𝐦𝐲 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒉

knowing this,  and that there was only one man who could cause him to change course,  harlon gave his hand a tender squeeze,  allowing him no such escape.  “you've done naught that would force me to do such an ugly thing,” he started, voice steady and soft, but when he spoke next,  it was in a tone which brooked no argument,  “nor would you, for that matter. would you not agree?”

he searches for solace in harlon's eyes , brown orbs ever the most breathtaking he's laid his eyes on . desperation clung to him , as breath does to a dying man . he gazes upon harlon and finds more than clarity or familiarity , he sees in him certainty . the only truth he's ever known . sebastian used to tell himself that no one ever wore the same face in two different places , in court and in the confides of their chambers even more so . and yet every time he finds himself looking at harlon , he sees the exact same one , and he is entirely ... enamoured . he still swims in a sea of anguish , unable to soothe what he can only make out as impending loss , gritting its teeth . and only when he surrenders to the warmth of harlon's skin against his does the mind - numbing chaos dissipate . ❝ i don't ... want it to stop , harlon . ❞ his name is more than an utterance , for it spilled from his lips like a prayer . a sacred covenant they have shared only amongst themselves . for a moment , the shroud of pride and glory reveals beneath it a look that , as far as the court is concerned does not exist , only revealed itself to the lord of pyke . sheer relief , and a gentle smile , fleeting and elusive , soon transforms into a smirk . ❝ there are still many things to discuss about trade routes after all . ❞ brief as it may be , his body does not betray him , hand holding that of harlon's tightly , refusing ... unable to let go . as if his is no longer just one entity , but joint with the other .

but the apology came either way , it's the way things are . a reputation , an image exists , one that must be perpetuated . for lions , there is no such thing as apologies , no hesitations , and certainly , no self - doubt . but right now , he is anything but , and he had no choice but oblige to what his visage requires . to speak it to the world , be held down by the weight of it as it does with every man . he's beginning to feel that she can see it , him ... the carefully crafted façade falling away to reveal nothing but a man . ❝ because you do not give yourself enough . ❞ he turned to tongues from far away lands as means to create a bubble , to keep out the world that paid no mind to trivialities such as genuine friendships and honest men — ultimately , to hide . yet now , visenya disarms him , without so much as a blade in her silken hands , not a secret to hold over his head , and only those lovely eyes gazing upon his . ❝ skoros gaomagon ao nūmāzma ? ❞ naivety is poorly fitted on sebastian reyne , but he clung to it for dear life . confusion with the right amount of curiosity paints across his features . he knew well what she meant , even spoken so softly , he heard it a scream . there are whispers of what might come , will come . the inevitable only awaits for the next draw of blood before the realm is plunged into the brutal part of the game of thrones .

@inferncls

not even a brush with the stranger would startle him , after all that he had seen , heard , and took part in . he had come into terms with how fleeting emotions are , no matter how potent or bland , it slips between the spaces of his fingers , crashes against the crevices of his skin then vanishes . it is nothing but normal to him , but a kind of eccentricity that most never understood . even as a child , things fazed those much older than him received little to no reaction from the young lord of castamere . ❝ you'd be surprised by how swiftly we go from grieving to drowning in mirth in a few hours , oly . the court is a fickle lover , and she either makes you breathless or drives you insane . there is no in between . ❞ he made a home in social niceties , sewn facades , and crafted masquerades . sebastian learned its ways and played wonderfully , he catches his own self off guard at times . ❝ i suppose i'm alright , i'd rather be some place else , but i have to be here . you and i have to be here . ❞ but there is no fooling olynna tully , one who has heard his incessant rants prior to polishing this visage . she had witnessed him in pure bliss , no trappings of his name , and laughing to his heart's content . ❝ unless ... we sneak out . ❞

hearing  footfalls  to  grace  the  corridor,  and  although  she  was  not  expecting  companionship,  she  stood  at  attention,  recognising  the  gait  from  a  previous  listen.  to  have  heard  him  stroll  across  the  feast  had  ensnared  her  attention  (  for  better  or  for  worse  )  —  and  to  have  been  seen  chatting  with  him  was  one  of  the  worse  complications.  well,  if  that  was  the  case,  so  be  it.  thus,  she  would  be  seen  speaking  with  him  again.  assumptions  would  be  made  regardless  of  actions  taken;  that  was  how  she  lived  her  life,  and  that  was  not  something  she  would  surrender.  smile  immediate  in  greeting.  “lord  reyne.”  hands  clasped,  in  a  makeshift  demure  setting,  upon  which  cobwebs  could  grow.  “fancy  seeing  you  once  more  in  these  vast  halls.  and  in  the  harrowing  news  of  a  terrible  loss  as  well.  who  could  have  seen  it  coming?”

