@sorrowknown sent: seeking refuge in rhaenys' company, after spying a place to sit beside her. "he's started kicking all through the night."

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀IT WOULD HAVE BEEN A LIE for rhaenys to claim that she had not suspected rhaenyra would seek her out, rather sooner than later judging by the way she had been swarmed for conversation once she had entered the gardens, prompting rhaenys at once to keep a more vigilant eye upon her and those seeming only all too happy to invade the princess’ space, ready to step over and whisk her away with some excuse or another upon her lips should she notice rhaenyra getting overwhelmed or showing any signs of discomfort   —  in fact, she had deliberately seated herself upon a bench lined with cushions near a blossoming shrub of dahlias of varying shades of red, where the princess could easily spot her, in a spot marked by relative solitude that would allow for a moment, or two, of peace, something she knew the girl would find herself grateful for in her current condition, for, what felt like not all too long ago, rhaenys herself had been that girl. and, while, at times, the solitude had troubled her, what with her husband far away at sea, and no tidings of his well-being having reached driftmark in weeks whilst she had come closer and closer to labouring with every passing day, and a fear within her had grown ever larger that she would become mother and widow simultaneously and find herself having to raise the babe into a suitable heir to the driftmark throne alone, without corlys' guiding hand, she, too, had come to treasure every moment of peace she could find, especially in the later days of her pregnancies.

a fond smile flitted across the older targaryen woman's features as the princess approached and claimed the cushioned seat beside her, the gaze of lilac eyes momentarily dropping to the prominent swell of her belly; she was much larger compared to the last time rhaenys had seen her, mere weeks ago, and, if what she had learned from the midwives that had accompanied her through her own two pregnancies was true, that more than likely meant her grandson, her very first grandchild, would be a rather large, strapping babe.

“ my grandson seems to be of the restless sort. ” the lady of driftmark responded with a slight tilt of her head and a soft laugh sounding from her throat as her gaze followed rhenyra as she settled down beside her, “ much like his father. ” whilst laenor, before he had been born, had not made it a habit to kick through the nights, which, perhaps, she could be grateful for, he had been an active babe regardless, squirming and kicking within her womb with such ferocity as though he was trying to burst through the walls of her belly and could hardly wait to be free, a kind of restlessness he never had quite grown out of. even now, as a man grown, he still oft set his mother on edge with his, at times, reckless way of living, of seeking out the taverns of spicetown and getting into unnecessary brawls, of entering tourneys and joining lances with other knights, taking greater risks than neccessary seemingly for the sheer thrill of it, and a part of rhaenys hoped dearly that, perhaps, with him soon becoming father to his own son, he would be inclined to adopt a somewhat calmer lifestyle, to cut back on those risks before yet another of rhaenys' fears, one she did not ever dare acknowledge, yet still harboured deep inside of her, would prove well-founded and tidings of her son's death to one such frivolous thrills would one day reach her, if not for the sake of his mother's poor, worrying heart, then for his wife and the babe. his son. for rhaenyra seemed certain the child she was carrying was a boy, and rhaenys believed her, for she had trusted that same instinct with both of her own children before, and been right each time. “ how are you faring? other than this stubborn boy refusing to sleep. ”

