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I am not evil! I’ve done the best I could under the circumstances. I doubt you would have survived as well as I did …

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“Empathy? Empathy? What empathy can I afford my enemies? Shall I dither about whether to defend myself because it will cause someone pain? If that had been the case, I would have died years ago! You must be willing to protect yourself and what you cherish, no matter what the cost.”

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Eragon (2006) Murtagh Scene 6/8

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GARRETT HEDLUND as MURTAGH MORZANSSON in ERAGON (2006)

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Bonniebirddoesgifs:

Murtagh Morzansson & Eragon Shadeslayer (Eragon)

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GARRETT HEDLUND as MURTAGH MORZANSSON in ERAGON (2006)

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My portrayal.

Name: Dalton of House Greyjoy Titles / Occupation: Lord Reaper of Pyke, Lord of the Iron Islands Nickname: The Red Kraken Birth year: 113 AC Gender & Pronouns: cis man, he/him Sexuality: straight & polyamorous Region: born in the Iron Islands Religion: drowned god Interests: sailing, fishing, fighting, mapmaking and stargazing Personality: ambitious, flirty, independent, rebellious, charming and scheming Hh Eye color: black Hair color: black Height: 188 cm Face claim: Garrett Hedlund (young) & Clive Standen (older, survival AU) Scars: after his uncle's death, Dalton's whole body is covered in scars. Most come from blades, but some are from arrows and burn scars. Family: deceased parents. Younger brother and three younger sisters. Relationships: verse dependant. Open to romance plots. - Crimson Reaper verse: Dalton has finally taken a legal wife in the eyes of mainland Westeros, his rock wife Rohanne Lannister of Lannisport with whom he shares a son and heir; Toron Greyjoy. Affiliated with @theladyrohanne

While he was still the heir to Pyke, Dalton sailed with his uncle to plunder the pirate towns of the Basilisk Isles, slowly training in his prowess as a warrior and strategist. In his journey to Old Ghis, Dalton claimed a Valyrian steel longsword, which he named Nightfall, off a dead corsair. At the age of fifteen, he was named “The Red Kraken” when he avenged his uncle after witnessing his death. He emerged from the fight drenched in blood from a dozen wounds, but survived nonetheless. Later the next year, Dalton returned to the Iron Islands to claim the Seastone Chair after his father's death.

Capitan for the "Raven". His crew is conformed of his salt wives and childhood comrades, he gave them axes, bows and swords so they could raid with him. Dalton speaks the braavosi trade language and a little of bastard valyrian. Both languages were taught to him by his crewmates. When he wants to say something and make sure other people don't understand, he uses this foreign languages to confuse people.

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Rules.

This blog is OC and AU friendly! I'm personally not invested in crossovers. 💖

Important, English isn't my first language.

Exclusivity: I'm mutually exclusive, because I have heavenly plotted some relationships with my writing partners and therefore I don't see myself writing with different versions of the same character. My blog is for mutuals only.

Writing: I understand we all have real life responsibilities, but if a thread is unanswered for two (2) months or longer I'll just assume the interest was lost. Unless I was given a hiatus notice.

NSFW: Due to personal reasons, I do NOT write smut. Any attempt to convince me will get you blocked.

Shipping: I'm open to shipping and actually enjoy doing it. I don't start romance plots unless I know the person for a little while beforehand. Please let me know you before shoving a romance in my DMs. I'm very selective over the romances I want to write, so don't be upset if I don't choose you. It's not personal.

Plotting: I prefer plotted threads as I need some text to get an idea of the scene. One liners might be left unanswered if I don't find the inspiration to respond.

I use my verses as a timeline to organize my threads and I'm more than open to plot outside those time-frames! I do all my plotting on discord, so we can brainstorm there.

As a final note, this blog doesn't welcome team discourse. You can have your own opinions, but I'm here to write and have fun, not fight over fictional characters. Basic DNI: this blog doesn't accept any type of bigotry.

