#halfclever

Salt dusted her lips even here, high upon the wind blown cliffs. Below, the sea murmured -- whispered threats of gales to come -- but for now the sky stretched outwards, a pale blue canopy. With luck, there was just enough time for a ride before the clouds grew dark and heavy with rain. Daenerys strode toward her children with purpose, steps only faltering when she came upon her hand halfway down the path.

“...They’ve become quite taken with Dragonstone,” she said, coming up beside him as Viserion trilled. “They know it’s their home.” Meereen was warm, yes, but it was a relentless heat, inescapable; the ground baked beneath the sun and crumbled away into a blood red dust that not even the most noble of the wise masters could escape. Here the warmth came from within the Earth, steady and deep. Somewhere down below were the nests that once sheltered generations of eggs that made her house great. She wondered if they sensed that somehow, too. Flashes of gold, bronze, and hints of scarlet danced across the grass when the three of them began to stir, sunlight dancing across their scales. She could not deny her children’s calls for long, not anymore, so she bid Tyrion to follow.

a meme i fuckin forgot i’m so sorry.

   ❛   as a matter of fact i do , thankfully for you , and unfortunately for me . lord royce i know namely through formalities . my beloved father offered me to marry one of his daughters , however he claimed she had no use for half-a-man .  ❜          he gestures flippantly with his hand before repositioning to rest his jaw against it .          ❛   no worries , of course . there is little room in this body to harbor bitter sentiments . he is a formidable warrior , and shockingly did not have to trade all of his brain for that brawn , though i would still not consider his wits to be much of a threat . not like lord baelish there .  ❜           the hand to the queen had been doing quite well in keeping sober for this conversation , until now , but few could blame him given the new spotlight of their attention . he pours a cup for each of them (  his is far more filled than daenerys’  , but by now she surely expects this  ) , and sets it upon the table in front of her before returning to his own seat .           ❛   petyr baelish , ❜  he begins , with a tone of inflated importance . ❛   also known as ‘ littlefinger ’ , quite lowborn , served as the meager master of coin to robert baratheon . he was very good at it , in a manner of speaking , such that when i took over the position i learned the crown was millions of dragons in debt . you have to be very good at being bad at your job to manage that and keep the position , you see .  ❜          leaning back in his seat , tyrion proceeds to spend more time swirling his drink in its cup than actually drinking from it , as even though calling anything from him a ‘ summary ’ may prove to be something of a stretch , he doubts daenerys has any interest in hearing baelish’s entire life-story , just as he has little interest in telling it , so he settles on what succinctness he can manage .

          ❛    he is one of the most dangerous types of men , in my experience . his primary weapon is information , and next would be the illusion of control he instills in others . that was how he betrayed ned stark to his death , i would imagine . he is very good at playing sides ; it would not surprise me if the honorable ned stark bought into it all too willingly .  ❜          his eyes shift back to meet his queen’s , and the smallest lion continues with a low voice ; a rare image of complete , undeniable gravity .

         ❛   as your hand , i feel i would be doing you the greatest disservice if i did not press at least one simple truth : he is never to be trusted outside of trusting he will seek to follow his own best interests , your grace , and that includes who he is willing to surround himself with .  ❜

Daenerys absorbed all that her hand had to share in silence. Lord Royce reminded her of Ser Barristan, in a way: honorable, as every knight of the Seven Kingdoms should be, and the Knights of the Vale more than any. Yet he stood a long way from home in the service of a Northern lady. The years had not diminished the Starks’ friendship with the Vale, it seemed, an alliance forged in the destruction of her own house. 

Lord Baelish was a more difficult man to grasp. He spoke courteously enough, though each sentence came laced with a double meaning, each word a careful step in the courtly dance. He must have known the moves by heart, to rise so high, so fast, with such ineptitude. Millions of dragons. Pursing her lips, she left the drink untouched on the table before her, unable to stomach the taste. 

“Millions of dragons that will not soon be forgotten, I’m sure, regardless of who sits on the Iron Throne.” Yet it was too soon to begin fretting over the realm’s finances, not when she had her own armies ( not to mention three dragons of fire and flesh, that grew hungrier by the day ) to feed. Perhaps Casterly Rock would aid them there, if all went according to Tyrion’s plans. Waves crashed upon the tower’s base some hundreds of feet below, counting out the moments that passed. 

Information could be deadlier than any knife, in the right hands. Ser Jorah traded news of her movements, new of her son, to the Usurper’s countil for a whispered promise of home. No matter how many years passed, the betrayal would still cut at her heart. Once for blood and once for gold and once for love. By her count, one betrayal still remained. Folding her hands in her lap, she glanced at last to her hand, answering in a quiet, assured voice.

       ‘ You’ve heard of me? ’  the gossip not so unreliable for his modest achievements in building an unwanted reputation of taming wild beasts with scales; dragons. The process a trial and error at first---now however...encountering prone reptiles with high maintenance attention spans likewise to a household feline---he breathed their language and lived their gestures. A part of him lives to watch the sky and clouds while shouting at the top of his lungs; unbridled. Posture straightens, a hand falls coyly against his hip. Lips plucked into an challenging snark;