#vhgr

for queen alicent hightower ( of @vhgr )

"if you have come to find your son, turn your eyes skywards," regnarra says as she pulls off her boots, pale eyes flicking towards the queen and her guard. "distraction was needed for both tonight, beyond what can be expected within a martial bed;" a lie, but one that feels someone enjoyable to tell ... watching alicent's face in the waning evening light. "if you wish to join me, i fear it may threaten your southron decencies," it's a pointed statement as she begins to unlace her vest and the shirt beneath, it falls open (mostly) on her shoulders. she doesn't see her body as a secret 'shame', rather a vessel created of and by the drowned god ... whether the queen, her husband, or the others agree.

she had come here alone, so she reasons that the queen has come across her private moment. regnarra turns away, slides her pants down, and her shirt comes off to reveal a handful of scars across her back, and a line of tattoos that run down her spine. "communing with the sea is best done devoid of clothes, your grace," she smiles over her shoulder as she walks waist deep into the gently lapping ocean, & then she turns, naked from the waist up whilst the sea wraps around her lower body; an exhibitionst, in true form. but she always enjoys the unattainable possibility of making such a pretty lady blush (or at least ruffle at the sight of her nude form, her pulse quickens at the thought) ... "i don't suppose that is why you have come to seek me out?"

davey lets out a breath, drumming his fingers against his thigh, before he looks over to aemond. smiles a little shyly. ❛ really, aemond. thanks for driving me. ❜

... 'wouldbelove, do not think of me as a whetstone until you hear the whole story: in it, i'm not the hero, but i’m not the villain either — so let’s say, in the story, i was HUMAN.' [..] 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐘, 𝐛𝐲 𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐫

STOP - aemond targaryen ( @vhgr​ ) holds regnarra drumm back from walking back out into the fray.    ( several months into their arranged marriage )

regnarra wasn't made for court life, yet she stood tiny but savage; tattooed, with her braided and carefully selectively matted locks still woven with religious tokens of the drowned god, and she refused to wear gowns day to day   (the recent exception to this was the day she wed aemond).     the snickers of the ladies and lords bothered her very little —  her piercingly pale eyes fixed with a spine-shrivelling glare and sneer curling her lip the most common reaction as she passed them by, generally speaking she felt more at ease in the marketplaces and away from the stifling world she was now a part of.   

truthfully, she'd been in a foul mood already ... primed for confrontation perhaps ... when echoed words bounced into her ears, raucous laughter about the newest accusation that regnarra was ... no ironborn, but some bastard pale witch from essos ... bewitching house targaryen into wedding her to a prince. ...   she felt her eye twitch, fists balling slowly ...   give me a chance with the bitch and i'll break her in and then break her neck!     and regnarra was on them before her husbands appointed guardsmen were — she could feel the way her temper reared it's head, her eyes glimmered with irrational anger as she swung a close-fist backhand against the jaw of the first laughing man she fixed her tunnelled glare upon.  the sight of his blood brought a cruel smile to her face as she made to swing for him again ...  but a harsh, hard grip wrapped around her bicep and halted her, someone pulling her back as guards took over the almost-brawl she'd started.    her fists were gripped so tight her knuckles turned white ...  she twisted angrily, turning in fury to see who dared intervene.

                 aemond.

❝ i swear to the drowned god   —   release me, ❞ she hissed furiously, her face contorted in single-minded anger as she whipped around to try and fix her glare on one of the men, any would do; she didn't care who spoke. she didn't care who they were, in fact. she just wanted to feel bones break under her hands or boots.     ❝ 'break me in', will you?   you maggot-bellied cunt! ❞  —   regnarra yelled furiously, trying to pull away from aemond as he (rather wisely) pulled her further back until her vision was obscured —  ( it was harder for her to focus on her blinding anger when she couldn't see the cause of it  ) —   ❝ he couldn't break my neck if his steaming pile of shite life depended on it!❞

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.