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w.— @theladyrohanne

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Salt water heals all wounds

w.— @theredripper

One can obtain a lot of information from someone's ship. Dalton started understanding all and any clues he could get after becoming a boatswain in his uncle's ship. The Cursed Emerald was no exception. The tradition to cut one's ears, although not the worst punishment Dalton had seen, had definitely caught his attention. Toron's ship was a mixture of old and young alike, a crew with experience and a necessity to prove themselves. Dalton was confident in his son's choices. He decided to enjoy the free travel and calm nights. Asking about Toron as captain, hopefully without sounding as an interrogation. Dalton genuinely aspire to comprehend how the ship worked.

The sleeping arrangement was a different mater. Toron threw a pillow and an old blanket at him. When Dalton complained, he reprehended him "Don't argue or I'll make you sleep outside". Dalton questioned where did his son got the audacity from, probably Dalton himself if he was honest. Still, Dalton slept on Toron's cabin while his son rested somewhere else.

Dalton filled his days talking with Toron's crewmates. The journey to Braavos would take time he didn't plan on spending bored. He noticed Toron's closeness with all of them. Dalton was proud... and suspicious. He waited until they reached Braavos and had time to disembark. Toron's temper was always prone to screaming and Dalton thought it was better if the people who listen to the screams didn't speak common tongue.

—When I was your age I already had four children, so I thought by this age you would've already given me the hopes for a grandchild. Did you truly entertain the Princess Aliandra Martell to give me false hopes? —Toron refusal to marry had always appeared as some quirky characteristic of him. But perhaps he wasn't interested in women like that at all... in the same way Yara wasn't interested in men at all.— Why do you keep a musician in your crew? Can he even fight? I've never seen you keep someone in your crew if they don't fight... Or does he stays to warm your bed?

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Bless with salt, with stone, with steel.

w.— @theladyrohanne

Dalton kissed Rohanne's back in the repeated notion he was used to, slowly making his path into her neck, her ears, her hair. The room was dark in the middle of the night, satin bed sheets and a warm bed. Rohanne will eventually start whispering the same tales of the past, words Dalton learned soon into their marriage it was better to ignore. He had no way to truly calm her down, the only comfort he could offer was himself.

The hour was late, but it appeared neither of them wished to sleep. Once his lips were satisfied, Dalton started braiding her hair. The act itself calmed him down more than it help Rohanne. He kept doing it. When his hand got tired, his lips continued. In the middle of his kisses, Dalton gathered enough confidence to speak:

—Today I'll get paid, gold from the small council... We can afford to do it properly this time. I can do it, my Lady, let me take you as my rock wife. —Rohanne's desperation to be the stone wife was well known, to everyone in Pyke and Dalton himself alike. He had always refuse to take any rock wife, first over a sense of concern; he truly loved them all equally and the idea of having a favorite one hurt him. Then he refused over a sense of guilt, the sensible course of action had always been marrying Rohanne, but his heart kept telling him to marry Lysa instead. Finally, he refused because of habit, he haven't taken one in so long... It now felt unnecessary.— You had waited for two decades, we deserve a grand ceremony. I'll get you a proper wedding gown, not the torn dress you used on our first ceremony. You can use the emerald necklace I got you... I think it's makes your eyes glow.

He smiled as his eyes lighted up. Dalton had always married in rushed weddings, half of them hidden under the night sky with nothing but his feelings as offering for the lifelong binding ceremony. And a couple blood sacrifices, for good luck. The crimson trace behind them had paid, for all their struggles, Dalton considered himself lucky. To have one loving partner was a miracle on its own, finding more was definitely more unlikely and yet, Dalton had collected them like jewels.

—Ask for whatever your hearts desires my love. I'll give it to you... Should we travel to somewhere else? I've always wanted to know how it feels to marry in Oldtown... Kill a few Septons while we're there. —Rohanne was never one to do the murdering herself, that was Dalton's especially. He turned towards her, scheming smile on his face.— Perhaps we could... fix two problems at once and finally get rid of that man we both loathe.