❝ lady tully , always a pleasure . ❞ the young lord was quick to offer his greetings , a curt nod accompanying his words . if his assumption and the whispers were true , this encounter will bring him one a step closer to his desired reach of the riverlands . ❝ it left us all in a state of utter shock , a devastating turn of events , truly . ❞ his time will not have been in vain , ever the added pleasure it is to weave webs to entrap those who are easy on the eyes , like the lady of riverrun that he thought would never act on her curiosities . ❝ though i suppose i have a better excuse to seek your company now . ❞ his gaze falls upon her hands , a learned display of meekness and modesty . but surely she is kissed by alluring turbulence , like living water that makes its way , unstoppable and life - taking . ❝ and i could only hope that if whispers have reached you , they're the kind that will make you consider me worthy of your attention ? ❞

"perhaps there is... some truth in what you say, my sweet. i'll grant you that." and only that, as he so hoped he would not lord it over him forever. "we've nothing to worry about, except..." here, harlon had to meet his eye and smile, roguish and entirely indulgent. elsewhere, his thumb caressed the inside of sebastian's elbow — a poor substitute for all that he'd really rather do. "is it murder that has made you so mouthy? or did we not make well enough use of it this morning, and that is why you've seen fit to tease me so?"

❝ perhaps i need to be fed more so i may have another use for my mouth . ❞ joy prickles beneath his jaw , swimming blissfully across his body that he feels like a different person entirely . pride swelling at the words he strung together , bringing both of them dangerously close the edge . he can stay here , weaving their own private world until the rest of westeros disappears behind them . then he feels the reality tap on his shoulder , judgement anticipating them around the corner , jarring silhouette at the corner of his eyes that his voice dies further down to a whisper that needed greater focus and intention to make out of . ❝ will this inquiry put a stop to our ... time together , harlon ? ❞ his hand reaches out to mimic harlon's , smile faltering but only momentarily . his gaze falling to where their bodies were linked , then back to meet harlon's . there is consciousness , acceptance even — of who he is , of what he is , of what he is capable of . he had sat with his thoughts and all that he has done , made peace with every single one . he had abandoned what it means be good , and wore wickedness with pride . in all its golden - crowned , deep blue - orbed , and fair - skinned glory . the form that stared back in the mirror , a smirk hanging from its lips . and yet in the worlds they make , dim - lit chambers and unmade beds , he is disarmed , stripped , and w a s h e d o f f the impious visage that chained him in the shadows , green - eyed , and sharp - clawed . in those sheets , he laid deliriously unguarded — not a hair in place , not a surface of skin untouched , not one innocent thought . no damn armor can protect a man when he willingly bares his neck for the taking . by now , he wouldn't be surprised if harlon greyjoy knew the power he had over him , even if the young lion adamantly denies . and why sebastian reyne indulges the stranger dressed in pleasure the way he does , he may never know ... or perhaps , never thought it relevant . what mattered is he gets harlon all to himself , without the looming presence of the ton , even if only for the night .

you could marry — ❝ how about i don't ? ❞ long has he resigned himself to the cause of house reyne , all that he is and all that he has , offered without so much as a protest should it be asked of him . his plots , his secrets , and his designs were all crafted meticulously , set to aid what his father and his siblings may be too righteous to claim as their own . he is not above holding his breath and diving for treasures in murky waters . nor is he too honorable to use means frowned upon to get what he wants . he will scald , bruise , and flay himself if there is hope to find victory his own mortal shell . ❝ has our house become frail and feeble that i have to take decisive steps to secure our future ? ❞ everything and anything they demand , sebastian has convinced himself to willingly surrender . but not like this , not this way . it seemed like a plan rooted on evading confrontation than diving headfirst into war . there is no pleasure in a decision made on a whim when creative ways still exist . he has yet to meet another that terrified him more than rohanne did . not even his lord father made him nervous the way his older sister does . he is fortunate to be born a son and the youngest , a combination that had the makings of securing an irreplaceable spot in every father's heart . there is power in that , one proven effective with the many lashings he had evaded in his youth . ❝ tell me truthfully , is that what father wanted ... for me to marry ? ❞ he feigns a shudder at the mention of the word . it was not so much as being tied down to another , that has never held him back . but if he can avoid bringing misery to another , he will do so . now is not the right time , he wished to tell rohanne , but it will bring his plans more harm than good .

