* half / god

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐅 tiredness that had been following tigran prior to his audience with the king damn nearly dissipates the moment he lays eyes on rhaegar. once he truly get’s a good look at the man. at his king. he does not have wrinkles as tigran jibed about, but he wants to embrace his king again all the same. his heart is swollen in his chest and tigran is overcome with an old, familiar, nauseating longing. perhaps next time he remains home for three years, he should not write letters in his absence. maybe then, he would not ache so deeply. 

“ gray hairs? you’re full of shit. ” tigran insists. he shuffles close to rhaegar again and does not hesitate to thread his fingers through his dense hair in order to examine it. he combs through rhaegar’s hair gently and carefully, as if he might actually catch these alleged, villainous, gray hairs. eventually, he turns up empty handed. “ nothing to worry about, your grace. ” he grins, “ and i’ve got a great eye, so you can trust me above whatever liar told you you’re graying. ” 

in order to keep his hands from wandering, tigran crosses his arms and locks his eyes onto rhaegar while he rants about what tigran has been up to as of late. his cheeks burn in embarrassment. obviously, the king was not meant to know of his activities prior to this very visit. typically, inebriated fights and day drinking were the sort tigran bragged about. but not to the king. he always has, and always will want, rhaegar to think more of him. “ uh well… ” he tries to remain effortless, so he shrugs. “ perhaps you should make more time, your grace. you have some excellent fighters lurking in the underbelly of the city. ”

tigran looks to his knuckles where the red and purple splotches from his…activities remind him of how much fun he has been having in king’s landing. and more importantly, how much fun is still to be had. tigran smiles widely at rhaegar, dropping his hands to his hips, “ your grace, i ask you to abscond …” he playfully mocks the king’s accent, “ yourself of your duties to come have fun for once. ” and in case that is not enough, tigran continues with a humorous batting of his eyelashes and a “ please? ”

he  had  fully  intended  to  let  the  gray  hairs  and  wrinkles  jokes  slide  with  no  further  mention  but  tigran  shuffled  closer  and  rhaegar’s  breath  caught  in  his  throat.  it  was  a  treacherous  thing,  to  feel  someone  else’s  fingers  in  his  hair,  such  a  casual  display  of  intimacy,  and  to  hope  tigran  might  pull  on  it.  his  tongue  runs  over  his  teeth  as  his  eyes  fall  to  the  floor  and  flutter  shut  all  at  once.  he  couldn’t  look  tigran  in  the  eye  and  took  a  step  back  to  lean  against  his  desk  for  fear  that  his  weak  knees  wouldn’t  support  him.  

there  was  a  moment,  brief  as  it  may  be,  where  the  king  could  not  find  the  words  he  wanted  to  speak.  there  were  plenty  of  words  on  the  tip  of  his  tongue,  monologues  of  desire  and  lust  teed  up  and  begging  rhaegar  open  his  mouth  and  let  his  truth  be  heard  by  the  sun  in  front  of  him.  rhaegar  was  a  great  many  things  and  unfortunately,  he  was  not  stupid  enough  to  allow  the  fantasies  that  he  had  recklessly  dreamt  of  to  come  spilling  from  him.  

tigran  was  blushing,  when  rhaegar  had  finally  taken  him  in,  and  though  it  was  not  for  the  same  reasons,  he  wondered  what  it  might  take  to  make  tigran  blush  again.  if  there  was  something  else  that  he  might  want  to  do  late  at  night.  instead  of  dwelling,  rhaegar  locked  the  thought  away  almost  immediately,  choosing  to  laugh  at  tigran’s  shrug.  

continue  the  conversation  before  you  break  your  vows.      

