laughing storm

𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐒: 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐄 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒.

you will find dialogue sentences and prompts based on enemy houses, like the capulets and montague in romeo and juliet. change pronouns, name and location as you see fit.

Antagonistic

"Your family will never rule these lands, not while I draw breath."

"The blood of your house stains our soil, and we will never forgive it."

"Every time I see your banner, it reminds me of the cowardice of your kin."

"My ancestors swore vengeance, and I intend to deliver it."

"You think peace is possible after all you've done?"

"We don't forget, and we certainly don't forgive."

"Your father was a traitor, and you’ll meet the same end."

"I’d rather die than let your kind share our land."

"The name of your house is a curse in my hall."

"There can be no peace between us—not after what your brother did."

"Your family's honor was lost generations ago."

"You dare speak of alliances after the bloodshed your family caused?"

"The hatred between our houses runs deep, and so will my sword."

"You wear that crest like it means something, but it’s nothing more than a mark of shame."

"We were enemies before you were born, and we will be enemies long after you’re dead."

"Your loyalty is as false as your promises."

"Our houses have always been at war, and nothing you say will change that."

"Do you really think a truce will wash away the sins of your ancestors?"

"The feud between us will never end—not until one house falls."

"You were born into hatred, just like me."

Friendly

"Our families may be at odds, but that doesn't mean we have to be."

"Perhaps we can rise above the feuds of our fathers."

"It’s time our houses found common ground, don’t you think?"

"Just because they fought doesn’t mean we must continue their battles."

"There’s no reason we can’t build something new between us."

"We may be from rival houses, but we can still find peace."

"Our families might be at war, but I see no reason why we should be."

"The feud has gone on long enough—it’s time for us to end it."

"I believe there’s more that unites us than divides us."

"Let’s be the ones to break the cycle of violence between our houses."

"I see potential in an alliance that our families refuse to see."

"Our fathers may hate each other, but we don’t have to."

"We’re more than the bloodlines we were born into."

"Your house and mine can do great things if we choose unity over conflict."

"The time for fighting is over—it’s time for healing between us."

"We have the power to change the story between our houses."

"I believe in peace, even if our houses don’t."

"Our houses have been fighting for centuries, but what if we didn’t?"

"Maybe we’re the generation that can end this."

"If we join forces, there’s nothing our houses can’t accomplish."

Ambiguous

"Your house is my enemy, yet I find myself questioning why."

"Are we enemies, or are we simply two sides of the same coin?"

"I was raised to hate you, but I don’t even know why anymore."

"There are times I wonder if we’re truly different at all."

"We wear different colors, but how different are we, really?"

"Do we fight because we must, or because we’ve forgotten how not to?"

"It’s strange to think how easily I could have been born into your house."

"We stand on opposite sides, but the line between us is so thin."

"I don't know whether to trust you or kill you."

"There’s a fine line between being rivals and being allies."

"Sometimes I wonder if this feud is even ours, or if we’re just playing roles."

"There’s more at play here than just our houses’ grudges."

"I’ve always wondered how different my life would be if I had been born into your family."

"Do we fight because of who we are, or because of who they tell us to be?"

"Sometimes I think this war is nothing but an illusion."

"We stand apart, yet sometimes I feel we’re not so different."

"Is this conflict even real, or are we just following an ancient script?"

"Our houses may be enemies, but I wonder what that even means anymore."

"I’ve been told to hate your house all my life, but I can’t help but feel there’s more to the story."

"What if we could rewrite the fate of our houses together?"

Forbidden Romance

"No one can know about us. If they find out, our houses will burn."

"We belong to rival houses, but I can't stop thinking about you."

"They would kill us both if they knew what we’ve done."

"Every kiss is a risk, but I’d risk it all for you."

"Loving you means betraying my house, but I don’t care."

"You’re the one thing I can never have, and it makes me want you more."

"We can never be together, not as long as our families are at war."

"I would leave everything behind for you, but they would never allow it."

"Our love is forbidden, but I’ve never wanted anything more."

"You and I are a scandal waiting to happen, and yet I can’t stay away."

"Being with you feels like treason, but it’s the only truth I know."

"The more they tell me to stay away from you, the closer I want to be."

"We’re enemies, and yet I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone."

"I’ll burn the banners of my house if it means I can be with you."

"We’re not supposed to be together, but I can’t live without you."

"Every secret meeting puts us in danger, but I’ve never felt so alive."

"Loving you is treason, but losing you would be worse."

"We may be from rival houses, but when I’m with you, nothing else matters."

"I’m supposed to hate you, but I’ve never wanted anyone more."

"We belong to opposite sides, but my heart only knows one truth—you."

Prompts

Write a scene where two heirs from rival houses meet in secret, unsure if they can trust each other.

Explore the moment when two childhood friends from enemy families meet again as enemies on the battlefield.

Describe the feelings of a character as they receive an unexpected letter from a sworn enemy proposing peace.

Write about a forced marriage between two members of rival houses, and how they navigate their conflicting loyalties.

Create a scene where an antagonist character saves someone from the rival house, but neither side can know.

Write about two characters from opposing houses who secretly meet every year on a battlefield to commemorate a lost loved one.

Explore the thoughts of a character who is torn between loyalty to their house and love for someone from the enemy side.

Create a confrontation where a character must decide whether to kill a captured enemy, who is also their former friend.

Write about two characters from rival houses realizing their childhood rivalry was manipulated by others.

Explore a conversation where two enemy leaders meet in secret to negotiate, but one has hidden intentions.

Write a scene where a forbidden romance is revealed during a public feast, causing shock and anger.

Describe a tense moment where two enemies from different houses must rely on each other to survive.

Write about the discovery of an old alliance between two enemy families that threatens to upend a current war.

Explore the perspective of a character who is being forced into a marriage to end a generations-long feud.

Write a scene where a character challenges their enemy to a duel but hesitates, recalling a shared moment of kindness.

Explore the internal struggle of a character who falls in love with someone from the enemy house during wartime.

Write about a secret tryst that leads to betrayal when the lovers are caught by their respective families.

Create a scene where two enemies are forced to work together to uncover a plot that threatens both their houses.

Write about an ambassador sent to negotiate peace between warring houses, only to fall for someone on the enemy side.

Explore a scene where two characters from enemy houses are mistaken for allies and must keep up the ruse.

Write about a character who is raised to hate a rival house but begins to question that hatred after meeting someone from it.

Create a confrontation where an enemy’s child is saved by a sworn rival, complicating the feud.

Write about a forbidden relationship that is discovered just as a major battle between the two houses begins.

