H A M C R T I A hamartia ; noun. a fatal flaw leading to the tragic downfall of a hero. independent, selective multi-muse with characters from: house of the dragon, game of thrones, pirates of the caribbean, the boys, & more ! curated by rae. icon border / psd by supersources
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the sun was bright in the sky today, relentlessly beating down on him as he continued to plant crops so their next harvest would be bountiful. the people of their village had returned to their homes for the day, their assistance always appreciated. certainly there were times, such as today where his body was sore and covered in sweat, did he have thoughts of returning to westeros. but it had been so long now . . . he felt as if he belonged here more than he ever did there. once he enters their home, he is immediately grateful for the lack of light. in the corner, he spots a familiar head of fiery curls that has his lips spreading into a smile. her back is turned to him, so he takes the opportunity to wrap his arms around her waist and bury his head into her neck. " you must cease your niceties and discontinue bringing us drinks while we work i do not like the way they stare at you. " his lover, a beauty to behold. it was expected, truly, but he despised it nonetheless. his hands are greedy, palms running across the thin fabric of her dress from her stomach to breasts. " it's these dresses, i'm sure of it. "
@hamcrtia asked:❝ it’s a gift. i had it made for you. ❞ ( to sara, from cregan ! )
her hand stops the motion on the fur of sandbright, the direwolf whining complain at the attention but she was focused on the gently wrapped package he had in his hand. "my name day is not until days from now." sara speaks, hands reaching togently trace the direwolf ornament over the package, a smile tugging on her lips. it always warm her heart when cregan showed he had no care for her status as a bastard, often treating her as if she had been born an equal. "what is it?"
the young wolf cannot help but chuckle at the noise that came from her direwolf. it causes him to wonder where his own had run off to ; perhaps to guard the babe and lynara, he assumes. " it is never too early to celebrate, " cregan counters nonchalantly as he watches her open the carefully wrapped package. " it is a necklace, " he begins, waiting for her to notice the familiar stark emblem, but instead in the same shade as sandbright. he knows that one day soon she will marry, as she is close to the age. " so you do not forget where you come from. "
🎲 ( from aemond, to myranda! ) - @hamcrtia
33 - A kiss to a scar, birthmark, injury, or other marking
Aemond's fingers stroked along her palm, and Myranda fought the instinct to curl her fingers in and draw away. "It was my first time on a ship. We all go on at some point or another. Slashed myself with a spearhead." She makes a displeased face, recalling the vibrant, stinging heat of humiliation and shame at being unable to handle the simplest of jobs. Tying new ends onto the spears had been a child's job, and one that a girl of eight should have had no problem, especially as the daughter of The Greyjoy.
Words die on her lips when Aemond's mouth caresses the ropey scar slashed across her palm and she lets out a low, soft breath. "You don't have to do that." And yet, it is all she wants in the moment.
they are laid out in his bed, the gentle breeze that accompanies the summer season flowing through open windows. " i would do the same, even at my age, " he murmurs in response, the faintest hint of a smile gracing his lips as he looks down at her. aemond does not take these moments for granted. they are few and far between, with his mother and siblings constantly in his business. it is as if they know he is up to no good. as if they took one look at him and could tell he had love for this girl who was not promised to him.
when his lips press to her scar, he savors the sound of her breathing. " i do not, " aemond agrees as he dips his head once more to repeat the action. " but i wish to. " kisses are peppered up her arm then, until he is dipping his head to place one upon her lips. " there is nothing you have to hide from me. "
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@hamcrtia asked: It would be bad luck to kill a man on your nameday. ( to daemon, from alicent ! )
he laughs at that, wide and all too joyful about the thought of a death as an honor to his nameday. a hand lays by dark sister on his side, amused, lilac gaze settle on alicent, how unusual it was now, to see her without rhaenyra by her side. "that depends on the man killed, m'lady. i'm sure i could provide with a nice list to make these celebrations more cheerful." alas he is trying to behave, to make his brother proud. at least, to make viserys see that he does not need to be watched over at all times of the day. eyes shift to the ballroom where the young men and ladies of the realm danced and enjoyed themselves at his honor. "how come you are here instead of the fance floor? i'm sure some young man would fall to his knees for a dance."
it is not a particularly rare thing to see prince daemon laugh. however, it being caused by something alicent said was a first. she cannot help the smile that graces her lips, chocolate hues falling to her hands after meeting his gaze. despite how close she was with rhaenyra, she has yet to become used to those striking valyrian features. whether it was her best friend or the rogue prince, she found the combination of their pale hair and lavender eyes to be rather pretty. " perhaps the king can put together a tourney so you can indulge in such things, " alicent returns with amusement laced in her tone. the young girl draws in a quiet breath at the inquiry, fingers fiddling together. " i could ask you the same question, my prince. it is your nameday we celebrate and yet you are here speaking with me, despite the fact that you could have your pick of any lady here. " it is then alicent notices her father staring down the pair. she clears her throat, turning to face daemon. perhaps if she joined the crowd, he could not spy. " i do not expect you to fall to your knees, your grace, but perhaps you can spare me the shame of standing here alone for the remainder of the night and join me for a dance. "
her father had been clear on what she should do. make herself known to the king, visible, someone they could speak to. a marriage is already set to be done down the line, once the war ends, but the patriarch wanted to make sure that the king wanted her. cassandra isn't sure how much is true or just the man being a man, but she finds herself wanting his company, his touch almost breaking her concentration at the topic at hand. "you are king, aegon. i would never dare to tell you what to feel."