❛  perhaps  i  should,  though  i’m  not  convinced  that  it  would  be  a  good  appearance  if  the  king  was  fighting  with  the  smallfolk  in  the  streets.  ❜  the  thought  is  rather  funny  to  rhaegar,  who  would  have  loved  nothing  more  than  the  anonymity  to  walk  among  the  smallfolk.  perhaps  he  could  get  away  with  it,  once  or  twice,  as  he  had  in  his  youth.  he  may  be  king  but  he  was  a  man,  too,  and  perhaps  he  believed  too  much  in  the  sanctity  of  the  crown  to  remember  that  more  often  than  not.  

rhaegar  raised  his  hands  in  surrender,  nodding  slowly  at  tigran’s  request.  he  had  so  much  to  do  but  the  mounting  work  on  his  desk  would  survive  a  handful  of  hours  free  of  his  attention.  there’s  an  errant  thought,  one  that  he  does  not  stop  to  explore  but  acknowledges  in  the  kind  of  way  one  does  when  you’re  not  sure  of  the  answer  and  don’t  like  the  idea  of  the  answer:  would  you  have  said  yes  to  your  wife  if  she  had  come  to  you  instead  ?

❛  i’ve  brought  us  a  treat.  ❜  there’s  a  singsong  nature  to  her  tone  and  alerie’s  smile  was  bright  as  she  arrived  with  the  small  plate  piled  high  with  sweet  treats  to  share.  

the  red  keep  was  incredibly  sized  but  it  seemed  as  though  mel  and  alerie  had  a  similar  desire:  finding  somewhere  quiet  to  sit.  the  targaryens  had  arranged  a  number  of  tents  throughout  the  gardens  outside  of  the  great  sept  of  baelor  and  alerie  was  pleased  to  be  in  a  space  that  could  even  marginally  remind  her  of  the  riverlands.  she  had  been  so  ungodly  cold  in  the  north,  she  had  only  found  true  reprieve  in  the  gardens  of  winterfell  and  now  that  she  was  below  the  neck  again,  she  felt  reinvigorated,  like  she  was  once  more  blooming  in  the  sunlight.  

it  had  been  too  long  since  she  had  been  in  the  south.  it  wasn’t  nearly  as  long  as  she  had  built  it  up  to  be  in  her  mind,  of  course,  but  all  of  her  traveling  seemed  to  be  running  together  and  the  weeks  on  the  road  from  winterfell  to  king’s  landing  had  proved  to  be  rather  …  not  awkward,  as  she  rather  liked  the  majority  of  her  soon  to  be  in  laws,  but  there  was  a  trepidation  in  traveling  for  the  first  time  away  from  the  family  of  her  birth  with  the  starks.  

her  stomach  had  been  rolling  since  they’d  passed  through  the  riverlands  but  it  was  undeniable  that  aryanna  had  been  a  rather  lovely  person  to  travel  with.  she  might  have  preferred  to  ride  her  own  horse  for  some  length  of  the  journey,  but  she  would  have  missed  out  time  with  aryanna  and  the  development  of  what  alerie  thought  was  a  lovely  friendship  that  had  taken  root  and  bloomed  quite  quickly  over  the  journey.  

as  the  pair  strolled  through  the  gardens  of  the  red  keep  —  something  alerie  was  more  than  excited  to  do  outside  of  the  glass  confines  of  the  gardens  in  winterfell  —  she  gently  looped  her  arm  with  aryanna’s.  the  winds  whispered  through  the  trees  and  offered  that  there  was  no  one  around  to  hear  what  they  might  discuss  and  even  though  there  was  likely  nothing  of  major  value  to  be  exchanged  between  the  stark  and  stark-to-be,  it  was  reassuring.  they  were,  after  all,  in  the  home  of  people  who  had  made  themselves  enemies  of  house  stark.  

there  was  something  about  king’s  landing  that  had  alerie  simultaneously  on  edge  and  at  ease.  since  riding  north,  she  had  dreamed  of  seeing  the  ocean  again.  maidenpool  had  the  loveliest  sunrises  and  sunsets  that  could  not  be  paralleled  anywhere  else  in  the  world,  even  here  in  the  capital  city.  the  breeze  blew  through  her  in  a  way  that  was  reminiscent  of  maidenpool,  though,  and  when  she  closed  her  eyes,  it  was  easy  to  pretend  that  she  was  sitting  on  the  pink  walls  that  surrounded  her  home.  

