#isefyres

[khalesci]

♛ ⊱ @isefyres ⊱ ❛ when was the last time someone fucked you? ❜ - from Jokin.

ㅤㅤㅤARE  ALL  SELLSWORDS  TRULY  THIS  BRAZEN?  It  takes  much  to  fluster  the  queen,  yet  she  finds  herself  caught  out  of  sorts  by  the  man's  direct  approach,  lashes  fluttering  as  she  collects  herself,  silently  cursing  the  flush  she  feels  spread  across  her  cheeks.  What  an  impudent  thing  of  him  to  ask,  uncouth,  and utterly unacceptable  .  .  .  so  why  does  it  excite  her,  to  see  the  desire  in  his  eyes?  To  understand  the  question  he  is  truly  asking  beneath  these  vulgar  words?  He  is  a  handsome  man,  she  will  not  deny.  An  archer.  And  such  boldness  has  always  drawn  her  in,  as  much  as  she  is  loathe  to  admit  it.  It's  made  worse  by  the  current  predicament  he's  trapped  her  in,  her  back  to  the  wall  as  he  towers  over  her,  yet  she  composes  herself  nonetheless.  As  a  queen  should.

ㅤㅤㅤ❝ The  last  time  your  captain  was  here,  ❞  she  asserts,  arms  crossing  over  her  chest  as  her  chin  lifts  in  defiance.  ❝ Though  obviously  Daario  has  displeased  me  enough  to  lose  that  privilege.  Why  else  would  I  have  sent  him  away  on  a  scouting  venture,  of  all  things?  ❞  Despite  her  tone,  there  is  a  playfulness  in  her  eyes.  A  challenge,  if  he  is  man  enough  to  see  it.  ❝ Why  do  you  ask?  Are  you  hoping  to  take  his  place?  ❞  Her  back  straightens,  head  tilting  as  she  searches  his  features,  seeing  if  this  boldness  of  his  will  falter,  or  if  he  holds  true  to  his  intentions.  ❝ What  makes  you  think  you  won't  suffer  the  same  fate?  ❞

[dcviline]

᯽⊱ @isefyres ⊱ 𝐎𝐬𝐧𝐞𝐲 & 𝐂𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐢

ㅤㅤㅤTRUTH  BE  TOLD,  SHE  ISN'T  SURE  WHAT  SHE  WILL  DO  WHEN  HE  WALKS  THROUGH  THAT  DOOR.  Oh,  there  are  several  things  she  wants  to  do,  but  they  compete  within  her.  She  never  got  to  confront  him  for  giving  her  secrets  to  the  Sparrows.  All  of  the  wretched  things  they  did  to  her,  they  did  because  his  tongue  slipped.  She  touches  her  hair  in  front  of  the  mirror  as  she  waits,  barely  grown  below  her  shoulders  from  where  they  had  cut  it.  Her  hair,  her  dignity,  they  took  so  much  from  her.  She  should  hit  him  when  he  enters,  scream  at  him  and  call  for  the  guards  to  come  take  his  head.  But  gods,  how  long  had  she  waited  just  to  hear  word  of  what  had  happened  to  him?  Cersei  was  surprised  when  Taena  told  her  he  had  returned  to  the  city  despite  being  a  wanted  man.  Even  more  surprised  to  hear  what  he'd  been  up  to.  Does  he  truly  miss  her  so,  that  he  would  take  company  with  women  who  share  some  minor  resemblance  to  her?  She  misses  him,  too.  More  than  she  dares  to  confess  aloud.