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—The Blood Nymph is a... reputation. It's not a bad thing. One day you'll need to intimate some petty Lord and it'll come in handy.—Dalton stepped in and entered the room. He searched for any table to drop the wooden box he have brought with him. He got closer to Alannys, he had missed her so much it hurt. Dalton hugged her. —He better be showering you in gifts. He's a Prince after all.

Alannys' words felt like an insult. For every reform Dalton tried there were always a dozen complains. Too many protest could warned about another rebellion. Alannys had no idea of the constant thread he was under. Dalton couldn't allow himself to fail. He wouldn't spent another two years secluded in his own castle holding Toron in his arms as he got sicker by the day. He had been so proud of how much he had accomplished, apparently, it wasn't enough. « My daughter has grow proudfull and ignorant, like her dragon masters. » Worst part, Dalton wasn't even mad at Alannys. He only had himself to blame. Dalton left her alone and now he couldn't erase his actions.

—Oh Alannys, my little siren, you're greatly exaggerating the influence you have. Amarys has been regent for longer than you've breathe, and even her has troubles making the Lords listen to her. Any and all proclamation you try in my name, or on your husband's or worse; your own, will always fall to deaf ears. How are you sure women will answer your call? Have you forgotten our home already? Lord Codd doesn't allow her wife to sail, how will she get to Pyke if she is locked in her castle? Lord Stonehouse keeps saying he loves women while hitting his own, do you think his daughters will come at your call when going means a guaranteed beating? Do you find me so stupid I need them to tell me what is is happening for me to know? I have eyes, I don't need a stupid reunion to understand the problems I have at hand. Our land is small, easier to control. You are getting spoiled, Alannys. You've never experience the fear everyone else at home has lived through. Perhaps it was my mistake to shield you from the worst. I thought I was doing well, but it seems perhaps you needed some suffering. —Dalton looked at Alannys in confusion, unsure were she had gotten those ideas. — People back home barely have heard about you, as far as they are concerned, you no longer care about Pyke. You should answer your mother's letters more often.

Dalton paused on his tracks, last thing he wanted was Alannys thinking he only saw her as cattle to be sold. —When have I force anyone in this family to marry against their will? Why do you think you'll be an exception? Do you truly believe marriage is the only thing in my mind? If you hadn't liked that boy, I would have eventually come up with a different solution. I agreed to buy us time and nothing else. —Dalton had placed marriage in a very high regard for himself. He had never expected anyone in his family to follow his steps. —I understood what I asked for, I still do. I wouldn't have done it if I didn't wholeheartedly believed you could do it. Your life is just beginning, Alannys.

Dalton reached for the box he brought. He placed it close to Alannys and opened it. The High Kings of the Iron Islands were said to have worn driftwood crowns. Each of them would craft a new one with a different shape from driftwood for themselves. The tradition had slowly died out after their house was lowered to a simple lordship, but some craftsman still knew how to do it. Dalton would never be able to wear one as a Lord, but Alannys was allowed to wear it if she was to become a Princess.

—If you are no pet, then stop acting as one. You've fight and survive worse, a simple court will not kill you. You are my daughter. And our kin in hard to reap. You want me to treat you like Toron, then you gotta be smart about it. You have no sharks to help you in here. Charm and jewels can only take you so far... but I can help you.

w.— @sirenalannysgreyjoy

Dalton was so used to Alannys visiting any time she wanted to see him. It turned her absence into an obvious whole inside their home. It was odd to be the one looking for her now. He searched in the shores, the port and in her ship, but no clue of her daughter to be found.

He tried his luck on the Red Keep, got lost twice, but eventually found her chambers. He knocked before opening the door

—You look softer... —Most ironborn would take the words as insult, but Dalton meant words he wasn't ready to say outloud; you look relaxed, calm, safe. You look like everything you didn't have back home.— I don't think you ever had this many decorations on Pyke.