she speaks at last, hazel eyes looking back at him, sight between his lips, so close to her own and his eyes, that lavender tint that is as godly as it is intimidating. she finds it enchanting. her hand moves to wrap around his wrist, gentle tug to move the grip on her chin down toward her neck, and then, then to press over her chest. "as long as you just feel. in this room, with me, you get to feel anything you want to feel."
her words cause a quiet laugh to sound from aegon, his head tilting the slightest bit as he regards her with intent. a rather scripted admission, he wonders if she truly means such a thing or if it his her attempt at placating him. it did not truly matter to him whether she dared to or not there were much more important things for him to consider in the moment. the tip of his tongue wets his lip, lavender hues following the path of their hands. she is not meek ; she is a woman of her own accord. the thought of her is thrilling. it always has been. all his.
his thumb sweeps delicately across the soft skin of her chest. lips tremble the slightest bit as he presses his body against hers, fingers resting at her neck ; just below her jawline. such a pretty thing. " you make me feel . . . " he whispers, his grip tightening the slightest bit. he could feel the thump of her heartbeat below it. that was it, he thinks. there was no word to finish his thought. it was enough to not be so numb anymore. " you are mine, " aegon mumbles, gaze once more fixated on her lips. it is not intended as a question, though there is doubt laced within his tone.
the young prince stumbles the slightest bit as he wanders through the halls of the red keep. how many days had it been since he had taken this route to his wife's chambers ? ah, it mattered nought. all that mattered was that he successfully visited flea bottom and drank his fill without mother or aemond catching him. the thought prompts him to cackle, the sound echoing through the empty corridor. his hand raises to cover his mouth despite it being too late to muffle such noise. aegon hums a tune that he heard being played on his journey back to the castle, intently focused on ensuring he was heading in the right direction. pass his mother's quarters, take a left at the provocative tapestry, only to walk by his own room to the end of the hall where helaena was. he did not bother with knocking, instead he quickly slipped into her chambers and shut the door behind him. " helaena, " he shouts in a whisper. thrice more, he does it, waiting for her to stir. lips pout as he sits himself on the edge of her bed. " i've brought you a gift. " entice her, he thinks. she couldn't possibly ignore him now !
@hamcrtia asked: ❝ hide your cunning. show the shepherd you are a sheep. ❞ ( to rhaena, from daemon ! )
rhaena is the unluckiest from the pair of sisters. there is no doubt in her mind that her father loves her, but she does think, in her mind, that her father has a favor toward her sister, a dragonrider, a rebellious nature unlike rhaena, who still feels too compliant and lacks a dragon of her own, only empty shells of eggs that never hatched. "what good does that do, father? i do not wish to deceive people." but her mother told her once, that she needed to appear as a fine lady, for others to be pleased with her. Perhaps this was the same concept. to show herself a princess, gentle and meek before showing her true nature when the time came. "i'm not a sheep. i'm a sea dragon, like you and mother."
the death of laena was not one that him or his daughters took well. there was a time in which he would not see baela or rhaena for days. while baela was much like him, rhaena resembled her mother. it was difficult at first to witness, though it is something he has come to appreciate. perhaps it was not as easy for him to connect with rhaena, and certainly she had noticed such, but his attempts to do so should mean something. " that is exactly what people will expect from you, " daemon murmurs as they walk along the water's edge of dragonstone. " politics is nothing more than a game. remember this much, at least, rhaena. people will not think twice about deceiving you. " a faux sheep can be deadly if utilized correctly, he thinks. " your mother would tell you the same if she were here. "
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jon snow had come full circle, finally returning to what was once his home in winterfell. though it did not feel the same with the absence of robb, bran, arya, or rickon ; it was rather bittersweet to return while they could not. the only thing that was familiar to him had been sansa and even then the two of them were not the same people they were the day they parted ways. the thought of her sparks a small smile before it promptly falls into a frown. he could not call what was occurring between them avoidance. whether it was on her behalf or his own. they were simply preoccupied with their own dealings. his own sorrow had led him to the godswood. jon was not sure he believed in the old or new gods, but the very least he could do is pay his respects to the family that had taken him in and ultimately met their end before him. to his surprise, underneath the weirwood tree was sansa. her red locks stood out against the snow that barely covered the ground. " i did not expect to find you out here, " his voice is low and husky, dark hues settling on the sharp features of her face. they used to be soft, he thinks. " i can come back later, if you need privacy. "