"how poorly you know me, sebastian," the princess sighs, and for its sound the world might empty its purse. certainly the merchant might, smallfolk that he is witnessing the realm's delight run her white hands over his wares. "perhaps peace is all i seek in my life. ease, and ... well," she holds up a necklace of amethyst, its cut draped over the back of her hand. visaera's voice lays similarly flat, baring only the gentle curve of amusement. "this is very pretty too, isn't it?"

his gaze fixed on the silver - haired maiden as she moves , lost in the details of her ethereal silhouette . it aches with hunger , with the need to t e a r , ravage , and consume . he is made up of a thousand and one threads of intoxicating bloodlust , a breath away from snatching a rival's trove , with a single swing of a sword he can unleash a lifetime's worth of horrors ... but as he had spoken , there is no pleasure in ease . ❝ do indulge me , ❞ she couldn't be more mistaken though , or perhaps he had worn such an intricate mask so long it had fused with his own flesh that his own better half could not see past the wound . ❝ lyks ... lo vestrā sīr , dārilaros . ❞ from where he stands , a few steps behind the princess , he relents to such foolish dreams . he knew as a child that peace is a thing no one can afford , not the gods , and especially , no princess . sebastian keeps his thoughts to himself , afford them both the only peace he can afford . ❝ nyke ziry syt kesā sindigon ... ❞ he says as he steps forward , eyes catching her delight . mischief swells in his chest as he leans close , even only briefly , to whisper to her ears yet another string of perilous words in common tongue . ❝ though i don't think it suits this gown you have on , you'd have to take it off . ❞ then past her he goes , as if innocently surveying more of the fine offerings the merchant has on display . ❝ i must get something for my nieces... ❞

they were standing in the shade, with a decent view of the happenings below. alon had bet on the proceedings devolving into mindless violence earlier in the day and been disappointed so far, but fortune often came to the patient. “the watching is the more interesting part. tell me, sebastian, what have you been learning? surely nothing new about the men down there.” a jerk of his head towards the arena, although it was clear what he meant anyway.

a hum lingers in the air as the other lord spoke , cerulean gazing at the movements of the men who held everyone's attention . a smile brushing at the corner of his lips as he nods , amused at the similarities they shared . ❝ i , too , do well on horseback , if i d o say so myself . unfortunately , that alone does not seem sufficient to my sister . ❞ sebastian made himself scarce when the call for participants were being made . the nobles clamored at the chance to witness the contest of strength up close , they sit at the stands with anticipation. only then did he make his appearance . had he stayed where rohanne could get a hold of him , he might have been down there forced to hoist the banner of his house — not today . ❝ oh , a great many things , my lord . however , i do not think it appropriate to speak them out loud . ❞ he jests , a smirk following soon after . the spectacle below rouses the crowd to their feet , cheers growing louder , roars and screams spat from all corners . lords and lieges becoming experts at battle , imposing strategies in between cracks , clinks , and groans . ❝ the more i watch them , the more confident i become of the choice i made . it's all pageantry if you ask me . ❞ he clapped , mirrored the excitement , exchanged eager looks with the nobles alongside them ; as though he had been fully engrossed in the merriment . silhouettes settled , and sebastian reyne turns to the lord next to him , elation plastered across his features , but the words that leave his tongue quite the opposite , ❝ if anything it's far dangerous in the stands , you never truly know who the enemy is , don't you agree , lord alon ? ❞

black was the shroud they all wore today, and with the news that had swept across the red keep of the princess regent's death, the mood seemed quite sour, but the bloodraven still smiled brightly. there had been rumors, ones that had reached even raventree hall, of house reyne coveting the seat of casterly rock, of all the westerlands, possibly then, there was a kinship between the pair of ambitious houses. "perhaps we can take solace in the fact that the crown prince will finally sit the throne." a test, small, but not completely unassuming, to see where the lord reyne stood in his opinions. even if the pair transpired for greater power, to rule the west, the riverlands, there would be no alliance with a man who did not support vaeles targaryen.

