MEDIEVAL/FANTASY STARTERS; ACCEPTING  @vhgr​ asked  ❛  well, i’m not a knight. not yet. ❜

It had been far too long since Sweetgrove had last held a gala. Welcoming guests was like an air of spring, bringing life back into their too quiet home. Though, Lord Douglas may want to disagree. Having had his fill of company for the evening he had long since retired to his chambers, leaving Adelaide to oversee the festivities.

She had always felt more comfortable in the role of hostess than guest. There was work there, something to keep her occupied where as a guest she always felt at a loss with what to do with herself. She could make her rounds, play her graces, then pull away to deal with some invented task if the company was displeasing. There seemed to be no need to escape tactics this night fortunately. Currently, the Grove’s latest guest piqued her interest more than any of the other attendees. 

“Would you like to be a knight, truly?” Surprise interlaced with curiosity overtook her tone. The heir to Sweetgrove hadn’t been afforded much opportunity to travel. As dearly she held her home, the wide world beyond was intriguing, but ultimately her place was with her family. She had to be content to satiate her curiosity with the experiences of others more worldly than her.

her effect cracks a little; when rhaenyra swallows her jaw clenches against too many emotions, thoughts, opinions, and – if she's honest – jealousy and pain. "if that is your opinion, step-mother... so be it." there's a lack of emotion in her voice, tone betraying a complete juxtaposition to what roils in her gut. she wants to go back, they used to understand each so well... or was that not real? either answer is a painful one. "it wasn't so long ago we viewed people, the world, through the same lens." at a time when the young woman before her not been perhaps, at some point, the sole most important person in rhaenyra's life? it certainly felt like that to her. it kept her awake at night, aching. — and then alicent all but disappeared; into the maw of politics, into a position that inadvertantly, or perhaps openly, threatened rhaenyra. everyone whispered about it.

the gods have their ways of entertaining themselves, he supposes, as the late queen dies, and alicent hightower takes her place.

❛⠀i'm sorry. ❜ he tells the young matriarch; his tone is cool, far too composed for the son of the rogue prince. ❛⠀it's difficult, isn't it ? to be left on your own. ❜

It seems the gods were trying to make him fall even lower than he already has. He had sullied his white cloak and broke his vows and now this. On this night where the woman he had loved, more than any other, had taken the hand of another man. Her offer to him, to be nothing more than a whore. For her to summon to her chambers whenever she needed to be pleased, had been a harsh and cruel slap to his face, one that he had not taken all too well.

AND NOW THE KNIGHT. WHOSE BLOOD WAS STILL UPON HIS HANDS.

Who had dared to mock him first and then try to sink his claws into him, to use him as a puppet for his own interests, needs and wants. One too many insults and he had struck him, again and again. Over and over until the knight stopped moving and there was nothing left of him upon the stone flowers. This was such a thing, he could not come back from, this was … the breaking point.

AS HE HAD TO END IT NOW. THE ONLY WAY TO KEEP SOME SHRED OF WORTH.

As he settled down upon his kneed and prepared his blade. A quick and clean cut, to end his suffering. He did not care whom would find him or what they would say of him when they discovered his body here come the morrow, he only knew he could not go on as it was. there was no one within the city, or all seven kingdoms, who cared for him, who truly even needed someone like him now.

“My queen?” (@vhgr)

As her fair hand had steadied his own and stopped him from placing the blade any further than where it rested on his bare stomach. As his eyes, where watering, tears falling down the sides of his face. All his life he had wanted, to be someone. To be seen, to have a name that people would remember, as he glanced up and would still remain on fallen knees for a moment. His life was in ruins now, all because … he had not been strong enough within the moments that mattered.

“You don’t mean that my queen, I have nothing to offer, someone like you.”

THE QUEEN THAT WAS MEANT TO BE ...

He had always served the dragons. For all the decades he has walked the path of the knight it was her house that he had bent the knee too. He knew how she felt - when dragon and stag clashed all those years ago, when the stag slayed the dragon in that river - he lay there dying, watching as the hopes and the dreams of the people were washed away down that river with the body of her brother. He should have died that day, but he didn’t. 

The stag gave him a pardon and asked him to serve him - and he did. He wanted to help the people, he wanted to protect the people, he only wanted peace, but it was more of the same. Men sitting in power that only cared about themselves, plots and schemes going on in the background. An entire system that was corrupt and had not changed with all the wars he had seen and all the people killed, all over the iron throne.

HE TRULY DID WISH TO PROTECT HER …

“Mercy is not a weakness your grace, it is a rarity in rulers. All I have served under, all the kings I have stood beside, all ruled through fear - and all of them are dead because of it. There is always going to be right and wrong your grace, the challenge is finding the middle ground.” 

FROM THE SAME MISTAKES HER FATHER MADE …

He remained still. It was different for him now - all had only wanted his sword. All had only wanted his powers on the field of battle. There was no greater knight in the history of the seven kingdoms than he, but the mother of dragons wanted someone that no other king had ever wanted from him - his advice. He had decades of experiencing, watching kings make the wrong decisions, murder people for little reason and start wars over petty issues that cost the lives of tens of thousands.

