#northsborn

[misvos]

continued from here with @northsborn

“I think I did not make myself clear. I don’t want to ask the Gods for anything. Why would I?” There’s no wait for an answer when instead he carries on after a second of letting the question slip out with ease. “Gods saw fit to save a hedge knight who nobody will know for years. They chose to doom us because the greatest man chose to stand for the innocent. Or so they tell me.” The last part is covered in bitterness that he cannot hide but even if he could, the way he was feeling lately he was more than happy to let it show. “So,” he says with a cold but interested look at her words, “what would your old Gods say about what happened?”

Love does not stop cruelty. The words sit with him more than he thought possible. It made sense. Aerion was a loved cousin but he was cruel and didn’t stop that from putting his family at risk. Aegon the Fourth supposedly loved his sons, even the bastards, but even the act of legitimising them was cruel for the entire realm and them. “Either option does not make them suitable for worship,” he counters, no concern about the hearsay that came out of his mouth.

[misvos]

❛ Your mother must've been very beautiful. ❜

HotD Starters | accepting | @northsborn

“You’re right. People talk a lot about my fathers virtues in that regard but not many do my mother. I look like my father and Matarys looks like our mother. They both have that red colouring to their hair that I’ve seen in her house but it's softer than it is in some of the other Dondarrion’s. Matrays has both of her blue eyes, I only have the one.”

[misvos]

❛ There is no war so hateful to the gods as a war between kin. ❜

HotD Starters | accepting | @northsborn

“I am reminded constantly that we should love our family in spite of what they do to us and forgiven for their actions. How it displeases the gods and we would surely be punished if we fight but I don’t agree.” It’s the first time someone had not come with hollow words about the loss and encouraging words they all uttered for themselves more than for anyone else. “Tell me, if the Gods hate war between kin then how would they feel about brother killing brother in a trial meant to get their attention and judgement? If they used one brother as their conduit and another died at those hands then is it still hateful to them?”

[jacaeryse]

01. gently brushing the other's hair out of their face to tuck behind their ear.

𝐧𝐨𝐧-𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 : open / accepting ⟢

   The cold and Jace were not good companions. Since arriving in Winterfell he felt he could do nothing to fight the chill that pervaded every single one of his limbs. No matter how many furs he wore, or how thick his cape was, he was still prone to shivering. Jace willed his dragonic blood to ignite, making it possible for him to withstand the cold. Thus far his wishes had fallen upon silent ears. To make matters worse snow had started falling, adding to his list of growing annoyances. Jace shuts his eyes for a moment, gathering his feelings before tucking them away. He would grow accustomed to the cold in time. In time he would return to Dragonstone where he could bask in the sun. For now he had a job to do.    It is the touch of delicate fingers that snapped Jace out of his petulant reverie. He blinks, following the hand to the face of its owner. Roses bloom on his cheeks realizing he had been so caught off guard. "My lady." Jace clears his throat, forcing a polite smile. "Did I have something in my hair?" It was a snowflake, no doubt, and Jace was certain there were a dozen more lost in his curls.

[dcviline]

᯽⊱ @northsborn ⊱ ❝ This is the last time, then never again. This has to stop. ❞ for aegon ii

ㅤㅤㅤHE  PULLS  BACK  AT  HER  WORDS,  DEPRIVING  HER  OF  ANOTHER  KISS.  She  searches  for  it,  her  mouth  meeting  only  his  chin  as  his  lips  curl  in  almost  a  snarl.  Sara  says  this  every  time.  That  this  is  all  a  mistake.  That  it  can  never  happen  again.  Yet  here  she  is,  looking  up  at  him  with  unmistakable  desire  in  her  eyes.  For  all  that  she  swears  she  hates  him,  her  actions  do  no  match  her  words.  As  he  stares  down  into  her  greys,  incredulous,  Aegon  lightly  shakes  his  head.  ❝ That's  a  fucking  lie,  and  you  know  it.  ❞  Because  no  time  she  claims  is  the  last  is  ever  truly  the  last.  All  of  that  Stark  stubbornness,  yet  he  breaks  her  resistance  more  easily  each  time.  ❝ You  hate  me,  but  you  love  how  I  make  you  feel.  You  can't  get  enough.  Why  do  you  insist  on  denying  it?  I  can't  figure  out  who  you're  more  disgusted  with;  me,  or  yourself.  You  act  like  fucking  me  is  a  crime.  ❞  Or  a  betrayal.  She's  probably  still  holding  out  hope  for  Jacaerys,  he  thinks,  and  the  mere  thought  infuriates  Aegon.  A  king  should  never  be  made  to  feel  so  jealous  of  a  bastard.  He  doesn't  know  what  truly  happened  between  them,  but  the  stories  are  enough.  And  he  cannot  bear  to  ask.