  ㅤㅤㅤFor  all  she's  been  through,  Cersei  has  never  felt  so  lonely  as  she  has  since  claiming  the  throne  for  herself.  Her  sons  are  dead,  and  her  brother  has  turned  against  her.  Her  own  daughter  has  been  wed  to  a  rival,  possibly  carrying  Aegon's  child  now.  Who  does  she  have  left?  She  wants  Osney's  apology,  to  show  him  her  fury,  but  she  also  wants  his  comfort.  The  sound  of  the  opening  door  draws  her  from  her  thoughts,  head  whipping  around  to  look  upon  the  disgraced  knight.  The  queen  cannot  find  the  words  to  say  for  a  moment,  approaching  slowly  as  her  mind  wars  with  itself.  But  when  she  reaches  him,  her  features  twist,  a  stinging  slap  of  her  palm  against  his  cheek.  ❝ You  betrayed  me.  You  told  them.  Everything  they  did  to  me,  they  did  it  because  of  you!  ❞  she  hisses,  her  voice  shaking  as  her  fury  flows  from  her.  ❝ I  should  have  let  them  execute  you  for  that.  I've  done  worse  to  others  for  less!  ❞

  ㅤㅤㅤEmeralds  burn  within  their  sockets,  like  wildfire  come  alive  in  her  eyes  amidst  the  glow  of  the  candlelight.  Her  words  crack,  fracture  beneath  all  the  stress  and  uncertainty  and  fear  she  has  carried  these  last  several  months.  Her  anger  loses  its  bite  amidst  it  all,  the  lioness'  facade  failing  her.  ❝ Instead  I  arranged  your  escape.  And  I  kept  waiting  and  waiting  just  to  hear  that  you  made  it  somewhere  else,  that  you  were  not  slain  and  you  were  safe.  But  you  didn't  take  the  chance  to  go  to  safety,  did  you?  You  came  back  here,  where  the  watch  will  kill  you  on  sight,  and  for  what?  To  stay  close  to  a  queen  that  should  very  well  hate  you?  I  don't  know  who  is  the  bigger  fool  here,  you  or  me,  ❞  she  falters,  hands  grasping  at  his  shirt  as  she  pulls  him  closer.  ❝ Because  despite  it  all,  I  still  want  you.  ❞

[aeg3n]

♔ ⊱ @isefyres ⊱ how long has it been since you’ve slept ? - from eleana

ㅤㅤㅤIT'S BEEN MORE THAN A DAY SINCE HE'S SLEPT, BUT HE WILL NOT CONFESS THAT SO EASILY. He already knows the stern look the truth will earn him from her. Aegon can envision it now, Eleana's violet eyes pouring judgement over him, those brows of hers flexing in distaste for his habits; he's seen it plenty of times since she'd first joined his side. ❝ I've had sleep, ❞ he lies, but the lie lacks any effort to make it convincing. It won't be good enough for her, Aegon knows, so he heaves a sigh and sets his pen aside, leaning back in his chair as a weary hand brushes away his hair. ❝ You needn't fuss over me. Sleepless nights are common for kings. ❞ And he is not even a king yet. If he cannot handle the pressure and stresses of a prince, how could he ever hope to rule the Seven Kingdoms? Heavy eyes cast aside to the Vyrwel, the slightest uptilt of his lips as he bends a brow. ❝ Odd that you're not in bed at this hour. Have your daydreams of Lord Snow kept you so restless? Perhaps I should be the one scolding you instead. ❞

[khalesci]

♛ ⊱ @isefyres ⊱ s.c. ⊱ 𝐀𝐫𝐲𝐚 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐤

ㅤㅤㅤ❝ I  HEARD  YOU'RE  PRETTY  GOOD  WITH  THAT,  ❞  the  queen  nods  her  head  towards  the  sword  in  the  other's  hand, offering a gentle smile.  A  slim  blade,  unlike  anything  she  herself  had  practiced  with  thus  far;  a  kind  of  sword  she  remembered  seeing  among  the  bravos  in  the  Free  Cities.  ❝ I've  been  learning  how  to  fight  myself.  Perhaps  you  could  teach  me  a  few  tricks.  ❞

[dcviline]

᯽⊱ @isefyres ⊱ If you'd just man up and admit there's something between us, I would strip down to my skin so you could see every single inch of me. - val to jon

