#usyrps

[edrurysz]

╰ ☾ ₊  ⸻ @usyrps | 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋

𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓 does Helaena stand silent vigil in the doorway, half in the room and half down the hall. Only after her eyes have started to ache from not blinking does one of the maesters takes notice of her. She's greeted in a rush of bows and stammered replies, the men quite startled by the unannounced appearance of their Queen amongst them.

"Be at ease, thank you," she murmurs. Her gaze is caught fast by the sickbed. Her dreams show her much, but she had only seen Aegon swallowed by the great blaze. She had not the imagination or morbidity for this. Helaena is unsure how much even masters of healing can improve upon. Dragonfire burns hot like no other fire the world knows. Few live long enough to require anything more than the final care of the Silent Sisters.

Aegon looks small and terrible against the stark whiteness of the clean sheets. Great lengths of skin have curled inward upon itself, like paper thrown into a fire. His one leg is twisted so that he will never run or ride or do many of the things he loves again. His one eye is melted shut in a cruel mimicry of Aemond's, and he lays in the same bed their father spent his final years rotting in. The room smells of ill. The room smells of flesh burning, even now. The dragon's legacy is fire and blood, is it not?

Helaena bites her tongue so hard she tastes blood. Without a conscious decision made, she goes to the windows to fling them open. Daylight pours in, nearly blinding her. She hears the murmuring of the maesters behind her. Their voices rustle in her ears like so much leaves beneath her foot. The scuttling of insects in undergrowth. She would have them gone.

"Is the King well enough that I may be left alone with him? Only for a little time," she does not want to hinder what can be done for him, but she finds words welling up within her that must be said. Sentiment buried and long left festering that must be leeched from the wound, though she in truth she knows not yet what she even means to say.

She does not wait for an answer before turning. Slow steps bring her to Aegon's side, and she waits for a chair to be brought to her before sitting. She is lucky she does not fall, for how she still will not look away from Aegon. Not in disgust, no, for she has never looked at him with such an emotion even at his worst. He is still her brother, and she has always loved him as much as she is able. Neither is it pity, for that would hardly be welcome either. How absurd, that she can't put a name to it at all.

"My King. Husband. Brother. They've brought you home," her voice catches tight in her throat. Tears burn at the corner of her eyes. Her hands wring in her lap, a nervous tic borrowed from mother. Are they destined to only be parts of those around them, the wretchedest, saddest parts? Gods, how she wants to weep for them all. But tears are not what Aegon needs.

[d0wager]

The   dowager   queen   stirred   from   a   restless   sleep,   her   heart   pounding   in   her   chest   at   the   faint   sound   of   movement   from   across   the   chamber.   The   early   morning   light   seeped   through   the   heavy   drapes,   casting   a   pale   glow   over   the   bed   where   her   son,   Aegon,   lay.   For   days   now,   she   had   watched   over   him,   her   heart   aching   with   worry   as   he   battled   the   aftermath   of   his   injuries. @usyrps

She   offered   him   a   tender   smile   upon   eyes   rest   on   her,   though   her   heart   clenched   at   the   sight   of   his   pallor.   “You’re   awake,”   she   whispered,   relief   threading   through   her   voice.   “Larys   Strong   came   to   me   earlier   and   said   you’re   improving.   The   worst   has   passed.” Alicent’s   smile   grew   more   resolute   as   she   reached   for   the   folded   bundle   she   had   placed   beside   his   bed.   With   careful   hands,   she   unfurled   the   embroidered   blanket,   its   edges   uneven   and   the   stitches   haphazard,   but   the   care   and   effort   that   had   gone   into   its   making   were   unmistakable.  

“Jaehaera   made   this   for   you,”   she   said,   her   voice   soft   with   affection.   “She   worked   on   it   for   days,   even   when   I   told   her   she   should   rest.   She   wanted   to   give   you   something   to   keep   you   warm,   to   remind   you   that   she’s   here   for   you.”   Sweet   child,   she   is   so   scared   that   this   fortress   will   soffocate   that   sweetness   out   of   the   girl,   but   she   seems   to   care   little   for   the   injuries   Aegon   suffered.   A   child's   love   for   a   parents   does   so   much.   Alicent   worries   her   own   love   poisoned   her   children's   love   for   her   in   turn.   "How   are   you   feeling?"

[valeurex]

i’m finding it harder to feel brave.

@usyrps / Aegon Targaryen.

'' It's a heavy burden, isn't it ... the one unwanted but obligated. ''

Dreams are peculiar phenomena, but where is the barrier between comprehension of daydreaming and substantiality in our waking life?

In front of Aegon - redeeming in his features and reinstated in his stand lingered an old shade of familiar semblance, lucid as the new King was, heavy as figments of imaginations; Viserys, his father, and the former paramount. A guide that laid dormant, crafted by the essential nature of his subconscious mind and wishes. Could it be an apparition, or a trick of light manifesting old splendor? The spirit of late departed stood right near the city model of Old Valyria, the one he once built ( the one Aegon crushed in fury and grief ). Loose robe long lost of color, countenance an amalgam of riddles meshed by straps of sorrow but also understanding, '' Remember that bravery triumphs only when you conquer your own fears. ''

While the eldest of sons had full right to stare with eyes widely open the mien of peacemaker seemed to be intact neither his speech was the most difficult of conundrums to solve.

