#━━ ✷ 〉 interactions / sigilsongs .

[drcanerys]

@sigilsongs asked: ❛ if only you knew how much you truly mean to me. ❜ — from daerax

Dragonkeepers.   The   name   is   one   from   Viserys   old   stories   but   the   order   was   thought to   be   gone.   After   the   dragons   danced   and   they   died,   no   one   wrote   any   longer   about   the   dragons.   They   say   many   left,   when   Rhaenyra   resorted   to   have   more   dragonriders   in   the   war   that   ended   with   most   dragons   dead,   the   order   refused.   Others   say   they   selfishly   led   the   dragons   to   their   death   but   now   before   her,   some   of   them   stood.   Hail   from   Asshai   they   say   and   she   remembers   the   key   words   told   to   her;   in   Asshai   she   would   found   her   secrets.   Who   she   is,   how   to   speak   of   dragons.   "I   am   no   savior,   Daerax   of   Old   Valyria.   I'm   just   my   brother's   heir,   and   rightful   queen   of   the   Seven   Kingdoms."   And   what   she   had   taken   on   this   side   of   the   sea   to   prove   her   worth.  

"But   I   believe,   if   you   are   who   you   say   you   are,   then   you   might   help   me   with   my   dragons   before   I   sail   to   Westeros."   There   is   a   short   pause   as   the   Queen   walks   down   to   be   eye   level   with   the   Dragonkeeper   and   his   order.   Amethyst   eyes   look   upon   for   a   moment   before   nodding.   "I   been   able   to   ride   Drogon,   but   while   Viserion   and   Rhaegal   bond   with   me,   they   are   considered   wild.   Perhaps   you   can   help   me   with   that."   The   dragon   must   have   three   heads,   she   been   told.   But   as   far   as   she   been   told,   there   is   only   one   Targaryen   like   her.   Is   she   meant   to   give   her   dragons   to   bastards   who   would   betray   her   like   they   did   Rhaenyra?   "Who   truly   has   enough   Targaryen   blood   for   them   to   become   riders?   Who   can   I   trust?"

[d0wager]

Alicent   stood   with   poised   composure,   her   delicate   hands   clasped   before   her   as   King   Viserys   delivered   the   news   that   sent   ripples   through   the   court.   The   Great   Hall   was   abuzz   with   whispers   and   gasps   as   the   announcement   echoed:   she   was   to   wed   Prince   Daemon   Targaryen.   A   flicker   of   emotion   crossed   her   father,   Otto   Hightower's,   face—an   uncharacteristic   display   of   displeasure.   Yet,   Alicent   masked   her   true   feelings   behind   a   quiet   mask,   her   heart   a   swirl   of   suppressed   excitement.   The   Prince's   desire   to   annul   his   marriage   to   Rhea   Royce   was   granted   but   only   if   he   proved   himself   to   the   crown   with   a   new   marriage,   and   it   seems   that   King   Viserys   thought   she   would   be   a   good   bride   to   the   Rogue   Prince.  

His   fiery   spirit,   his   defiance   of   convention,   and   the   raw   charisma   he   exuded   had   captivated   her   from   afar.   Now,   as   fate   would   have   it,   she   was   to   be   his   bride.   The   prospect   sent   a   thrill   through   her   that   she   dared   not   show,   knowing   full   well   the   delicate   politics   at   play.

Alicent   made   her   way   to   Daemon’s   chambers.   She   had   been   informed   that   he   was   aware   of   their   engagement   and   now,   with   a   heart   pounding   in   her   chest,   she   approached   the   door.   She   knocked   lightly,   and   the   door   swung   open   almost   immediately,   revealing   Daemon’s   intense   gaze.   She   had   wore   her   best;   she   heard   he   favors   a   woman   from   Lys,   a   dancer,   often   wearing   white   and   greys   and   her   dress,   alike   the   one   from   the   tournament,   was   on   the   same   color   and   shape   as   those   of   the   Lyseni   dancing,   hoping   at   least,   he   will   be   intrigued.  

