#kepyrys

[dracodelight]

The  Iron  Throne  was  hers  at  last.  Rhaenyra  sat  upon  it  because  she  had  to,  not  because  there  was  any  joy  left  in  the  victory.  The  swords  bit  through  her  gown  as  they  always  had,  cold  and  sharp  beneath  her  weight.  Lords  knelt.  Oaths  were  sworn.  Servants  hurried  through  halls  that  had  once  belonged  to  her  enemies.  King's  Landing  had  opened  its  gates,  and  the  banners  of  the  dragon  flew  above  the  Red  Keep  once  more.  None  of  it  had  brought  Jace  back.  The  thought  came  without  warning,  as  it  always  did.  Jacaerys  should  have  been  here.  He  should  have  stood  at  her  right  hand,  speaking  with  lords  twice  his  age  as  though  he  had  been  born  for  it.  Luke  should  have  been  beside  him,  restless  and  smiling,  impatient  with  ceremony.

Instead  there  was  only  absence.  Every  chamber  she  entered  seemed  to  have  space  waiting  for  sons  who  would  never  cross  thresholds  again.  Rhaenyra  looked  out  across  the  throne  room  and  saw  victory  where  everyone  else  did.  What  she  saw  beyond  it  was  the  cost.  When  Daemon  entered,  her  gaze  found  him  immediately.  For  a  long  moment  she  said  nothing.  There  were  too  many  things  between  them—war,  blood,  loss,  the  crown  itself.  At  last  she  rested  one  hand  against  the  arm  of  the  throne  and  spoke.  "They  call  this  a  triumph."  Her  voice  was  steady,  though  it  took  effort.  Her  voice  broke  in  High  Valyrian,  having  found  comfort  in  the  language,  now  more  than  ever.  "Have  you  experienced  such  empty  triumphs  as  this  one?" @kepyrys

[moondanceir]

║▌ │ 🔥‬ ˚｡⋆ ↪ @kepyrys said: ❛ can you forgive me ? ❜

at  times  it  seems  that  what  was  left  to  her  in  this  world  was  merely  moondancer  ─  whose  pale-green  scales  shone  in  the  glittering  sunlight.  brilliant  in  repose,  head  curled  atop  outstretched  legs,  tail  sweeping  the  scorched  earth.  they  take  to  the  skies  with  great  flourish,  at  the  behest  of  the  queen's  will,  and  being  glad  to  do  so  has  no  baring  on  that  achy  empty  feeling  that  settles  deep  within  her  chest.  she  is  completely  alone,  her  betrothed  gone,  siblings  scattered  to  the  wind  ...  why  could  not  rhaena  be  here?  hadn't  they  been  parted  from  one  another  long  enough?  had  she  had  not  sent  her  own  sister  off  with  a  watery  assuring  smile  and  steady  hands?

❝     i  miss  home.    ❞    comes  the  forlorn  response,  one  hand  clutching  a  cup  balanced  on  bent  knee,  the  other  pushing  white  hair  from  forehead.  pentos,  driftmark,  dragonstone  .  .  .  now  king's  landing,  where  the  people  starved  and  the  red  keep  was  in  disarray.  blinks  into  blinding  sun,  noting  that  their  face's  are  set  in  similar  lines  of  melancholy  pondering,  nods.  rarely  does  he  ask  forgiveness,  rarely  would  she  never  grant  him  the  favor  of  it     ❝    you  are  my  father,  i  will  always  forgive  you.    ❞

[syndaerys]

Shadows bring a comfort that no bed or body ever could. Astarion clings to the walls of the old castle, back pressed to cold, damp stone, where if he willed hard enough, he might meld to it. Silent, observing, he peers down into the council chamber, to the Painted Table and to the Dragonlord that stands at its head. When they pass each other through the strecthed halls of Dragonstone, the air between them tenses: Still, cold, and thin.

Daemon Targaryen wishes things be his way without the having to defer to their Queen. The Rogue Prince — he is called as such with apt reason. Would Daemon have his way, Astarion believes he would compel him to take to dragonback and burn King's Landing to the ground.

Another moment watching the Targaryen prince ponder over pieces on a table, and Astarion abandons the comfort of the wall, hand guiding his descent down into the chamber, ❝ otāpagon hen aōha hembar nābēmagon, kēpus? ( planning your next attack, uncle? ) ❞ He uses the family relation in jest, his mouth curling into a snide smirk. Boots call his approach, and when he at last hits the bottom step, the lordling stands with his hands behind his back. ❝ emagon pōnta ȳdragon naejot ao? ( have [the pieces] spoken to you? ) ❞ Valyrian dances on his tongue — a song of their forgotten homeland and a testament to their ancient blood.

♡ starter call! / @kepyrys

[seasdragon]

@kepyrys asked: do not fear me … everybody else fears me .