although the primary purpose had been to only escape the foolish and tiresome chatter of lords and ladies, it was a relief to sit, taking the weight from her feet and easing the tension in her back that nothing could fully eradicate anymore, the babe that kept her up at night with his restlessness also growing so large that even should he go still, she could hardly find a comfortable enough position to lie in. she tried not to think on his size too much, though half of the ladies in the court, and the midwives, liked to remind her of it at every opportunity, drawing her awareness always back to the fact that she would, likely before too much more time passed, have to birth him. alicent did not aid such thoughts either, expectedly so, though she had much more practice in ignoring her step—mother's comments. she had no such worries whenever she spoke to rhaenys, who had only been a reassuring presence, welcome when her fears and uncertainty did threaten, acting as the mother she had lost as much as rhaenyra would ever allow anyone to. and a smile would always find its way to the princesses' lips when in her company these days, a hand settling upon her belly, pressing gently to where he kicked still, always wondering if he might have any awareness of such a touch. doubtful but she liked to think it nonetheless.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀HE STAYED WHERE HE WAS, glad for the space, the clearing of the room, watching the small crowd dispersing towards the door with a challenging glint accompanied by wariness in the gaze of dark brown eyes, as though he expected the man with the many thick chains dangling from his neck might suddenly turn back around and attempt to force another colourful substance in a vial down into his maw and, this time, leave him no other option but to swallow it. rather, he received a strange look of deep, nigh woeful sympathy from that very man as he carefully shut the door after emerging from the room last, seemingly unable to tear his gaze from him until the door fully closed and fell into the lock between them, blocking him from his sight. the silence that followed was both welcome and unnerving, so total, one could hear the volcanic rumblings of the walls deep in the heart of the castle, something that could so oft be heard late at night on dragonstone, when the fortress fell silent with the unfolding of the darkest hours and all its inhabitants, save for the guards on duty, abed, but what would he know of that, how would he know to recognise that familiarity, or to be able to tell it apart from the undeniable noises of the dragons moving and growling beyond thick stone walls? up until not too long ago, his nights had been spent in the cramped attic chamber of an equally small cottage, atop of a simple straw bed he'd nigh died in when the fever had him in its clutches and infected lungs had struggled to expel the last of the violent waters that had nigh drowned him, able to see a small patch of the shore and the sky above through the small, dusty pane of a window located next to him.

a scoff. “ i am not their prince, that much is for certain. ” the words came out so bitter, he nigh choked on them. it was . . . absurd, that was the only word that sprung to mind whenever he tried to make sense of all that he had experienced these past hours, these past days. “ and i do not need— whatever it is they are trying to give to me. ” valerian, if he had to guess, given the situation, having learned a thing or two about plants and herbs and their varying uses through the passions of . . . a friend, who had all too gladly quenched his curiosity and shared her knowledge whenever the opportunity had arisen. a knowledge that had spared them from making a grave mistake, as he now was starting to realise.

though the agitation remained, a lingering weight in his chest and the hollow pit of his stomach, the anger he'd previously felt gradually faded away with the stillness that now filled the nigh fully empty, vast room, the only other person in it still with him, the woman that he wanted to think seemed familiar, somehow, yet did not, not really, radiating a patience and calmness that reminded him of someone else, one of his saviours, the closest thing to a ‘ mother ’ he had come to know ever since the fever had, at last, broken, voice been regained, and he had found a home with them. it was . . . soothing, in a sense, that steady, tranquil presence of someone not swarming him, asking questions, calling him unfamiliar names, not pushing like those men had, though, with the wearing off of the irritation and the adrenaline in his blazing veins, now cooling to the usual chill he felt within them, everything else was suddenly felt more keenly, a deep exhaustion now settling over him, temples throbbing with an ache now fully there and felt much more prominently. pale fingers pulled back from where nails had been scratching at his own skin, digging so deep it had broken, a small trickle of redness oozing from the short, but deep enough, scratch splitting his palm and staining the skin, grazing the simple wooly fabric of his clothing instead as hands lowered to rest limply at his sides, the rivulet of blood reaching and pooling at the tips of his fingers in a swelling bead threatening to cascade to the floor.

with the fight gone, his voice came out quieter as eyes, at last, shifted the woman's way, softer, “ i am no one. i'm just a boy who was shipwrecked and washed up on the shore of a small village. i was rescued and taken in by a family of fisherfolk . . . i am of no use to you, or any of them. ” the barest of glances was cast towards the door where the men had just disappeared, eyes igniting, once more, with frustration, but fading just as quickly, gone already by the time they returned to the woman, eyebrows furrowing vaguely, a look passing over features for but a split second. had he truly never seen her before?

reluctance kept him rooted in place, still, until, finally, feet were put in motion and carried him closer to the table, slowly, a step, two, before he halted again, “ i want to go home. please, can . . . i go home? ”

she didn't know which of the gods she had wronged for them to forsake her in this way, but surely she must have committed some great wrongdoing against them for the way they continued to test her. any act that could seem like a kindness was only cruelty in disguise, dressed up so that she would not recognise it until the knife had already dug into deep and the wound not allowed to heal before being reopened once more. or perhaps it was she was owed in return for her own blessed childhood, that she had not known to appreciate until it was ripped from her. the losses were piling upon her, and she had thought she would do anything to have luke returned, to not have to suffer this latest loss, and though she still would rather this fate than to know he lay dead, it was little balm to the pain. yet she had quickly steeled herself to keep that pain as her own, wishing to avoid impressing it upon luke when he did not even know the cause of it, could not even understand why she wished to weep whenever he lashed out, or denied that he belonged with them. it was not his fault, and not his burden to bear, when he already had his own suffering.