“Your   Grace,”   she   began,   her   voice   steady   despite   her   nerves.   “I   wondered   what   you   thought   of   our   betrothal.”   Her   eyes   searched   his,   seeking   any   hint   of   his   true   feelings.   “I   do   hope   you   do   not   find   me   displeasing.   I   am   aware   of   your   dislike   for   my   father's.   .   .opinions.”   she   asked,   her   tone   softer   now,   almost   tentative.   Everyone   knew   of   his   disdain   for   his   first   wife,   the   Lady   of   the   Vale.   It   was   no   secret   that   their   marriage   had   been   devoid   of   love   and   warmth. @sigilsongs ft. daemon.

[isefyres-archive]

"It has been a while since you gave me the honor to dance with you." — aegon i targaryen (@sigilsongs ) to obsidia celtigar

"I   was   under   the   impression   you   did   not   wish   to,   Your   Grace."   She   greets   with   a   small   bow,   amusement   and   curiosity   spread   upon   her   lips.   It   had   been   a   while   since   the   King   was   seen   on   the   feasts   or   participated   in   the   dances   at   court.   Queen   Rhaenys   was   a   force   of   nature   that   seemed   to   force   the   King   out   of   his   shell   to   have   some   fun   outside   of   his   kingly   duties.   "And   I   believed   I   have   danced   for   you,   not   with   you,   Your   Grace."   She   did   at   the   festivities   of   his   coronation   and   the   announcement   of   the   pregnancy   of   his   son,   a   Celtigar   tradition   for   the   daughters   to   bring   fortune.  

Perhaps   she   had   danced   with   him   once,   but   he   had   been   sullen   then,   and   one   could   almost   feel   the   hand   of   his   advisors   forcing   his   hand.   This   time   seems   different,   and   her   hand   lands   upon   his   offered   hand.   "It's   a   Valyrian   tune.   My   father   said   you   might   enjoy   it.   A   little   gift   from   House   Celtigar   to   you,   my   King."   Another   one   of   her   Houses'   Valyrian   kept   secrets.   They   withhold   them   as   a   dowry   upon   suitors,   mostly   the   dragons.   Maybe   this   time,   it   will   work.  

She   picks   up   on   her   dress   as   they   move   toward   the   room   to   dance   and   Obsidia   feels   like   a   queen   for   a   fraction   of   a   moment.   "You   are   in   good   graces   today.   Is   it   the   wine   or   have   your   spirits   lifted?"

[kingsl2yer]

💬 // pls pick any from my roster at @sigilsongs

❝Respect   shouldn't   be   hereditary;   it   must   be   earned.❞   it   might   sound   amusing   perhaps,   coming   from   a   lannister,   who   all   pride   themselves   in   their   roar   and   words   as   well   their   history,   always   one   step   behind   the   crown,   nevermind   what   they   do �� to   get   it.   ❝ If   the   respect   is   hereditary   I   learned   it   can   be   easily   dismissed. ❞ for margaery.

[kastadarias]

@sigilsongs asked: "i’ve never met anyone as kind as you." — say Laegon Targaryen, having both survived the Dance

𝐓𝐡𝐞    𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧'𝐬    𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬    𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞    𝐟𝐨𝐫    𝐚    𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭    𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞    𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠    𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧,    𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠    𝐡𝐞𝐫    𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝.    Some    would    say    more    meek    and    docile    than    kind.    Jaehaera    barely    speaks    or    weeps,    simply    does    what    is    expected    of    a    queen,    with    lessons    sprinkled    through    her    life    by    her    grandmother    and    her    mother    and    the    last    oens    from    her    father,    when    the    marriage    was    arranged    with    her    cousin.    "I'm    sure    they    are    kinder    people    in    the    world,    my    prince.    Ones    who    carry    less    burdens    than    I    do."   

That    perhaps    she    does    so    much    out    of    guilt    for    the    damage    her    family    caused.    Most    dragons    are    gone    now    and    Morghul    has    barely    been    rode    because    Aegon    does    not    like    the    sight    of    the    dragons,    and    he    remains    on    the    pit    or    in    Dragonstone,    where    he    at    least    roams    free    with    what    dragonkeepers    remain.    "I    always    heard    your    mother    was    as    fierce    as    she    was    kind."