Violet   tainted   eyes   look   back   at   the   man   before   her.   That or   glimpses   of   it   are   rare   with   him,   Laena   appreciates   them   for   what   they   are,   as   she   appreciates   being   the   bare   witness   of   the   layers   under   passionate   eyes   and   a   grip   of   a   sword.   "If   I   had   feared   you   ,   I   would   had   not   approached   you,   Daemon."   His   name   rolls   with   ease   in   her   tongue.   Never   once   she   feared   him,   though   she   had   been   cautious   and   perhaps   always   will   be.

  "Fire   is   everything   in   your   blood.   It's   only   natural   that   cautiousness   is   seen   as   fear."   Hand   moves   quietly   but   without   hesitation   to   take   his   own.   Fingers   trace   over   calloused   expert   hands   and   draw   soothing   circles   over   the   lines   she   find   before   she   speaks   again.   "The   sea   would   never   be   afraid   of   the   fire,   my   love."   She   is   made   of   both,   but   she   had   often   felt   more   fire   than   the   sea,   until   she   had   laid   eyes   on   him   and   decided   he   was   the   man   she   desired.   "All   I   ask   is   you   dim   your   flames   from   time   to   time,   to   let   me   in   your   thoughts.   .   .yes?"

[unbeleveable]

@kepyrys sent [ SNATCH ]: sender snatches receiver's wrist as they turn to go. / rhaenys

Rhaenys was done with their current conversation, but evidently Daemon was not, as he seized her by the wrist when she moved to walk away. She turned on her cousin with a glare; King Consort or not, he had no right to handle her.

"Release me, Daemon," she ordered, a threat lurking beneath the softness of her voice. As if to echo her rider's anger, the Red Queen roared from the caverns beneath Dragonstone. "Perhaps the Queen allows you the liberty to treat her thus, but I shall not."

[alyafae]

@kepyrys : laena had pleaded with him to visit driftmark before they returned to pentos once again. he agreed and now was in the presence of his old friend and dear cousin. ❝ what do you think of your granddaughters, corlys ? laena says they look like me. i say they look like her. ❞ the twins were almost four years old, and their mother was carrying his child once more. as they were sitting, the girls were running amok till baela came to daemon, trying to climb his lap, while rhaena offered her grandfather a flower.

Corlys would never tire of watching his granddaughters. As much as he had been displeased with the union in the beginning (he had eventually accepted that it was not the most unfortunate match), he was grateful for the grandchildren it had brought to him. He smiled at Rhaena as she offered him the flower. Taking it, he inspected it for a moment before thanking her. Seeing as her sister Baela tried to settle in Daemon’s lap, Corlys decided to lift up the other girl and settle her on his. “I say both of you are right. I see a lot of my sweet Laena in them,” he smiled fondly. Oh how he had adored his daughter when she was young; and he still did. “But I also see how they resemble you.” 

Holding Rhaena, he watched Baela for a moment. “Yet it does not matter who they resemble. My granddaughters are perfect the way they are.” Laena had him wrapped around her finger the day he was born and it seemed as if the twins had the same power over him. Corlys was proudly accepting that.

[unbeleveable]

he sits down before rhaenys with his famous sniding smirk. daemon crosses his leg over the other and leans into the cushion of the chair. ❝ no doubt you had someone else in mind for laena. ❞ too bad she chose me. ❝ was it truly that lordling i killed ? he was no fit for her. ❞

Her cousin's smugness has always grated on Rhaenys, ever since he was a small child. Thank the gods he is her uncle's second son, he truly would have been insufferable as king. She glowers at Daemon as he lounges casually as can be in her own solar, proud as a cat who has just snared a mouse. Of course, her only daughter is a much bigger prize than any prey animal.

"I was not fond of the match between Laena and the Sealord's son even before it became clear he was a drunken beggar," she admits coolly. "But given how unkindly you always treated your first wife, I am hardly inclined to give my blessing to your union to her either."

[jacaeryse]

Send forth the ravens. Our allies must be reminded of their sworn oaths.

✧˖°.⚔️.°˖✧ 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 ✧ closed / not accepting

   Rhaenyra had once been known as the Realm's Delight in her youth and so captivating was she that lords from all across the land had sworn fealty to her. Jacaerys hadn't even been a twinkle in Ser Harwin's eye when those oaths had been made. Now as heir to the Iron Throne it was his duty to do everything he could to support his mother's claim so he might one day rule the realm.

Jacaerys had been the one to petition that they send Dragonriders in place of Ravens, believing them more effective. If people doubted the legitimacy of Jacaerys and Lucerys Velaryon they would no longer when they arrived a top a dragon. That decision had cost Luke his very life. If they had sent a raven instead his younger brother would still be alive. Jace had to live with that grim realization each day of his life.

Months had passed since then, and after having returned from the north, Jacaerys was ready to do whatever he could to aid the cause. "More ravens? Who else do we have left to petition, my King?" Jacaerys asks, perking a dark brow at Daemon. "--And we needn't send a raven. Send me instead." Jace insists, eager to spread both his own wings and that of his dragon. Having been confined to Dragonstone for weeks on end had made the prince restless, and he longed to be far away from his ancestral home. Outside of her walls he could flex his political accruement, and succeed just as he had at The Twins.