ㅤㅤㅤHIS EYES ARE STEEL AS HE LOOKS AT HER, dark and grey and frozen upon her form. He's never seen her like this, all the furs cast aside, the thick fabrics stripped away and left on the floor beside the bed. His bed , he must remind himself, as if the message was not clear enough. But oh, it is. As much as he's dodged Val and his own unbidden thoughts of her as best he could, there is no avoiding it now, a confrontation with something he had long suppressed. Stannis had offered him Winterfell, his father's lordship, and her, and Jon had refused it all in the name of honor. But now he's reclaimed Winterfell, and the lords hail him as a king with his brother. He has everything he had once refused. Everything except for her. How strange fate works, slain and revived, at the side of the brother he thought dead and a Targaryen who promises to return the North to them entirely.

ㅤㅤㅤSo much feels wrong, but there are many things that feel right again, and he's not sure where Val falls in between the two extremes. He was a sworn brother of the Night's Watch, forbidden to take any bride or father children. A Lord Commander who made hard decisions for the sake of the realm, decisions that ripped him apart inside. And what did he get for it all? Six knives, six betrayals by the men he called brothers. No, they're not his brothers. Robb is his brother. Bran is his brother. Sansa and Arya, poor Rickon before he was slain, they are his family. And Val, once an enemy, then an ally, then a friend . . .

ㅤㅤㅤ. . . is waiting for him in his own bed. Like a picture from the dreams he had so long denied. Clothed, but only by a loose definition of the word. ❝ Why should I have to admit something we both already know? ❞ He doesn't flinch as he walks closer to her, slipping the leather gloves off of his hands, flexing the fingers of the right against the stiff skin of healed burns. ❝ You think you can crawl into my bed and make demands of me? It doesn't work like that, ❞ Jon says, stopping at the edge of the bed. ❝ Now take the rest off, before I change my mind. ❞

[dcviline]

᯽⊱ @isefyres ⊱ ❛ did i say you could come ? ❜ - arianne to daemon

ㅤㅤㅤHIS LIFE WOULD BE SO MUCH EASIER WITHOUT HER. More peaceful, certainly. Daemon would not have to worry over all the trouble Arianne gets herself into, all the danger she tempts with the men she invites into her bed. He would never have had his heart shattered the way it was when Doran refused him, nor would he still be living with these doubts of whether or not he would ever be enough, to be worth more to them than his ability to kill or die. But for all the pain it would save him, he cannot imagine his life without Arianne in it. She'll never be his, he has to remind himself, yet sometimes in the middle of the night his mind starts to wander, considering what he might do to change her father's mind. He's gotten good at refusing her, too, when she finds him at these hours, as if his thoughts had beckoned her to appear. Daemon's resistance wanes with every refusal, memories of their past affair clear inside his imagination. And, perhaps, there is a love for her still within him that has not truly waned, no matter how he pretends otherwise.

ㅤㅤㅤHe decides that he'll say yes to her, just this once, in order to let her get it out of her system. But Daemon realizes what a mistake this is the moment he feels her lips slide along his cock, awakening every dormant emotion he had locked away. It's only lust, he tells himself, it's only his body that wants her so fiercely. The knight grips the chair he sits in, curses muttered under his breath as he grows restless, tightening fingers beginning to pull the wooden arm apart at the joint as the pleasure of her mouth threatens to overwhelm him. He's right there at his apex, every muscle in his body tightening as he readies to give himself over to it , but then it is all taken from him , his eyes snapping open to look down at Arianne as she lifts her head away, only an unmoving hand left to warm him. Of course she knew he was close, this damn woman. No one knows his body like Arianne. ❝ I thought you wanted to taste me again, as long as it's been since we last had each other. Now I see you only want to torture me. ❞ The is an anger upon his face, frustration at being denied, speaking with a clenched jaw and a burning in his eyes. ❝ For fuck's sake, Ari, do something. Don't make me beg. ❞

[dcviline]

