#ordyneir

&&. @ordyneir

He rises then, unhurried, drifting closer as if he has all the time in the world, because he does. “My life is already decided,” he says lightly. “I have a wife, a title, wine that never runs dry, and a mother who handles the tedious parts so I don’t have to. It’s very comfortable.” A shrug. “You chase meaning while I collect pleasures. Somehow, you think that makes you stronger.” His smile sharpens, indulgent and faintly cruel. “Be careful with that certainty of yours, sister. Things that believe themselves untouchable usually shatter the loudest. And I’d hate for you to make a mess of the floors—we still have to live together.” (At least, while that man we both call Father still loves). @ordyneir

HOW'S MY PORTRAYAL? @ordyneir

༒︎. The council had run its course, as these affairs are wont to do. A slow consumption of the noon, each hour surrendered to speech, whilst weightier matters sat unspoken betwixt the air. @ordyneir must have noticed as much. Viserys is swarmed by voices, each man bringing his counsel to the king as a merchant brings his wares to market, and each desiring that his own should be the one purchased. All things burn in a dragon's maw, yet even in the ashes men would squabble, and all would become mercantile in nature, for that is the way of the world. Thrice-headed the dragon heraldry may be, and a power unto man unseen, but man is himself a power unto the Realm, and it is a triumvirate that reigns, indeed: The Law, the Faith, and the Crown. A thousand voices speak, lords aplenty, but true sovereignty is a creature of belief. Gold may fashion an ornament, and any fool can garner gold, but only legitimacy may make of it a crown. Interest upon interest had gathered at the small council as always. Regardless, Otto doubts not that her wilful gaze scorns most of all him, even if her accusation wears a veil laced. She hath learned the histories her father sets before her well enough; yet in the arts of statecraft━━that ancient theatre wherein treachery masquerades as politics━━she hath not found her surest footing. Dragons are ill-suited to such games, he thinks, for it seems their pride swells too great, their certainty of strength a crescendo. 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐑𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐧𝐲𝐫𝐚 𝐬𝐚𝐲𝐬, ❛ Whoever controls the king, controls the kingdom. ❜ And as she lingers upon the threshold, Ser Otto nods with due respect, wordlessly bidding her to follow, and together they fall into step along the length of the corridor, beneath the slanted light of the sun sneaking through the arrow slits. It is ever the folly of youth to mistake counsel for control. Thus does he take a quiet delight in the young princess's observation, and a smile curves at his mouth as he regards her. ❛ Your father is not bereft of conviction, princess. But he has never lacked the fortitude to hear that which he would rather not. ❜ He grants her the frustration without mockery, for she is not wholly wrong; yet he begrudges her the simplicity of it. Bolder yet she grows, and twice as spoiled for it. ❛ ’Tis the failing of lesser men to surround themselves with concord alone ━━ in time you, too, will learn this, much to your chagrin. ❜

@ordyneir liked for emma!

" there are those loyal to you in every corner of westeros, regardless of love or not, but if you add it into the mix? you have something truly powerful. you have something that your brother cannot pray to rival. " he only hopes she can see that still, despite the loss of one of her boys, that there are those in these lands that would still see her as she was. the rightful queen.

baela had chosen to skip the last meal in favor of some personal target practice. she knew things were going to get more amped up soon and honestly she had not been hungry anyways. so the time felt right as she went to her favorite spot outside the castle walls. each arrow loosed from her crossbow felt like a release of negative emotion from her soul. even for a brief moment it felt nice to let it go. as she noticed the sun's location change she collected her bolts, the ones that hadn't shattered, and made her way back to the castle. once inside she began the trek towards her chambers, ready to just take a seat and put away her crossbow. she heard voices along the way, but her own thoughts occupied her attention instead. even after the target practice her mind hadn't quieted down one bit.

"They know not which they speak." Jace starts, glancing away from Rhaenyra so he can look out at the expansive ocean that surrounds Dragonstone. "Their words will one day be their folly. For I have never encountered a man as fearless or determined as you, mother." His step-father and Cregan Stark spring to mind, but Jace's devotion to his mother was unwavering. Even in the face of begrudging respect or adolescent love. Jace offers a hand for his mother to take so he might provide her some comfort. Their war effort had put a great strain on all of Dragonstone, and none felt it more keenly than Jacaerys. He attended every small council meeting, offering what little wisdom he had to offer in terms of war. What he lacked in experience he made up for in enthusiasm, and Jace wanted very badly to join the fight. He had already proven himself politically savvy by securing the entirety of the north for his mother, now it was time to test his merit with a blade. "Soon enough you'll sit upon the throne and those very same detractors will be clutching at your skirt pleading forgiveness. The thought makes me smile."