter.

[   FLOWERS   ]     ,     sender  gifts  receiver  flowers.

[   BOUQUET   ]     ,     receiver  gifts  sender  flowers.

[   DANCE   ]     ,     sender  asks  receiver  to  dance.

[   WALTZ   ]     ,     receiver  asks  sender  to  dance

[   SILENCE   ]     ,     sender  and  receiver  enjoy  a  quiet  moment  together  without  conversation.

[   READ   ]     ,     sender  reads  to  receiver.

[   STORY   ]     ,     receiver  reads  to  sender.

[   CARRY   ]     ,     sender  carries  receiver  in  their  arms.

[   LIFT   ]     ,   receiver  carries  sender  in  their  arms.

[   HUG   ]     ,     sender  hugs  receiver  close. 

[   INTERLOCKED   ]     ,     sender  holds  receiver's  hand.

[   INTERWOVEN   ]     ,     receiver  holds  sender's  hand.

[   GENTLE   ]     ,     sender  holds  receiver's  face  in  their  hands.

[   CRADLE   ]     ,     receiver  holds  sender's  face  in  their  hands.

[   CONVERSE   ]     ,     sender  has  an  intimate  conversation  with  receiver.

[   SHARE   ]     ,     receiver  has  an  intimate  conversation  with  sender.

[   COOK   ]     ,     sender  cooks  a  meal  for  receiver.

[   CHEF   ]     ,     receiver  cooks  a  meal  for  sender.

[   POEM   ]     ,     sender  writes  a  poem  for  receiver.

[   ODE   ]     ,     receiver  writes  a  poem  for  sender.

[   GIFT   ]     ,     sender  gives  receiver  a  gift  (  specify  ).

[   PRESENT   ]     ,     receiver  gives  receiver  a  gift  (  specify  ).

[   HOLD   ]     ,     sender  and  receiver  cuddle  together.

[   BACK   ]     ,     sender  gives  receiver  a  back  rub.

[   MASSAGE   ]     ,   receiver  gives  sender  a  back  rub.

[   ASSIST   ]     ,     sender  helps  receiver  put  on  a  piece  of  clothing  or  jewellery. 

[   HELP   ]     ,     receiver  helps  sender  put  on  a  piece  of  clothing  or  jewellery. 

[   RAINFALL   ]     ,     sender  kisses  and/or  dances  with  receiver  in  the  rain.

[   DOWNPOUR   ]     ,     receiver  kisses  and/or  dances  with  sender  in  the  rain.

[   BASKET   ]     ,     sender  and  receiver  share  a  private  picnic.

[   WORSHIP   ]     ,     sender  kisses  and/or  touches  receiver's  body  with  reverence.

[   DEVOTION   ]     ,     receiver  kisses  and/or  touches  sender's  body  with  reverence.

[   ALTAR   ]     ,     sender  watches  receiver  walk  down  the  aisle  towards  them.

[   AISLE   ]     ,     receiver  watches  sender  as  they  walk  down  the  aisle  towards  them.

[crownmemes]

Domestic Bickering Sentences, Vol. 6

(Sentences for problems - big, small, serious, and light - between muses in a relationship. Adjust phrasing where needed)

"Remind me to never take your advice again!"

"Oh, you really love yourself, don't you?"

"There is something going on with you!"

"Don't raise your voice at me!"

"That's rather a low blow, isn't it?"

"So, do you wait until I'm asleep until you come to bed?"

"Once again, you've deliberately held me at arm's length. I really think you might treat me with a little more frankness!"

"Are we going to argue?"

"Get out of my bedroom!"

"Can we have a conversation, or do you want to pretend that everything's alright?"

"You just don't know when to stop, do you?"

"You're wearing my shirt again."

"If you didn't come here to apologise, why are you here?"

"I don't know if you've noticed, but there's a lot of stuff going on in my life right now!"

"You're one of those, huh? The kind of man who uses flowers to say he's sorry because he doesn't have the balls to say it himself?"

"Why do you assume that when I'm upset, I'm upset with you?"

"I think it's pretty clear you're mad at more than just me."

"If you're going to be a pest, I'm just going to ignore you!"

"Are you going to make this a habit?"

"You don't even know why I'm mad at you, do you?"

"Do you think you can behave yourself this time?"

"Darling... Stop talking."

"Why can't you just ever be happy?"

"Don't play games with me. If there's something on your mind, just tell me."

"I don't know if I can be in a relationship with someone who shows such poor judgement!"

"Don't shush me!"

"I'm not even going to dignify that with a response!"