ㅤㅤㅤInstead,  he  is  left  with  the  assumptions  of  his  own  mind.  The  bastard  may  or  may  not  hold  her  heart,  but  he  isn't  here  with  her  now,  kissing  her,  touching  her.  Not  how  Aegon  can.  He  puts  the  thoughts  to  action,  pushing  Sara's  back  to  the  wall  as  he  returns  his  kisses  with  a  fury.  It  will  be  his  name  that  she  cries  out  in  her  pleasure.  Already  he's  working  at  her  dress,  pulling  the  skirts  up  to  her  waist  for  his  access.  ❝ Open,  ❞  Aegon  demands  as  a  hand  slips  down  to  pull  her  knees  apart,  the  weight  of  his  own  body  settling  into  the  space  between,  pushing  his  hips  forward  to  grind  against  her.  ❝ Tell  me  the  truth.  ❞  He  kisses  her  again,  teeth  biting  at  her  lower  lip.  His  hands  work  at  his  own  trousers,  hurriedly  unlacing  them.  ❝ Tell  me  that  you  can't  get  enough.  ❞

[dcviline]

᯽⊱ @northsborn gets a thing

ㅤㅤㅤTHE  NORTH  IS  A  DANGEROUS,  SLEEPING  BEAST,  OR  SO  HE'S  BEEN  TOLD.  It  was  not  thought  that  they  would  involve  themselves  at  all  with  the  coming  winter  fast  approaching,  but  Rhaenyra's  bastard  son  had  seen  to  it  otherwise,  treating  with  the  Starks  in  hopes  of  some  pledge.  Lord  Stark  has  promised  his  support  to  his  sister,  according  to  rumor,  though  he  will  not  march  as  of  yet.  But  he  will  march  eventually.  Unless  the  Northern  dogs  can  be  kept  at  heel.  What  better  way  than  to  strike  at  the  one  weakness  amidst  all  this  talk  of  honor  and  duty.  What  will  that  oath  matter  to  the  Stark  if  it  should  cost  him  his  sister's  life?  Bastard  blood,  perhaps  a  gamble  that  he  should  prize  her  above  his  honor,  and  possibly  a  role  better  suited  for  the  man's  young  son.  But  it  was  easier  for  his  infiltrators  to  capture  the  sister  instead  as  she  roamed  outside  of  Winterfell's  walls,  and  truth  be  told,  the  thought  of  taking  young  Rickon  does  not  sit  so  well  after  the  loss  of  Jaehaerys.  His  own  son  and  heir,  murdered  by  those  monsters  who  dare  swear  to  his  weak  sister.  No  son  of  any  lord  will  ever  be  worth  his  own,  no,  but  the  vision  of  spilled  blood  and  his  son's  own  body  in  his  mind  is  enough  to  daunt  him.  He  will  bleed  them  all  for  it.  He  swears  it.  Not  by  any  gods,  but  by  his  own  wrath.

ㅤㅤㅤPerhaps  holding  the  bastard  girl  will  hasten  that  revenge  if  it  should  stall  the  Northmen.  Maybe  it  will  taunt  the  Strong  Prince  himself,  given  the  rumors  that  he'd  become  fond  of  the  woman  during  his  stay.  Oh  yes,  that  makes  this  all  the  more  sweeter,  Aegon  thinks  as  he  looks  upon  the  shackled  prisoner  before  him,  pleased  by  the  acquisition.  ❝ Unchain  her,  ❞  he  calls  to  the  gaoler,  a  smug  grin  twisting  the  corner  of  his  lips  as  he  descends  from  the  throne.  ❝ I  would  have  my  guest  treated  with  more  dignity,  as  deserving  of  a  woman  of  her  .  .  .  status.  ❞  A  bastard's  status,  the  king  muses  to  himself.  A  pathetic,  pretty  little  creature,  a  mockery  of  everything  his  mother  and  grandsire  have  preached  over  the  years.  Her  presence  in  court  will  slight  them  as  well.  Good.

ㅤㅤㅤ❝ It  is  quite  an  honor  for  you  to  join  us  at  court  Lady  Snow.  I  wish  you  would  have  sent  word  ahead  of  your  arrival;  I  would  have  prepared  a  better  welcoming  for  you.  ❞  All  a  jape,  knowing  she  was  brought  her  as  a  captive,  but  a  king  should  be  allowed  to  enjoy  his  farces  as  he  will,  yes?  ❝ I  think  it  should  go  without  saying  that  I  expect  all  guests  of  the  crown  to  act  within  a  certain  conduct.  I  understand  you  Northerners  tend  to  be  more  wild  in  your  ways,  but  I'm  sure  a  few  corrections  will  reign  in  your  more  barbaric  tendencies,  if  need  be.  ❞  Aegon  stands  at  a  distance,  far  enough  where  she  cannot  reach,  but  close  enough  to  see  the  defiance  in  her  eyes.  The  threat  in  his  own  is  clear  enough.  As  much  as  he  may  call  her  a  guest for appearances' sake,  she  is  still  a  prisoner,  one  misstep  away  from  being  taken  to  the  dungeon  or  punished  for  any  acts  of  rebellion.  All  of  his  false  intentions  fade  in  those  few  seconds,  pure  malice  and  disdain  shining  in  the  king's  eyes  as  a  threat,  all  the  while  his  grin  never  fades.  ❝ Do  we  have  an  accord?  ❞