ᴘʀᴇᴛᴛʏ ʙᴏʏ

As usual, first were the arguments groggily muttered from beneath her sheets with the servants who were more determined than usual today to drag her from her warm bed and usher her toward whatever duties she was required to complete. She quietly fumed in irritation as she was forced to sit still while one of her lady’s maids carefully braided and pinned her hair into place, which was then followed by the tedious task of being laced into one of her fine silk gowns. A dress of deep violet today to match her eyes, she had decided. At least they had allowed her to choose that much. After that, she broke her fast with her brothers before they scattered off to do whatever it was the perfect princes occupied themselves with in their spare time.

Thankfully, by some blessing of luck from the seven Gods themselves, Auriel managed to slip away unnoticed after the meal before the servants could catch her and pull to whatever dull thing awaited her. Lessons, perhaps, or worse, being forced to entertain some boring suitor visiting the keep for the day. Auriel wanted absolutely zero part of that.

Instead, she kept herself to the seldom used outer corridors, lingering near the exit that led out toward the yard. Hoping, if fortune favored her, she might just catch one of the Kingsguard on his way to train or perhaps some handsome knight with more muscle than sense that she could flirt with; turning his entire face crimson as the blood he would likely shed in his sparring match. But it was another figure who caught her eye from the corner of her vision. A familiar head of dirty blond hair appeared down the corridor and Auriel’s face immediately brightened into a grin. Daeron. She beamed at him as he came closer, waving him down before he could even attempt to pass her by.

"We?" Daeron questioned, his eyes shifting around as trying to find where she was getting the 'we' statement from. "I have plans. Plans that I made for myself only moments ago, and my plans intended for me to be alone."

In truth, he just didn't want to look at her face at the moment. Which went against nearly ever encounter they have ever had in their life. Usually, the two of them were slipping from tavern to tavern whenever they managed to escape from the overbearing expectations of their family, drinking themselves senseless and playing ridiculous games with the locals.

But when Daeron looked at her now, all he saw was the terror on her face from his dream. And when her lips opened to make words to him, all he heard was the screaming for help while he stood there unable to do anything but stare like a helpless fool.

"Fine." Daeron shook his head, forcing a soft grin onto his face while he reached for her elbows and let his trembling fingers close around it. His fingers normally trembles, yes, but this was not from the lack of drinking today. "Lets hurry along then. The wine is calling to me, and I have every intention of finding the bottom of a barrel tonight."

When his fingers fully grasped her elbow, guilt ran through him to his core. He couldn't grab her like this when she needed him in that dream, he reached out but yet still failed to help her. And he couldn't stop the thought of what that might have meant. Would he stand there and watch her as she fell into the dragon's mouth, unable to help? Or would he hear of his death only after it was finished and he could not nothing more but stand and mourn.

Those thoughts caused him to release her quickly and stare straight ahead as the two of them walked down the steps, his eyes blinking several times as he tried to force the dream into some dark corner of his mind where he could no longer think of it.

"I hope you can keep up with me tonight, Auriel. It's going to be a long one." His voice had that distant and dry tone that always came after a dream that was too hard to stomach.

memes memes memes | accepting! | @drunkenvows

“Do you consider yourself a loser, then, cousin? A pitiful footnote destined to be forgotten by history?”

The princess asked, tracing one finger around the rim of her goblet before sinking back into her chair and lifting the cup to her lips.

She let her words linger in the air for a moment, watching him over the rim of her cup as she took a slow drink. Then she leaned forward to claim the carafe, filling his goblet before topping off her own with her favored red; something sweet, full-bodied, and dark as spilled blood. Something luxurious before he and the rest of the participants in the trial would face either death or victory tomorrow morning. Daeron had done everything he could to avoid entering the lists at Ashford, and yet here he was, commanded by his father to join him and his brother on the side of the accusers.

“Or do you simply believe our kin will lose tomorrow?”

He watched as she poured him another drink, using the heel of his palm to rub beneath his nose which has started to run from all the wine he has consumed over the last few days.

"If I were to die," Daeron pointed out after giving her a small nod of thanks, his fingers wrapped around the goblet to bring it to his lips for a sip. "No one would write of me in the histories of our family."

Perhaps he would earn a single paragraph in the Targaryen archived, and even that would only speak of him as a pathetic heir, a terrible man, and a disappointing prince. That was all he has accomplished in his life, as far as anyone was concerned.

"I would be a traitor if I wished for our kin to lose. But what sort of man would I be if I wished for the innocent to die?"

The Lord of Jest took his favorite form; a fool wearing the green mask of a dragon, the curling horns turned into fabric tassels of a faint bronze, ending in two silver bells. His elaborate costume comprised of green and purple diamonds, a golden collar like the odd frill of a dragon bright around his throat.  

The purple marking upon the mask pulsed brightly, like the twin violet orbs that glowed like odd embers in the eyeholes of the dragon mask.

“You speak as if you are not one of them.” He crooned, curling a gloved hand with long fingers underneath his chin. “But I smell the scent of humanity on you.” The head tilted, bells jingling. “Humans are flawed creatures. But so is every other beast that walks this realm.”

Daeron tried to appear entirely unbothered by what was next to him, or by the conversation talking place. In truth, he wasnt really certain if he was dreaming right now or if this was reality and he had simply drank too much ale. He was placing bets that it was the former, and kept waiting for the darkness that dreams usually brought to take shape.

"Sometimes," Daeron answered dreamily, giving the other a slow blink of acknowledgment as he took in the mask. It sent a chill through his spin and caused Daeron to advert his gaze.

Whenever he found himself trapped in a dream, he tried not to look at anything too closely. It was easier to endure them when he just let it all happen around him while he withdrew inside of himself. Dreams rarely spoke directly at him like this, and fewer ever seemed aware he was there.

"I believe I am not fully connection to them." His shoulders moved in a small shrug. "Not with the curse of dreams plaguing me." Then his attention returned to the grass as well, watching it sway while he sat next to the masked... God?