he made it hard for her to disguise her agony when he spoke what he believed to be the truth, forcing her to avert her gaze, if briefly, towards the blank stone of the wall, so that she might steady herself, keep the sting of tears from her eyes. she wanted to tell him he was already home, that the place he had come from was not where he belonged, he was wrong, he was a prince of the realm, her son, but she knew that she would only alienate herself further from him. "i am sorry." the words were offered honestly, though it was not one sole thing she apologised for, but more than he could know whilst his memories were still taken from him. "no one means to cause you any distress."

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀IN MOMENTS LIKE THESE, the hardships and troubles of the war seemed so distant, though not that much time had passed since they had all been caught in the worst of it, and whilst the losses still were felt deeply each passing day in the gaping spots where those who had left behind their lives had once stood, the period of peace they were in now had brought certain changes with it and not solely to the realm, but those within it as well. it had taken some time, but, with it, a certain warmth had returned to luke, one already possessed in childhood, and nigh stripped away by his encounter with death and the sorrows that had followed during war and battle. first, it had shown a trace of itself when he had seen the smallfolk's acceptance of his mother as their queen after the two of them had spent moons doing whatever they could to calm the waves and regain their trust, and then again, not much later, when he had become a father. sitting at rhaena's bedside after the long night that had seen their first child welcomed into the world, getting to hold the newborn babe in his arms for the very first time, the possibly most precious sight he'd ever seen in his life, he'd known it had all been worth it, that a second chance at living had not been nearly as terrible as once believed.

and it was felt most prominently in moments such as these, a nigh eternally lost joy igniting in his chest and showing in the smile that curved up his lips as he watched his daughter be lifted into her grandmother's arms, the little girl expressing her own excitement by taking to looking at rhaenyra in both curiosity and wonder.

he moved, responding to the beckoning by taking swift steps closer to his mother, readily bowing his head to allow lips to find their way to his forehead. looking to his daughter then, who now seemed determined to put a name to rhaenyra — unable to find one, and clearly already having forgotten the term muñāzma previously mentioned by her parents, she, with luke back in her line of sight, settled for one that she already knew well, kepa, he laughed softly. “ she is certainly determined. she is, too, very fond of trying to climb the curtains — i suspect she can hardly wait to take to the sky. ” the egg she'd had placed in her crib yet had to hatch, but he wanted to stay hopeful that it would not take that much longer. perhaps by the arrival of the new year, she would be able to hold a little hatchling in her hands.

turning, dark brown hues met his mother's gaze again and he shook his head lightly, “ she is resting. she offers her apologies and hopes to see you for the breaking of fast. ” but the truth was, rhaena worried whether she would make it to that, what with the second pregnancy already having proven more strenuous than the first, with repeating bouts of sickness having accompanied the last weeks, and only ceased over the past few days. naturally, she had taken that as a sign that she should make the trip, as if her stubbornness ever could have allowed her to withhold from going. and thus, before his departure with their daughter to leave her to her rest, she had made sure to instruct him to not keep the news from rhaenyra any longer, despite their initial plans to share them with her together, wanting her to know the truth, rather than worry for her, should she find herself experiencing more sickness by the following day. but for now, at least, he believed he could maintain the secret a little longer, at least until they have properly settled down.

meanwhile, jacaera has taken to grappling for whatever she could reach — first playing with a silver lock framing her grandmother's face, but soon finding a much greater interest in the pendant of her necklace, closing little fingers around it.

“ she will want to keep that if you do not stop her. ”

on days where she felt their losses more keenly, when the ghosts of daemon and her sons seemed to loom over her and give her cause to question if their fight had been worth the devastation that had come with it, lucerys and rhaena, and now their daughter, acted as her anchoring point, even if they should now reside out of arms reach, it was enough to know they were living, a family of their own. there was a loneliness to it, that like as not would never be erased, but it was more easily forgotten with a granddaughter held in her arms and her sweet boy smiling as he had as a child. it was in these moments that she felt most keenly how the years had flown past her too swiftly. it felt only yesterday that it was she who had to bend to kiss her son's forehead, and not him bowing his head to make it easier for her to reach him, and now he was full grown with a daughter of his own. only the day before that had she been a child within these same walls, vowing that she would have a different life than her mother, with one pregnancy after another, only to find herself treasuring her children more than anything else.

