#dragonslain

had the words been said by anyone else, kiera would think them to be complimentary, but from her husband, as with many things concerning daeron, she is left uncertain. 'did you?' slender brows rise in pensive thought as her head tips to the side, dark gaze looking for the answers in his expression that she cannot find in his words. no marriage can ever be the same nor can two men ever be particularly similar, even if they share the same blood, but not for the first time, kiera finds herself wishing they had developed the same understanding between husband and wife she had become accustomed to in her first marriage.

she has tried to know him better, and though there are some days where she thinks she has made great progress, there are others where he feels as unknown to her as when she first laid eyes upon him. they are bound together now by the laws of the realm and in the eyes of the gods and even though grief still nips at her heels, kiera will never stop trying.

RICHARD SIKEN PROMPTS // accepting

@dragonslain: i had a dream about you. daeron to helaena! bc i can’t stop thinking about your psychic twins au lol

There was a practiced rhythm to the steady movements of her hand; threading the needle through the silk, over and over. It was relaxing, and she often lost hours to this activity. She looked up at the sound of the door opening, though rather than looking at the figure who entered, she studied the beams of sunlight shining across the walls. They had moved quite a bit since she last noticed.

When he spoke, she finally looked upon him. He looked tired, as he often did, she noted with a small frown. He had dreamed of her. Daeron was the only one who understood her dreams. Her dreams were his as well, theirs, though not always the same. Helaena had a harder time explaining her dreams, even to Daeron. It was not easy for her to turn what she saw into words, and she knew that things often times got lost.

As Gwyn had warned the most loyal of his knights, the first flame was fading and its effects were growing more and more prominent by the year.

The fading sunlight in Anor Londo, their home, had begun to panic the entire land; It had to be solved.

And... Oolacile provided just such a solution to cease these concerns. Light sorceries. Illusions. Lies, in truth. All to keep the humans quiet and blind to the truth while the Lords found a solution.

Though, it seemed... a solution wasn’t as easy as one may have thought, as it was taking some time... Enough time for a dragon to somehow appear at the outskirts of Oolacile, Lord Gwyn’s most essential city; and so, the best equipped of the four knights were sent to seek out and deal with this problem.

—

It had been days of walking, of hiking up steep hills and pushing through the lush forests that covered the land of Oolacile. The only light left was a single drenched torch, hardly much brighter than the magical blossoms that littered the forest’s base.

“Captain—” Artorias called out, gently placing a hand on his smaller friend in an attempt to gain his attention. “Shall we set up camp here?”

It was spacious, well lit with bright blossoms, and plenty of wood to be gathered; there was even a lake nearby to fetch more water! And maybe, extra dinner...

Any excuse he could find to help convince his very stubborn and restless friend to simply... rest, was enough for him.  

the stag stands over him, staring down at where the hedge knight kneels in the mud, body still broken and bloody from the brutal trial he had survived— it had been a fierce battle, and had dolled out fierce enough injuries to match. the ferocity of the fight lived in every bruise, every breath, every trembling muscle.

oh but it had been fun, though... settling the thundering storm inside him in a way that the tourney itself couldn't quite reach.

he had half-expected the knight to turn down his (generous) offer, if their conversation underneath the elm tree was anything to go by. perhaps he had talked some sense into the man? good!

the lord's expression changed slowly, like a sunbeam breaking through the cloud cover. first, a small, bemused smile tugged at the corner of his lips. then it widened, brightened, deepened into something openly delighted. a breath of laughter escaped him, then another, until the sound rolled out of him fully— a booming, thunderous laugh, throwing his head back with the force of it. it wasn't mockery, no. it was hearty, happy. it was victory. it was the wild, unrestrained joy of a man who had won his prize.

"HA— brilliant, excellent— !" reaching forward and clapping a broad hand on duncan's shoulder, firm and grounding, the stag leans down to almost press their foreheads together. there's a delightful intensity in those golden-brown eyes as he searches to meet duncan's gaze. "— it's an honour to have you, hedge knight." he murmurs, voice low but no less sincere, as he offers the man a playful wink.

"RIGHT, enough of the fucking theatrics and formalities. come on, up with you, stand up— " and with that, he slid his hands under duncan's arms in an attempt to help hoist him to his feet.