Explore the emotions of a character whose wedding to an enemy is meant to secure peace but who feels trapped by it.

Write about a family member who betrays their house by allying with the enemy out of love or friendship.

Create a scene where two characters from rival houses must share the same space during a ceasefire, leading to tension.

Write about a secret alliance between members of two enemy houses, meant to stop a greater evil.

Explore a character’s thoughts as they attend the wedding of two members of rival families, wondering if the peace will last.

Write a scene where the child of one house apologizes to the elder of another for the wrongs committed by their family.

Create a moment where two rival heirs are forced into an arranged marriage, neither wanting it, but both finding unexpected respect.

Write about a character who spies on the enemy only to fall in love with the person they’re meant to deceive.

Explore the moment when two lovers from rival houses are discovered and have to decide whether to flee or fight for their love.

Create a scene where a character must defend their enemy to their own family.

Write about an alliance between two enemy houses that is threatened when one member reveals a secret romance.

               " I suppose it could. " Most men who do not use anger as their crutch seem to find it in a lover. Someone worth fighting for. Someone they can survive long enough for, someone to come home to at the end of it all. Karcis is a rare case. He has neither, no lover nor much anger to call on. He keeps a level head and his bed roll empty for a reason.

𝖙𝖍𝖊  𝖋𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖔𝖜  𝖐𝖓𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙'𝖘  𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉𝖘  𝖑𝖆𝖓𝖉  in  a  way  that  the  storm  lord  doesn't  immediately  shrug  off.  his  jaw  works  once,  twice  …  not  in  anger,  but  simply  in  thought.  it  felt  a  rare  thing,  that  ;  someone  speaking  of  anger  as  though  it  were  something  𝔬𝔭𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔞𝔩.  it  only  piqued  the  lord's  curiosity  further.  lyonel  studies  him  …  amber  gaze  flickering,  head  tilting  just  slightly,  like  a  hound  catching  an  unexpected  scent. 

❝  then  they  must  have  other  motivations.  ❞  he  hums,  the  words  spoken  simply  &&  unhurried.  not  unkind,  not  mocking,  just  true.

❝  anger  is  not  the  only  thing  that  drives  a  man,  I  find  it  is  simply  the  ʟᴏᴜᴅᴇsᴛ.  ❞  a  beat.  a  faint,  wry  twist  of  his  mouth.  ❝  some  men  fight  for  their  rage.  some  for  glory  and  their  own  ambition.  some  for  love.  some  for  coin.  some  for  the  gods.  ❞  a  raise  of  a  dark  brow  as  he  regards  the  other.

❝  I  wonder…  what  kind  of  man  you  are,  ser?  ❞  what  fueled  the  knight  before  him?

˚ .✩⊹ 𝕤𝕒𝕧𝕚𝕠𝕣𝕤𝕠𝕗𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕣𝕤 ⊹✩. ˚ / ᴅʀ ʀʏʟᴀɴᴅ ɢʀᴀᴄᴇ && ʀᴏᴄᴋʏ of ' project hail mary '

It could have been the wine he’d drunk much more of than usual, having normally been a model prince and son without a flaw to try and be an exemplary representative of his house and always thinking too much of the future. But then he’d been watching all night and when he did go over, it was a mix of encouragement from the goblets fast filled by those attending to the guests and the excitement of seeing the laughing storm in Dragonstone. The low chuckle impresses upon the prince in a most unexpected way that makes him smirk with a tilt of his head, easily drawn into it that’s gripped by the slow head turn of the stag.

The smirk twitches bigger and fails Valarr’s attempts of hiding it trying to keep his breathing steady when he can feel it quickening at the challenging gaze and words and tries to focus on anything but those amber eyes that trap him. Not even fidgeting with the ring on his finger helps and he does not dare even think of breaking the stare between them.

“What is it you think I’m starting?” Asked but answered by a lean in and titled smile that forms on his face when he licks his lips and tastes the wine still lingering on them. “Maybe I’m just having a conversation," he hums deliberately slightly breathy, “and you’re imagining something else.” When he notices the eyes dragging down, he bites his lower lip, narrows his eyes and leans just a touch forward as if to give a better view and take in more of one of his own.

Any composure he’s about to defend wavers with that mischievous smirk he fascinates on and feels the knee brush against him, his eyes flashing a look to Lyonel to see if it’s accidental or part of this challenge.

𝖍𝖊  𝖋𝖊𝖊𝖑𝖘  𝖙𝖍𝖊  𝖘𝖑𝖔𝖜  𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖉𝖊  𝖔𝖋  𝖙𝖍𝖊  𝖕𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖈𝖊'𝖘  𝖋𝖔𝖔𝖙  𝖚𝖕  𝖍𝖎𝖘  𝖈𝖆𝖑𝖋  𝖚𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗  𝖙𝖍𝖊  𝖙𝖆𝖇𝖑𝖊  and  —  seven  fucking  help  him  —  the  storm  lord's  breath  hitches  slightly  before  he  can  stop  it.  it's  the  smallest  sound,  almost  imperceptible,  and  it  easily  gets  swallowed  up  by  the  roar  of  the  hall  …but  lyonel  is  sure  that  valarr  is  close  enough  to  hear  it.  the  stag's  amber  eyes  narrow,  molten  &&  bright  with  amusement  and  something  a  touch  darker,  never  once  𝔴𝔞𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤  from  the  prince's  gaze. 

❝  careful,  now  …  ❞  a  low  murmur,  teasing.  his  tone  𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔪,  𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔪,  shaped  like  a  warning  and  a  promise  —  claiming  without  ever  touching.  ❝  …  keep  testing  me  so  boldly  and  someone  is  going  to  notice.❞ 

the  storm  lord  shifts  again,  movements  long  &&  languid  …  lazy,  like  a  content  cat,  basking  in  the  warmth  of  whatever  this  thing  was  between  them.  beneath  the  table  he  lets  his  legs  fall  open  a  little  further,  unmistakably  intentional,  as  though  he  were  testing  how  far  the  prince  was  willing  to  go,  daring  the  young  dragon  to  act  further.  a  dark  brow  quirks  as  his  goblet  lifts,  masking  the  𝔠𝔲𝔯𝔩  of  the  stag's  mouth  behind  the  polished  metal  as  he  takes  a  long  swig. 

