#tymptir

The maester had tried to get him to leave on multiple occasions, and each time, Maekar had threatened the old man with a different way to put him out of his misery. He needed to be sure that at his son survived or he would be truly  b r o k e n. The pain of losing his brother - by his own hand- was traumatizing enough. It was u n f o r g i v e a b l e. Now, his son, lay there on the bed unconscious, recovering from his injuries. Through his own grieving, the Prince of Summerhall couldn't hear much of what else the maester was saying as he sat by the bed. He felt drained from his own recovery as he watched Aerion rest.

Perhaps it had been hours that had passed, but he finally noticed how dim the room was as the light from outside peeked from under the curtains. Leaning forward, silently grimacing, he reached for his son's wrist and gave it a gentle squeeze before he stood and limped over to the closest window to pull the curtain to the side.

His fingers brushed against or lightly pushed off of furniture and walls of the room to assist his movement as he maneuvered around the bed that Aerion was resting in. Once at the far window, he pulled back the curtain to the side to let the light in. He even adjusted the drapes on the bedposts to allow light more freedom. The motions he went through, helped try to keep his mind blank. It was when he turned to look at Aerion lying in the bed that the images of his son during the Trial of Seven flashed in his mind. The sound of his own mace striking metal. Hesitant, not knowing if it was Baelor's helm, or if it was Lyonel Baratheon's armor. He let go of the curtain and looked at his hands, unsure if they had truly been wiped clean from the dirt and blood from the trial.

Shaking his head, he looked back to Aerion, his violet eyes filled with sadness. Gently reaching over to brush his son's silver locks away from his face. "I shouldn't have pushed you to come.  I shouldn't have pushed  a n y  of you to come here," he said softly as he gently brushed his fingers on Aerion's brow before he limped back towards the chair once more.

Send me a “ 🔥 “ for an unpopular opinion. / accepting / @tymptir

you know what, F4 sucked too. the whole film was literally a plot device for the wider mcu. sue was reduced to being a mother, yet almost no one seems to pick up on this??? i thought we were done with this shit in media. pedro was meh. it was not his best work, and i think rahul kohli should have gotten the part instead ( yes, he did audition ). honestly, i got bored halfway through. it just kept dragging midway through. but tbh this is what i now expect from the mcu. half-baked slop.

i prefer the lotr movies to the books... ( i am immediately gunned down by the fandom ). i'm very much a fantasy enthusiast, but have never been able to get through tolkiens work without being bored to death. and i can do flowery language, i'm also a classic enthusiast. but idk man....just something about tolkiens books makes me groan hard. :/

@tymptir sent a raven : ❛ you’re asking me to commit treason. ❜

' i'm not asking you to do anything. '

aemond cannot claim any great affection for his uncle, his mother's brother, and he is certain that the feeling is very much mutual. observing the man from his seat at the head of the table, he finds that no feeling at all stirs him, even in the face of the other man's righteous indignation. he wonders if his little brother, separated from him by years and distance both, is this prone to emotional outbursts, having been essentially raised by their uncle since he was little more than a toddler. if he shares their uncle's apparent weakness. one can only hope daeron is made of sterner stuff.

she'd   always   been   poor   at   hiding   her   thoughts,    ever   visible   in   the   curl   of   her   lips        –        in   the   way   her   eyes   hold   life   no   matter   how   hard   she   tries   to   dull   the   fire   within   them.    it   comes   as   little   shock   to   hear   as   much   from   his   lips,    even   if   myranda   had   considered   him   to   be   uninterested   in   the   things   that   lingered   in   her   head.    she   purses   her   lips   for   a   moment,    her   head   tilting   as   she   casts   her   glance   over   the   blackfish   once   more,    before   a   soft   rise   and   fall   of   her   shoulders   is   offered   in   response. 

“   surely   the   mind   of   a   foolish   girl   does   not   bother   you   so   much,     lord   brynden.   ”        a   teasing   curl   of   her   lips   as   lithe   fingers   curl   around   her   goblet   of   wine,    bringing   it   to   her   lips   to   take   a   small   sip.    myranda   knows   well   enough   of   the   reputation   that   precedes   her,    for   the   bawdy   rumors   that   encompass   the   minds   of   everyone   when   her   name   is   brought   up.    a   fact   she   cannot   change,    the   unfortunate   side   effect   of   how   her   first,    and   only   marriage,    had   come   to   its   end. 

@tymptir sent ; ❝ you’re avoiding the question. ❞ ( from the big bro ) x.

"i am not avoiding the question; you just don't like my answer," lyanna answered, laughing softly, "those are two different things, brandon." it was only another way to go around answering her brother's question, but this was a game they played often or at least one she found amusing anyway. she rose from her seat, setting aside the half-finished flower crown that had previously been in her lap so that they may stand eye to eye or about as much as they could with the height difference between them.

her grey eyes regarded him curiously, head tilting ever so slightly as if it would give her a better angle to read his intentions. sometimes she believed there was no one she knew and understood better than brandon, but in moments such as these, she could not help but wonder if she truly knew him at all. if she ever would know him.