when  she  opened  her  eyes,  though,  she  was  back  in  king’s  landing  and  that  uneasiness  had  made  itself  at  home  in  her  gut.  she  wanted  answers  to  questions  she  didn’t  know  how  to  ask  and  the  rest  of  the  world  was  trying  to  figure  out  how  to  kill  one  another  most  diplomatically.  she  found  herself  in  the  gardens  so  frequently  not  because  they  were  particularly  lovelier  than  any  other  but  because  she  found  it  easiest  to  set  her  intentions  clearly  when  she  attempted  to  commune  with  nature  when  she  was  in  it.  

settled  beneath  a  towering  tree,  a  cloth  in  front  of  her  with  chalk  marks  reminiscent  of  the  witching  table  that  she  had  carted  all  across  the  kingdoms  laid  out  with  a  number  of  symbols  and  trinkets  across  it.  in  the  center,  as  with  most  things,  a  small  disk  painted  with  the  colors  of  house  targaryen,  the  fractured  antler  pieces  surrounding  it  and  the  snake  skin  not  too  far  from  it.  in  another  corner,  a  small  bundle  of  fur  from  a  direwolf  is  separated  from  the  trio  of  houses,  a  falcon’s  talon  not  too  far  from  the  fur.  the  scales  representing  house  tully  and  the  splinter  of  an  ironborn  oar  are  inconspicuously  missing  from  the  larger  picture.  it  was  a  rather  acceptable  understanding  of  the  current  state  but  every  time  alerie  tried  to  recast  the  objects,  nothing  would  change.  it  was  maddening.  

so  when  the  twig  snapped  and  she  realized  it  was  through  no  fault  of  her  own,  she  was  more  than  relieved  to  see  elric  standing  near.  whatever  tired  frustrated  lingered  in  her  bones  seemed  to  fly  away  when  she  saw  him,  relieved  and  excited  to  see  him  all  at  once.  perhaps  she  was  foolish,  to  allow  herself  to  have  developed  such  a  fondness  for  him,  but  they  were  to  be  married  and  hers  was  a  gentle,  giving  heart.  

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐀 𝐂𝐎𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃 tigran feels like, avoiding the king since his arrival…how petty… how childish … tigran likes to think of it as self preserving, but he knows that is only a mask. distance aside, rhaegar comes in as a strong second on tigran’s list of reasons not to visit king’s landing. he does not recall meeting the king, only ever having warm feelings for his highness. it only makes this celebration all the more difficult. tigran has spent his days since arriving drinking, staying in inns, and harmlessly brawling a fellow drunkard or two. nothing drastic  enough to alert the institution to his presence, or to get him labelled dangerous. if anything, the lasting impact of his hobbies have been a few bruises and the constant stench of ale following him. 

on the third day following his arrival, he mustered the courage to seek an audience with the king. it has to have been since his coronation since they last met, tigran figures, fidgeting beyond the doors to rhaegar’s study. eventually, the doors shudder open and the guards allow him entry. first, he sloppily bows in the king’s direction with the customary, “ your grace. ” then, once the doors have closed, tigran rushes to embrace rhaegar in an energetic hug. the bastard steps back and takes a look at his king, “ it’s been too long .” a grin, “ you’re getting wrinkles, old man. ” a lie. tigran circles around the room, surveying it for something he’s not letting rhaegar in on. finally, he stops, hands on his hips. “ tsk. tsk. tsk. it is a beautiful day, my king. what false gods have possessed you to stay holed up in here? ”

it  would  not  have  been  petty  or  childish  if  the  king  had  remained  blissfully  unaware  of  tigran’s  presence  in  the  city,  as  he  was  sure  that  was  his  friend’s  plan  for  not  coming  to  visit  upon  his  immediate  arrival.  it  had  been  three  years  since  rhaegar  had  last  seen  tigran  and  there  was  something  in  him  that  longed  to  see  the  dornishman  again.  besides,  rhaegar  was  a  honey  tongued  man  and  it  was  easy  to  soothe  himself  with  his  own  lies  that  it  was  only  because  he  kept  few  true  friends  and  tigran  was  one  of  the  few  he  counted  among  them.  that  friendship,  rhaegar  had  begun  to  convince  himself,  was  why  his  heart  stung  that  tigran  did  not  announce  his  arrival  sooner.  