❝  and  as  for  what  you're  starting  …  ❞   his  warm  gaze  flicker's  to  valarr's  mouth  once  more.  for  a  brief  moment  — perhaps  it's  the  heady  warmth  of  drink  — the  storm  lord  𝔦𝔫𝔡𝔲𝔩𝔤𝔢𝔰  the  thought,  the  fantasy  that  streaks  across  his  mind  …  leaning  in  to  capture  those  lips,  tasting  the  sweetness  of  wine  on  them,  sweeping  aside  the  grand  plates  and  goblets  that  litter  the  banquet  table,  and  pushing  valarr  against  it,  full  of  heat  &&  hunger  &&  passion  — fuck  the  rest  of  the  hall  …  oh  it  was  a  𝔣𝔦𝔫𝔢  𝔦𝔪𝔞𝔤𝔢  to  think  on.  ❝  …I  think  you  know  ᴇxᴀᴄᴛʟʏ  what  you're  doing,  my  prince.  ❞ 

the  stag  leans  in  a  little  further  ...  beneath  the  heavy  oak  of  the  table  his  hand  finds  the  young  dragon's  thigh,  ringed  fingers  𝔰𝔮𝔲𝔢𝔢𝔷𝔦𝔫𝔤  𝔰𝔩𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔩𝔶  as  he  murmurs,  with  barely  a  breath,  ❝  and  I  think  I  know  exactly  what  it  takes  to  make  you  falter.  ❞ 

another  sip  of  wine,  another  heartbeat,  amber  hues  glittering  with  𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔢𝔣,  before  the  storm  lord  settles  back  in  his  seat,  reestablishing  some  of  the  initial  distance  between  them.  still,  that  smirk  lays  ever  present  on  his  features,  warm  &&  teasing. 

❝  but,  if  you  want  to  pretend  this  is  nothing  more  than  talk…  I'll  play  along.  ғᴏʀ  ɴᴏᴡ.  ❞ 

(steel meets skin, laughter turns to breathless stillness)

Training Grounds & Bruised Pride

❛ You’re getting better… but not good enough to beat me. ❜

❛ That swing would’ve taken my head off if you weren’t distracted staring at me. ❜

❛ You call that a punch? Try again. Harder. ❜

❛ Careful—if you keep touching me like that, I’ll forget this is just training. ❜

❛ You’re supposed to disarm me, not pin me down. ❜

❛ If you wanted to get me on the ground, there are easier ways. ❜

❛ Oh, so now you’re blushing? Didn’t expect that from you. ❜

❛ Don’t hold back just because I’m close. Hit me. ❜

❛ You like this too much to call it practice. ❜

❛ You’re bleeding. …and you’re smiling about it? ❜

Clash & Proximity

❛ Stop moving—if you do, I’ll let you go. Maybe. ❜

❛ You’re enjoying this way more than you should. ❜

❛ I could feel your heartbeat when I had you pinned. ❜

❛ You’re supposed to block, not get distracted every time I breathe. ❜

❛ Funny how you only get serious when I get close. ❜

❛ Is this still a fight, or are we pretending it is? ❜

❛ If you wanted to touch me, you could’ve just asked. ❜

❛ That smirk’s going to get you in trouble. ❜

❛ You’re trembling. Adrenaline or something else? ❜

❛ You’ve got a death wish standing that close. Or maybe just a bad idea. ❜

Verbal Sparring & Tension

❛ What’s wrong—afraid I’ll beat you? Or that I won’t stop when I do? ❜

❛ Keep taunting me and I might forget to pull my punches. ❜

❛ You talk too much. Let’s see if I can change that. ❜

❛ Didn’t realize arrogance was one of your fighting styles. ❜

❛ Don’t act so calm—you’re shaking. I can feel it. ❜

❛ You like pushing me, don’t you? ❜

❛ Admit it—you only challenged me so you’d have an excuse to touch me. ❜

❛ I thought you were dangerous. Turns out you’re just distracting. ❜

❛ You keep saying this is training, but you keep looking at my mouth. ❜

❛ Try again. And stop pretending you don’t want to. ❜

Pinned & Breathless

❛ You should really get off me… unless you plan to stay there. ❜

❛ You gonna move, or are you enjoying the view? ❜

❛ You’re heavy. …Don’t you dare move. ❜

❛ Your hand’s still on me. Not that I mind. ❜

❛ Is this where you finally admit you like losing to me? ❜

❛ You can let go now. …anytime. ❜

❛ I said training, not straddling. ❜

❛ If anyone walks in right now, I’m blaming you. ❜

❛ Don’t look at me like that. You’ll make me forget we’re supposed to be fighting. ❜

❛ I thought this was about technique, not temptation. ❜

Aftermath & Smolder

❛ You’ve got blood on your lip. …Here, let me— ❜

❛ You hit harder than you should. I liked it. ❜

❛ I should hate how close that was. But I don’t. ❜

❛ You’re shaking. Here—catch your breath. ❜

❛ For someone who swears they don’t care, you sure looked worried when I fell. ❜

❛ You didn’t have to pull me that close. ❜

❛ I’ve fought a lot of people. None of them ever looked at me like that. ❜

❛ Are we still sparring, or… something else? ❜

❛ Tell me you didn’t feel that too. ❜

❛ Maybe next time, we skip the weapons. ❜

Lord Baratheon,

I am surprised to hear that one Baratheon holds some sense; I do wonder if your father is the only one to possess such a thing. I have yet to understand the reasoning for siding with a hedge knight, one who has no honours or victories attached to his name, but I assume you were well within your cups when you were asked to join Ser Duncan’s side. I see no other reason but that.

You speak of honour, and yet is it not honourable to side with the princes of the realm and not to turn against your king and his kin? Nor does it uphold the customs of the realm that matter, to respect and honour the blood of the dragon. If your choice was not made in defiance of me but in support of a man who had struck the dragon’s blood, please explain your reasoning without these feeble excuses.

There is no question of justice or the reasons behind my actions. I was protecting the realm against treason, or did you forget that we have had peace only for thirteen summers? If someone thinks they can strike against the royal household without punishment, then war would surely follow. I would think that a man such as yourself was aware of these things, yet your actions in Ashford prove otherwise.

I care not for men like Ser Duncan, who have nothing to lose when it comes to defying the crown. He has no family or history to speak of, and yet you hold him in such high esteem. Even the man who knighted him was of no consequence, and still Ser Duncan the Tall is to be regarded as a worthy knight? I pity those who have fallen for him. 

You, like the hedge knight, are inconsequential to me. 

