#poweresides

"what   other   paths   there   is   now   but   war?"   she   speaks,   more   to   herself   than   to   daemon,   whose   presence   she   feels,   in   the   emptiness   of   the   council   room.   they   had   given   her   days   to   grieve   and   search   for   lucerys   but   no   body   was   found.   pieces   of   clothes   and   parts   of   arrax,   which   syrax   found   and   mourned   on   her   own.   it   stood   in   her   mind   like   an image,   her   little   boy   being   swallowed   whole   by   vhagar,   a   dragon   who   should   not   be   at   the   hands   of   someone   like   aemond   targaryen.  

she   imagines   her   half   brother   laughing   as   her   son   gets   eaten,   as   he   dies   and   cries   and   rhaenyra   feels   that   sharp   pain   in   her   belly   again.   it's   the   loss   of   luke,   but   the   loss   of   a   child   that   never   could   become   one.   her   visenya,   her   only   daughter   was   lost   too   because   of   them   and   she   is   going   to   make   sure   they   pay   for   it   all.  

Much had changed since this war had begun, and Robb was not the same man he'd been when he'd last held Jaime Lannister in chains. That was before his mother had released him. Before Robb had married and broken his oath. Before he'd returned to the Freys for his uncle's wedding. Before Robb had died.

The year he had spent in Casterly Rock had been far better than his time in the dungeons below The Twins. Robb couldn't quite grasp the irony that his savior from those stone walls and iron bars and physical and emotional torment was the very man he used to keep captive in a CAGE. Jaime's hospitality and honor made this FALLEN KING feel ashamed for how he had treated his captive. War camps were not the life of luxury like Casterly Rock, but that didn't excuse some of his behavior towards Jaime, especially now that the man had rescued him and they had developed . . . something. It was strange, they were enemies, both of them had done things that should warrant hate and yet Jaime was kind . . . mostly. The older man annoyed Robb to no end, but between the annoyances Jaime still provided him with information, as dreary as the news was. His sisters missing, his home lost, and even during happier news such as Joffrey's death, Robb chose not to voice such an opinion, instead focusing on his sister's disappearance. During his healing process he had spent many nights dreaming of finding his family and returning home, it wasn't possible now, but the thoughts still kept him going, and he'd find himself on the balcony of the room given to him, staring off at the sea and hoping that one day he'd be free to find them.

Unfortunately, spending time with Jaime meant the man could read him now, and it was an upset when Robb turns to look at the man, surprised at Jaime's honesty. Jaime had named him ARTHUR, he was a young man who worked in the STABLES, he was a PRISONER, just one not behind bars, and one Jaime's family didn't know existed. Yet when they were alone Jaime still called him Robb, he still offered him a smile, they conversed and Robb, lonely as ever welcomed the company every time. How was it that he knew more about Jaime Lannister than he did himself?

" I am just brooding, Jaime. Not unlike my brother Jon, he made the act of brooding look good. " His wounds were healed so he could stand tall, yet standing tall felt like a farce. He was no king, he lost the war, lost everything. He doubted the North would welcome him back with open arms and so he brooded, his family's survival his only solace. Swallowing once, his blue eyes settle on Jaime, and his expression softens. Almost his only solace. " I can't pretend with you anyway. You somehow can read me, must be those years in the Kingsguard, a helpful talent. "

Turning fully, he leans himself against the bannister, arms crossing against his chest as he curves a smile on his face. " What brings you to my room? Your friendship with your favorite stable hand will be the talk of the castle if you keep popping in here. More marriage candidates? You'll have to let me know if your father forces you to attend anymore dinners, the details and your complaints have been far more interesting than any book I could read. " Tywin's desire to make Jaime settle down and produce heirs had been a fun topic of conversation between Jaime and himself, one Robb could relate to for his own different reasons. Before the night he had taken that arrow and his inhibitions had been lost from Sybell's drugs, women had never been on his mind, marriage had never been a desire, more of necessity of knowing one day he would need to as Lord Stark . . . but even when Theon would drag him to brothels he never once gave in, never even wanted to. He had grown to love Jeyne, but their marriage hadn't been romantic or wanton on his part.