the  transgression  was  immediately  put  out  of  mind,  though,  when  tigran  had  finally  sought  an  audience  with  the  king.  the  preparations  were  well  underway  for  his  brother’s  nameday  and  rhaegar  had  been  taking  the  time  to  work  through  his  backlog  of  reports  on  the  most  recent  harvest.  the  summer  had  been  kind  to  them  and  the  yield  of  crops  was  better  tahn  he  had  expected.  not  nearly  as  much  as  he  prayed  for  but  he  still  looked  towards  his  ceiling  to  mutter  a  sincere  thank  you  to  the  seven.  he  would  find  time  to  devote  in  the  coming  days  before  the  lords  and  ladies  of  westeros  monopolized  all  of  his  time.  

his  brother  is  the  first  to  poke  his  head  in  the  room  and  rhaegar  offers  a  tired  smile,  only  for  his  entire  demeanor  to  shift  at  the  mention  of  tigran.  the  two  switch  places  near  instantaneously  before  rhaegar’s  eyes  and  he  is  quickly  on  his  feet  to  embrace  him.  the  touch  is  too  short  and  his  arms  feel  empty  when  tigran  steps  back.  

❛  wrinkles  ?  perish  the  thought.  it’s  my  hair  you  should  be  worried  about.  there’s  been  talk  of  gray  hairs.  ❜  his  hair  is  thick,  luscious,  and  the  color  of  deep  chocolate  that  he  inherited  from  his  great  grandfather.  rhaegar  does  not  let  the  conversation  linger  on  how  long  it’s  been  since  they  last  saw  one  another.  his  heart  aches  at  the  thought.  perhaps  he  has  made  the  most  foolish  of  errors  in  letting  his  heart  get  involved  at  all.  

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐃𝐑𝐘 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒 the king carefully, trying to pinpoint what the look behind rhaegar’s eyes is saying. she despises him. what an insufferable man, she thinks, but curtsies and smiles to greet him all the same, “ your grace. ” she cannot and will not say it is a pleasure to see king rhaegar, but she would be a fool to say nothing at all. “ truly, the honor is all mine. how long has it been since we last spoke? ” not nearly long enough and the words feel like acid on her tongue, but theldry is not an idiot, she plays nicely. for now. rarely has she been presented with an invitation to king’s landing, she intends to make the most of her time. “ oh yes, it was a fine trip. ” theldry keeps the details minimal before taking the lead, “ could we walk, your grace?  ” 

before being presented with an answer, theldry begins to shuffle away, trusting the king would follow. she does not for a moment believe that his intentions are pure, or that rhaegar’s invitation was solely for the occasion of a name day. and if it was … ? well, that would make the king an imbecile who didn’t play to his own advantages. filled with the desire to know more, theldry asks, “ are you excited for the impending festivities? feeling prepared? ” a soft laugh drips from her mouth, “ i’m certain your pockets aren’t feeling as enthusiastic… by the looks of things… it seems you love your brother greatly…” her tone makes it unclear whether or not this is a jab.

❛  of  course,  my  lady.  ❜  he  extended  an  arm  as  she  began  to  shuffle  away,  as  though  presenting  her  with  the  exit  she  was  planning  on  taking.  rhaegar  could  already  feel  the  looming  sense  of  a  bad  omen  descending  upon  them  but  perhaps  it  is  just  the  clouds  that  are  rolling  in  from  the  stormlands.  still,  he  followed  the  lady  lannister’s  lead  and  within  steps  he  had  caught  up  to  her  and  allowed  her  to  continue  to  set  their  pace.  