«You didn't pay attention to her room when she was there. » Perhaps he missed more than he'd ever admit.

—Did you enjoyed the women's courts? Am I allowed to know if anything interesting happen? —Lysa left the court with a smile. After Rhaenyra officially named her Lady of Fair Island, they went to celebrate and anything else that happened that day left Dalton's mind soon after.

He sighed. There's was another reason he was there. Dalton refuse to let any of his children's marriages turned bad. He was so proud of himself when he saw their relationships turned into blooming romances. It was good. Too good. Suspiciously good. If he was honest with himself, he was specifically skeptical with Alannys' betrothal. The circumstances were too good.

—The Queen said she would burn Pyke. Make it a second Harrenhall. —He didn't look at her at the eyes as he spoke.— Everyone knows I propose marriages when I panic, I didn't expect her to agree. You once told me you will give me their heart if the man you married wasn't of your liking. You cannot do that. Killing that boy would kill our own family.

« Who would know a complain about Otto Hightower could get your whole family under death treat? » Dalton left the room that day feeling like an idiot. The marriage to a prince should be a victory, not a defeat. Rhaenyra asked for Alannys hand, then she demanded Penny to be sent away. Who else would she take? Dalton himself?

—You've been quiet... I know you have more duties to attend now, but... Are you distant because you want to be or because you are forced to be?

« Did I made my own daughter a hostage? » He might desire their relationship to bloom as much as he could, but it would never be enough to endangered her.

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—That wasn't the fucking point! Don't you see it? —Dalton pushed Rodrik towards the balcony, force him to smell the corpses and the burned buildings. The decaying bodies rooting together. Dalton was used to the view, to the point the dead no longer affected him. His son, who barely visited the battlefield, was a completely different story. Rodrik could paint the sunsets with the Raven looking majestic as the invasion happened in the background, draw a fairytale fitting of his fantasies. Dalton needed his son to see the reality.— Thirty years against centuries of violence? Are you foolish enough to believe such lie? Our blood has long history. One that exceeds me or you. You can imagine and dream of peace, but it won't happen magically.

He looked at Rodrik. « There's something you aren't telling me. » Dalton hated lies, he hated secrets just as much.— "Our perspectives match"... In what regards? She abandoned her betrothal on a blink, how are you so sure she won't turn on you the second you no longer share one single-minded desire? Let's imagine I kill her mother, brother, father and sisters, would she look at you the same way? Are you sure she won't seek justice? Peace? Are you telling me I can murder her people and she won't seek revenge? That she has no conviction of her own?

Dalton inhaled and exhaled. His temper wouldn't get the best of him. He stepped away and walked in circles, looking at the walls, at the ceiling, the view from the outside. Everything but Rodrik. He had to think first... any ironborn, regardless of their house name, would be met with well earned suspicion at best and arrows to the neck at worst. As far as Dalton was concerned, their family was under threat. The was no countermeasures he wouldn't take.

Rodrik's voice interrupts his thoughts. "But I will not aid you" He laughed. A cynical and mocking tone in his voice.— Why would I demand your aid? Rodrik, you overestimate yourself. You cannot fight, yesterday you were useless; painting while I bleeded on the battlefield. I have proven myself so many times, bleeding for Lysa, for you. I've bleed gladly because I know what sacrifice means. You cannot defend yourself nor your lioness even if you tried. Why would I want the help of someone who has sacrifice nothing for me? You only keep asking for more and more and more until I dry out. I'm exhausted, how did you end up so thoughtless? I don't wish to have the sail nor the grace of someone so unreliable. I wouldn't wish it on your mother either.

Rohanne's tears may had changed his mind, but Rodrik was no Rohanne. His teary eyes only make him more angry.

