𝓛egacy

@deathmerit continued from here

Lavender eyes fixed on her husband as the Queen turned, one hand lifting to cover his on her arm. He had returned to Dragonstone the day prior to be at her side, now that the war was unfolding before them and he had held her through her grief through the previous night, ensuring she got up and dressed that morning, to be presentable as Queen. Regardless of her loss and the pain that came with it, her strength was more important now than ever, because her men would not follow a week ruler into a devastating war - they expected her to lead without mercy, to hold her head high and claim what was hers.

Daemon’s gaze did not abandon hers as his hands held her. “You will become a far better ruler than your father ever was.” He responded with a certainty that burned. “But titles of mercy can wait. Especially now, you and I are aware what must be done.” His eyes roamed all over her face, studying and watching, and for once the distant sounds of Dragonstone’s sea did not brace them with kindness and peace. A lot had been lost — people and things — but they had no time to mourn either. Daemon knew it firsthand and he made it as evident as possible to her. “You will have time to mourn. You will have time to process. But that time is not now.”

He wasn't cruel to her, never to her. Daemon knew better and felt differently towards the heart of Rhaenyra. He did not care about any other’s.

“We will fly to King's Landing together. And I will bring Aemond and Aegon to you — alive. So you can finish this with your own hands. As a mother, as my queen.” His hands did not release hers but they held on tightly and Daemon did not hesitate to lean his forehead against hers like he usually did.

Their proximity meant comfort, unity. Love.

𝒜 𝒟𝐎𝐖𝐑𝐘 𝒪𝐅 𝐵𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐛𝐲 𝐬.𝐭. 𝐠𝐢𝐛𝐬𝐨𝐧 accepting

Rhaenyra wet the cloth in the bowl before turning back to her uncle, dabbing it against his cheek as she cleaned the small cut he had somehow managed to get during the brawl out in Flea Bottom. She has always wanted to see the place for herself, to learn what kept the guards whispering when they thought no one important was listening, but there had never been a proper opportunity for her.

“I'm sure he looks far worse than you do right now,” she joked lightly, the hint of a smile tugging at her lips as she turned away to wet the cloth again.

“Though tearing out his throat might have made the evening more interesting.” She wrung the cloth between her hands, taking her time as she pushed her agenda.

“It was foolish of him in the first place to try and fight me.” Daemon said but made no move to rid himself of her aid. Be it anyone else, he would have reacted dramatically so— but his niece was excused in every way and aspect. “He put dirt on your name instead of holding his tongue.”

As she turned away, he watched her closely. Her hair, the back of her neck where it was visible. Daemon did not call it yearning — never would he — despite his gaze arguing otherwise.

“Look at me.” He ordered rather than requested. “I do not need to look at your face to understand you. I am not my brother. Not your so called friends either.”

He moved his hand towards Rhaenyra’s face. His index finger brushed against her chin first, like a soft caress, then his entire hand settled for gripping. Daemon held her face and urged her to look at him as he spoke again. “Perhaps next time.” Daemon repeated, looked around to assure their privacy, then met her gaze again. “Next time could be tonight. If you find a hoodie small enough for that head.”

"I didn't make you a monster. I just brought out what was already there." / From Hannibal to Will.

Maybe Hannibal is right, though it is not something he will so readily admit. There has always been this darkness inside of him, kept at bay by removing himself from the job he had before Jack dragged him back in. Perhaps he could have avoided this darkness if he had stayed away, teaching rather than profiling. 

And now? It feels like there is no escape. There’s no going back. Maybe if he had never met Hannibal but the fact is, he’s in deep now. Unbothered by eating the human that Hannibal feeds him on a constant basis. 

And now? After their little stunt and surviving the fall? He has killed. More than once. He knows automatically what kind of killer he has. A justice killer. Like somehow, in his mind that has been wrapped time and time again, that killing those who are horrible criminals somehow makes his crimes less than. 

Other killers, abusers, the scummiest of the scummy. These are the type of kills he goes after and he often lures them back to the place he and Hannibal are at, so that he can kill them and allow Hannibal to turn them into masterpieces of meals. 

What better way to get rid of evidence than to eat it? 

Still, he hates it when Hannibal brings up this. His jaw clenches as his eyes narrow at the man before him, telling him that it was not him who made Will a killer.

“Was that ever the case? Meeting me?” Hannibal asks while leaning his lower back against the island of his kitchen as Will stands right across him. He does not move his arms but keeps them perfectly still instead. Otherwise, it would be a waste of that perfectly ironed suit he'd worn for the other. Hannibal does not treat wrinkles lightly.

His eyes settle on Will’s face but not before he watches the rest of him. Movements that he can only describe as anxious, beautiful hands that encase nothing and the specific distance from his torso to his jaw. It's harmony, it's balance, it's perfection. Most of all, it is hunger.

Hannibal shifts his legs, placing one over the other so carefully that his clothes remain untouched.