❝  𝒫𝓇𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑒  𝒜𝑒𝓇𝒾𝑜𝓃,   

ℐ  𝒽𝒶𝒹  𝓃𝑜𝓉  𝑒𝓍𝓅𝑒𝒸𝓉𝑒𝒹  𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇  𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓂𝓅𝓉  𝓇𝑒𝓅𝓁𝓎,  ℐ  𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹  𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒  𝒶𝓈𝓈𝓊𝓂𝑒𝒹  𝓈𝓊𝒸𝒽  𝒸𝑜𝓇𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓅𝑜𝓃𝒹𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒  𝓉𝓇𝒾𝓋𝒾𝒶𝓁  𝒾𝓃  𝓉𝒽𝑒  𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝒹  𝓈𝒸𝒽𝑒𝓂𝑒  𝑜𝒻  𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇  𝓅𝓇𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑒𝓁𝓎  𝒹𝓊𝓉𝒾𝑒𝓈.  𝒾𝒻  𝓎𝑜𝓊  𝓈𝑒𝑒𝓀  𝒻𝓊𝓇𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇  𝒸𝓁𝒶𝓇𝒾𝒻𝒾𝒸𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃  𝑜𝓃  𝓂𝓎  𝒶𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈,  ℐ  𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁  𝒷𝑒  𝒷𝓇𝒾𝑒𝒻  ~  ℐ  𝓈𝓉𝑜𝑜𝒹  𝒻𝑜𝓇  𝒶  𝓂𝒶𝓃'𝓈  𝓇𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉  𝓉𝑜  𝓉𝓇𝒾𝒶𝓁.  𝓎𝑜𝓊  𝓈𝓉𝑜𝑜𝒹  𝒻𝑜𝓇  𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇  𝑜𝓌𝓃  𝓉𝒽𝑒  𝓅𝓇𝒾𝒹𝑒  𝑜𝒻  𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇  𝑔𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉  𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓈𝑒.  𝒷𝑜𝓉𝒽  𝒶𝓇𝑒  …  𝒽𝑜𝓃𝑜𝓊𝓇𝒶𝒷𝓁𝑒  𝒾𝓃  𝓉𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓇  𝑜𝓌𝓃  𝓇𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉.  𝓉𝒽𝑒  𝑔𝑜𝒹𝓈  𝓂𝒶𝓎  𝒿𝓊𝒹𝑔𝑒  𝒻𝑜𝓇  𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂𝓈𝑒𝓁𝓋𝑒𝓈  𝓌𝒽𝒾𝒸𝒽  𝑜𝒻  𝓊𝓈  𝓂𝒾𝓈𝓉𝑜𝑜𝓀  𝑜𝓊𝓇  𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃.    

𝓎𝑜𝓊  𝒹𝑒𝑒𝓂  𝓂𝑒  𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓈𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒾𝒶𝓁  𝒶𝓃𝒹,  𝒾𝒻  𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉  𝒾𝓈  𝓈𝑜,  𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓃  𝓂𝓎  𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑜𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔  𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹  𝓃𝑜𝓉  𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓊𝒷𝓁𝑒  𝓎𝑜𝓊  𝓃𝑜𝓇  𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹  𝒾𝓉  𝓇𝑒𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓇𝑒  𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇  𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉𝓈  𝒻𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇.  𝒾𝒻  𝓂𝓎  𝒸𝒽𝑜𝒾𝒸𝑒  𝒹𝒾𝓈𝓅𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒𝓈  𝓎𝑜𝓊  𝒾𝓉  𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓈  𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔.  𝒾𝒻  𝒾𝓉  𝓅𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒𝓈  𝓎𝑜𝓊  𝓉𝑜  𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓀  𝓂𝑒  𝒶  𝒻𝑜𝑜𝓁,  𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉  𝓉𝑜𝑜  𝒾𝓈  𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇  𝓇𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉.  ℐ  𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁  𝓃𝑜𝓉  𝒹𝑒𝒻𝑒𝓃𝒹  𝓂𝓎𝓈𝑒𝓁𝒻  𝒻𝓊𝓇𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇.  ℐ  𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝒹  𝒾𝓃  𝒶𝒸𝒸𝑜𝓇𝒹𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒  𝓉𝑜  𝓉𝒽𝑒  𝓁𝒶𝓌𝓈  𝑜𝒻  𝓉𝒽𝑒  𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓁𝓂  𝒶𝓃𝒹  𝓉𝒽𝑒  𝑜𝒶𝓉𝒽  ℐ  𝓈𝓌𝑜𝓇𝑒  𝒷𝑒𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒  𝑔𝑜𝒹𝓈  𝒶𝓃𝒹  𝓂𝑒𝓃.  𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉  𝓇𝑒𝓂𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓈  𝓉𝒽𝑒  𝒷𝑒𝑔𝒾𝓃𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔  𝒶𝓃𝒹  𝓉𝒽𝑒  𝑒𝓃𝒹  𝑜𝒻  𝓉𝒽𝑒  𝓂𝒶𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇.    

𝒶  𝓅𝓇𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑒'𝓈  𝒿𝓊𝒹𝑔𝑒𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉  𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒹𝓈  𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓉  𝓂𝓎  𝒶𝑔𝓇𝑒𝑒𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉,  𝒶𝓃𝒹  𝓂𝓎  𝒶𝑔𝓇𝑒𝑒𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉  𝒾𝓈  𝓃𝑜𝓉  𝓇𝑒𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓇𝑒𝒹.  𝒷𝓊𝓉  𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒  𝓇𝑒𝓂𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓈  𝓉𝒽𝑒  𝒻𝒶𝒸𝓉  𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉  ℐ  𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁  𝓇𝑒𝒾𝓉𝑒𝓇𝒶𝓉𝑒  ~  ℐ  𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒  𝓃𝑜  𝓆𝓊𝒶𝓇𝓇𝑒𝓁  𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽  𝓎𝑜𝓊  𝑜𝓇  𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇  𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓈𝑒,  𝓃𝑜𝓇  𝒹𝑜  ℐ  𝒹𝑒𝓈𝒾𝓇𝑒  𝓉𝑜  𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓃𝓊𝑒  𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈  𝑒𝓍𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓃𝑔𝑒.  ℐ  𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁  𝓃𝑜𝓉  𝓌𝓇𝒾𝓉𝑒  𝒶𝑔𝒶𝒾𝓃  𝓊𝓃𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈  𝓇𝑒𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓇𝑒𝒹  𝓉𝑜  𝒹𝑜  𝓈𝑜.     ℐ  𝑒𝓍𝓅𝑒𝒸𝓉  𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉  𝑜𝓊𝓇  𝓅𝒶𝓉𝒽𝓈  𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁  𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓈𝓈  𝒶𝑔𝒶𝒾𝓃  𝒾𝓃  𝓉𝒽𝑒  𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈𝑒  𝑜𝒻  𝑜𝓊𝓇  𝒹𝓊𝓉𝒾𝑒𝓈.  𝓊𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓁  𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉  𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒,  ℐ  𝓌𝒾𝓈𝒽  𝓎𝑜𝓊  𝑔𝑜𝑜𝒹  𝒻𝑜𝓇𝓉𝓊𝓃𝑒.    