[myrc3lla-a]

The    weight    of    the    crown    is    heavy.    But    Arianne    had    said    she    was    born    to    be    a    queen.    What    a    cruel    fate    that    was,    when    this    came    at    the    expense    of    her    little    brother    Tommen's    death.    Sylva    helps    her    dress,    discarded    are    the    more    Dornish    clothes    and    back    are    those    clothes    that    are    more    for    a    queen    of    the    realm.    Her    coronation,    the    true    coronation    was    in    a    few    short    days    but    she    felt    it    was    an    expensive    affair.    "Could    we    not    do    this    in    a    quieter    manner.    The    realm    certainly    does    not    need    more    of    us    spending    their    money    in    a    show    like    a    coronation." 

  She    thought    of    a    parade    through    the    city    and    visiting    all    through,    from    Flea    Bottom    to    the    Crownlands    and    then,    the    best    thing    to    do    would    be    to    make    a    tour    through    the    lands    but    there    is    still    a    war    going    on.    "I    wish    you    could    stay    here    with    me.    All    of    you.    This    court    is    all    full    of    vipers    and    those    who    would    prefer    to    have    me    dead."    At    least    she    is    far    from    her    Uncle    Stannis,    but    there    are    many    things    to    think    of. @sigilsongs ft sylva.

[edrurysvejes]

@arenagods / @sigilsongs asked: [ SHIELD ]: jahaegar of old valyria uses their own body to shield helaena from an attack.

Helaena's   heart   pounded   in   her   chest,   the   chaos   of   the   crowd   swirling   around   her   like   a   storm   she   could   not   control.   She   had   never   seen   the   people   so   angry,   so   feral   in   their   rage.   Her   guards   struggled   to   hold   the   mob   at   bay,   but   it   felt   as   though   the   walls   were   closing   in,   their   jeers   and   the   occasional   tossed   stone   becoming   more   dangerous   by   the   moment.

Before   she   could   draw   her   next   breath,   Jahaegar,   a   descendant   of   old   Valyria   and   fiercely   loyal   to   the   crown,   was   suddenly   at   her   side.   His   tall,   imposing   frame   blocked   her   view   of   the   approaching   attackers.   His   voice   was   steady   but   she   could   not   remember   what   he   said,   only   that   she   was   being   dragged   away.

A   rock   came   hurtling   toward   her,   but   Jahaegar   threw   his   arm   up   just   in   time,   the   sharp   edge   grazing   his   forearm   as   he   shielded   her.   Helaena,   trembling,   clung   to   his   side.   She   was   no   warrior,   no   dragonrider   in   this   moment.

Once   inside,   the   doors   slammed   shut,   and   the   carriage   lurched   forward,   leaving   the   frenzied   mob   behind.   Helaena   could   only   sit   there,   staring   at   Jahaegar   as   he   caught   his   breath,   blood   staining   his   clothes.   "You   saved   me,"   she   whispered,   her   voice   fragile   with   disbelief.   And   then   a   short   pause,   as   she   looks   at   his   arm.   "You   are   hurt."

[zobriesdaria]

@sigilsongs / @arenagods asked: “I could not become a dragon. I am an utter and complete failure.” from Laegon Targaryen

The   wind   carried   the   weight   of   his   words   to   Rhaenyra,   who   had   been   watching   him   in   silence,   her   heart   aching   at   the   sight   of   her   nephew’s   dejected   posture.   She   took   a   step   closer,   her   gaze   softening.   “Laegon,”   she   began   gently,   her   voice   firm   yet   soothing.   “The   bond   with   a   dragon   is   not   something   to   be   rushed.   It   comes   in   its   own   time,   when   both   dragon   and   rider   are   ready.”

Rhaenyra   placed   a   hand   on   his   shoulder,   turning   him   to   face   her.   “You   are   already   a   dragon,   Laegon.   The   fire   is   in   your   blood,   not   just   in   the   bond   you   seek.   Whether   you   claim   a   dragon   today,   tomorrow,   or   never,   that   does   not   make   you   any   less   of   who   you   are.”

She   knows   she   is   aware   that   perhaps   it   comes   less   impactful   from   someone   who   bonded   with   one   since   birth   but   regardless,   lilac   eyes   acknowledged,   “but   our   strength   is   not   measured   by   how   quickly   we   find   our   bond.   Your   time   will   come,   and   if   it   doesn’t,   it   does   not   mean   you   are   a   failure.   You   are   my   nephew,   and   I   know   you   have   the   heart   of   a   dragon.   That   is   something   no   one   can   take   from   you.”