—You have done nothing. I'm reaping the fruits of MY years of planning, fighting and dreaming. You just take credit for my work! Elyana and Victarion are waiting in Pyke, perhaps you should've stayed home with them. Playing the nanny you so eagerly wish to be. —The idea of taking a break was foreign to him. The world of politics worked fast, Dalton could close his eyes only for an instant and miss on everything.— I'm resting, right now. One can plan and rest at the same time.

He straighten, he spoke with certainty in his words.— If you won't marry for duty, then your sister will do it. Lysa requires as many allies as our family can get her.— Dalron only half-meant it. Elyana will get a betrothal of her own eventually, a match to secure her position would be natural. He had never made a match unless his children agreed to it. « Rodrik doesn't need to know. » Dalton could play this game forever. Ambition and pride driving him to deeps he haven't discovered yet. Rodrik was more prone to breaking.— As you seem so fervent to make enemies for her. Jason Lannister won't simply agree to his daughter being taken away. He'll act. And when the lion is eating your siblings alive, I don't wish to hear any plead from you.

The Consequences of Influence

w.— @thefairheiroffairisle

Pyke didn't have many balconies and the ones they did have were dangerous during storms and ignored on clear days. Dalton's new study on Faircastle had a nice view into the sea, his new balcony wasn't a safety hazard and he could enjoy his time there. He spent a long time looking at the pale walls, the light inside the room felt calmer than anything he had seen at Pyke.

—Have I told you how I met your mother? Not the romance we always say, but the reason I was in Fair Isle to meet her in the first place. —Dalton was young and genuinely thought he could invade the castle by himself, Veron liked to tease him about his failed attack.— Look at the shore, seashell. Look how close we are to them. Just imagine the possibilities.

He left the rest unsaid. « Imagine how many raids we can do from here. We could attack the Crag from both fronts, north and south. » The location couldn't be better. So close to the Rock, there was no need to use provisions unnecessarily before raids. His men could rest and recharge here. Dalton was pleased with everything. But the location was a double edge sword, the were closer; it made it easier to attack, it would make it more difficult to defend. Especially after Dalton destroy most of the castle's defenses.

—You've hidden behind me, on Toron's shadow, under your sisters and uncle's protection. One day the westerlands will remember. Your ships can have Farman sails and Lysa's grace but that won't ever erase the blood. We have their suffering dripping over our hands and you cannot escape my legacy. Even if I wish you could.

Dalton could insult the westerlands all he wanted, but he never truly thought they were stupid. They'd eventually notice. House Farman and Greyjoy were linked forever.

Toron once had told him the Lannister lady must have come as a spy sent to kill Rodrik. Dalton didn't think Jason Lannister stupid enough to make his own daughter do the job, when he was rich enough to hire a killer of his own. But his son's paranoia had a point: the Lannisters would do something, they'd respond, otherwise who would take them seriously as Paramounts?

Lady Johanna gave Jason Lannister cats instead of lions, each daughter weaker than the last, their pride was an illusion and their roars were only whispers. Toron was more capable of becoming an actual lion than any of those blonde fools.

—Your lover is a liar, a hypocritical, but does a Lannister who isn't a hypocrite truly exists? The protector of smallfork, or something like that she said at court. Did she said she cared? We kill hundreds of her dear smallfork every year but has no problem sleeping with their killers. No boy, that woman is hiding something. When Toron decides to continue his foolish plans to take Casterly Rock as inheritance, don't be surprised as her blade cuts your neck.

Perhaps he was being dramatic, too reckless to think. He ran his hand over his neck, the scars were not visible but he could feel them anyways. He wouldn't let his son be hurt if he could stop it.

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Dalton always considered he could understand everything he needed to know from any person by simply looking at their ship: the Raven had a neatly clean, Veron's was always covered in blood, Esgred had barely sailed after her marriage and her ship grew more ignored by the day and Yara's crew was full of women; an achievement not even Dalton himself accomplished.

