darzyr

[darzyr]

i kknow theyre fantasy British but what if the targs were gator wrangling rednecks in modern non magical au

[darzyr]

Like mother, like son

based on this post by @terrorofthetrident

[darzyr]

i said archeologist modaemond (modern almond) as a joke once and its just on the brain now

[darzyr]

peace and love on planet earth

[darzyr]

i saw how you looked at me in the throne room. and how often.

he sits,  she stands.   𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐬’ 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 between them cannot assuage a cloying sense of being cornered.   𝚊𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚍’𝚜 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚍 of sinew,  every inch of skin,  𝖎𝖘 𝖘𝖙𝖎𝖑𝖑.   only ocean-dark wine still dances in a goblet once lolling like a drunkard’s head,  around and around...   𝐚 𝐬𝐧𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐛𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 to his chambers like it owns them,  and if he moves,  she’ll get him.   the thought is enough to 𝖆𝖒𝖚𝖘𝖊 𝖍𝖎𝖒𝖘𝖊𝖑𝖋 with.   he blinks.      ❛❛  so?  ❜❜      lowers his cup.      ❛❛  you’ve come to defend 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚟𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚞𝚎?  ❜❜

[darzyr]

no, big Jason 555. you would never understand

look into my eye(s) (haha) when i tell you this. i think the great tragedy, the big sore spot, the thing that perhaps should arouse the most disgust out of people in regards to almond is that he loves his family. every single one. and he is still capable of doing what he does. because their love has meant ridicule and torture to him.

yes, he loves aegon. aegon's love has been teasing, humiliation, condescension, and has cost him soundness of body and mind. aemond has no problem risking and/or ending his life and still loving him.

he loves aIicent. her love has meant neglect, has come with conditions, and, much like with his father, he's felt second to rhaenyra. aIicent was more passionate about hating nyra than aemond ever saw her be about loving him. he'll strip her of her position and tell her to return to "domestic" pursuits, and still say he loves her. he does.

he loves even daemon, and daemon's love has been violence, treachery, intimidation. aemond has learned cruelty at daemon's feet, except he's worse than his teacher, because daemon never earnestly went against his brother. aemond is capable of loving his brother to bits and also tearing him to bits.

he loves rhaenyra, surprisingly enough, but her love has been willfully ignorant, unempathetic, and has overlooked him. after driftmark, aemond learns his life means nothing to his sister. he loves jace. jace's love has meant ridicule and disregard. its clear, even to the last moment, that aemond loved Iuke. but luke's love has been a knife in his socket and a yawning silence for years after that.

yada yada yada:

[darzyr]

look into my eye(s) (haha) when i tell you this. i think the great tragedy, the big sore spot, the thing that perhaps should arouse the most disgust out of people in regards to almond is that he loves his family. every single one. and he is still capable of doing what he does. because their love has meant ridicule and torture to him.

yes, he loves aegon. aegon's love has been teasing, humiliation, condescension, and has cost him soundness of body and mind. aemond has no problem risking and/or ending his life and still loving him.

he loves aIicent. her love has meant neglect, has come with conditions, and, much like with his father, he's felt second to rhaenyra. aIicent was more passionate about hating nyra than aemond ever saw her be about loving him. he'll strip her of her position and tell her to return to "domestic" pursuits, and still say he loves her. he does.

he loves even daemon, and daemon's love has been violence, treachery, intimidation. aemond has learned cruelty at daemon's feet, except he's worse than his teacher, because daemon never earnestly went against his brother. aemond is capable of loving his brother to bits and also tearing him to bits.

he loves rhaenyra, surprisingly enough, but her love has been willfully ignorant, unempathetic, and has overlooked him. after driftmark, aemond learns his life means nothing to his sister. he loves jace. jace's love has meant ridicule and disregard. its clear, even to the last moment, that aemond loved Iuke. but luke's love has been a knife in his socket and a yawning silence for years after that.

yada yada yada:

[darzyr]

❝ The ephemerality of things is what gives them meaning. ❞ from vhagar.

waves lick the shore 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖜𝖍𝖎𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖗 in the gaps between shingles,  and h̳e̳r̳ ̳v̳o̳i̳c̳e̳ ̳i̳s̳ ̳n̳o̳t̳ ̳a̳ ̳v̳o̳i̳c̳e̳,  but a feeling in his mind.   moonlight glances off vhagar’s scales as it does the sea,  as it does the gemstone burrowed deep within his skull.      ❛❛  but 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮,  everything is fleeting,  ❜❜      aemond says,      ❛❛  in the grand scheme of your life.  ❜❜

     he is 𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖑𝖊 𝖊𝖓𝖔𝖚𝖌𝖍 that others might hear him and cast doubt on their ears.   his own mother would 𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚏𝚝𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 in his voice ;   claim she knew him not.

