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"If I shield you, I betray everything I stand for."

a collection of morally complex prompts.

the expression on aerion's face is a vicious thing, lips curled up into a toothy smile that was anything but humourous. eyes wide in that way so often attributed to targaryen madness, he laughs. slow, acidic.

“ and what is it you stand for, hm ? if not me, not our name. ” he presses closer, fingers tapping an agitated rhythm against the sword sheathed at his hip. he won't admit it, but something like betrayal itches under his skin, the indignation of it. his family. his family. and they wouldn't choose him ?

( once upon a time he'd cling to the hem of daeron's clothes, eager for his time, his attention. they were brothers, once )

all he can do with the pressure in his chest is lash out.

“ no. it is rare you can ever stand at all, isn't it, lēkia ? ”

@dreamplagued

#🗡 come out come out little knight [ asks ]#⚔️ the dragon ought never lose [ answered memes ]#dreamplagued #HIII CHRISTA I mightve gotten possessed writing this #im unwell over the akotsk targaryen family

@dreamplagued asked : ✿ dunk and / or haru

por qué no los dos !!

#dreamplagued #┆ ⌦ .｡.:* send the ravens — answered !#⋆𓆩🗡𓆪⋆ a knight of the seven kingdoms — ser duncan the tall !#❀•*₊° a dream of spring — haru of w’nzai !#totally down to plot either or both of these btw!!#thank you for sending <3 #┆ ⌦ .｡.:* a falling star brings luck to him who sees it — queue!

THE MAN TAKETH A DRINK , THEN THE DRINK TAKETH THE MAN ⊹⋆ pallid features sour , lips 𝚙𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎 - a 𝒈𝒓𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒄𝒆 down-pressed upon flesh , a fractured fault line in a 𝑚𝛼𝑟𝑏𝑙𝜀𝜄𝑠𝜀 . to be found , as he was always found . soaked in a 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 sanguine - letched over a finery . a warriors 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 , bled out in 𝖗𝖊𝖉-𝖈𝖚𝖗𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖙 . a doublet scorned . eyes of mismatched sapphire and emerald bare down upon the 𝑠𝜄𝑔𝘩𝜏 . pale sanded tresses , rendered little more than a 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚠 nest atop a 𝑓𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒𝑠 . it is a slighted sight ; a 𝖉𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖔𝖓 fallen , to the depths of a 𝒅𝒓𝒖𝒏𝒌𝒂𝒓𝒅 .

❝ what ever it is you 𝑠𝑒𝑒𝑘 - it will not be spied at the 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚘𝚖 of your 𝒄𝒖𝒑𝒔 . . ❞

⭒ ︲ sc ₊ ˚ ⊹ ⋆ @dreamplagued

#dreamplagued #[ hope this works okay. if not HMU ! ]#verse tbt .

"We stand apart, yet sometimes I feel we’re not so different."

𝖘𝖚𝖈𝖍 𝖒𝖊𝖑𝖆𝖓𝖈𝖍𝖔𝖑𝖞 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉𝖘 𝖋𝖗𝖔𝖒 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖌 𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖌𝖆𝖗𝖞𝖊𝖓. the storm lord hums slightly in response, nodding minutely as he raises his own cup to his lips and drains the remainder of its contents. a hand reaches for the half empty bottle of wine, moves to refill his cup before extending the to daeron’s, offering to refill his in the same motion.

❝are we all so different, truly? ❞ he offers, soft are the words, murmured low in the early morning thrum of the camp. he sits contently on the hill overlooking the multi-coloured tents that litter the tourney grounds. it is quiet now, but soon the sun will rise, as will knights and servants. in a matter of hours the grounds will become a hub of activity once more. but, for now, it is almost peaceful ...

❝burdened by titles, responsibilities, the legacies and the wrongdoings of our fathers and forefathers … ❞

OPPOSITE HOUSES: THESE VIOLENT ENDS HAVE VIOLENT DELIGHTS

@dreamplagued

#dreamplagued #˚ . 𐂂 { ic. }#˚ . 𐂂 { answered. }#q .

Oh, my God. I'm sorry. I'm so clumsy.

I WANT THAT FAIRYTALE . . . ( accepting ! ) ✴︎ — @dreamplagued

THE LIQUID SEEPING INTO HER CLOTHES MADE HER JUMP SLIGHTLY.

It was not uncommon to be at a place she should never set foot in; but who would Ayldri be if not for the habit of wandering in places she had no reason to be in? ( Least all of damn tavern ).

Her mind had been entirely elsewhere, lost in thought about something that had lost all meaning now that she was more bothered by the fact the strong, rich scent overcrowded her senses more than anything. The alcohol dripped on the edge of the table & for a moment she was simply frozen, staring at the mess that happened.

Ayldri wasn't the type to make a big deal out of things, she would've honestly rather hid away than remain seated but when she looked up while in the process of speaking, the words died out & amber eyes widened.

Oh the irony. . .

“Daeron—why are you here?” A question she had no right to be asking considering the fact she, too, had no business being here. The Dornish princess cared little for the wine that ruined her clothing; not like it was anything special, just articles that could easily be replaced when she wasn't too caught up on the fact the Targaryen prince was here & well . . . not at the Ashford Tournament.

Her tone was hushed as if anyone would recognize either of them, the two of them cast aside by the very society their families surrounded themselves with.

For once, it felt nice to not have judgmental eyes watching her every move, but then there was the possibility of someone sent to watch either of them while hiding behind commoners clothes, just as the both of them seemed to be.

“And why do you look as if you've been through hell and back itself...?”