"it would be a greater surprise if she weren't a determined creature, given her parents' natures." the words came on a gentle laugh, stroking the girl's cheeks with the back of her fingers, before she tore her attention away to turn her gaze back upon her son, already shaking her head to dismiss any apologies rhaena may have offered through him. "if she needs to rest, then she should rest. you should both know that i don't need any apologies for it."

༄࿔*·⋅ starter for @sorrowknown.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀THE MORROW HAD NOT YET fully unfolded, sinuous curtains of seasmoke that had risen up the cliffside throughout the night still thick and damp in the air upon the castle grounds, but the murky crimson glow that illuminated the mists hinted at sunlight appearing somewhere far upon the not yet visible horizon with the rising of it, with the promise of what may be a sunny day. perhaps a good day even, and it felt at least like something close to one as arrax found his way to him as soon as he stepped out from between the warm rocks where the dragons dwelled, approaching outstretched hand with all too familiar sounds of affection leaving his throat, soon nudging the side of a large head against his chest with all the care a creature like him, and of that size, could muster, lest he would knock him over, so far now from the hatchling he once had been, tucked under a younger lucerys' arm once he'd quickly outgrown his palm or perched upon his shoulders. a bond forged in the cradle, always strong, possibly stronger than ever now after what the two of them had been through. many a night had been spent by his injured dragon's side, mindless of his own wounds, even upon their return to dragonstone, seeking the only thing that had been familiar, that had posed a certain comfort to him, whilst struggling with the worst of the memory loss the fall had caused. once, much to the dismay of the handlers, arrax had escaped his chains and taken down a good portion of the garden with his large body when seeking the closeness to his rider near the windows to his chambers. as his gaze shifted slightly, lucerys saw what he already knew, that his torn up wing had healed nicely since their return home, albeit scarring would remain forever in form of wide fissures in a once unmarred hide that would grow with the wing as he became larger, all too visible markings of what they both had endured, had survived, but at least it no longer hindered him from flying.

the ground shook with syrax's emerging, his head moving, eyes briefly regarding the golden she-dragon as she took in her son, whose head still was lowered to his rider as a palm stroked the rough hide of his neck, where pearlescent white and golden merged into one another upon his scales, though he felt the noises arrax was making now were means of communication directed at his mother, before they settled upon his own mother appearing at his side, mouth curving upwards slightly, a small smile somehow coming easier to his features this morrow than on most days, “ īlon issi gaomagon. ” ( we are ready. )

often in her childhood, she had dismissed her mother's worries of her frequent outings with syrax, so assured in herself and her dragon that it had been nigh impossible to comprehend having anything to fear, yet when her own children and their hatchlings had grown large enough to begin to venture out themselves, she had learned that she would owe aemma an apology when the day came that they might meet again. no matter how natural it was for targaryens to ride on dragonback, or how close she knew the bond to be, the apprehension lingered. rhaenyra at least had one advantage that her mother did not, in that the dragons had to grow along with her sons, while it had been a battle to keep her from mounting her full grown dragon while too young herself. her anxieties had long been unfounded, which she could reassure herself with, when the boys would leave, yet she could no longer cling to that knowledge, and only had the lingering fear that luke and arrax had been fortunate the last time, and it might only be a matter of time before something worse would befall one of her children.

༄࿔*·⋅ starter for @sorrowknown.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ HIS UNCLE HAD A WAY OF IGNORING that which he did not wish to plague his thoughts with — a way that, time and time again, proved more than effective. and lucerys, when the letter from king's landing had arrived with further tidings of his father's decreasing health, this time composed in a tone that had given away just how close to the end of his life the king must be, had tried to do the same, he truly had — what did it concern him if the father who never had wanted him, at last, fell into the hands of the stranger, something he, they all, had known was coming for many moons now, ever since his mother first had reached out to oldtown by raven to share with son and brother the news of her husband's rapidly waning health?