Amarys' ship was the most familiar, Dalton visited the deck often enough to remember all the old moldy blanks and the places to avoid so they wouldn't break under his weight. The vessel itself was incredibly fast, made with fully black wood like his own ship and named the Iron Pearl. Dalton had never put much thought into why his sister named it that way. Until the day he heard the same name, now transformed into a title; beholden into his daughter's shoulders. He found it unnecessary. Nobles were surely bored if the had time to orchestrate a list of the best-behaved-most-docelie-and-manipulable ladies around court, they called the Pearls and for some stupid reason they like it. Dalton couldn't get why they had to ruin such a good name with their boring need to give everyone a compensatory title. The fact they found one of his daughters fitting for such insult... He didn't scream just because he was so mad he decided to ramble with Cerrick instead.

He waited for his sister while enjoying the breeze. Amarys returned with a pair of bottles. He smiled as he take —You definitely know how to lift the mood, sister.— Dalton could be far away in a hundred voyages, but he could always sense when someone in his family was nervous and Amarys well hidden tension was too familiar for him. His own worry rised at the idea of anyone making his sister uncomfortable, even though his rational side told him Amarys had been able to protect herself on her own for decades. « You are stressing over nothing, she'll tell you herself if it's important. » Dalton had news of his own and it was a good place to start as any other.

—We should use this occasion as a celebration! You'd never guess, but I'm getting married. Yes again, but this time is different. —Dalton made a dramatic pause, he like to irritate all his siblings in a highly personalized way, specially made to utterly annoy them. He had never been able to surpass the time he announced his marriage to Myranda with a simple "I found a woman that didn't want to be your wife" towards Veron, but he could always try. — I'm taking Rohanne as my stone wife, so technically I'm not marring anyone new. I haven't ask her yet, but I doubt she'll refuse.

“Cross your heart, won’t tell no other”

Starter with @thedadkraken

The wine cellar of The Iron Pearl was only lit up by a few candles, but Amarys knew the exact location of what she was looking for. Her best bottles of Arbor red, a gift from her brother himself. Dalton loved stealing from the Redwynes, especially without her, but he always compensated her with a part of the loot. It wasn’t much to satisfy her thirst for adventure, but it did calm her anger a bit. She could never be too angry with her brother, either way. He was her favorite brother, after all.

Once she found the bottles she was looking for, she went back to the deck of her ship. Dalton was waiting for her there already, with a goblet in each of his hands and a mischievous grin on his face. Apparently, he looked excited to drown both their sorrows and joy in alcohol, and it wasn’t a bad plan, though.

Amarys grinned and showed her brother the two bottles she was carrying. He seemed expectant at the possibility of having one of those “deep drunken conversations” they had in their teenage years. They were nice enough, though, and those were memories she cherished deeply inside her heart.

That night, though, it would be different. Because she had something to talk to him about, and it was important. Alla and her had grown close in the past few moons. And she had grown to develop a deep affection towards her brother’s former lover. She knew Dalton was a jealous man, especially since Alla and him shared a daughter, Penny, whom she loved deeply. She had to be tactful about the subject.

“Well, brother”, Amarys said, her grin still in her face. “Let’s get drunk!”.

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The Consequences of Influence

w.— @thefairheiroffairisle

Pyke didn't have many balconies and the ones they did have were dangerous during storms and ignored on clear days. Dalton's new study on Faircastle had a nice view into the sea, his new balcony wasn't a safety hazard and he could enjoy his time there. He spent a long time looking at the pale walls, the light inside the room felt calmer than anything he had seen at Pyke.

—Have I told you how I met your mother? Not the romance we always say, but the reason I was in Fair Isle to meet her in the first place. —Dalton was young and genuinely thought he could invade the castle by himself, Veron liked to tease him about his failed attack.— Look at the shore, seashell. Look how close we are to them. Just imagine the possibilities.

