#peldios

fear is enough to quicken the beating of one's heart. to kill rationality and force the body to fight or flee. it is a feeling she knew well, like welcoming home an unpleasant friend. still, it stirs the worry within an otherwise cold heart to know that terror has made itself a home in her companion as well. their throat is raw from singing songs in asshai's own mystery, for the sake of both their survival. the aftermath is quiet enough for them to be able to speak at last. ❛ well, that's good. ❜ they breathed out, voice hoarse but still managing to grin at messmer in a way that showed off the sharpened canines of their teeth. ❛ i would've left you to be all brave by your lonesome if you'd said anything other. better a frightened fool than a lying braggart. ❜ and it was better to have two frightened fools than be one running around alone.

@peldios asked: i was hoping to ask for the princess's favor.

Myrcella   blinked   once,   surprised   enough   that   it   showed.   Around   them   the   tournament   grounds   buzzed   with   noise—lords   boasting,   squires   rushing   about,   and   the   distant   crash   of   steel   from   the   lists—but   for   a   moment   her   attention   settled   entirely   on   the   knight.   She   had   expected   a   greeting,   perhaps   a   polite   word.   Not   that.   A   small   smile   tugged   at   her   lips   despite   herself.   Men   often   rode   for   glory,   for   coin,   or   for   the   notice   of   great   ladies.   She   was   not   so   vain   as   to   think   herself   the   reason   for   any   knight's   courage,   yet   there   was   something   earnest   in   the   request   that   she   found   difficult   to   mock.   Her   fingers   brushed   the   ribbon   tied   around   her   wrist   before   she   untied   it   carefully.

@peldios asked: “ it’s my job to keep you safe, yes, but you could work with me a little to make it easier. ”

"How   is   it   your   job?   I   already   have   northerns   at   my   tail.   And   I   do   not   need   more   protection."   Sara   sighs,   loud   and   clear   as   she   comes   to   a   halt   in   her   step.   She   had   already   grown   tired,   ever   since   arriving   at   Dragonstone,   of   the   clanking   of   metal   footsleeps   and   armor   following   her   around.   She   doubts   its   all   just   about   protection.   Perhaps   southerns   do   not   trust   her,   be   it   because   she   is   a   bastard   or   simply   the   fact   she   is   a   northern.   The   greybeards   surely   have   arrived   at   the   Riverlands   by   now   and   so,   she   was   aching   to   stand   her   ground   and   go   there,   for   the   greybeards   are   there   to   fight   to   the   death,   yes,   but   seeing   a   familiar   face,   Stark   or   not   ,even   through   bastardy,   would   be   good   for   them.