#ofprevioustimes

It wasn't the first attack he had made against Rhaenyra's supporters that had gone awry, but it was the first time he had been seriously hurt. He chose to believe that the arrow's shooter had died in Vhagar's retaliating flames, because the alternative sent him into a rage that he couldn't feed until his wound had at least partly healed.

Four days since Penthesilea came to Troy, and a brief fight with Achilles yesterday had ended with them parting as darkness fell. Today, she'd injured him so that his divine mother came to his rescue, snatching him off the field.

It hadn't been a lethal injury, she'd known that even as she thrust past his guard and in under his arm, into the soft, vulnerable, and most of all unguarded at that angle, armpit. If she'd had a couple more moments to change her angle and twist her sword, she could have done far more damage.

But alas, his Nereid mother was sharp-eyed and quick to act, and she'd been left behind on the battlefield, bloody sword in hand.

It was still a victory, and Troy was celebrating.

As was she, which meant she took the opportunity while the most stunning of the Trojan king's sons were entertaining the hall to approach the woman he could name himself husband of.

Helen.

Daughter of Zeus, shining where she sat in the glow from the braziers and lamps. She was exactly all one might expect from what Penthesilea had heard of her - and more. Far more than simple words could describe by the sharp glance of her eye Penthesilea had caught in these past few days, the thick, dark hair bound up, teasing the imagination of what it would look like if let down.

Helen sat somewhat aloof, though still within the sphere of the royal family - the tension aimed at especially her husband, but her, too, wasn't difficult to pick up on, but for the moment it was gone, chased away by the clever dance of Alexander's fingers on the strings, his rich voice rising up. Her beauty sat her even more apart, especially when she was for the moment alone.

"A moment of your time," Penthesilea said as she walked up to Helen's chair, the only question in the arch of her brow as she glanced to the empty chair beside her.

The violet gaze of the Valyrian man stares off away from the crowd he was standing in. He had been so used to being isolated that standing amongst others was both fearful... and uncertain. It was as if the world was moving past him by accepting he was there and yet ignoring him all the same. "Useless…" Viserys tells himself of the people that surrounded him. All the while he knew his sister was in better shape than he was with the situation at hand. "How do you stand it? Look at these people, as if they are around nothing more than their own kind." As if they were to stop and take in the effect of what his name might have on the world.

"We are Targaryens; all they care about is…themselves." He spoke as if it was a bad thing but still he sighs as if the world was against him because everyone lived their lives. "You ask me here, for what purpose sister?" Viserys decided to be quick as he turns himself completely to the woman.

"Do not think I am here because I care of plight for these...people."

what a tragedy the red wedding had been. so many northerners slaughtered or scattered to the wind, and, of course, their very own king in the north had not survived. his body had perished, though his consciousness had fled into the body of his dire wolf, and now, somehow, robb stark was returned.

gone was the soft, just boy king. in his stead, robb was now feral - a wolf in human skin. ( he had not come back correctly. too long spent in greywind's body ! ) he would trample the world now.

Apollo is silent as he approaches Hektor's funeral pyre, surprised to find Kassandra still lingering, too. He was hoping to grieve in solitude, but alas...

How odd, he thinks, that such a horrific thing should bring them back in each other's company. He crosses his arms, trying not to betray the storm of emotions that rushes through him. He had loved Hektor in his own way, in the way of a selfish, demanding god. This was always fated to happen, but it doesn't mean that it doesn't hurt all the same.

Deep down, he wonders if he had been too cruel to Kassandra. There's nothing to be done about it now, even if parts of him wouldn't regret his decision. If he had not cursed her, where would they be now? He lets out a long breath, slowly looking over at her.

@ofprevioustimes liked for a short starter. [Verse info.]

@ofprevioustimes asked:

“ we’re the only thing standing between this world and its destruction. ” - Eleanor @ Flint

Everything seemed to go in slow motion as Eleanor spoke out, trying to convince him of... something. He should've been paying more attention to her. James knew that, but he couldn't help the times his mind would wander, and he wouldn't feel so weighed down, just lost in thought.

@ofprevioustimes : i sleep better when you're next to me. ( Helen @ Menelaus)

It's been odd since Helen's returned, but Menelaus is glad that they're not estranged as he worried they might be. They've had distance before, of course-- any couple has-- but it's not a distance that lasts when they're reunited.