#withouthonor

[pertinaxism]

30 .   a  kiss  to  say  goodbye - aegon

@withouthonour

an attempt made on their sons life had viserra still in disbelief that her mother could have ever done such a thing, not to her, and not especially after lucerys. but, perhaps when at war, viserra would grow to no longer recognize her own kin.

aegon had told her of his brother and cole’s plan- rooks rest. it was smart, even she had to admit that. better to cut them off and then secure the ruins of harrenhal, it would weaken dragonstone.

“you are going, then?” she knew he wouldn’t stay, and viserra would never ask him to. in truth there was no controlling aegon, not truly, and perhaps that had been what first drew her to the prince, now king-now it only made her worry. pulling the blanket over the sleeping babe, the princess made her way from the cradle and over to her lord husband, hands reaching out to hold his face in hers.

a moment spent in silence as she looked upon him with violet eyes, studying him. The curve of his lips, the edge of his jaw, sharpness of his nose, the colour of his eyes, everything she possible could before lifting up to her toes and pressing a soft kiss to his lips, pulling back only so they were barely touching. “ come back to me, please.”

[the-rogue-dragon]

@withouthonor​‘s Visenya gets a semi plotted starter;

🔥EVER SINCE HE WAS TAUGHT ABOUT THE HISTORY of his House by the Maesters, the young Prince had been fascinated by one of his ancestors. One that even though captive in the Red Keep, continued to be alive, healthy and beautiful. Visenya Targaryen, the wife of the Conqueror has been his biggest interest when he was a child, never scared to approach her, even though he had heard rumors about her that didn’t spoke all too well of her personality. But even though at first he was denied of her company he insisted.

Now at six and ten, while his grandmother had plans to marry him into the Vale - as Viserys had - the young dragon found himself despising the idea of marrying someone who wasn’t her. Both his father and grandmother reminded him - or tried to - of the horrors she had done in her past, the way people saw her, and how he could do better than a spoiled woman who could barely give a child to the late Conqueror, who had brought shame to their House. A shame basically, in all but name, as no one could deny the great things Visenya has done.

Some would say - and in fact they did - that the young Prince was either short sighted or has been captured by magic. But Daemon knew better than that, for he has always admired the woman, until growing up. It wasn’t until he understood better that his feelings for her were different than a simple admiration or childish infatuation. He wanted her, and he was going to do anything to get her, even if that meant going against his family’s desires.

That morning after overhearing that the bronze bitch from Runestone was to travel to the Keep, the dragon Prince walked off to find Visenya. A million thoughts in his mind as he tried to come up with a plan, to avoid an unhappy marriage he didn’t want to be part of, and see if he could seduce Visenya to finally notice him, and agree to marry him instead. Finding her, the Prince approached her. “Ñuha Dāria.” He called, he always addressed her as such - my Queen - even though she no longer held the title.

[clutchofmuses]

They are alone in her room. The afternoon sun is streaming through the windows above where Helaena sits, meticulously stabbing her needle and dragging vivid, emerald thread through the fabric. Her hair does its best to curtain her features in spite of the braid holding most of it back. Aegon is just out of her eyesight and his question hangs in the air between them.

"You're pregnant?" @withouthonor repeats, still shocked but his voice has grown more unsure and irritated with the repetition.

Repetition like the in and out of her needle. Repetition like how they lay together; the way Aegon rolled into her. However, that was awkward and uncomfortable at times and the one time he'd hurt her, she'd bit him on his shoulder so hard her mouth had been crimson. Aegon had apologized while cursing the pain and things had gotten better. Mother worried. Grandfather worried, but he worried about more than her. He worried about how many heirs there were and how many dragons everyone had.

He did not see how they'd all be gone in the end. Not like Helaena could see.

"I am. Mother said the midwife is very good. She delivered all of us." The emerald thread makes a soft sound as she pulls it through the fabric. "She's worried about how young I am. She said it's dangerous. Mother is cross about it, just in case she says something." Finally, amethyst eyes lift from her work to look at her brother. Her husband. She loves him even when he smells like wine, and leers at women, because he is her brother and they are only doing what they've been told to do. At least she knows Aegon cares about her in his way.

Not like their sire.

"Do you want to sit down?"

[bronzebtch]

it is lonely, in the red keep. of all the things rhea had anticipated her journey to the capitol in the south, she did not think that the bustling of the city, and the ever-present sound of someone working, or hollering, or drinking, would mean that she would be lonely. her betrothed is ... somewhere, she isn't certain. princess aemma had been— kind, but she is also carrying a child, and had been advised by the maesters not to move further than the area near her chamber. as for quite literally any other noble ladies around ...

rhea does not know. she had tried her best to be nice to them, and they were certainly very lively in return, but they are alike the vale's own mythical faeries, she gathers. only will be seen when they wanted to be seen. rhea still is unsure whether that's a fortunate thing or otherwise: she is not the best of orators, you see. and perhaps, if they would speak with her some more, they would have realised that there is much difference, after all, between the nobles ladies of those from the capitol, and those from the countryside.

regardless—

the godswood here is as lonely as she, rhea would have to believe, looking up now to its red leaves and its lonely solitary stance. a godswood is supposed to be in the woods, rhea thinks dishearteningly, not simply a heart tree perched in between the coming-and-going of servants and lords alike as if it was a decorative piece. though perhaps, for the people of king's landing, it is all it is. rhea bends down to pick up some weeds then, proceeding to clean, before she realises another pair of feet have come to join her.

hands having now been dirtied by the soil, rhea stands, shame easily colouring her two pale cheeks aflame. ❝ forgive me! ❞ she utters quickly, ❝ i was only— i saw the weeds, and— ❞

a countryside lady, indeed.