but he soon found that he could not. if his father truly was meeting the stranger soon, then he wanted to see it — why, he was not certain. perhaps to see for himself that the man who had seen him sent away from home was truly withering, would be gone soon, as he had pictured many a times, or, perhaps, to finally exchange the words with him that had been lingering on his mind since he had been just a boy, since the last time he had seen him, before it was too late to say much to him at all. and so, two days after the arrival of the last letter in oldtown, lucerys had set off to king's landing on dragonback, not bothering to pen a response that would not arrive any sooner than he would.

he felt the difference nigh as soon as he dismounted his dragon, arrax, upon reaching king's landing — in oldtown, he was received with kindness, welcome, could as much as step into the street and at once be approached by the familiar, grinning faces of knights he trained with, had known since childhood, had grown up with in some cases, of ladies who would stop to watch the training sessions and linger to chat with knights and prince after, cheeks tinted rosy. here, in the capital, upon the grounds of the red keep in particular, the easy warmth of oldtown felt far away, was replaced by a chill he was all too familiar with — had felt when he last had walked these paths, nigh two decades ago, into an exile that did not feel like one, not really what with what life in oldtown was like, surely better than what he would have experienced here, save for the separation from his brothers, but that never must have been anything else for his father, one that still sat heavy and palpable in his chest whenever he allowed his thoughts to drift. here, it was clear he was perceived as what he was; the banished son, though that word never had been used in reference to his fate by those responsible, the troubled one, who'd been sent away, for he, already at a young age, had proven too much for the king and queen to deal with, thus had been better off elsewhere. even arrax did not like it here, had voiced that much during their descend, and, had it not been for the familiar calls of vermax and tyraxes sensing his presence, he surely would've resisted being led to the pit more.

his father's household bowed to him, offered the respect and courtesy that was due when facing a prince of the realm, the second in line to the throne ( provided his father ever decided to acknowledge the sons he had sired as worthy heirs ), but he could see how their gazes lingered when they felt as though he was not paying attention; how they took him in, let their gazes dwell upon his eye, especially the older ones, who had already been here when he had left, a boy then, still with a gaping, only days old injury draped in cloth that had required changing every few hours when it had bled through, his father clearly having wasted no time in ridding himself off him.

in light of the news, lucerys should have expected the sight that greeted him when he reached the upstairs of maegor's holdfast where his father lay dying, but it still made his steps slow when his gaze set upon his half-sister, accompanied by a maester, “ i have arrived too early, it seems. ”

halls that had been once familiar felt almost foreign upon her return, her father's steady decline affording alicent greater freedom to bring about her own changes, the mark of the hightowers wherever she might look, or at least so it felt. the one true remainder of the childhood she had spent within the red keep, the happiest days before the loss of her mother, was viserys, and he would not last too much longer, should their maesters be believed, though her faith in any who were under the oversight of alicent was reduced, and she was certain viserys would have fared better had he been under the care of her own maesters from the first signs of his ailing health. if nothing more, she might now offer him improved treatment until the stranger finally came.

༄࿔*·⋅ starter for @sorrowknown.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ THE ARRIVAL OF A QUEEN and her retinue at harrenhal's gates that morrow had neither been announced, nor something that could have possibly been predicted, and his men had found themselves vastly, and understandably, given the circumstances, overwhelmed with the situation, thus quickly sending for their lord to be called down to the scene which had brought forth such confusion and tumult.

had the woman not wept then, when he had stepped past the guards posted at the gates and addressed her, locked eyes with a stranger he soon would learn was not one, had it not been for the brief glance across his shoulder to where his father had stood a little ways back, unseen by everybody else, and the nod of his head tearing through his doubts, he would not even have believed that she could possibly be his mother — for very similar reasons that they had oft faced such judgement and insult in a childhood now forgotten. her silver hair, her lilac eyes, so unlike the brown locks and dark eyes he saw when he gazed upon a mirror. he looked most like harwin, a fact he himself could see, a fact so obvious that even when he had been unknown to many, his true name and identity forgotten and thereby never shared with anybody else, it had drawn attention, enough so that a path of lasting uncertainty had ultimately led to lordship over harrenhal. but, and perhaps ironically, it was harwin himself who had always said otherwise, always seen someone else in his features.

the party had been welcomed in then, and noan luke had taken his mother to the godswood, away from eyes and ears this did not concern, walking along the thin stream where the water appeared black and past the weirwood tree with its grim, resentful face. though, in another life, he may have been raised to worship the seven, though his departure may have included a vow to those very gods, he was not much of a religious man now. he knew no faith, only survival, and had for the longest time, for as long as he could remember, although he knew that there had been a before. before the fishing village, before harrenhal, before all of it, and apparently he was walking with a very significant piece of that forgotten past now. his own mother.

