@ordyneir, ' you'd do well to say yes to me. '
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀how might a man mortal and flesh-born and lacking a scaled hide deny a queen? and no sole queen she is, nay, for the realm has grown rich and overfull of such fragile sovereignties of late, but a queen dragon-laden and unopposed and a daughter to viserys targaryen and kin to lyonel's kin. how might a man appease a dragoness of grief curdled into fury and with a mind aflame? mad these dragons of blackened night or viridian verily be, and bidding men to perish in their names, host after host and son after son and now their sons, too, fall as warriors, one fledgling taken entire above shipbreaker's bay whilst the heavens above howled in revel. young he'd been, the boy, though lyonel had scant woe to spare, for the only good dragon is a dead one.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀on either flank of the throne room knights of her household stand in procession along the soaring walls of soot-dark stone and behind him his own, clad in sable and gold and bearing upon their breastplates crowned stags and useless as babes, were the queen's will turn toward trucidation and should she demand the head of lyonel baratheon be brought before her. and a mere man he is, mortal and flesh-born and utterly bereft of scales. you'd do well to say yes to me, she'd said, more a raked and bestial snarl than a woman's voice, and faint had been the sour simper that played upon the lord's lips. " i am sorry for your son. " he cocks his head, gloved palm settled upon the pommel of his sword. " but i was made a fair offer, your grace. " a fair offer of matrimony it'd been, the one-eyed prince and he, too, begotten of viserys targaryen to be wed to a daughter of the stag. a fair offer, indeed, made with a dragon coiled and brooding beyond the walls of storm's end. " i'm afraid i'm a man of my word. my house and my men are sworn to your brother. "