❛  i  will  only  be  pleased  when  i  see  our  guests  having  the  time  of  their  lives.  ❜  rhaegar  offered  in  a  good  natured  way,  as  though  he  were  only  planning  a  party  and  had  not  found  time  in  the  busy  schedule  to  speak  with  each  of  the  great  houses  and  their  ruling  body.  no  matter  what  assumptions  were  made  about  him,  rhaegar  was  not  a  man  lacking  in  his  critical  thinking  and  the  idea  that  he  would  let  such  a  time  as  this  to  pass  him  by  —  when  absolutely  everyone  he  needed  to  see  to  prevent  total  chaos  from  descending  upon  the  realm  was  in  the  same  place  —  was  utterly  foolish.  even  now  he  was  taking  the  opportunity  to  see  how  the  lannisters  might  intend  to  move  through  this  event.  he  had  hoped  they  would  attend  but  it  had  still  been  a  surprise  to  hear  they  had  arrived  in  king’s  landing.  

there  were  a  handful  of  lords  and  ladies  that  rhaegar  looked  forward  to  seeing.  those  who  had  cemented  themselves  in  his  heart,  who  had  made  positive  lasting  impressions,  or  who  had  already  made  their  position  clear  with  the  rising  tensions.  theldry  was  none  of  those  things  but  she  was  someone  who  rhaegar,  none  the  less,  had  kept  in  sporadic  communication  with  over  the  years  since  his  coronation.  she  was  a  lannister  and  was  smarter  than  the  other  members  of  his  family,  he  was  sure  of  it.  she  had  a  hunger  in  her  eyes  that  he  was  fascinated  by  and  while  the  lioness  of  faircastle  was  not  his  enemy,  rhaegar  was  equally  sure  that  he  could  not  list  her  among  his  friends.  

❛  lauryn  !  ❜  it  is  the  least  amount  of  decorum  rhaegar  had  shown  it  at  least  a  week.  however,  his  cousin’s  wife  was  like  a  sister  to  him  and  their  children  were  almost  as  good  as  his  being  his  nieces.  to  see  them  was  to  be  reconnected  with  the  family  that  was  just  a  bit  too  far  away  for  his  liking,  especially  as  tensions  were  rising.  they  might  have  been  in  targaryen  controlled  territory  but  the  tentative  peace  was  enough  to  eat  away  at  him.  while  his  nervous  disposition  was  not  anything  near  the  targaryen  madness  or  even  paranoia,  he  just  needed  to  know  his  family  was  safe.  

aemon’s  arrival  to  king’s  landing  was  something  that  rhaegar  looked  forward  to.  though  his  four  siblings  were  thankfully  still  in  the  red  keep  and  nearby  (  he  loathed  knowing  that  he  would  have  to  let  some  of  them  go,  soon  ),  it  was  aemon  that  rhaegar  found  himself  looking  for  most  often.  they  were  more  like  brothers  than  cousins  and  being  the  same  age  meant  that  aemon  was  someone  who  had  known  rhaegar  since  the  very  beginning.  their  closeness  as  children  has,  as  far  as  rhaegar  was  concerned,  was  rather  unmarred  by  adulthood  —  at  least  now  when  they  spar,  neither  has  to  hold  back.  

while  the  lords  and  ladies  of  westeros  were  still  settling  in,  rhaegar  had  taken  aemon  aside  to  one  of  the  training  rooms  in  the  keep,  away  from  prying  eyes  and  pressed  a  dulled  blade  into  his  hand.  just  because  they  were  sparring  didn’t  mean  the  king  wanted  to  risk  someone  actually  being  cut.  

hello, hello, hello ! it's your friendly neighborhood mac being forced to use the new post editor because tumblr hates me and wants to stunt my creativity at every turn. i'll be playing the loves of my life, rhaegar targaryen ( 35, he/him, daniel sharman fc ) and alerie mooton ( 25, she/her, hailee steinfeld fc ). i can't wait to introduce them to you so without further ado, please look below the cut to find their introductions !

p.s. also i'm at work when this is posted but feel free to ask me for my d*scord and i'll send it to you when i'm done working !