“ he oft tells me that i look like my mother. ” the silence was broken by his voice after a moment, knowing he was taking a risk by sharing with her that he could see and converse with the apparition of the deceased harwin strong ( and he was not the only, merely the one seen most frequently ), but who could he share this with if not his own mother? perhaps, given that fact, she could find it in herself to not declare him as someone who has clearly been seized by madness on the spot. even now, he could not see it, as his gaze shifted to the woman walking at his side again, took in her valyrian features, a brightness to it all that formed a stark contrast to everything else here, that felt nigh out of place in a place so dark.

“ harwin. he never told me of you, but that may be mine own fault, for i never asked. ” why, he was not sure now. perhaps knowing his father, at last, had been enough, perhaps, having finally found a place for himself, one with a tie to his father and thus his past, he had decided to stop caring, much less looking, for anything else linked to it, perhaps fearful of what he may find and how very different it may be to what he had come to know.

a pause ensued as feet gradually slowed to a halt at the black stream's edge, a certain hesitancy felt, before, finally, he spoke again, “ skorkydoso gaomagon nyke gīmigon bisa udrir? ” ( how do i know this language? )

she had scarce allowed herself to hope when word of harrenhal's new lord reached her ears, a young lord who had, so it seemed, arrived from out of nowhere but whose features resembled that of the late harwin strong too closely to be anything other than a son, even if they had not managed to deduce the identity of the mother. and yet, in as much the same way as when the truth of lucerys' murder had been brought to her, she could not rest until she had seen for herself. there had never been a body to recover, and there had been a foolish part of her that had never quite managed to let that go, and she knew that once more she would struggle to rest easy until she had satisfied the voice that whispered what if in the back of her mind.

it did not matter that the men who had first received her did not know what to do, she had sent no raven and expected no grand welcome, nor did any of it matter once they brought their new lord out. she did not care either for the witnesses to her tears, and she could not have contained them if she had wished to, and rather it was a wonder her legs bore the weight of her when she could have collapsed under the flood of emotion. her son lived, and all else faded into the background, even the knowledge that if he was here, rather than coming home to dragonstone, then all was not as simple as it might seem. as long as he was alive, she could endure the rest.

she had, at last, collected herself enough, though tears would prick at her eyes unbidden, from a glance towards her son, the sound of his voice when she had thought she would never again hear it. still she was glad to escape the eyes and ears of her own retinue and those of his men, needing the freedom to speak to her son uninhibited by the company of others, even if words seemed to not come so easy as she might have thought. indeed, the mention of harwin's name, when emotions had already been so heightened, brought a tightness to her chest and a catching of her breath in her throat. his name had been left unsaid for many a year, though she had not forgotten him, for how could she, when the loss of him would never quite leave her. perhaps they should both be branded mad but she did not question luke in his assertion that he spoke with harwin. tales of harrenhal's halls being haunted by the ghosts of its past were longstanding, and why should he be not amongst the ghosts? there was no doubt he would offer support to their son, even if only in the form of conversation, for his love for them had been undeniable.

“ i have not miscounted. ” he knew that for a fact, for he never even counted in the first place — he simply knew what was within his stock and what was not was easily recognised . . . although he did not want to think about how many of the bottles that had not disappeared overnight as though by the hand of a wily mage, might possibly contain water in a poor attempt to conceal that their original contents had long gone missing, something that would not be noticed until he was unfortunate enough to grab one such bottle and settle down for a rather unsatisfactory drink. he would certainly not put it past the culprits.

tipping the bottle he had grabbed that very eve, only to notice that four more had gone missing along with the two he had already noticed days prior, daemon poured its contents into the chalice before him, hand draping around it and lifting it to his face, the strong scent at once giving away that, at least, it has not been replaced. swallowing a mouthful, he stepped closer to his wife, “ perhaps i ought to ask your sons if they have noticed anything amiss. seeing as they tend to frequent my cellar, it seems plausible that they may have borne witness to something. ”

the sigh that fell from her lips was near inaudible, upon acceptance that this would not be a matter that would be easily put to bed. she should never expect other with daemon, yet she occasionally clung to the hope of simplicity. the thought that any of her sons could have raided his collection of bottles wasn't one she was eager to consider, knowing too well if daemon was accurate in his implications which of the boys it would have been, and she could only hope they had the sense to not allow the after effects show in the morning and discount any defence she might make on their behalf.