𝒷𝓎  𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇  𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓋𝑒,     𝒮𝑒𝓇  ℒ𝓎𝑜𝓃𝑒𝓁  𝑜𝒻  ℋ𝑜𝓊𝓈𝑒  ℬ𝒶𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒽𝑒𝑜𝓃  ❞

tw for chronic illness / chronic pain and body dysmorphia 

“Shit, it hurts!”

“I’m used to it hurting.”

“It’s nothing. It just hurts, again.”

“I just can’t ever get comfortable.”

“My whole body just feels… wrong.”

“No, it’s normal pain. I’m used to it.”

“I wish these scars would just go away…”

“It hurts too much to stand up, I need to sit.”

“I’m tired of feeling off all the time, that’s all.”

“I think I need a hot shower and some painkillers.”

“It doesn’t even feel like this body is… me, anymore.”

“God, I wish I could be healthy for one day. Just one.”

“No, it doesn’t really hurt today. It’s just uncomfortable.”

It’s a bad day, again. I might need some help getting up.”

“It just feels like there’s something in me that’s not… me.”

“I don’t even remember what it’s like to get a good night’s sleep.”

“What’s it like waking up and NOT always hurting? Must be nice.”

“Man, if I hurt this much already, it’s really gonna suck to get older.”

“I need a hand up. If I start crying, don’t stop, it’s manageable pain.”

“I’m only (age)! I shouldn’t have the aches of a 90 year old woman.”

“I feel like a burden. I wish I was healthy so no one has to look after me.”

“This doesn’t even feel like a body, anymore. It’s just a big ball of pain and ick.”

“It feels like my body’s never… right. Like there’s always something wrong with it.”

“I don’t want to stay in bed, ‘cause my brain’ll tell me I’m lazy. But, it hurts too much to stand up today.”

Silence carried over Ashford and not one of peace or anything of comfort. The prince was dead. His father. Gone by his own brother's hand for a knight nobody knew the name of before the tourney. The same silence hung in the air inside the walls of Lord Ashford’s home and nobody speaking to one another. Servants whispered as the only sense of normalcy but even that soon shattered when those sounds flowed loud but hushed into hearing. Talk of Maekar, of what would happen with Aerion, of what the King would do with the news, of poor Gwin Ashford’s celebration ruined and of all the knight abruptly leaving. Nothing for the grieving son. 

For the first time in what feels like an eternity, the door to his chambers open and of all people the prince expected it was not a squire. The face was one he knew as Lyone’s squire and took the letter with a nervous anticipation, telling the boy to wait until he finished reading. It was the first time he’d spoken in hours. 

Each word has him clinging tighter to the parchment. Muscles tightened in his neck and every inked word felt sincerely chosen. It meant a lot even though it grew the lump phanomly placed in his throat. 

Without a word to the patient squire, Valarr takes to his own writing. 

“ 𝑀𝓎 𝓈𝓉𝑜𝓇𝓂,           𝐿𝓎𝑜𝓃𝑒𝓁,  𝒮𝑒𝓇 𝐿𝓎𝑜𝓃𝑒𝓁,  𝒯𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒹𝒶𝓎 𝒽𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝒶𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝓂𝒶𝓃𝓎 𝓊𝓃𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈𝑜𝓃𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓈𝑒 𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈𝑜𝓃𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓋𝒶𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓉𝓎 𝑜𝒻 𝓅𝑒𝒶𝒸𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉. 𝐼 𝒶𝓂 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒𝓁𝓎 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓃 𝒸𝑜𝓇𝓇𝑒𝒸𝓉 𝒾𝓃 𝓃𝒶𝓂𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓈𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓃𝑔𝑒 𝓈𝒾𝓁𝑒𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝓅𝑒𝒶𝒸𝑒 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓈𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔'𝓈 𝓉𝓇𝒾𝒶𝓁 𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝒾𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝓎𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑒𝓁𝓈𝑒. 𝐻𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝓅𝑒𝒶𝒸𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝑒 𝓈𝑜 𝓈𝓉𝓇𝒶𝒾𝓃𝑒𝒹? 𝐼 𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒷𝑒 𝓃𝒶𝓂𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓈𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝒶 𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓈𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝒶𝓇𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓅𝓁𝒶𝒸𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓌𝑒 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓈𝒾𝓁𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓁𝓎 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒻𝑜𝓁𝓁𝑜𝓌 𝓊𝓈 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓇𝑒𝓂𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓁𝒾𝓋𝑒𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒾𝒻 𝓌𝑒 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝒹𝑜 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓎 𝒾𝓃 𝑒𝒶𝒸𝒽 𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇'𝓈 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝓅𝒶𝓃𝓎.  𝐹𝑜𝓇𝑔𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓂𝑒, 𝐼 𝒹𝑜 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓂𝑒𝒶𝓃 𝓉𝑜 𝓅𝓇𝒶𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒. 𝒪𝓊𝓇 𝓂𝒶𝓉𝒸𝒽 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝑒𝓌 𝒿𝑜𝓎𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒸𝓊𝓇𝓈𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓃𝑒𝓎 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝐼 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓀 𝑜𝓃 𝒾𝓉, 𝐼 𝒹𝑜 𝓈𝑜 𝓊𝓃𝒸𝑜𝓇𝓇𝓊𝓅𝓉𝑒𝒹.  𝑀𝓎 𝒻𝒶𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑜𝓃𝓁𝓎 𝓁𝑜𝓈𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝒶𝓎 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝓅𝑒𝑜𝓅𝓁𝑒 𝓁𝑜𝓈𝓉 𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓌𝒽𝑜 𝒽𝑒𝓁𝒹 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃 𝓂𝓎 𝓈𝒾𝓇𝑒 𝒹𝒾𝒹. 𝐼 𝒹𝑜 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓂𝑒𝒶𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒾𝓃 𝒶 𝓌𝒶𝓎 𝓉𝑜 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝒸𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝓎 𝓀𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝑜𝒻 𝑔𝓊𝒾𝓁𝓉, 𝐼 𝓌𝓇𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝒾𝓉 𝓈𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝐼 𝓊𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝐼 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝑒𝓍𝓅𝑒𝒸𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝒾𝓈𝓈 𝒶 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒶𝓁 𝒻𝒶𝓇𝑒𝓌𝑒𝓁𝓁 𝑜𝒻 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝒽𝑒𝓇𝒾𝓈𝒽𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒶𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝒶𝒻𝒻𝑒𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝒽𝑒𝓁𝒹. 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒷𝑒 𝒸𝓇𝓊𝑒𝓁 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒹𝑒𝓈𝓅𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝓂𝓎 𝒻𝒶𝓂𝒾𝓁𝓎'𝓈 𝒽𝒾𝓈𝓉𝑜𝓇𝒾𝒸𝒶𝓁 𝓇𝑒𝓅𝓊𝓉𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒷𝑒𝒽𝒶𝓋𝒾𝑜𝓇, 𝒾𝓉 𝒹𝒾𝒹 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓅𝒶𝓈𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝑒. 𝐼𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝑜𝒻𝒻𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝑜 𝓋𝒾𝓈𝒾𝓉 𝒮𝓉𝑜𝓇𝓂’𝓈 𝐸𝓃𝒹 𝑒𝓍𝓉𝑒𝓃𝒹𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝑒𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓂 𝒹𝑒𝓈𝒸𝑒𝓃𝒹𝓈 𝐼 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒷𝑒 𝑔𝓁𝒶𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝓋𝒾𝓈𝒾𝓉. 𝐼 𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒾𝓉.  𝐼 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓁𝓁𝑜𝓌 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒦𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝒶𝓈 𝓇𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝓊𝓈 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝑒𝑒𝓉 𝒶𝓉 𝒦𝒾𝓃𝑔’𝓈 𝐿𝒶𝓃𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔, 𝓃𝑜 𝒹𝑜𝓊𝒷𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝒻𝒾𝓇𝓂 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓈𝓊𝒸𝒸𝑒𝓈𝓈𝑜𝓇 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒹𝑒𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓂𝒾𝓃𝑒 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓅𝑒𝓃𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝓇𝒶𝑔𝑜𝓃𝓈 𝓂𝑜𝓊𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂𝓈𝑒𝓁𝓋𝑒𝓈. 𝐼𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓁 𝒶𝓃𝓎 𝒸𝓎𝓃𝒾𝒸𝒾𝓈𝓂 𝒾𝓃 𝓂𝓎 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒾𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓂𝒾𝓃𝒹.  𝒦𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝐼’𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓀 𝑜𝒻 𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓂𝒶𝓉𝒸𝒽 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝐼 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒹𝑒𝓈𝑜𝓁𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒷𝑜𝑜𝓂𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓁𝒶𝓊𝑔𝒽.   𝒴𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈, 𝒾𝓃 𝒹𝑒𝓋𝑜𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 , 𝒾𝓃 𝓇𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝑒𝓃𝒸𝑒,  - 𝒫𝓇𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒱𝒶𝓁𝒶𝓇𝓇  “