He left the rest unsaid. « Imagine how many raids we can do from here. We could attack the Crag from both fronts, north and south. » The location couldn't be better. So close to the Rock, there was no need to use provisions unnecessarily before raids. His men could rest and recharge here. Dalton was pleased with everything. But the location was a double edge sword, the were closer; it made it easier to attack, it would make it more difficult to defend. Especially after Dalton destroy most of the castle's defenses.

—You've hidden behind me, on Toron's shadow, under your sisters and uncle's protection. One day the westerlands will remember. Your ships can have Farman sails and Lysa's grace but that won't ever erase the blood. We have their suffering dripping over our hands and you cannot escape my legacy. Even if I wish you could.

Dalton could insult the westerlands all he wanted, but he never truly thought they were stupid. They'd eventually notice. House Farman and Greyjoy were linked forever.

Toron once had told him the Lannister lady must have come as a spy sent to kill Rodrik. Dalton didn't think Jason Lannister stupid enough to make his own daughter do the job, when he was rich enough to hire a killer of his own. But his son's paranoia had a point: the Lannisters would do something, they'd respond, otherwise who would take them seriously as Paramounts?

Lady Johanna gave Jason Lannister cats instead of lions, each daughter weaker than the last, their pride was an illusion and their roars were only whispers. Toron was more capable of becoming an actual lion than any of those blonde fools.

—Your lover is a liar, a hypocritical, but does a Lannister who isn't a hypocrite truly exists? The protector of smallfork, or something like that she said at court. Did she said she cared? We kill hundreds of her dear smallfork every year but has no problem sleeping with their killers. No boy, that woman is hiding something. When Toron decides to continue his foolish plans to take Casterly Rock as inheritance, don't be surprised as her blade cuts your neck.

Perhaps he was being dramatic, too reckless to think. He ran his hand over his neck, the scars were not visible but he could feel them anyways. He wouldn't let his son be hurt if he could stop it.

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—Can't you see it? I'm clearly lost. —Dalton had master the art of looking innocent and confused a long time ago. Some sad eyes there, a little broken lips there. It was easy to feel guilty when looking at him.— The Red Keep is gigantic, you've lived here your whole life, but I've only visited thrice in my life. I was hoping you'd know a fast way into the Tower of the Hand, I have small council meetings to attend.

The princess didn't seem to continue walking until their discussion was over. —If anything, I'm worried about your safety, Princess. I see no guards accompanying you. Where's the Queensguard? Or your ladies in waiting? Or your husband? I might as well hurt you as I accompanied you. This count is really soft, perhaps we need Lord Jason Lannister making sure everyone here remembers who am I. The Red Kraken is capable of many crimes... I'm not sure you'd survive. Targaryens can fly, but do they drowned? —He started getting closer. At least Joss Westerling was smart enough to know Dalton will always be a thread. « If only more people acted as such. » The coldness of his voice was a warning.— Maybe we should try at sea, somewhere more fair for krakens than dragons.

Dalton couldn't help but smirk at Heleana's annoyance. —Are you inviting me into your chambers? Such a bold request. —He turned around, looking directly into Heleana's eyes. He stepped forward, until their faces were so close he could feel her breath. Dalton was made to love and be loved, but the path into his heart was hard and complicated. He was getting tired. He was first to admit coming to court surrounded by women wasn't the best idea for his reputation. People were quick to forget his crimes and compere him to the soft, romantic knights of songs the mainland adored. « There's a fucking difference between a playful romantic and a sex doll. » The anger rose up faster and he could no longer stop his own voice.— Do you think I'm a fucking whore you can summoned so they can warm your bed? A pretentious princess, I see. Unfortunately, unlike you, I'm a faithful man. Clearly taken. My heart already belongs to another and her name is Lysa Farman. So you can forget that imbecile idea of yours, and call me Lord Consort of House Farman while you are at it.