GAME OF THRONES (BOOK) STARTERS

elia briefly meets the earnest gaze of the hedge knight. he may the biggest man she's ever seen, his shoulders broad, and tall enough that he can meet her eyes even when seated. he is sure to hit his head on the beams of her cottage, and she makes a note to herself to warn him, again, when he stands. his promise makes her smile, though she tries her best to hide it, biting down on the inside of her cheek. she was raised on tales of sweet princes and chivalrous knights. but they are rare indeed in these times. too often she has been cheated, slighted, hurt by strangers who have sworn oaths of knighthood, kindling a distrust in her heart that has settled there like a poison. somehow, that same heart softens for the man before her. he is a pearl amongst swine. she wonders if he knows. " ah... you overheard the frey men at my door ? you needn't worry, ser. they threaten the rod and whip, but as long as i pay my taxes they will not lay a hand on me. they know the village needs me. "

she sits down next to him, meets his gaze again before she carefully lifts his shirt so she can apply a poultice to the wound. it's not deep, and already healing, but still a little too red for her liking. the green herbs sit on his skin like a strange bruise, a smidge of sap dribbling down the ribs. she wraps a strand of linen around his torso to keep it in place. a soft, secretive smile plays on the edge of her rose-red lips. " and besides, they are more bark than bite. they call me a woods witch. they think i'll curse them if they hurt me. just between us, i think they're a little scared of me. " she lowers his shirt again and winks. " now, if you truly wish to do me a favor, you'll eat and rest here for the night so i can take another look at that wound tomorrow. i want to ensure it's not infected. "

can you drown in grief? how the question nearly makes the woman laugh for the answer seems so very obvious to her that she cannot help but wonder whether the remark is meant to be a rhetorical one. grief is an ocean and she has become well-versed in the intensity of its depths. 'grief and i are well-acquainted and though it has yet to succeed in dragging me down beneath its waves, i do not think for a second it impossible for one to drown.'

some days, she finds it easier to remain buoyant than others. on the darkest days, when the tendrils of grief wrap themselves around her ankles and seek to submerge her completely, she finds it takes every ounce of her will to keep her head above water. and even then, it is only just.

'really, cregan! do you think me some southron maiden to be hustled behind shields and pointed swords?' exasperation colors the young woman's tone as she manages an eye roll of amusement. she may be without the bow that she has trained with for several years but she is not entirely defenseless. after all, she is a northerner and no one of their ilk would ever be foolish enough to traipse the woods that surround winterfell without some weapon to hand.

like most people in the north, sara's fierce love for the land of her birth does not preclude her from acknowledging that it is a place in which one must always be wary. what lurks behind the bushes several stones' throw away from them may be nothing more than a mischievous wild animal or it might very well be a far more dangerous threat. either way, she's prepared.

𝐀𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐀  𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃  𝐀  𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃  𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘  𝐓𝐎  𝐇𝐄𝐑  𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐀𝐓.  ❛❛   Seven  preserve  me,❜❜  she  said  with  airy  horror.  ❛❛   I  had  no  idea  I  was  trespassing  upon  such  mortal  danger. ❜❜   however,  the  performance  lasted  only  another  moment  before  the  corners  of  her  mouth  curved  with  a  cynical  smirk,  her  cold  gaze  moving  slowly  over  her  brother,  as  if  weighing  the  words  &  finding  them  small.

❛❛  how  fortunate  for  me  that  you  have  neither  crossbow  nor  courage  enough  to  actually try. ❜❜   she  folded  her  hands  before  her,  silver  hair  slipping  over  one  shoulder,  posture  perfectly  composed. ❛❛  besides…  it  would  be  rather  inconvenient  for  you,  wouldn’t  it  ?  explaining  to  Father  why  the  blood  of  the  dragon  stains  your  chamber  floor.❜❜   her  voice  remained  something  between  exhaustion  &  disdain.  ❛❛   you  may  threaten  me  all  you  like, but  we  both  know  you  would  regret  it  the  moment  the  bolt  left  the  string.  not  because  I  matter  to  you,  of  course.  only  because  the  consequences  would.❜❜   aerena’s  brows  knit  faintly  though  she  did  not  retreat  from  the  doorway.  ❛❛  now  do  calm  yourself,  I  am  not  here  because  I  wish  to  be.❜❜   her  gaze  flicked  around  the  chamber  for  a  moment,  as  though  the  very  air  in  it  were  distasteful. ❛❛  I  came  only  to  relay  a  message.  once  I  have  done  so,  you  may  return  to  threatening  furniture  or  whatever  nonsense  occupies  your  time.❜❜