#tymptir

A RAVEN HAS ARRIVED FOR THE QUEEN FROM SER GWAYNE HIGHTOWER: 

❝ i have no wish to rule. no taste for duty. ❞ (@tymptir)

 ❝ the gods are amusing at times, are they not? i do not question their ways but it is strange the way that they oft place duty in the hands of those who hold to its virtue the least. ❞ duty has been the north star of alicent's life for almost as long as she can remember and she cannot pretend it does not make her uneasy to hear her brother speak of it in so dismissive a manner.  ❝ there are far worst things to live for than duty, brother. i have found that allowing it to guide me has provided a certain clarity to my life. it can make decisions startlingly easy at times. ❞ 

a life lived without adherence to duty is a life lived unmoored, a life where there is no steady ground beneath one's feet. ❝ a place in the city watch may not be your heart's desire but i agree with father's decision. regardless of what ser luthor may say, i find myself still feeling wary towards him and though i hope to find our doubts about his character assuaged in time, it gives me comfort to think that you will be there to keep a close eye on him as his second-in-command. once my son's rule is secure, i am sure we can arrange for you to be granted a respectable discharge from the position. ❞ have they not all had to make sacrifices for the sake of their family? 

❝ please, gwayne. aegon's rule is so new that it is inevitably upon unsteady legs and i fear that even the slightest disturbance may set the city aflame. i need your eyes and ears amongst the men of the city's watch. who else can we trust if not you? ❞ too many men could be bought by coin to look the other way or close their ears but the loyalty of a brother is unassailable. 

the milk of the poppy, admittedly, is doing less to dull the pain than he would've hoped.

that, he thinks, may have something to do with his father ordering that the maesters halve the regular dosage. maekar would not see his son writhing in agony, but he would not have him rendered insensate for any longer than the few days he'd deemed necessary, evidently. and, though none have said so outright, daeron has a sneaking suspicion the servants have also been instructed not to provide him with wine, though he's had little need for it — dreamless nights have been his only solace these last nights, head filled with clouds, for once, rather than fire. it is not a true peace, but it is one he will cling to as long as he can, before it is wrenched from his hands and he finds himself at the mercy of his dreams once more.

his leg aches, drags behind him as he forces himself to take slow, deliberate steps down the hallway. a white cloak lingers at his back, wylde, he thinks, but he'd sooner swallow a hot coal than accept the man's arm to lean on as he hobbles his way towards his brother's room. it feels... important, that he do this himself, though he could not say why. it is a relief, still, to reach the door, which groans on its hinges, swinging inwards so quickly he almost falls flat on his face as he leans against it. ❛  oh, seven fucking...  ❜ trailing off into inarticulate muttering, daeron limps the, blissfully short, distance between the door and the chair already pulled up beside the bed where his little brother lies, dropping into it heavily. it's a sorry sight, the gash on his own cheek stinging as he winces, gaze roaming slowly over the bandages, some soaked through with blood and needing to be changed. aerion's face, though, is worst of all, purple all over and swollen. he's careful, as he reaches out to brush hair from his forehead, a sigh heaving it's way out of him. ❛  what a fine mess you have made for us all, little brother.  ❜

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. :/

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.