#perzyssesuvion

[pulchramsolis]

in his dreams, he held her in his arms

@perzyssesuvion ONLY to reblog

[pulchramsolis]

a starter for my lovely @perzyssesuvion

The Queen squared her shoulders before entering her good-brother's room. Aemond was inundated with field reports, a scribe sitting dutifully nearby taking notes. Since Rook's Rest, Aemond hadn't gone back to the field and had taken his duties as Regent wonderfully. Abrogail knew she could not have handled certain aspects of decisions needed to be made, and if there was one person she could trust in this, it was him. She did sometimes wish she'd been named Regent. She was the Queen, wasn't she? It was her duty. They had not looked to her though, even as her voice was still there on the small council, the way Alicent's had been when they grew up. Now, Alicent's time was occupied tending to poor Helaena and the grief was raw still.

Abrogail would hold it all together. She was the voice of the King now, to his brother from his bed. It let her... massage some of those decrees that he was insistent on.

Tunnel vision. The both of them.

"I have looked at the reports of refugees coming into the Stormlands, Aemond." She was simply going to get right to it. Abrogail lowered herself into the chair across from him, holding out the sheaf of parchments. "I shared them with Aegon. He approves of the plans to bolster the settlements they're flocking into. Ensure clean water is supplied, that we summon healers to these camps to ensure that plague doesn't run rampant."

Aegon had wanted to destroy them all, comb through the lot for traitors who followed Rhaenyra. She had kissed him, told him she loved him, and went about making her own proposals. He wouldn't mind. Aegon said her kisses were more soothing than the milk of the poppy he hated.

[dragonslightning]

@sevynkingdoms sent : SACRIFICE: for sender to kill someone who wronged receiver as a grand gesture. // from lyonel

a trial by combat. it still baffled many, the new lady baratheon included, how the offender had not yielded and admitted his wrongdoings before the whole mess even started. there was not a doubt something would still be sacrificed, but in the very least the odds were not so stacked against him. even the gods would not be able to provide any sort assistance to avoid the inevitable.

she'd told lyonel not to. she'd told him it could be lived with, what could words do to her? nothing, nothing at all. but her husband, headstrong and filled with a terrible rage at the insult his wife had suffered, would not hear it. her honour was precious.

he had promised her. many moons ago, it was what he promised as he began to court her: that she would be secure and cared for under his roof. she would be safe with him as his wife. nothing could have prepared for this grand gesture, this proof of devotion to his wife. to be with him, at times, felt like loving a storm instead of a man. how fortunate, then, that jena had adored raging forces of nature all her life.

still there was a nervousness as the duel commenced, a worry despite knowing lyonel's prowess in battle. what if she lost another husband in a trial? in contrast, the small crowd of spectators were focussed upon it as it entertained them, gave material for gossip that would soon spread and reach all corners of the kingdom. one could only imagine how her sons and goodbrother would react to such news ; letters were bound to arrive on her desk in the next two weeks.

it was over in the blink of an eye almost, yet it had lasted what felt like an aeon to her. a man had carelessly wagged his tongue and gravely insulted lord baratheon's wife. for this crime, his life had been taken as compensation. jena, admittedly, had little care for the deceased and had near leaped out of her chair the moment it was done, rushing to her husband.

" you stubborn man. " a gentle scolding as soon as she stood before him, taking his face in her hands whilst inspecting him for injuries with utmost care. satisfied for now, a soft kiss was pressed against his lips, filled with relief and love. " you and your grand gestures. some flowers or jewellery would have been plenty to show your affection, you know .... are you alright? are you hurt? you are seeing the maester as soon as we are back inside. "

[dragonslightning]

@perzyssesuvion sent : "when was the last time you slept?" // from lyonel!!

a fair question. her mind could not conjure up an answer, which perhaps was the answer in itself. hand rubbed her face, a sigh rolling off her lips while leaning back in the chair. she was agonising, second guessing herself and being concerned with things she ought not be. nonetheless, nights had gone by without sleep and many prayers to the storm gods, finding in the very least some reprieve in her faith.

" the day before yesterday? i am not certain. " one could say it had been a week and it would not come as a surprise. but it was not healthy either, to worry to the point of sleep eluding her.

it felt pointless to agonise and yet perfectly understandable. or was it? another heavy sigh escaped. " people will talk, lyonel. i was not the expected bride for baelor, nor am i for you. they'll object to me as your choice, especially with the children issue ... are you truly certain about this? " not that he was a man to change his mind once it was made up. it was that stormlander stubborness, and it ran just as deeply in her veins, though she did not look like it. and whilst it was true her position as mother to the future king could be potentially advantageous, valarr was not yet on the throne with his grandfather in good health. it did not take away from the fact that she could not give him any heirs.