      ❛❛  𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒌𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑑.  ❜❜      but he,  he only has the time afforded a mayfly in which to 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐤.   everything is immediate and painful and true.   at times,  he might b̳e̳t̳r̳a̳y̳ ̳h̳i̳m̳s̳e̳l̳f̳ by thinking he could ever 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚛.   yet he reads her name in history books and forgets that she is his.  

[darzyr]

aem0nd is so kind :)

[darzyr]

" fire for your hearth , and joy to your hall . "

𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖊,  he lacks not. ( . . . ) 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚜 at the crossing of their paths,  attention 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 and down the one who disturbs him.   a name unearths itself from the recesses of information retained,  of banners and 𝒕𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏𝒔 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔭𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔯𝔴𝔢𝔟𝔰 painstakingly arranged.   it was his wont 𝚝𝚘 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜,  as it was t̳h̳e̳ ̳k̳i̳n̳g̳'̳s̳ to drink and lech.

𝐚𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭,  nor does he return the well-wishes.   𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝖜𝖞𝖒𝖔𝖓𝖉𝖘,  they would come too late.   fire,  he lacks not.   and j̳o̳y̳ ̳s̳t̳r̳a̳y̳s̳ ̳f̳a̳r̳ ̳f̳r̳o̳m̳ ̳h̳i̳s̳ ̳h̳e̳a̳r̳t̳h̳.   nothing but a nod is given in acknowledgement ; the prince’s testing gaze 𝖜𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖔𝖜𝖘 𝖎𝖓 the dragging silence.   not quite biting,  but 𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 and of kindness :      ❛❛  what do you want 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒆?  ❜❜

[darzyr]

he'd never forgive me for canonising the fact that he sometimes still has poor depth perception and will tip over cups and bottles / bump into people hihi

[darzyr]

i think modern almond has to either be something insanely boring like a corporate officer or treasurer OR like. the guy in the archeology documentary that's a little too intense and sexy to be conveying any information to you in a normal way (he's wearing leather pants for some reason its a whole thing)

[darzyr]

ʻMOTHER, WE ARE YOUR DAUGHTERS. WE REMEMBER. WE REMAIN.ʼ ↪ dialogue from a day of fallen night by samantha shannon. ⁽ᵖᵃʳᵗ ⁰¹/??⁾ change pronouns/gendered terms as needed.

who comes at this hour?

we might be able to stop each other falling, or we could pull each other down.

your realm is weeping.

i apologise. i thought you resembled someone i knew.

talk to me a while, before i fall asleep.

do you dream of being queen?

it's too late. everyone has seen.

be quick if you cannot be kind.

i come from a village stricken by drought.

are you very angry?

every year, i expect to suddenly feel as though i could say anything and be convinced i was right, and not be terrified that someone will peck holes in my words. as if i've set, or been kilned into shape. still, i never do.

don't lock your heart too fast, (name).

for this, i have crossed the sea.

when i first left, i understood how wide and glorious the world must be; how many marvels it must hold.

a spark can be coaxed into a brighter flame, if given the chance.

be quick, for both our sakes.

this place bores me. no offence.

i was waiting for night to fall.

youthful folly can be excused and buried.

i see you are set on this, but be careful. you could be hurt.

i don't need anyone to save me. all i ever ask is that you not abandon me.

let her never think of this place as a cage.

some would drink of the sweet wine until they drowned.

i believe i have this dance.

i am vexed by your presence.

this mistake is a small part of your life. it does not define it.

it has been some time since i last had peace.

i have a proposal. one i must make in confidence.

fire for your hearth, and joy for your hall.

one of you has sense, at least.

i'd rather make a sport of counting all the signs you miss.

i mean to always tell you when you do foolish things.

