rogar + alyra.
he listens , fingers idly reaching down to touch dark iron earth whilst she speaks , brushing off cold soil between roughened digits . “ i’ve met soothsayers beyond the wall , but … whether any of them had any gifts at all that i don’t know . “ his eyes cut back up to hers . he’s glad this is where he has wandered to , gardens with blackened trees and thorned roses growing round . “ it’s beautiful here . i suppose having to come south has its consolations after all . “
he does not speak of you. rogar likely didn’t mean anything when he commented on the beauty of the garden when he looked her in the eye but her cheeks flushed anyway, even as the little voice in the back of her mind that had nothing to do with her gifts spoke. she dipped her head, disguised it as nodding, and agreed softly, ❛ the south is lovely like the songs claim, but nothing is better than maidenpool at sunset. ❜ the glittering ocean and honeyed sun casting its last rays over pink walls was a sight to behold, one that alyra believed could never be rivaled. it was an unspoken challenge, rooted in a desire to see the most beautiful places in the world, or maybe a desire to be away from the horrors of war. ❛ they have old blood, the freefolk. it would not surprise me for their claims to be true. ❜
















