#divin3rot

THE GLOW OF THE FIRE CASTS DANCING SHADOWS AROUND THE ROOM. Otto stood  before it, gazing into the small pyre, his hand resting on the stone mantle. The wheel of time continues to spin, he has lived more days than he has left. Sometimes he looks around at the world around him and he does not recognize it. A war of dragons is a terrible thing and he cannot be sure what, if anything, will rise from the ashes.

One thing he could be sure about is Alicent. He had his doubts, for a long time. It can be hard for a father to think of his children as anything but who they were all those years ago. So many times he would look at her and see a little girl playing dress up. Now he was being forced to reckon with who she is now. A woman grown, a Hightower, a mother, and a Queen. 

is that not the truth of it ?? if there was anyone who knew the tendency of gods to give life and take it with the casual certainty of the crack of thunder in a storm , it'd be serana. how many are lucky enough to feel both in the same night ?? to feel their very essence torn loose , drawn from them in trembling strands only to gasp hours later , choking on immortality after drifting in the vast and soundless void of purgatory between heartbeats. listless. the memory of it still lingers. that terrible weightlessness. that absence. the moment where she had been no one at all.

@divin3rot asked; [ 12 ] a tiny tent in the middle of the woods ( ish ) , the fading embers of your campfire still glowing just outside the door / lyonel

𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲 , 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞. but in the very least he's only sporting some bruises and wounded pride , for all his young and lesser experienced failings , and the same cannot be said for gwayne hightower. he'd been considerably bloodied , face smashed against his own helm has he'd fallen straight forward over his horse.

not that he could've helped it much , of course , but daemon targaryen would sooner forfeit honour than fight fair. it's just his way. and asking for the favour of his sister moments later perhaps another unfortunate goad , and yet lyonel had merely scoffed upon hearing of it. such little loyalty even amongst those in viserys' court , it seems.

but then the worry upon lady alicent's face is presented so starkly , making her way back through the tourney camp at a pace. her horror at gwayne's horse scrambling over itself like that had been well spoken of , and so he does call after her. a fretting sorrow upon her face that reminds him much too much of his own sister.

𝐠𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 knows he loves someone when he sleeps on their shoulder

When you rest your head on their shoulder, when you bump your knees together sitting next to each other, and when they brush hands with you in passing. The little touches, they make up something whole. When you feel such a comforting presence you've subconsciously ignored, and realize one day how nice it would feel to share a bed together. When physical sensations in everyday life make you realize, "I like having you in my hands."

           ❝      well would you look at that .      ❞      eloise sat down to someone of familiarity , alicent . deciding that she quite liked when she was further from the show to enjoy and laugh at the failures . on today's event was a bunch of men with their sleeves rolled up playing tug of war with each other . very fitting since a majority of them acted like brutes ──── her brothers included .      ❝      what do you think goes through a man's mind to want to tug on a large piece of rope ?      ❞ she leaned back into her chair , arms crossed and eyes squinting with a grimace with every shout of ' heave ──── ho ! ' fêtes were often where she found enjoyment because of said escapades . ❝      bragging rights i would suppose , and for the ladies of the ton to fawn over their brawny strength .      ❞ a deeper grimace .

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