' adapt and overcome ' - resonated. ' Y O U R S E L F ... '

[belayadeath-goner]

CRISP SUMMER AIR BLEW THROUGH THE OPEN WINDOW INTO THE KING'S BEDCHAMBERS, pulling white curtains into a ghostly flow. the pale light of the moon peer on through and into the room, its reflection provides a sparkle in the lilac of her partner's eye, dancing in the pools of warm color. a sight if ever there was one. they're not often allowed moments of privacy around here, most of his council and men still wary of her presence ( with good reason ), but aegon himself knew her heart. where before no allegiance had hold in her, he had seen it taken root and within it now existed naught but a devotion to him.

       their language was one of stolen glances across the hall, the occasional brush of a gloved hand upon passing by and a whisper of promises under the darkness of night, with only them and the moon and stars as witness.

her sword had been the first to go, next the armored vest she bore and gloves; there always was such intimacy in the vulnerability they allowed for the other to see. aegon knew parts of her none ever had. digits lift up to trace over the curve of his cheekbone, the first time she's felt his skin beneath her touch in days, weeks even? for all bianca knew it could've been years, the lack itself weary and agonizing.

AEGON II TARGARYEN: i’m starved for you, morning and night. @usyrps

he confessed under a low breath, and bianca's heart fluttered with his admittance. they are one shared fire, burning together. the king's hands had already found her frame — one pressed to the small of her back, whilst the other moved a loose strand of blonde hair out of her face. none but i see you for who you are, none know the darkest nor lightest parts of your soul like i. bianca lock their lips, without hesitation or remorse for her hunger was one so scarcely satisfied these days, her starvation only equally matched to his own. only the need for air forced them apart once more, but it'd been enough to quell their deprivation if only for a moment. “  i will admit, the days seem longer than before. and the nights without you darker still,  ” he's a beacon to her, a bright beam to light up her contrasting darkness.

                              “  i am yours, morning, noon and night. no matter how much time pass.  ”

[celtigaar]

@usyrps liked for a starter

——— she smoothed a hand over a wrinkle in her dress, though it did little to fix the fine clothing as she lazed across the settee. cerys looked over to aegon and pouted, petulant and child-like. ❝ do you have to go spar? ❞ obviously ladies were not permitted to train with swords and cerys so hated to be left behind. ❝ i'm bored. ❞

[hauntedkaiser]

@usyrps liked for a starter

THE AIR HAD SEEMINGLY GROWN THICK OVER THE LAST FEW DAYS - ravens flew to and from the keep , and Floran had found himself walking along a ledge , a choice hanging in the air. HOUSES DECLARED LEFT AND RIGHT & still , House Sylwarin had remained silent , waiting. Oaths were fragile things and Lord Sylwarin did not like making them lightly. THAT WAS THE TRUTH OF THE MATTER. He had sworn himself , long ago , to Rhaenyra Targaryen & he could not simple forget it. Yet ; who would come calling first? that had been the question he had wrestled with. IT WOULD SEEM THAT TONIGHT , he had his answer.

The sun had set a few hours or so ago - the stars glittered in the sky almost uneasily as the Lord ascends the steps , making his way to his solar. HIS DESIRE TO SLEEP WOULD HAVE TO WAIT IT WOULD SEEM , for the so called King had arrived and making him wait , well , Floran knew that would be unwise.

The door creaks as he opens it , stepping inside into the warmth of the room , a fire already flickering as a servant tends to it. BRIGHT BLUES FIND AEGON & then he glances towards Emilia. "Leave us , please." She leaves the room quickly , and Floran moves towards his desk.

"Your grace." There's a stiffness in his words , but he manages a polite smile nonetheless. "I did not expect your arrival. You'll have to forgive me for the lack of preparations." & THE LACK OF A DECISION THAT WOULD HAVE TO BE MADE NOW , it would seem.

[vulpynus]

@usyrps asked ; ❝ you’ve heard these tidings of my grandsire? ❞ he's coming to complain to grandmother abt him <3

the evening prior had been all-consumed by otto's ire, alyrie sitting back as he paced, his ranting and lamenting of foolish decisions and senseless idiots allowing her little opportunity to begin soothing or resolving the root of such upset. there had been mention of returning to oldtown but that much she had dismissed. some slights are best forgotten in the face of everything else that occurs around them. otto may do as he wished but she would call that a more foolish choice. it is not the time to turn backs upon family.

turning from window upon the sound of her grandson's voice, a gentle smile tracing her lips at the sight of him. never has there been a moment where he, or his siblings, have been unwelcome company. feet carry her in a few swift steps to aegon, a hand briefly cupping his face before leading him gently towards sofa.

"i have heard everything from your grandsire himself. which is to say, i imagine it was a little distorted compared to what you might recall." she hardly feels the need to hear a recounting of the tale from aegon himself to uncover the truth of it all. otto's recollection was tainted with anger, and a lack of empathy, but she doubted he had altered the base facts. still, alyrie would not prevent aegon from telling her all over again if he wished to.

"he never does take well to being opposed. he is unused to you having the freedom to do so, as well, i'd say. he forgets what it means when he put that crown on your head."

[adamanteine-a]

despite it being one of her many visits to king's landing, things are quite different this time. with king viserys' clear illness, her father had sent her due to the fact that he knew things ought to change very soon and shams knew the changes weren't going to be very soothing for the seven kingdoms. she is, of course, focused on her task at hand these days, but it all makes her wonder. she is the first person to know how drastic changes can be. she finds herself walking through the hallway after she'd finish some of the notes she had taken for their archive. when the clicking of his shoes against cold marble flooring begins to be noticeable, she halts. turning around, she finds herself giving a quick bow before quirking a questioning brow. rain beats on beyond the window to her left, flicking against the glass, droplets clinging to the translucent surface. marigold petals kiss the windows in a flurry of cream and orange, fluttering about with the harsh bites of the wind, carried from the castle’s orchard. the endless hallway she finds herself in smells of rainwater and spring. ``     ah.    `` she says slowly, her voice honeyed and masked. ``     i bet the dragonpit must be quite different in this weather, would it not, @usyrps?    `` she pauses, glancing at his silver hair. ``     they are quite beautiful.    ``