An Utter Annoyance

( A part of @asongofgoldenfireandblackblood )

Starter with @thedadkraken

Walking side by side with Dalton Greyjoy was not Helaena’s ideal way of spending her first day back in King Landing, but here she was nonetheless. Walking next to the Red Kraken, chatting about their return.

She had seen enough of him when he had decided to plant himself at Dragonstone for a while. He’d surely spent enough time with Aegon, too much for her liking. While the Princess would never admit this, she had always hated when others got too familiar with her husband. She could not help but feel jealously, after all, her husband was a handsome Targaryen Prince who did not lack for charm. She could feel when others had given him a passing look, a mischievous stare, and a wink. It made her hold his arm tighter and not let go.

She’d often wonder if those other ladies who tried for his attention thought Helaena was too passive to care, and it made her all the more upset. With Dalton, though, this was an entirely different situation. He was no Lady, he was the Lord of the Iron Islands who had twenty two wives. Was he now looking for a salt husband? She’d seen how much he’d wanted to spend time with Aegon, and it left her bitter every time. What did the Red Kraken want with her husband?

Her bitterness often became apparent when speaking to him, which was not a common occurrence for Helaena. She thought herself to be good at never showing a negative emotion, but as of late, that had been hard. She could not understand why all of a sudden she felt the need to show her anger.

She looked at the Iron Islander, noticing how he and Aegon were the same height. His clothes were stylish, she admitted, and he was not hard to look at. It made her sad in a way, to know someone so beautiful held the attention of Aegon. She was often deemed the less striking of the Targaryen ladies, which left a chip in her shoulder, more than she could admit to herself.

Sighing, she narrowed her eyes and spoke. “Well, Lord Greyjoy, now that we are in Kings Landing, your schedule must be filled to the brim with small council duties. Your play time with my husband is at an end. How… unfortunate.” She drifted off, wondering how her words sounded to the other.

[crimson-kraken]

w.— @sirenalannysgreyjoy

Dalton was so used to Alannys visiting any time she wanted to see him. It turned her absence into an obvious whole inside their home. It was odd to be the one looking for her now. He searched in the shores, the port and in her ship, but no clue of her daughter to be found.

He tried his luck on the Red Keep, got lost twice, but eventually found her chambers. He knocked before opening the door

—You look softer... —Most ironborn would take the words as insult, but Dalton meant words he wasn't ready to say outloud; you look relaxed, calm, safe. You look like everything you didn't have back home.— I don't think you ever had this many decorations on Pyke.

«You didn't pay attention to her room when she was there. » Perhaps he missed more than he'd ever admit.

—Did you enjoyed the women's courts? Am I allowed to know if anything interesting happen? —Lysa left the court with a smile. After Rhaenyra officially named her Lady of Fair Island, they went to celebrate and anything else that happened that day left Dalton's mind soon after.

He sighed. There's was another reason he was there. Dalton refuse to let any of his children's marriages turned bad. He was so proud of himself when he saw their relationships turned into blooming romances. It was good. Too good. Suspiciously good. If he was honest with himself, he was specifically skeptical with Alannys' betrothal. The circumstances were too good.

—The Queen said she would burn Pyke. Make it a second Harrenhall. —He didn't look at her at the eyes as he spoke.— Everyone knows I propose marriages when I panic, I didn't expect her to agree. You once told me you will give me their heart if the man you married wasn't of your liking. You cannot do that. Killing that boy would kill our own family.

« Who would know a complain about Otto Hightower could get your whole family under death treat? » Dalton left the room that day feeling like an idiot. The marriage to a prince should be a victory, not a defeat. Rhaenyra asked for Alannys hand, then she demanded Penny to be sent away. Who else would she take? Dalton himself?

—You've been quiet... I know you have more duties to attend now, but... Are you distant because you want to be or because you are forced to be?

« Did I made my own daughter a hostage? » He might desire their relationship to bloom as much as he could, but it would never be enough to endangered her.