𝖑𝖞𝖔𝖓𝖊𝖑  𝖍𝖆𝖉  𝖓𝖔𝖙  𝖊𝖝𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖙𝖊𝖉  𝖆  𝖗𝖊𝖕𝖑𝖞  𝖘𝖔  𝖘𝖔𝖔𝖓,  not  today.  so  when  his  squire  returned  with  a  folded  parchment  baring  the  prince's  seal  he  couldn't  hide  the  mild  surprise  that  crossed  his  features.  thanking  the  boy,  he  tore  open  the  letter.  the  first  few  lines  ―  raw  as  they  were,  scribbled  hastily  and  honestly  ―  has  the  storm  lord  considering  rethinking  his  departure  from  ashford.  but  no,  𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔶  𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔫𝔬𝔱  𝔡𝔢𝔩𝔞𝔶  …  the  pavillion  packed,  the  caravan  was  ready  to  leave.  and  leave,  he  must. 

tucking  the  letter  away  once  more,  lyonel  swears  to  read  it  properly  later.  and  he  does.  by  dusk,  underneath  a  bruised  purple  sky,  while  preparations  are  being  made  to  camp  by  the  roadside,  the  storm  lord  slips  away  beneath  a  stand  of  oak  trees  to  read  the  prince's  words.  he  reads  by  the  last  scrap  of  daylight,  and  then  by  firelight,  the  words  𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔤  𝔡𝔢𝔢𝔭𝔢𝔯  with  each  pass.  the  honesty  &&  the  restraint,  the  quiet  ache  threaded  through  every  line  …  it  sits  heavy  with  him.  and,  as  the  camp  settles,  his  men  drifting  to  sleep,  the  storm  lord  stays  awake.  letter  warm  from  his  hands,  valarr's  voice  echoing  in  his  mind.  by  firelight  he  writes  his  response.  the  words  come  slowly  at  first  ―  worn  by  the  road,  unguarded  ―  and  then  gather  into  something  steadier,  shaped  by  the  same  care  valarr  showed  him.  still,  wary  and  concerned  of  possible  prying  eyes  …

❝  𝓋𝒶𝓁𝒶𝓇𝓇,    

ℐ  𝒹𝑜  𝓃𝑜𝓉  𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌  𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒  𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈  𝓁𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇  𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁  𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒹  𝓎𝑜𝓊  ~  𝒾𝓃  𝒶𝓈𝒽𝒻𝑜𝓇𝒹  𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓁𝓁,  𝑜𝓇  𝒶𝓁𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝓎  𝑜𝓃  𝓉𝒽𝑒  𝓇𝑜𝒶𝒹  𝓉𝑜  𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔'𝓈  𝓁𝒶𝓃𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔.  ℐ  𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒  𝓈𝑒𝓃𝓉  𝒾𝓉  𝓉𝑜  𝓁𝑜𝓇𝒹  𝒶𝓈𝒽𝒻𝑜𝓇𝒹  𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽  𝒾𝓃𝓈𝓉𝓇𝓊𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈  𝓉𝑜  𝒻𝑜𝓇𝓌𝒶𝓇𝒹  𝒾𝓉  𝑜𝓃  𝓉𝑜  𝓉𝒽𝑒  𝒸𝒶𝓅𝒾𝓉𝒶𝓁  𝒾𝒻  𝓎𝑜𝓊  𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒  𝒹𝑒𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉𝑒𝒹.  𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑔𝒾𝓋𝑒  𝓂𝑒,  ℐ  𝒽𝒶𝒹  𝓃𝑜𝓉  𝑒𝓍𝓅𝑒𝒸𝓉𝑒𝒹  𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇  𝓇𝑒𝓅𝓁𝓎  𝓉𝑜  𝒷𝑒  𝓈𝑜  𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓂𝓅𝓉.  𝒽𝒶𝒹  ℐ  𝒷𝑒𝑒𝓃  𝒶𝒷𝓁𝑒  𝓉𝑜,  ℐ  𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹  𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒  𝑒𝓃𝓈𝓊𝓇𝑒𝒹  𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈  𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒸𝒽𝑒𝒹  𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇  𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹  𝒹𝒾𝓇𝑒𝒸𝓉𝓁𝓎  𝒷𝓊𝓉,  𝒶𝓁𝒶𝓈,  ℐ  𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹  𝓃𝑜𝓉  𝒹𝑒𝓁𝒶𝓎  𝓂𝓎  𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓋𝒾𝓃𝑔  𝒶𝓃𝓎  𝒻𝓊𝓇𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇.    