he stands with his intentions on his sleeve , clear as day as his bloodline and name hang above his head . no words can speak louder than those things alone . ❝ on that we agree , it's about time the rightful heir sit the throne . ❞ foundations are laid without so much as a desperate appeal , as shows his hand to be cached into raven's collection of shiny objects . he will sit there long enough if he must , marvel upon his company and bury himself flesh deep if he had do . for house reyne , he will do anything ... from what he's heard that same sentiment is shared by the striking lord's house . ❝ in these trying times , we need a dragon back on the seat of power , and let things fall back in their rightful place . i can already smell the change in air , can't you ? ❞

there's a smile erupting from lips otherwise sculpted to remain as they are. visenya wants to find some kind of warmth in the words being spoken to her, offered with ease ⸻ one akin to the way freshly bathed skin feels against morning dew sprinkled grass or the way a morning sun comes through windows without ill luck. ❝ would vestrā keskydoso lo īlin isse highgarden? ❞ would you say the same if we were in highgarden? visenya's words come laced with mirth. it feels wrong, in the face of mourning and death, and all that will follow. the young celtigar is wedded to belief that nothing good will flow through the streets of king's landing. it screams and runs its sharp nails into visenya's mind, an incessant warning that she knows not where it comes from. yet, it quietens down. eyes remain on him, looks at him as if wishing his skin was translucent ⸻ with the death of the regent, all people befall into either category: friend or foe. visenya quietly hopes for the former when it comes to the reyne lord. ❝ lyks. ❞ peace is an interesting word choice for such a time. when snakes slither around and all of them venomous, ready to split an ancient dragonlords name in two. ❝ nyke pendagon lyks kessa sagon quptenka daor isse se geralbri, ȳdra daor ao? ❞ i think peace will become a rarity in these streets, don't you? and with it, goes the only reality visenya has known. still, that same smile remains on pink tinted lips. the company and the surroundings help the separation, even if it is not the time for it. ❝ not at all. gaoman hope ñuha presence dohaeragon aōha jurnegon syt ziry. ❞ i do hope my presence helps your search for it. valyrian finds its way back home after a small display of the common tongue, mirroring the striking lord's response. visenya lets out a breathy yet small chuckle at the reyne's words. ❝lo ao umbagon, nyke would jaelagon naejot gīmigon iksā kesīr. īlon could gūrogon iā geron ❞ if you stay, i would want to know you are here. we could take a walk. an offer made as amethysts meet sapphires.

❝ mērī lo īlē konīr ❞ sorrow wears a different face to the likes of sebastian reyne , pulls an peculiar response . it urges him to take a closer look , to lean in and stare at it , raw , unprocessed , and discarded , contrary to the distance many would opt for when it casts its looming shadow . he does not give it power , refuses to let it draw a line to never step on or cross over . this vice - like grip of a perspective allows him to carry on , to slither , pounce , and feast . something about the way the word fell from visenya's lips made him silent . lyks . she made it seem real and tangible . the impossibility of holding it in his hands nonexistent . the cacophony that keeps him on his toes day and night became all but an irrelevant sound . ❝ lo lyks iksis sir quptenka daor , ❞ being with someone who can simply say a word and breathe life into an idea long buried in the past makes the overwhelming sense of confusion claw at his neck . ❝ ziry mērī mazverdagon nyke jaelagon naejot jurnegon syt ziry tolī ❞ but he doesn't struggle free from it , instead shoves himself further in to be devoured . his words , both common tongue and valyrian slip between the spaces of his fingers , and he stands there fumbling with only a quiet hum and smile left in his arsenal . what a fool ! instead he could only motion to the path of cobblestone that lay before them , a light bow as the leisurely walk commenced . ❝ gaoman pāsagon se jurnegon syt lyks kessa sagon mība lēda ao kesīr ❞ it's as if the walls that hold up this world shake , never has it felt this fragile before and fear dares tap on his shoulder . any minute now the sky will fall upon him , and its weight will slam on him until there is only labored breaths and shaking hands , and the lilac - eyed beauty will look over his faltering body with a sinister smile etched at the corner of her lips . it's the most convenient of scenes , that westeros is a mere menagerie , both of them included . ❝ forgive my candor , my lady , but this rarely happens ... ❞ once more the common tongue paints the turmoil within , putting it in full display . it would be a relief to think visenya celtigar to be capable of such savagery ... for the words that fall so sweetly from her lips made him want to be ... decent , to be exactly who most believe him to be . ❝ bona iksan geptot mijegon udra . ❞ he could barely recognize the sound of a beating heart in his ears , the dampness in his palms ... he envisions himself a cornered prey , not at the mercy of vicious fangs or claws , or steel , but kindness . ❝ kostilus bisa iksis se lyks ao maghagon ... ❞

harlon swallowed. then, curious, and seeking refuge, he chanced a quick cursory glance at their surroundings before leaning closer into sebastian's space and gently cupping his elbow. his eyes flitted about his face, worry pinching at his brows. "do you really think they will question us?"