“Excuses are the easiest words for our brain to create when we're in a position that is most.. unusual.” Hannibal’s eyes study the bridge of Will’s nose as his mouth parts slowly. “But it is fascinating. After so much blood spilled, one would think you're past unusual yet here you are. Lying to my face.” He does not sound mad nor feels like it regardless; the corner of Hannibal's lips rises briefly. “Perhaps you have began to take advantage of my affections. You think I'll excuse you from the attitudes I find distasteful?”

A moment passes until Hannibal steps forward and as easy as it is for him to seal the distance, he does not. “Had you not met me, you'd be miserable. Muttering beneath your breath, accepting everything, letting it all slide. Giving in.” He smiles for a moment, feeling all too satisfied at what was before him, — the real Will. A divine form that, according to Hannibal, no one else could grasp nor understand.

Hannibal saw horns upon Will’s head, blood beneath his fingernails and the clench of his bearded jaw. And Hannibal stayed.

"It is the greatest tradition within the people of Meereen, Khaleesi." Jorah explained as they stood side by side, in one of the exterior terraces of Meereen's Great pyramid. From that high point, they saw the self-made fighting circle that the folk had created to fight with each other since Daenerys was against re-opening those fighting pits.

The pyramid of Meereen had became their new home, for now, once Daenerys had occupied the specific land, yet peace was at the furthest way. "It is difficult to teach something new to one who has been born and raised into something old. It takes time, patience." He averted his gaze from the gruesome sight to look at Daenerys and, momentarily, his heart dropped.

“But they are free now,” she continued on after him as she watched the fighting below, a crease forming between her brows while she tried to make sense of the senseless bloodshed. “They no longer need to fight for the pleasure of any masters...”

Their new freedom was meant to give them a choice beyond pain and death. But even with their chains broken, they gathered around the circle shouting at each other as they struck one another. Daenerys couldn't understand how something like this could even be called tradition, or why anyone would choose to continue it when it resulted in death.

At his praise, she looked up at him with what could only be described as adoration in her eyes. Jorah is her most trusted adviser and there are many things she admired about him. He stood beside her when she had no one, offering his sword, his counsel, and his loyalty to her. And now every praise he gave her, she soaked in like a parched flower drinking up the rain.

“Should I allow them to continue, or should I put an end to it for good?” Dany asked for his advice, knowing she would get nothing but honesty from him on what he thinks she should do.

Her look of admiration was the biggest praise there was to Jorah and a reminder of what he truly fought for. Daenerys was not another mad ruler or one with power to feed his urges of money and greed and easy paths, no. She was working hard and learning to become the best ruler there ever was; one that evidently despised violence and fear and imbalance. Jorah was there to make it happen.

“A compromise, Khaleesi.” He advised after thinking deeply of her concerns. “You may reopen the pits but manage them differently. I'll manage them for you if I must.” When Jorah saw her grimace at the gorey sight, he stood before her and prevented her from watching more of the brutal bloodshed. It was a protective reaction. “With you as a ruler, the pits can welcome only those who want to take part in them. There are no masters to force people into this anymore, only you. Their queen.”

Not everyone would say that her husband was a beautiful man. Not in the conventional sense anyway. She, too, had once thought his brother to be the more handsome one of the two but that belief had changed. Ned was a true northman and Catelyn had grown to appreciate that. His hair, his body, his face... she could spend hours just looking at him and she would only end up discovering more things to love about him.

@deathmerit : "You're still looking."

His voice pulled her out of her thoughts but instead of feeling embarrassed, she simply smirked at him. She shifted on their bed, watching him more openly now as he moved around their chamber. What a handsome man he was. The furs hung loosely around her, keeping her just warm enough. "And does it bother you, my lord? Perhaps I should find another to look at, someone who appreciates the gaze of a woman." Catelyn loved to tease him, knowing full well that the idea of her doing such a thing was just ridiculous and yet he would hate it anyway.

“Did I say I'm bothered by it?” Ned questioned with the rise of a single brow while taking in the view of his wife; protected by his furs, intimate and caressed by Winterfell’s sunlight. A moment such as this one wasn't the only moment in which he realized the depth of his love for her. No — because Ned experienced that often. Every single day he was awake and aware, not of his luck, but of Catelyn’s power over him.

At her compliment, he smiled and paused his task of readying for the day to come close to her. Ned stood by her side of the bed and towered over his wife. “I shall have you know that I do not want someone else's gaze to appreciate me this way. Not in this life nor the next.” His words were a low rumble, something only the two deserved to know like some secret. And yet the whole Winterfell knew how Ned Stark obeyed nobody except his own beloved wife. His Lady. “Now call me your lord husband again, make me stay. Unless you intend for me to train our sons in time for once.”

𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐕𝐀𝐋, 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒. all these sentences quotes are based on medieval marriages and the tensions regarding arranged marriages and the notion of affairs and mistresses and the such. warnings for infidelity and anything related to medieval times if that thing is not your thing. change pronouns, name and locations as you see fit.

"You need not love me, but at least grant me the courtesy of discretion."

"Do you whisper her name when you lie beside me?"

"I see the way your eyes follow him. Am I to be a fool in my own home?"