ℐ  𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹  𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇  𝓁𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇  𝑜𝓃  𝓉𝒽𝑒  𝓇𝑜𝒶𝒹,  𝓊𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇  𝒶  𝓈𝓀𝓎  𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉  𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹  𝓃𝑜𝓉  𝒹𝑒𝒸𝒾𝒹𝑒  𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇  𝓉𝑜  𝒷𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓀  𝑜𝓅𝑒𝓃  𝑜𝓇  𝒽𝑜𝓁𝒹  𝒾𝓉𝓈𝑒𝓁𝒻  𝓉𝑜𝑔𝑒𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇.  𝒾𝓉  𝓈𝓊𝒾𝓉𝑒𝒹  𝓉𝒽𝑒  𝒹𝒶𝓎.  𝒾𝓉  𝓈𝓊𝒾𝓉𝑒𝒹  𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇  𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹𝓈.  𝓎𝑜𝓊  𝓌𝓇𝒾𝓉𝑒  𝑜𝒻  𝓁𝑜𝓈𝓈  𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽  𝒻𝒶𝓇  𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒  𝑔𝓇𝒶𝒸𝑒  𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃  𝓂𝑜𝓈𝓉  𝓂𝑒𝓃  𝓂𝒶𝓃𝒶𝑔𝑒  𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃  𝓈𝓅𝑒𝒶𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔  𝑜𝒻  𝓁𝒾𝒻𝑒,  𝒶𝓃𝒹  𝓎𝑜𝓊  𝓈𝓅𝑒𝒶𝓀  𝑜𝒻  𝓂𝓎  𝑜𝓌𝓃  𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽  𝒶  𝓉𝒶𝒸𝓉  𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉  𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓁𝑒𝓈  𝓂𝑒  𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓁𝓁.  𝒷𝑒𝑒𝓈𝒷𝓊𝓇𝓎  𝓌𝒶𝓈  𝒶  𝑔𝑜𝑜𝒹  𝒻𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓃𝒹  𝓉𝑜  𝓂𝑒  ~  𝒶  𝓇𝒶𝓇𝑒  𝑜𝓃𝑒,  𝒶𝓃𝒹  𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒹𝓎𝒾𝓃𝑔  𝓉𝑜𝑜,  𝒶𝓃𝒹  𝓂𝓎  𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓁𝒹  𝒾𝓈  𝒶  𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒  𝒹𝓊𝓁𝓁𝑒𝓇  𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓉  𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂  𝒾𝓃  𝒾𝓉  …  𝒷𝓊𝓉  𝒻𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓃𝒹𝓈,  𝒾𝒻  𝓉𝒽𝑒  𝑔𝑜𝒹𝓈  𝒶𝓇𝑒  𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔,  𝒸𝒶𝓃  𝒷𝑒  𝓇𝑒𝓂𝒶𝒹𝑒.  𝓈𝒾𝓇𝑒𝓈  𝒸𝒶𝓃𝓃𝑜𝓉.  ℐ  𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁  𝓃𝑜𝓉  𝓅𝓇𝑒𝓉𝑒𝓃𝒹  𝓉𝑜  𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌  𝓉𝒽𝑒  𝓈𝒽𝒶𝓅𝑒  𝑜𝒻  𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇  𝑔𝓇𝒾𝑒𝒻,  𝑜𝓃𝓁𝓎  𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉  ℐ  𝓈𝓊𝓈𝓅𝑒𝒸𝓉  𝒾𝓉  𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒹𝓈  𝓉𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑒𝓇  𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃  𝓂𝒾𝓃𝑒,  𝒶𝓃𝒹  𝓎𝑒𝓉  𝓎𝑜𝓊  𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓁𝓁  𝒻𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹  𝓈𝓅𝒶𝒸𝑒  𝒾𝓃  𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇  𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓉  𝓉𝑜  𝓈𝓅𝑒𝒶𝓀  𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓁𝓎  𝑜𝒻  𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉  ℐ  𝒸𝒶𝓇𝓇𝓎.  𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃𝓀  𝓎𝑜𝓊.    

𝓎𝑜𝓊  𝒶𝓈𝓀  𝓂𝑒  𝒾𝒻  ℐ  𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒  𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌𝓃  𝓅𝑒𝒶𝒸𝑒  𝓉𝑜  𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓁  𝓈𝑜  𝓈𝓉𝓇𝒶𝒾𝓃𝑒𝒹.  𝓉𝓇𝓊𝓉𝒽𝒻𝓊𝓁𝓁𝓎,  ℐ  𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒  𝓃𝑜𝓉.  ℐ  𝒶𝒹𝓂𝒾𝓉  𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒  𝓌𝒶𝓈  𝒶  𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓈𝒾𝑜𝓃  𝓉𝑜  𝓉𝒽𝑒  𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓁𝓂,  𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒  𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓁𝓁  𝒾𝓈.  𝒾𝓉'𝓈  𝒶  𝓈𝒾𝓁𝑒𝓃𝒸𝑒  𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉  𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓁𝓈  𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒  𝒶𝓃  𝑜𝓃𝒸𝑜𝓂𝒾𝓃𝑔  𝓈𝓉𝑜𝓇𝓂  ~  𝓉𝒽𝑒  𝒶𝒾𝓇  𝓉𝑜𝑜  𝓉𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉,  𝓉𝒽𝑒  𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓁𝒹  𝓉𝑜𝑜  𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓁𝓁,  𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎  𝓂𝒶𝓃  𝓌𝒶𝒾𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔  𝒻𝑜𝓇  𝓉𝒽𝑒  𝒻𝒾𝓇𝓈𝓉  𝒸𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓀  𝑜𝒻  𝓉𝒽𝓊𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇.  𝒸𝑜𝒾𝓁𝑒𝒹  𝒶𝓃𝓉𝒾𝒸𝒾𝓅𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃,  ℐ  𝓈𝓊𝓅𝓅𝑜𝓈𝑒.  ℐ  𝒻𝑒𝓁𝓉  𝒾𝓉  𝒶𝓉  𝒶𝓈𝒽𝒻𝑜𝓇𝒹  𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒  𝒶  𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹  𝒶𝓇𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹  𝓉𝒽𝑒  𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑜𝒶𝓉,  𝒶𝓃𝒹  ℐ  𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁  𝒶𝒹𝓂𝒾𝓉  𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉  𝑒𝓈𝒸𝒶𝓅𝒾𝓃𝑔  𝒾𝓉  𝓌𝒶𝓈  𝑜𝓃𝑒  𝑜𝒻  𝓉𝒽𝑒  𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑜𝓃𝓈  ℐ  𝓁𝑒𝒻𝓉  𝓈𝑜  𝓈𝓌𝒾𝒻𝓉𝓁𝓎. 

