FIRE AND BLOOD!

A knight's a sword with a horse. The rest, the vows and the sacred oils and the lady’s favours, they’re silk ribbons tied round the sword. Maybe the sword’s prettier with ribbons hanging off it, but it will kill you just as dead.

RP BLOG for various characters of GRRM'S A Song of Ice and Fire, focused on HOUSE TARGARYEN and those who followed them. 21+ loved by Heather

Blanket incest content warning

Sworn Swords: @drunkdreamer/@theclimbisallthereis @ofdragonfireandblood @goldandcinders @misvos @zobrizys

"Nu-uh," the child stared in disbelief at his father, almost indignant in his response. The very notion that Baelor 'Breakspear' Targaryen could be afraid was horrifying to the young prince. "I don't believe you!" The boy got to his feet, hands on his hips and frowning at his father with those mirrored eyes. "You're just saying that to make me feel better about earlier!" Earlier... when he had been scared out of his wits when one of the horses had lost control and charged towards him on the training grounds. Nothing had happened, he hadn't been hurt... but he had been absolutely terrified.

"It is true." Baelor nodded solemnly, "I was also once a boy, as young as you are."

He understood Matarys' reluctance to believe it. When he had been young, he could not imagine his own father afraid of anything, and Daeron had not even been a knight.

"Just a little while longer. It is not often we have such time together." Donnel watched her from where he lay upon her bed, filled with a sense of deep longing and sadness. In another life, he would not have to plead with her to stay.

If someone had asked Alys a year past where she thought she would be today, this would not have been her answer: sitting in Myriah Martell's rooms again, drinking sweet Dornish wine more expensive than any she had ever tasted, contemplating whether she would join her lady and her husband - the future queen and king - in their bed. Even without her history it was madness, but Myriah had seemed in earnest. Alys had asked for time to consider the... request? Offer? She was not quite sure. And she had considered. If Myriah had asked years ago - before the king... she would have agreed in an instant. She loved the Princess beyond words, and the Prince... though he was not what most maids dreamed of, she had always found herself a little tongue-tied speaking with him, caught in a keen-eyed gaze that made her feel like the only living being in the world. It would have been a dream beyond what she allowed herself to imagine. But that had been before, and this was after, and the thought of any man's hands on her made her heart pound and her mouth go dry. Though at the same time... it was Myriah. It was Daeron. They had protected her before, comforted her when she needed it most desperately. If anyone could make her feel safe, it was them. "No, he is not like his father." And thank the gods for that. "Does he... want this, as you do?" Was this your idea, Princess Myriah, or his? Did it matter who had first proposed it to whom?

“Daeron is...”

Myriah considered her words carefully. In Dorne, it would be hardly worthy of remark - in fact, the idea that they would both share her affections would be rather conservative. Yet when she had first broached the idea to him, one evening as they lay in each other’s arms, he had turned pale and stammered about respecting their marriage. Myriah had warmed him to the idea since then. 

“He is curious.” she answered, “But cautious, as he ever is. He is afraid, I think, of being his father, though I do not think he could be a man like that even if he tried.”

Myriah sipped her wine.