[dragonslightning]

@perzyssesuvion sent: ❝ i want to trap your smile in a bottle and take it out when no one else can see.❞ // from baelor!!

cheeks burned as her smile turned shy. her joy over a simple walk in the garden together and having a quiet moment together was great, it couldn't be denied. they may be crown prince and princess, but each happily married couple surely longed for some time together with no one else around. they were no different.

one day she would have to ask him whether he simply had a gift for saying these things or whether he rehearsed them at some point to throw at her and cause her cheeks to redden. for now, it was enough to delight in his honey-sweet words and act like some young maid instead of a married woman. to enjoy their small moment together in the midst of often duty packed days.

" is that so? " gentle tug at his clothes, signaling a desire for him to bend down a little before kissing him, smiling against his lips. " but if you did that, you'd be depriving your poor sons of seeing it. sounds a little unfair, do you not agree? " gentle teasing, before stealing another kiss from him. how could she not do so now that she had him to herself for a little while?

[drachnslayer]

it is after a while of watching that he decides to bestow his wisdom upon the struggling suitor. he'd observed the man nearly make a fool of himself before the woman he'd been talking to — saying too much, and all the wrong things. saying exactly what came to his mind, siegfried supposes, which is never good. so it's with his own cup of ale that he nudges the other's shoulder gently to get his attention. the tall knight has settled down a short distance away from the bustling around the tents, with the person of his supposed interest still in view. “ do you like her, ser ? ” siegfried muses with a humored smile, not caring to introduce himself.

@perzyssesuvion ( duncan ) / sc.

[multusmusae]

@perzyssesuvion asked: [ almost ] sender and receiver are centimeters apart, about to kiss, but something interrupts them // from dunk, to lyonel …

' 𝐡𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭ⵑ ' called after him , as he watches each of dunk's long strides take him further and further away across the tourney camp. lyonel's grin when he turns around and heads straight for him like an obedient hound is likely something he should be ashamed of , but not so. not after a good measure of cider and the satisfaction that apparently , ser duncan will do as he's told.

his own steps carry him nearer too , and they're out here in the near dark , lyonel swaying closer and leaning up to ensure that those blue eyes look back at him. him and only him. a hand finds his shoulder , grip sure and strong. the flicker of torchlight across duncan's face gives him pause , but not for long. he soon finds it in him to ask for what he wants.

' you'll come and speak with me , later? hm? ' he'd been fond of it , how they'd talked the night before. thoughts shared with someone he can be so sure isn't very tired of the sound of his voice , for he doubts that dunk has it in him to lie that way. such pretence doesn't need to evaporate if it didn't exist in the first place , and there's some sheer surge of genuine gratitude in lyonel when he agrees.

' good , ' that hand moves swift to the back of his neck in some mark of ... approval? he doesn't know if it can be called affection yet. the laughing storm can only revel in the way this giant of a man leans down ever so with an amused huff. a slight yet tangible nervousness , though a pleasant one , and the air seems to shift between them. gaze wanders from being so star-ward to take in that smile upon the hedge knight's mouth , and back , and forth again , and how impulse strikes to steal it from him with a kiss ----

and then his name is shouted with such purpose across the field , that his head whips around in the direction it came from. not doubt another call for him to join some tedious drinking game. not a moment's hesitation in voicing his discontent , nor does he let go of dunk , fingers curling at the ends of his honey - red hair. the warning barks from him like thunder , irritation flaring like the rolling of a storm. ' beesbury , will you fuck off! '

[multusmusae]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚 𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞. a dragon at their door and it does force one's hand remarkably. he has only ever seen the likes of vhagar from the sky and that is where he much prefers her to stay , and so lyonel had not rushed to try and seek the shape of the great creature against a spark of lightning. out of sight , and yet her presence overlooks all their fates from out there in the dark. ' i cannot say this is unexpected , prince aemond. ' the moment that aegon had been born , the seeds of dissent had been planted. why would any lord see a woman on the iron throne , other than necessity? when given choice the great council had set the fortunes of queens never to be in motion for generations. how different it would be , had his cousin assumed her reign. idle , worried thoughts glance to rhaenys. dark stare flicks upward , and the stern face of aemond one-eye betrays nothing yet. other than the winged threat just outside these walls , he's curious as to what else he might bring. if it were only death and destruction , they'd have been set alight in their beds by now. there's the uneasy need to fidget , and so lord baratheon instead finds a grasp upon the arm of the throne of storm's end. ' though i assume you are here ... ' hesitation as if to pluck the words from the air , instead of consider them carefully. to show fear in the face of threat only gives it more credence. if the prince is anything like his mother , this will be well thought. anything like his grandfather , dangerously so. a sure stare back , level and deliberate. ' to find some favour , rather than a fight. which i extend respect for. ' @perzyssesuvion