ℐ𝒻  𝓎𝑜𝓊  𝒽𝒶𝒹  𝒷𝑒𝑒𝓃  𝒶𝒷𝓁𝑒  𝓉𝑜  𝒻𝑜𝓁𝓁𝑜𝓌  𝓂𝑒  𝓃𝑜𝓌,  ℐ  𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹  𝓃𝑜𝓉  𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒  𝑜𝒷𝒿𝑒𝒸𝓉𝑒𝒹.  𝓈𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓃  𝒽𝑒𝓁𝓁𝓈,  ℐ  𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹  𝓌𝑒𝓁𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒  𝒾𝓉.  𝓉𝒽𝑒  𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉  𝑜𝒻  𝓎𝑜𝓊  𝑜𝓃  𝓉𝒽𝑒  𝓇𝑜𝒶𝒹  𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽  𝓂𝑒  𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹  𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒  𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒𝒹  𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈  𝒿𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓃𝑒𝓎  𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒  𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃  𝓎𝑜𝓊  𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌.  𝒷𝓊𝓉,  𝓎𝑜𝓊  𝒶𝓇𝑒  𝒶  𝓅𝓇𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑒.  𝒶𝓃𝒹  ℐ  𝒶𝓂  𝓃𝑜𝓉  𝓈𝑜  𝒻𝒶𝓇  𝑔𝑜𝓃𝑒  𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂  𝓈𝑒𝓃𝒸𝑒  𝓉𝑜  𝒾𝓂𝒶𝑔𝒾𝓃𝑒  𝓎𝑜𝓊  𝓈𝓁𝒾𝓅𝓅𝒾𝓃𝑔  𝒻𝓇𝑒𝑒  𝑜𝒻  𝓀𝒾𝓃  𝒶𝓃𝒹  𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈𝑔𝓊𝒶𝓇𝒹  𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃  𝓉𝒽𝑒  𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓁𝓂  𝒾𝓈  𝓇𝒶𝓌  𝒶𝓃𝒹  𝓌𝒶𝓉𝒸𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔.  𝒹𝓊𝓉𝓎  𝒷𝒾𝓃𝒹𝓈  𝓎𝑜𝓊,  𝒶𝓈  𝒾𝓉  𝒹𝑜𝑒𝓈  𝒶𝓁𝓁  𝑜𝒻  𝓊𝓈.  ℐ  𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌  𝒾𝓉.  ℐ  𝓂𝒶𝓎  𝒸𝓊𝓇𝓈𝑒  𝒾𝓉  𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒𝓈,  𝒷𝓊𝓉  ℐ  𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌  𝒾𝓉.    

𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓁𝓁  ~  ℐ  𝓂𝑒𝒶𝓃𝓉  𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉  ℐ  𝓌𝓇𝑜𝓉𝑒.  𝓉𝒽𝑒  𝑔𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓈  𝑜𝒻  𝓈𝓉𝑜𝓇𝓂'𝓈  𝑒𝓃𝒹  𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁  𝒶𝓁𝓌𝒶𝓎𝓈  𝒷𝑒  𝑜𝓅𝑒𝓃  𝓉𝑜  𝓎𝑜𝓊.  𝓎𝑜𝓊  𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁  𝒶𝓁𝓌𝒶𝓎𝓈  𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒  𝒶  𝒻𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓃𝒹  𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒.   

ℐ’𝓂  𝑔𝓁𝒶𝒹  𝑜𝓊𝓇  𝓂𝒶𝓉𝒸𝒽  𝒷𝓇𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉  𝓎𝑜𝓊  𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒  𝒸𝑜𝓂𝒻𝑜𝓇𝓉.  𝒾𝓉  𝓌𝒶𝓈  𝒶  𝒻𝒾𝓃𝑒  𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔.  𝒾𝒻  𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔  𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀  𝓉𝑜  𝒾𝓉  𝓈𝓉𝑒𝒶𝒹𝒾𝑒𝓈  𝓎𝑜𝓊  𝓈𝑜,  𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓃  𝓁𝑒𝓉  𝒾𝓉.  ℐ  𝓇𝑒𝓂𝑒𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇  𝒾𝓉  𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽  𝓃𝑜  𝓈𝓂𝒶𝓁𝓁  𝓂𝑒𝒶𝓈𝓊𝓇𝑒  𝑜𝒻  𝒻𝑜𝓃𝒹𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓈  𝓂𝓎𝓈𝑒𝓁𝒻.  𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓀  𝑜𝒻  𝒾𝓉  ~  𝑜𝒻  𝓂𝑒  ~  𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇  𝓎𝑜𝓊  𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹  𝓉𝒽𝑒  𝓇𝑒𝓂𝒾𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇  𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉  𝓃𝑜𝓉  𝒶𝓁𝓁  𝑜𝒻  𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈  𝒽𝒶𝓈  𝒷𝑒𝑒𝓃  𝓈𝑜𝓇𝓇𝑜𝓌.   

𝒽𝑜𝓁𝒹  𝒻𝒶𝓈𝓉,  𝓋𝒶𝓁𝒶𝓇𝓇.  𝓉𝒽𝑒  𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓁𝓂  𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁  𝒹𝑒𝓂𝒶𝓃𝒹  𝓂𝓊𝒸𝒽  𝑜𝒻  𝓎𝑜𝓊  𝒾𝓃  𝓉𝒽𝑒  𝒹𝒶𝓎𝓈  𝓉𝑜  𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒.  𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃  𝒾𝓉  𝒾𝓈  𝒹𝑜𝓃𝑒  ~  𝒾𝒻  𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈  𝒾𝓈  𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓁𝓁  𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉  𝓎𝑜𝓊  𝒹𝑒𝓈𝒾𝓇𝑒  ~  𝓇𝒾𝒹𝑒.  ℐ  𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁  𝒷𝑒  𝓌𝒶𝒾𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔.   

𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈,  𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽  𝓁𝑜𝓎𝒶𝓁𝓉𝓎,

   ~  𝒮𝑒𝓇  ℒ𝓎𝑜𝓃𝑒𝓁  ℬ𝒶𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒽𝑒𝑜𝓃.  ❞