@withouthonor → younger rhea sc

[pulchramsolis]

“Rumor has it that she is not pregnant by her husband, but her lover," @withouthonor said, sourfaced and frustrated. Aegon was quietly playing on floor with his toy dragons at their feet, Helaena asleep in her crib.

Abrogail raised an eyebrow at her friend, stabbing the needle through the silken kerchief she was embroidering. "You mean, her lover, my brother?" she said softly. There was no use denying it, and she had no one else to speak with, and the threat of the consequences made her afraid. "I wish she... she doesn't care at all about the implications of this? If she didn't want to marry Laenor, then she had her pick of the realm."

[incissam]

@withouthonor continued from here because I have no self control.

Looking down at Joffery and his little tear stained cheeks broke Rhaenyra's heart to see her middle child had been crying. She lowered herself to his level since he would not bring himself to look up at her even going as far to ask his question to the floor. Her poor son, questioning his parentage and thinking such foul things about himself. Carefully with a touch only a mother could have she wrapped him in her arms and kissed the top of his head. "Your sire was a great man and I wish that you could have known him more, but as far as your father is concerned that is Daemon. He is the father that has raised you so if anyone ever tells you that he is not your father you tell them he is and if they have a problem with it I'll feed them to Syrax."

Rhaenyra lifted his face to look at her's and wiped away any stray tears with her thumbs before placing a kiss to his forehead. "Ser Laenor would have been proud of the young man you're turning out to be." He was the one that named him after all even if it was Harwin that was his true father. She hated to lie to her children about their parentage like this, but it was for their own safety more than anything else. "Now, who told you such horrible lies about you and your father?"

[the-rogue-dragon]

@withouthonor​ Satin sent;

[ nose rub ] - for receiver to brush their nose against sender’s nose + reversed

🔥MOST NIGHTS SLEEP ELUDED HIM LIKE the sun eluded the moon - or was it the other way around? The fruitless eternal chase of running one behind the other to never get hold of each other. The Prince of the city, decided he had enough of the chasing for that night and got up from the bed he shared with his husband. It was not common - except for some Lords and peasants to share bed with their husbands, yet the Queen had arranged for Daemon and Satin to share a room, see if that made their relationship better.

It didn’t. For Satin was the moon chasing after the sun, like Daemon chased sleep. It was a fruitless attempt to get a hold of him, to bring him to love someone that he couldn’t love. It wasn’t the boy himself who failed, it was who he was. Could he forget the name and just love the man? It was hard, for he was Satin Hightower, son of a leech - in Daemon’s eyes - son of a second born man who was only after one thing: Power. And he knew he was the only one who saw Otto Hightower for who he was.

To give in to Satin, was to give in to Otto’s manipulations and desires. To help, in a way, for the older man to have more power, or pretend he did. And thus he made his and Satin’s life miserable. Even if his husband did not know better, even if he tried to please him, behind every action, behind every deed, he could only see Otto’s hands, and it repulsed him.

The Prince moved to the balcony - unaware that he was not the only person who couldn’t sleep. It shocked him when he saw the other standing there, looking ahead. Was he thinking about how miserable their lives were? How miserable they were making each other? When they could love someone else, be with someone else, and yet... they have been captured together in a prison there was no way of escaping other than death.

A hand lifted towards him, and Daemon stood there - like a deer caught in plain sight. Before him the blade that would be his undoing. Mouth open but not sound came out, as he saw how Satin approached him, and nuzzled his nose against his own. Like a spear through the deer’s neck, Daemon’s head fell gently pressing his forehead to Satin’s shoulder. “Renounce your name and your family, and I will be able, just then, to give myself to you. Until then we will live in misery until the end of our lives.”

[pertinaxism]

@withouthonor

[ LAP ] ― my muse sits on your muses’ lap and teases them. from aegon

Her wine had been long since abandoned, along with any resolve she may have had at the beginning of the night. Now she walked up to the blonde man, pulling the skirt of her nightdress up to her thighs to allow her to place her knees on either side of his own thighs before lowering herself down onto his lap. Hands moved from his chest, slowly trailing up his body and around the nape of his neck, making sure to keep his attention on her and only her.

“Is this what you wanted, Uncle?” Voice soft, quiet, as she rolled her hips, finding friction that made her lean into him, barely covered chest brushing against his fully clothed one. Her lips ghosted against his, lavender eyes focused on his own. “Was this your intention?”