@starfrckled / don’t ever stick your nose in my face again. vikings sentence starters / not accepting.
A SUDDEN CACOPHONY OF EMOTIONS CLOGGED UP HIS THROAT ; anger singing the soprano, followed by disappointment, fear, and a small, timid triangle called joy at the fact that Rodrik simply paid attention to him. cornered, granted, with his back to the wall of a fishing shed, but for once only once his eyes weren’t on Harras, but Maron instead. defiance burned in his eyes, smoking out whatever tears threatened to spill over, and he stared his older brother back down in a way only an Ironborn would. lips pressed to a thin line, fingers balled to fists, ignoring the pain that throbbed all the way down his spine from the harsh push against the wooden boards.
“ fine. ” he almost hissed the word at his brother’s face ; a living, breathing spitfire of thirteen years of age, ready to fight the entire world if need be, just for a snippet of attention. no matter what kind. no matter if it hurt. Rodrik could beat him bloody, he knew it. stronger, taller, broader than Maron, did his brother have the upper hand in almost every fight, but he was getting better. more agile, quicker, and smarter than Rodrik could ever hope to be. how Maron wanted to hate him. and how he craved nothing more than Rodrik’s approval and love . . . “ drown then like the idiot you are. see if I care. ” he’d be shattered to smithereens. “ everyone knows there are undercurrents, but by all means, take your lover and go down. ” he heard Harras cough somewhere to their right, obviously interrupted in his own delight at seeing Maron cornered. his hands came up, pushing harshly at Rodrik’s broad chest, but before his brother could grab for him, he had ducked underneath his arms and out of reach. “ Pyke would be fucked with you on the throne anyways. ”