᯽⊱ @isefyres ⊱ ❛ god , you’re beautiful - ❜ - arthur to rhaella

ㅤㅤㅤMERE WORDS SHOULD NOT AFFECT HER LIKE THIS. She is a queen, a wife, and a mother, yet now she feels like she is only a shy young maid again. Every touch she'd ever felt had been a matter of duty; there was no passion in her nights, nor words adoration from her husband's lips, though admittedly, considering the man that Aerys has become, she much prefers his disinterest. It's often better to not be touched at all than to endure his ideas of pleasure. Even so, she still has her own desires, feelings that have been suppressed as her days of girlhood withered away into young motherhood and a bitter marriage. For years her wants had laid dormant, forgotten, all until her lips met Arthur's for the first time. A single moment of impropriety that ignited something within her that she cannot push away. Every time he has kissed her since, she has felt alive again, and every day spent apart is an agony. Truly, it was only a matter of time before they gave in completely.

ㅤㅤㅤThe queen stands in a puddle of damask lilac and white lace that used to cover her body, and the moment she is left bare, her eyes flee, hands raising by instinct to cover her breasts and sex. He won't like what he sees, she thinks to herself. Aerys has destroyed her enough; who could ever want her, all of her? Arthur does. His words melt into Rhaella, the sweetest honey upon her skin. She'd been called beautiful before by others, mostly in polite, idle conversation, but it had never felt like this. There is a reverence in the way he says it that brings a flush of pink to her skin, and for the first time in years she feels as young as she truly is. It's enough to make her smile. Pale eyes lift, and so do her hands, pressing against the bare skin of his chest and stomach rather than hiding herself any longer. ❝ Tell me again, Arthur, ❞ she breathes in wonder, awed by how something so simple could bring such life back into her. No ❛ Ser ❜ is spoken with his name; all pretense of titles and etiquette fell away with the last layer of her discarded dress ❝ Make love to me. Show me how it should feel. ❞

[dcviline]

᯽⊱ @isefyres ⊱ Shall we duel with our lips? - for jaime from orysa because she would say that!

ㅤㅤㅤRARELY DOES THE LANNISTER FIND HIMSELF FLUSTERED, yet the Baratheon woman's increasing boldness does just that. There are no swords between them this time; the practice instruments cast aside when his good arm had tired, in need of a brief respite. Training with her seemed to help him as much as it might help her. Bronn is harsh but effective, and Addam is a fair opponent that gives great instruction, but there is a certain lightness to his time spent with Orysa where he can simply exist in the moment and not dwell on what he'd lost. His hand may be gone, but the knowledge is still there, and as long as he can pass that on to her, it's proof enough that he hasn't completely lost himself. There is a beauty to the art of battle that exists beyond the edge of a sword. Jaime had forgotten that until now.

ㅤㅤㅤBut that isn't the only beauty that has held his attention as of late. Black hair and a doe's eyes shaded blue. Eyes that lacked the malice and scorn he had begun to see in a certain pair of greens. Ever since returning, it's felt as if he's been abandoned by everyone he once held dear. Tyrion is locked away on account of supposed regicide. His father has all but disowned him as his son for wanting a different path than what he'd put forth for him. Even his sister seems to hold the greatest contempt for him now amidst his constant rejections of her maddening plots. Jaime only meant anything to her when he was of use, and to both Cersei and Tywin, he might as well have been just another man in a white cloak. A drone to serve the crown. He could easily forget he was a living man at all if Orysa was not there to remind him with shared adrenaline and laughter and all the things that make a person feel alive. Perhaps that's why, most selfishly, he does not refuse her as he should.

ㅤㅤㅤIt is not his vows that hold him back, but concern. They've risked Cersei's wrath plenty enough simply by meeting alone. What if he does let this happen, and then Cersei somehow finds out? She has had others killed for lesser offenses. And yet, Jaime steps closer. ❝ Do you have any idea how dangerous that would be? ❞ he says in a low tone, emeralds never leaving her as he wars in his mind against his impulsive self. The lion knows what he wants, but he fears the consequences of those desires. It would be safer to put an end to this now. So why can't he ? ❝ Even dueling with real steel would be safer than that, of all things. Or are you so eager to risk that pretty neck of yours, princess? ❞