"𝐈    𝐚𝐦    𝐧𝐨𝐭    𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠    𝐭𝐨    𝐮𝐬𝐞    𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐟𝐲𝐫𝐞    𝐚𝐬    𝐚    𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐧.    𝐘𝐨𝐮    𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰    𝐈    𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝    𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫    𝐝𝐨    𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭."    One    of    the    few    joys    left    in    her    live    is    flying    her    dragon    but    flying    for    the    joy    of    it.    She    is    not    going    to    command    her    to    burn    people    or    towns    in    the    sake    of    a    war    she    does    not    believe.    "Innocent    blood    had    already    been    spilled    Aemond.    .    .my    own    blood."    Her    sweet    boy    had    been    taken    due    to    acts    of    war    on    both    ends    and    she    won't    spill    some    of    her    own.  @poweresides ft, aemond

@poweresides gets a starter! ft. meg giry

Meg doesn't feel right about walking away from the care of the dragons. In spite of the feelings of her order, she's devoted herself and her life to their care and their training. They deserve better than what they've gotten, and it would be cruel to abandon them.

So she goes to the dragonpit, and ensures the dragons have all gorged sufficiently, checks on Silverwing's nest, and is walking back through the pit with the heavy metal basket holding Silverwing's remaining eggs when she finds Jace with Vermax. Understandable, she thinks, for him to wish to check on the wellbeing of his dragon after the chaos Vermithor had caused. Many of the dragons had been ill at ease because of it.

"Prince Jacaerys," she says to alert him of her arrival, though Vermax has already turned to look at her. She sets the basket down. "Calm, Vermax." She puts her hand out at the rumbled greeting; she's known Vermax since he'd hatched. House Targaryen commands the dragons; the dragonkeepers care for them. She looks back at Jace.

"Forgive me, I would report such things to the senior dragonkeeper to pass along to the Queen," she says. "But it seems in the.... events of Vermithor and Silverwing being claimed, one of Silverwing's eggs was crushed underfoot." She gestures to the basket. "I'm moving the others to the hatchery for their protection. I should've asked first, but...." A small flush darkens her cheeks. "Well, I wasn't sure who to ask. Forgive me."

𝗮 𝘀𝘂𝗿𝗽𝗿𝗶𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘃𝗶𝗰𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘆 𝗵𝗮𝗱 𝗮𝗿𝗶𝘀𝗲𝗻 , the dead defeated ──── by the hands of her sister , no less. sansa is still not quite sure how it happened , though she will not tempt the fates to suddenly deem them unworthy , not when the north marches to king's landing at the dragon queen's command.

it is a bitter feeling , not being regarded. sansa had argued fiercely for her cause , feeling the siege too soon. their armies had suffered enormous losses , cersei would remain just as looming a threat in a month's time , though daenerys saw no reason to it. disgruntled feet carry her through the stoned walls of winterfell , stopping when they see jaime lannister.

they keep meeting this way , fleeting moments between consequential battles on the horizon. the lady of winterfell is uncertain of his plans , prior conversation leaving everything quite up in the air. there's a newfound respect she holds for him , subtle , not realized at first. but the more conversations they've had , the more she finds something 𝙝𝙪𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙯𝙞𝙣𝙜 in jaime. this change emboldens her , allows her to find no issue in raising questions.

💚SEASON TWO EP 3 STARTERS: @poweresides

Alys   sat   quietly   in   the   shadows   of   Harrenhal’s   great   hall,   her   piercing   green   eyes   observing   every   movement.   Daemon   stood   across   the   room,   restless   and   agitated.   Alys   noticed   the   burn   mark   on   the   side   of   Daemon’s   neck,   its   faced   and   barely   visible   but   she   sees   it   regardless.   "I   always   thought   dragons   could   not   burn,"   she   remarked,   her   voice   soft   but   carrying   across   the   hall.   Her   gaze   steady   and   unyielding.   "You   look   restless,"   she   observed,   her   voice   calm.   "Long   night?"   Alys   merely   nodded,   a   faint   smile   playing   at   the   corners   of   her   lips.