"She is nothing to me, a mere dalliance. You, however, are my wife."

"Did you ever look at me the way you look at her?"

"Tell me, husband, how many times have you left our bed to warm hers?"

"It is not love I ask for, only loyalty."

"My father sold me to you like a horse at auction, and now you expect devotion?"

"If you mean to humiliate me, at least do it behind closed doors."

"A mistress is but a shadow, but a wife is the foundation of a house."

"You come to me only when she has turned you away."

"He looks at you as if he could devour you whole. Does it please you?"

"I swore an oath to you before gods and men. Does that mean nothing?"

"I hear the whispers, I see the stolen glances. Do not insult me by denying it."

"Did she laugh when you told her I was none the wiser?"

"I will not be another meek wife who turns her head and pretends not to see."

"Shall I seek a lover of my own, then? Or is it only men who are granted such indulgences?"

"Would you have wed me if not for my father’s gold?"

"She is your past, but I am your present and future."

"You wear my colors at tourneys, but it is her favor you carry."

"I was raised to know my duty, but that does not mean it does not wound me."

"If you do not love me, at least do not disgrace me."

"Is her kiss sweeter than mine? Do you hold her as you once held me?"

"She is a girl playing at love. I am the woman who bore your children."

"I will not bear a bastard under my roof while my own sons are set aside."

"Your honor, your duty, your house—you throw it all away for a bedwarmer."

"Do you think me blind? Do you think me foolish?"

"I may not be the wife you wanted, but I am the wife you have."

"Tell me truly—when you look at me, do you wish I were her?"

"I have given you everything, and still, it is not enough."

"What has she given you that I have not?"

"Was she worth the shame you bring upon me?"

"If you will not be faithful in love, then be faithful in duty."

"A noble wife is a burden to a man who wishes to be free."

"Do not forget, dear husband, that I am not without allies of my own."

"I did not choose this life, but I will not be shamed within it."

"Does she weep for you when you ride to battle? Or is that still my duty?"

"I have stood by your side in war and in peace, and still, you seek another."

"You call it love. I call it betrayal."

"She can never give you what I can—power, legacy, a name to be remembered."

"I see how she touches you when she thinks no one is looking."

"You have given her your heart, and me, your duty."

"Would you put her in my place if you could?"

"She wears silk and pearls, but I wear your name."

"She may be the one in your bed, but I am the one who will be remembered in history."

"Did she vow to honor you? Did she stand before the gods and swear her life to you?"

"When you tire of her, you will come crawling back to me."

"I will not weep for a man who has forgotten his vows."

"If she carries your child, I will see it drowned before it can steal from my own."

"It is not love she wants, only what she can take from you."

"You think her love is true? Wait until you have nothing left to give her."

"You say you love me, yet I wake in an empty bed."

"How many nights did you lie to my face before I finally saw the truth?"

"The court may gossip, but I will not give them the pleasure of seeing me break."

"I was a fool to think duty would be enough to hold you."

"Even if you leave her, the stain of betrayal will remain."

"I will not let her turn my children against me."

"When your name is dust and your house is ashes, will she still love you?"

"A queen is not so easily replaced, nor a wife so easily forgotten."

"You have made your choice. Now live with it."

30 Prompts and Actions.

A wife catches her husband’s mistress wearing one of her gowns.

A husband returns home late at night, reeking of another woman’s perfume.

A noblewoman warns her husband’s mistress to stay away or suffer the consequences.

A lord brings his mistress to a feast, forcing his wife to sit beside her.

A queen confronts her king about his infidelities before the entire court.

A wife befriends her husband’s mistress, shocking him.

A jealous wife arranges for her husband’s mistress to be sent away in secret.

A husband accuses his wife of seeking a lover of her own in retaliation.

A mistress discovers she is pregnant and fears the wife’s wrath.

A wife secretly bribes her husband’s mistress to leave the city.

A nobleman is forced to marry a woman he does not love while his heart belongs to another.

A woman’s lover is exiled after her husband discovers their affair.

A queen’s bastard half-brother is rumored to be her lover.

A wife replaces the mistress’s perfume with something foul.

A jilted noblewoman plots revenge against the husband who abandoned her.

A king forces his mistress to attend his wife’s coronation.

A husband gifts his mistress jewels that once belonged to his wife.

A noblewoman publicly humiliates her husband’s mistress at a tournament.

A wife secretly arranges for her husband’s mistress to be wed to an old and cruel nobleman.

A husband demands his wife accept his mistress as part of their household.

A young bride watches as her husband kisses another woman at their wedding feast.

A king’s mistress poisons the queen in hopes of replacing her.

A mistress flaunts her power by wearing the queen’s favorite color at court.

A husband swears his fidelity to his wife after she falls ill.

A nobleman returns from war to find his wife in the arms of another.

A queen takes a lover of her own in defiance of her unfaithful husband.

A wife gives birth to a child that does not resemble her husband.

A husband is forced to execute his former lover for treason.

A mistress learns that her lover is to be married and begs him to run away with her.