#oftyrosh

[goldandcinders]

@of-tyrosh continued from here

“She would have garnered the support of both court and kingdom alike had her brother not locked her away in the Maidenvault for a decade,” Daemon pointed out.

His eyes remained closed as he rested his head against his wife's lower stomach, utterly content in the lingering warmth that followed their earlier indulgences. He knew she had meant no slight by her words, yet he could never quite resist defending his mother. Too many people had spent too many years insisting she had never been meant for the Iron Throne. Dismissing her before she had ever truly been given the chance. Even when those sentiments came from his own wife, he felt compelled to answer them. Still, there was nothing unkind in his tone either. The words emerged little more than a murmur, softened by exhaustion and satisfaction alike as he slowly drifted down from the heights of bliss.

“Baelor the Blessed,” he scoffed, the title dripping with disbelief. A humorless snort escaped him before he cracked one eye open. “More like Baelor the Prig.”

The insult was delivered with the confidence of a man who had spent years cultivating grievances against the dead. Daemon settled more comfortably against her, completely unapologetic for the sentiment.

“Had he spent less time imprisoning his sisters and more time ruling, perhaps the realm would have been better for it.” His fingers idly traced along her side as he spoke. “My mother was clever and capable. Those who dismiss her simply fear what might have been because they know how different things could have become.”

[dragonsflesh]

@oftyrosh​ asked: ❛ you don’t know how persuasive I am. ❜

        ARROGENCE BEHESTS THE SWELL OF HIS MIND, OR SO IT SEEMS. it painted a fair picture one could fall into the honed trap of a pit and crawl out unscathed or even survive the burning passage of a dragon’s flame. foolish, she thought at first. to loathe upon the very notion of having one of her most trusted venture forth to ‘speak’ for the queen turned a settled body into a bundle of untamed and convulsed nerves. absolute disturbance draws from her expression, jaw tightened before she lets go. let him do what he does best. it did not matter --she did not have to like it. nor did she have to send him out on his own with only a handful of unsullied and second sons combined. not a word uttered, distance kept far enough in case she needed to sever the tie. in case death would return with his body to her feet.

         a quiet exhale past nostrils, ignoring the ever-so-loud thump of her heart beating,  “  then go,  ”  she holds her precious organ tight as she can, gods forbid she lets emotion slip out. she took pride in not letting them get in the way of her path,  “  --prove to me you can be as persuasive as you say to these harpies,  ”  dead of the night felt like an awful sign to daenerys. she’s seen and heard this rhythm before. the amount of faith she has in him, to make an appearance once more, before the sun rises in one whole piece, without a single scratch, was duly noted,  “  and return to me soon.  ”

[archivedazmenka]

@oftyrosh​ / ❛ I’ve decided I don’t like riddles. ❜ game of thrones prompts pt 1 / accepting.

“ I’VE DECIDED I DON’T LIKE LANNISTERS. ” brooding almost was the tone of his voice ; ocean blue eyes followed Tyrion Lannister’s waddle down the long set of steps and out of the throne room of the grand pyramid and still remained on the door once it had fallen shut behind the imp. he could practically hear the Queen’s Hand giggle in the back of his mind. glee, no doubt, about believing he had tricked a sellsword and an Ironborn by posing a bit of a brain-churner. with his mind already wandering towards a blissful haze from too much wine, Maron certainly did not feel like wrecking his brain over riddles tonight. yet it appeared to be the imp’s favourite pastime .  .  .

you measure my life in hours and I serve you by expiring. I’m quick when I’m thin and slow when I’m fat. the wind is my enemy. Maron liked to convince himself that he could easily solve this if only he were entirely sober and willing to pay attention. he emptied his goblet, hands then propped on his thighs to heave himself back up from the stairs they had been comfortably seated on as well. more wine sounded good. “ I don’t know about you, but I for once would like the company of people whose ideas of fun do not include tricks and books. ” which, usually, meant a tavern. Meereen may have suffered under the sudden appearance of the Dragonqueen and her notions of freedom for everybody, but there still were places in the city where tankards of black ale and cups of sweet summer wine waited for thirsty throats. 

[ircnwrought-a]

☾ ჻ &      @oftyrosh​​ randomly gets astoria in exchange for a pun  !!

__________ ♔     ONLY   THE   SILVER   SNAKE   CLASP   OF   HER   CLOAK   MARKS  HER   as  other     (     though  not  many  here  would  recognize  the  crest  of  house  greengrass.      whether  that  is  a  curse  or  a  blessing  remains  to  be  seen     )      the  war  for  the  throne  has  divided  many  loyalties,      hers   included,     &&  has  uprooted  many  lives,      cast  many  souls  adrift  until  she  landed  on  a  shore  of  a  far  away  land.      MEEREEN,      they  called  it.      home  to  the  dragon  queen  if  rumor  were  to  be  believed.      rumors  &&  faith     mean  not  to  the  greengrass  girl.      she’s  seen  too  many  lose  heads  for  less    fantastical    notions.      ❛   my  accent  is  westerosi,      yes.      but  it  is  from  the  westerlands,      not  the  reach.  ❜      voice  is  pleasant  enough  in  response  to  the  other,      but  she  does  not  elaborate.       even  a  continent  away,     those  sworn  to  the  lannisters,    as  all  westerland  lords are,    have  many  enemies.

[dragonsflesh]

@oftyrosh​ asked: "you must bend, otherwise you will break. breaking is messier."

    PIECES OF A FRAGMENTED ROYAL, LET HER BLOOD RUN THROUGH the cracks and corners of every part in westeros and beyond --let them hear of the dragon queen’s mask finally split in two and three? detest of that idea hides behind a softened lavender gaze. the beat of his steady heart, an undeviating flow of breathing cancels out the notions where her doubts were surfacing. a thick swallow quietly hallows out a simple fact: bending was the only route to take if her chances of solidifying her rule in essos was going to be official. bending was meant to succumb, let her foolish opponent take partial control when they wanted full control. bending was the most intelligent offer, out of protection and dignity. for the safety of her people.

       her eyes travel along the nape, across the dark bushes of feral beard into his sweetened gaze. a firm, courteous suggestion in hopes to steer her in the best direction. the following morn will determine a new mindset, perhaps a clearer path. as of now, it was a dim smoke that her sight was blinded by: cruelty and callousness at the brim. it was almost always at the edge but never tipping over,  “  --and let my enemies think they are stepping all over me,  ”  she follows through, a quiet conclusion to the conversation. she hopes to believe her stubbornness will tame itself. her palm lightly glides over a toned abdomen, barely touching the sheets that string them together,  “  it’s strategy, not weakness,  ”  daenerys echoed his words from a prior engagement. he never had to give her advice that she didn’t already ponder on. but it was gratifying to be reminded out loud that she never, ever had to break in order to please, in order to give love and life and preserve it. she’ll try to for as long as she can.