He remained still as he had seen the conflict within her. He had not been with her on her journey. On the brutality she had to endure. She was not like any other he had ever known. She was a princess, but she had nothing. Her title meant little, she had no wealth, no allies - nothing and yet here she stood. A vast army at her command, more wealth than she ever needed, a city and many others under her rule - he had only wished he could have gotten to her sooner. Some of her decisions had been questionable. 

He would have advised against a great many of them. He had tried to council her - the crucifixion of the masters had been a mistake, one that she demanded and the fallout, was plaguing the people of this city even now. She wished for protection, he could give that to her, but more. He could held to let her see, the other side. To speak the truth to her always and give her, decades of his knowledge, standing at the side of her family.

“I don’t see a silly girl in front of me your grace. I see someone strong, someone determined, someone unafraid to carry a heavy burden. You have been fighting every single moment of your entire life and it has not been easy - and it will not get any easier.” As he swallowed a little. He earned his right, to be this close to her, his mistakes, he carried them and admitted to them. He served the people, always the people and in his heart, he believed, there was no better choice for the seven kingdoms than her.

YOUR TOO OLD TO PROTECT ANYONE.

It was the words of a young king that reached out and gripped him by the heart. His failures had mounted and his dismissal from his brotherhood had shamed him. He was once called THE BOLD, but he knew behind his back they mocked him and called him THE OLD. The lion cub had wanted someone to blame for his father's death and the old knight was handpicked to be the one blamed.

A generous offer, they had made to him, of gold, men and a house by the sea, to anyone else it would be a token of thanks for a long service to the crown and the people, but to him, a harsh and cruel slap to the face and nothing more. A HALL TO DIE IN. To place him there out of sight and out of mind. AND MEN TO BURY HIM. To ensure that he was dead and the last shred of service to the dragons was dead and gone from the land.

The deaths of the kings he served was not his doing. He did everything he could to protect them, but you cannot protect a man from his wicked ways, sooner or later your evil deeds will catch up to you and for the kings he had served this was true. Just once before it was over, he wanted to know what it was like to serve with pride. To have a smile on his face as the ruler he bent the knee to would actually appreciate him. Something like that, was what all men seek out, to have it merely once, would fill his heart with pride.

HE HAD FOUND THAT RULER HE HAD FOUND THAT EMBER

She was nothing more than a small flame, a small flame that countless wanted to see fizzle and fade. Her light was fading and she would need all the help she needed. His sword was hers and his life was as well. She had taken the city, but not the people. They were fighting back, murder ran rapid through the streets and he was determined to see that no one else would die in service to the queen.

GREYWORM. He had been lured into a trap. Ten, fifteen, twenty of them - it mattered little to him - all that mattered was that he needed help now. His blade was to protect the queen herself, but he knew he did not have much time left, the safety of the queen would be placed in the hands of this young man, he would have to survive.

He would make his stand here and now and show all here, why he was so feared by all within the seven kingdoms and all further from it, who heard his name and would shudder with fear, in the knowledge that one man and one man alone, can hold so much skill and talent with a sword.

HE WAS A PAINTER, WHO ONLY USED RED

He moved quickly, cutting through them like they were never there. He kept moving down the narrow alleyway. Pushing the golden masked killers backwards, making them retreat in fear of seeing their brothers fall to him.

isolation is a quiet torturer, making the idle hours tick by ever so slowly. it could drive a person to madness and, yet, the queen does not complain. when her back hurts from the pregnant swelling of her belly. the red fabric covering her body swishes rather loudly as she awkwardly walks more so, waddles like a duck down the hallway. this was her first child, hers and the king. father had given her the basics about what womanly duties she should perform in her husband's bed, which was never the other way around. she was tasked with bringing viserys pleasure as well as producing the sons and daughters, that she prayed to have whenever her knees met with the floor in the sept. father hopes for a son, though she is not so sure that the king shared the same sentiment.

her father never prepared her for how much it hurt to be in the king's bed or how vile she would feel afterwards. the ghost of his clumsy hands groping at her like she was nothing but a mere toy to play with. a brooding mare, that's all she was. though, it didn't matter how she felt. the world bows to men. alicent pauses in the midst of her stride, a palm pressed to the cold wall, while the other cupped her stomach. eyes are pressed shut as pain shoots up her side after a subtle little kick. the pain lasts for a few moments. the servants who had been walking several steps behind her rush forward but she waves them off.

when she, finally, opens her eyes she is met with the sight of their guest. ❝ oh! lady peake, i was on my way to welcome you. i do not move fast these days. the grand maester says that he may come at any moment. a big part of me yearns for that moment, and the other . . . well, i am a little apprehensive. oh, but please keep this between us. ❞ wide and doe-eyed, she pleads. though, she knows she doesn't exactly have to. not with myrsini. she was the only lady at court that alicent felt she could truly connect to. the others always say what they think the queen wants to hear. it becomes tiresome at times and makes her miss the banter she used to have with the princess rhaenyra.

❝ no one tells you how useless you may feel during pregnancy. the servants treat me like a fragile child, always by my side with every wince or whispered curse. ❞ there's a small smile upon alicent's lips as she straightens herself once more. ❝ enough about myself. i apologize for my ramblings, you must think me ill-mannered. please, tell me how you have been, my friend. any exciting news? perhaps a child of your own? ❞