it was the idea of drowning that made him stay , the urge to move surreptitiously in the dark , scuffed bricks against the palm of his hand as he looks from behind pillars . the placid water pulls him further to the bottom , to sink on his own volition , rid of air , hope , and thought . touching him is a plunge into nothingness , to a space void of reason and control , eyes closed and an utter surrender to what lord greyjoy deems he deserves . in the confides of that chamber , sebastian gives in the only way he knows how . the first breath he draws is not an imploration for air , for life but for more ... for harlon ... for harlon to take more , everything . ❝ and aren't you a good bo — ❞ sebastian was quick to remember where they were , to shove his senses back to its rightful place before he is swallowed by his own boldness . ❝ i envy your memory , lord greyjoy . even after innumerable ... voyages , some are still as exhilarating as the first time . ❞ cerulean orbs remained on the dark - haired man before him . searching for scars or marks on the softness of his fair skin , to anchor himself to here and now , and failing . harlon is free of flaw , even beneath this painstaking mask , and sebastian slides into the depths of the ocean , losing his grasp of the warmth of now to waves of imagery , entwined fingers and staggered breaths . the chatters are muted and the burst of color fades to solace ... until he makes out of the worry now carving itself upon harlon's face , the way his body shifts , and how vigilance began to claw its way beneath them . but it forgets that sebastian is not one to cower at the face of danger , he is , after all , a lion . ❝ the princess regent is dead and there are damning whispers , they must want subdue them to reassure the court . what are you even worried about ? ❞ he , too , leans close , a composed smile glimmering with the faintest of mischief danced upon his lips . ❝ we were together all night , weren't we ? don't tell me you're afraid of having to share details , my lord . you were not so reserved while we're ... reacquainting ourselves . ❞

it is often said that he has yet to grow into lion he is supposed to be . he is built more like prey than he is hunter predator ... and holding on to that assumption will be their own undoing . and perhaps this juvenile behavior towards rohanne will be his ... but taunting the proud lioness draws a satisfaction he cannot deny himself , ❝ if my stomach can handle having to look at your face all those years , surely , it is steel enough to deal with what's to come . ❞ he wore debonair like an armor , oblivious to the workings of westerosi politics that most would dip their fingers into as soon as they are able . his interest , known to many , lie elsewhere , and certainly involve neither honor nor glory . one would argue the later , but it's rather obvious the intent to prove one's self did not exist . it was not his intention to deceive , but the path he chose to thread required sacrifices . he had long made peace with the fact he must walk it alone , armed with a shield with the façade of blissful ignorance . shedding his golden mane and ripping all that is sharp and savage until only a sense of wonder is left to see . as a child , he was gravely fascinated with how people responded to him . with how prejudice and assumptions got in the way of people's judgement . oh , a child would never ! a phrase he would hear often , a phrase that granted him power . all he has is that face ! he need not lift so much as a finger to be placed on a pedestal of harmlessness and watched as the world ogled and underestimated the youngest of house reyne . no back bone , no spine , good for nothing but salacious endeavours , and vapid niceties . it is in those pathetic labels that he got away with everything . he has played the part well , and should the right time come , the world will know it too . ❝ sister , i love you and our family , with my whole heart . but i rather like my face unscathed . is there anything else i can do to represent our house ? one that will not require me to be mauled and maimed by some metal - clad man on a horse ? ❞

grim and darkness laid siege to the red keep , dilluting its brilliant scarlet to the lifeless hues of dull gray . still , the chatters skitter on the walls , more boisterous than they've ever been — without regard for the lulled grief clawing on the stones . one can assume that an unseen hand had made a move on the tiled board that is westeros , and the stranger claimed its first . it was mad thought , and he wouldn't put it past the lions who have a thirst in their stomach no water can quench . his youth afforded him playfulness , his small smile a glimmer at this dark time , ❝ i'm not without company , dear sister , there are eyes on me always . ❞ with the door fitted in its frame , and the thud of footsteps muffled , the smile shifts into a stern look , one that evaded his features in court , only manifests in the company of his kin . ❝ the whispers have grown loud it seems , if they go so far as an inquiry . ❞ scathing rumors circulated the halls of the keep , and it didn't take long for it to find him in another's chamber . he wouldn't be surprised if they hold more truth than fruits of malice . ❝ you have to be specific , rohanne . what do you need to know about him ? ❞