༄࿔*·⋅ starter for @sorrowknown.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ THE DAY HAD COME — the day where a queen would replace an usurper on the throne and take back what rightfully was hers, and had been all along, even when it unashamedly had been stolen from her by her own kin, the day where, perhaps, a raging war would, at last, reach an end, though there was no denying that it would be difficult, that it would take time before peace could properly be restored within a realm split in half, marked by bloodshed and destruction. but, if a queen sat the throne destined for her by day's end, they at least had a chance of bringing it to an end, if slowly, an opportunity to bring forth a new reign and, with it, the beginnings of a new realm, even if it would not lessen the losses they'd suffered throughout this needless war, one of which was felt most prominently now, the gap jace's lack of presence caused beside him painfully palpable to luke in every moment. the last time he had taken off upon dragonback for battle, he had been with him, they had left together, but only luke had returned in the end, the morrow of the day afterwards, injured, though not fatally, but bearing the weight of a grief that would haunt him until the end of his days. now here he stood as the new heir to the throne they would seize back today, heart heavy, driven forward by the same furious determination that had guided him through the tragedy, made him and his dragon feared names across the realm, though none of his anger, none of what he had done that day could have brought his brother back, and given him the strength to endure not only the battle that had raged for long hours, but the aftermath as well.

despite the severity of the situation, the graveness of what they were facing, his stepfather had seemed nothing short of thrilled all morrow, to the point where he nigh had been insufferable to be in the same room with — a moment of quiet only had come when he had mounted his dragon and taken off towards the sky first, but only for a brief moment, for caraxes had soared up towards the sunlight reflecting off the black rocks of the mountains of dragonstone with a rumbling roar that had shaken the earth beneath their feet, the vibrations still palpable now, moments later.

dark eyes peeled away from the crimson blotch rising higher in the sky, circling above, and shifted to grey ghost, waiting at a distance for his rider, saddled for a change, but only because luke had been present for it early that morrow, the only time where he seemed to allow it — a large head moved and the gaze of silver eyes drifted his way. it did not take being a targaryen to understand the look in the beast's eyes: he did not like that red menace very much. and, truly, he could not blame him.

when his mother moved to climb aback her own waiting mount, lucerys, too, set feet into motion, glancing over to the rhaenyra as he uttered, “ are you certain we did not make a mistake, bringing him? ” a subtle gesture was made towards the red dragon and his rider circling above them, waiting — impatiently, if he had to guess, knowing what he knew of daemon.

so much had been lost to a war that should never have begun. at times, the losses had been so great they near on felled her, piling up as if the gods wished to see how much she could bear before she would break beneath the weight of her grief. to yield to it would be a disservice to those who had already lost their lives, no matter how much she might wish it all over when sleep evaded her and all she could think of was the loved ones who had already departed, both recent and older. for as great as her grief might have been, it was her anger that kept her standing upon two feet, the knowledge that her birthright had been stolen from her, and the birthright of her own children in turn. it was not a hard decision to make when the opportunity presented itself to take back king's landing, and perhaps put an end to the needless bloodshed at last.

daemon, she knew, had been waiting for this moment perhaps more keenly than herself. too eager, in many respects, but that was nothing of the unexpected. even if she had attempted to refuse him the opportunity to join them, she was sure caraxes would have been spotted above king's landing alongside them, or worse, causing some chaos elsewhere that would be near impossible to fix once she heard of it.

for all that grey ghost may dislike the blood wyrm, she knew syrax was eager to follow the beast up towards the heavens, as enamoured as both her and rhaenyra had been with the dragon and his rider when they were both still young. her gaze drifted across to luke once settled upon saddle, before raising to the sky above once more.