i would like you to tell me a story.

let the bastard come.

stay with me, lover.

am i such a fool?

it's not my place to teach you right from wrong. you ought to know it well by now.

i'm sure you would be happy to keep a close watch on a beautiful woman.

if duty takes you from each other, then you must bear the separation.

courage, my love.

you appeal to my heart.

i knew i could rely on you.

your courtesies are hollow, then?

i resent your accusation.

i see you came armed. you must fear me.

you're always so good to me, (name). even when i'm a fool.

i would have hurled myself in after her.

fine garments, i can have made. food and drink, i can provide. what i cannot give is the wit and talent of a courtier.

forgive me. you know how i relish the chase.

i will see you in the morrow.

be at ease.

there are rules for survival. you taught me that.

i will remember. i will remain.

nothing comes above your calling.

no god or spirit worth my praise would have allowed this.

i never knew you were fond of gossip.

what did you dream?

may i join you?

let me get you some ginger. it will help.

it makes (name) twice the fool for planting that thought in your mind.

you have been enough of a fool today. i am in no mood for jests.

why were you in the snow? you could have frozen.

i cannot grant that wish.

i have never heard of such wanton cruelty.

i learned what it was to miss you for the first time.

you might find me less quiet if you had ever paused to speak to me.

forgive my undress.

honour is an axe with two blades.

there is a price.

on my oath, it won't happen again.

why do you rouse me?

shake your head and smile all you like.

i told you we'd make a strong match.

it is gentle poison, but poison nonetheless.

you are often stupid. but you fed me.

so long as she found her mark, she would miss the world catching fire in her wake.

may your dreams be clear.

i merely voiced a thought.

you have finally caught my attention.

do you have a name?

i have a thirst.

i will swear it with your blade, in my blood.

you. always you.

why are you lurking here in the dark?

i have no intention of staying awake longer than it takes me to finish this repast.

i saw how you looked at me in the throne room. and how often.

i assume her tongue slipped.

[darzyr]

:] :|

[darzyr]

so. who do we think is going to visit almond at aIys' ego death airbnb..... people are saying paddy will come back but i think it's going to be Iuke, babemond (Ieo ashton) and tgc

[darzyr]

he has been shunning the sun. even now, delegated to the gardens by maesters with wringing hands, he perches in the shade atop a rough-hewn balustrade, facing away from the biting light. the blaze disorients him. when he walks he sways, off-kilter, and frequently bumps into things. sunlight glares in an eye no longer there, and, without thinking, he'll try to squint, but can’t. so, aemond sticks to dim, familiar corridors, to shadows cast by massive stone walls, and to his room, incense-dense and cool and quiet. ‘a boy must take the air and walk in the sun to regain his strength’, they'd tell him, shrinking behind one another, afeared of his wrath   ‒‒   or that of vhagar, dread-queen. has a boy not taken enough? must a boy still heed these petty warnings, when a boy was c̳h̳o̳s̳e̳n̳ ̳b̳y̳ ̳a̳ ̳g̳o̳d̳?

the tome in aemond’s lap snaps shut ; his only acknowledgement of @heireign's approach. her voice is chips of ice slicing his skin, though not inherently unkind. she will pretend to speak of anything but the blade in her son’s hand, and the biting ( though true ) words in aemond’s mouth. she will observe one neutral conversation, take his shrinking for submission, for truce. and then she’ll never pay him any mind again, satisfied. this will be her mistake. ( aemond hates her. she is his sister. )      ❛❛  history is made up of songs.  ❜❜

scorn broils in him, twists his mouth. she cared not that her brat had disfigured him. the loss of his eye was something that she waved away with one bejewelled hand, quicker to interrogate him. if ever aemond looked to her with love and admiration, he would now forever deny it.      ❛❛  sister.  ❜❜      it is a bitter term, ordinarily calling for a bow, an acknowledgement of station. aemond abandons the tome of tales, slips from the balustrade and does no such thing. he makes sure to show her the site of his injury, pink-raw skin stitched together, swollen.      ❛❛  have you no songs about you?  ❜❜      ( there are ballads about him, he knows, growing like patches of moss across king’s landing. songs of vhagar’s choice, about the price he paid for her in blood. )

[darzyr]

im sweating