a wholesome starter for @sorrowknown.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ IT HAD BEEN SOME TIME since he'd last seen king's landing — his initial departure nigh two years ago now had been a reluctant one, one lucerys had put off for as long as possible since his mother's ascension to the throne that was rightfully her own. only when he could be certain that his mother would be in good hands with a council of truly loyal lords and ladies sworn to her, and would not only be accepted, but respected by the remaining realm, and a state of peace that seemed to have intentions to last had settled over the land once again, though it had taken some time, did he decide to settle in dragonstone with his wife, rhaena, permanently, or, at least, until he would inherit the throne from rhaenyra upon her passing — a day that, hopefully, still laid far in the future. where visits had been quite frequent in the beginning days, what with king's landing only a short distance away on dragonback, they, with the arrival of a new addition to the family, and, with it, the arrival of new responsibilities and the surfacing difficulties of travelling with a small babe, had decreased over the past year, the last one now several moons in the past. so all the more thrilling was it now to be back here, to see his mother again, even if the initial meeting had been brief, the queen allowing them to first get settled in their chambers before they could all share supper together outdoors — and, in their chambers, rhaena had remained, more worn by the journey, albeit brief, even by ship, than expected, an exhaustion she, with a fond, tired smile and a hand resting on her middle, had lightheartedly blamed on the new babe growing in her belly, a fact they had only learned of weeks ago and intended to share with the queen during their stay in the capital, before lucerys had left the room with their daughter, allowing his wife to find some much-needed rest.

little jacaera, just short of her first nameday, clung to her father's neck now as he walked the lengthy path winding through the gardens with her propped against his side, gazing up at the world in wonder, pointing at the blossoming tree crowns above their heads whenever something of interest caught her eye, “ kepa, kepa— ” he nodded at her enthusiasm, a fond smile pulling up lips as his gaze elevated and followed a chubby finger upwards to the trees and the plump red fruit hanging between the green leaves, “ yes, apples. prūbresse. ”

luke soon enough found his mother waiting by a richly set table near the part of the gardens that overlooked the blackwater rush just beyond the walls encasing the keep, coming to a halt with a smile, “ somebody wanted to see you. ”

his daughter's squirming against in his arms told him all he needed to know about her excitement to see her grandmother again and he set her down, her first eager step a wobbly one that sent her staggering and half-falling, little hands grappling her father's trouser leg to straighten herself as his palm came to rest at the back of a head full of dark curls. she managed and, at once, the little girl who only recently had begun walking, toddled over the trimmed grass, her little legs moving faster than they were able to stay steady, causing her to falter again and drop to her knees, catching herself on her hands, but, like everybody else who bore the blood of the dragon in their veins, she was adamant by nature, and quickly rose again, without any help, and crossed the last of the small distance, promptly hugging the queen's skirts, partially to save herself from another stumble.

she had felt the ache of luke's absence from the moment he had left with rhaena, despite all of her assurances that he need not worry for her and that he had long since earned a peaceful retreat to dragonstone, as she had done many years before. all of it true, yet she would never be able to prevent herself from wishing to have him within arms reach, no matter how short the journey to him was, to be able to see for herself that both he and rhaena were faring well and needed nor wanted for anything. their absence from king's landing only made each visit that much more special, each arrival cherished and every goodbye just as difficult as the first. it had only been heightened further with the arrival of the first grandchild, a babe who claimed much of the queen's attention whenever they had been able to visit, finding the same delight in being a grandmother as she had in her own motherhood.

her head turned at the sound of the familiar voice of her son approaching, a smile that held all the warmth of the sun as it shone upon the gardens gracing her features at the sight of the two of them. "not half as much as i wanted to see her."

LIKE MOTHER , LIKE SON .

mother , forgive me , i'm lost , but i'll find my way home , whatever the cost .

@sorrowknown liked for a starter.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ IT HAD TAKEN A long time to get to this point again, to find trust in the woman in whose face he'd then, when he had first encountered here in these, at the time, peculiar surroundings, seen naught but a stranger.

but now he recognised her for who she was, and it was lucerys who took that step towards her this time where she still hesitated, gave him space for there was never any telling how lucerys would react to closeness, not when no day was like the other, when there still were times where he bristled, shied away, perplexed, creating distance between himself and the oft overwhelming onslaught of sensations of . . . all this, shifting into the warmth of her outstretched palm, speaking on a quiet breath, “ i could not seem to find any rest, so i came here. ”

it had been unnatural to her, resisting the instinct that urged her to offer comfort to lucerys in the form of open arms or a gentle touch, each time that he stepped away or refused her presence like a knife twisting in the wound she had once thought might only be healed with his survival and return to them.