Rhaenyra   smiled,   brushing   a   lock   of   hair   from   his   face.   “Remember   that,   Laegon.   No   dragon   defines   you.   You   define   yourself.”

[isefyres]

@sigilsongs / @arenagods / @sigilsins asked: "I don't give a fuck what the original terms of our arrangement were." from a spicy robert to elia martell

The   hall   was   silent,   its   grandeur   seeming   vast   and   empty,   though   Elia   Martell   could   feel   the   weight   of   every   breath   in   the   air.   Robert   Baratheon’s   presence   loomed   over   her,   his   broad   frame   blocking   any   escape.   His   hand,   rough   and   calloused   from   war   and   hunting,   rested   possessively   on   her   waist.   Warmth   radiated   from   his   touch,   seeping   through   the   thin   fabric   of   her   dress,   burning   against   her   exposed   skin.   She   did   not   pull   away,   but   her   dark   eyes   flicked   around   the   room   in   search   of   someone—anyone.   It   was   futile.   The   hall   was   deserted,   save   for   the   two   of   them.

Elia’s   breath   hitched,   though   her   expression   remained   poised,   ever   the   princess   of   Dorne,   though   her   pulse   raced.   “Our   arrangement   was   for   one   night,”   she   whispered,   her   voice   soft   but   clear.   She   let   the   words   linger   between   them,   hoping   to   remind   him,   to   calm   the   storm   she   saw   building   in   his   eyes.   But   there   was   something   else   behind   his   gaze—something   darker,   more   dangerous.   She   knew   where   his   mind   had   gone.

Rhaegar.   The   she-wolf   girl.   The   whispers   that   reached   even   the   farthest   corners   of   Harrenhal   had   not   spared   her,   nor   had   the   quiet   rage   she   herself   had   harbored   against   the   man   she   once   called   husband.   Her   fingers   curled   lightly   against   Robert's   chest,   her   body   betraying   the   icy   facade   she   tried   to   maintain.

"You   behave   like   this   because   of   him,   don’t   you?"   Elia's   words   were   barely   more   than   a   breath.   Her   thoughts   spiraled   with   the   image   of   Rhaegar   and   Lyanna,   the   scandal   that   had   set   kingdoms   aflame.   She   had   raged   too,   in   her   own   quiet,   refined   way.   But   that   rage   was   turning   into   something   else—something   dangerous   beneath   the   stag’s   touch.   Robert's   grip   tightened,   possessive,   jealous.   She   could   feel   the   heat   between   them   rising,   not   just   from   anger   but   from   the   raw   tension   that   neither   of   them   had   intended.   And   still,   Elia   did   not   move   away.   It   was   a   man's   touch,   a   man   who   wanted   what   he   wanted.   Rhaegar   had   not   touched   her   since   Aegon's   birth,   and   with   this,   she   felt   disgraced,   and   the   stag   before   her,   pressed   between   her   legs,   is   asking   her   to   give   herself   again.   "You   are   a   greedy   man,   my   lord."

[d0reah]

@sigilsongs / @sigilsongs asked: against a wall, doreah x daenerys

her   khaleesi   is   always   ever   so   curious   is   she   not?   nights   are   growing   colder   and   lonelier   and   was   she   not   there   to   help   her   be   warm   when   she   had   to?   doreah   does   it   with   delight   as   she   was   freed   by   her   even   if   doreah   enjoys   her   profession.   the   queen   had   seen   her   collection   of   toys,   things   to   bring   more   pleasure   and   to   be   used,   to   tease   another   woman,   a   fake   shaped   cock   that   straps   around   the   woman's   hips   and   daenerys   ask   her   how   it   works   and   doreah   shows   her.   doreah   always   starts   slow,   with   her   mouth   on   the   queen's   cunt,   tasting   her   as   she   grows   wet   around   fingers   and   lips   before   pressing   her   against   the   wall,   a   small   sense   of   pride   as   she   grows   aware   that   she   has   one   power   over   the   queen,   and   that   is   her   prowess   on   this.  

she   presses   herself,   breast   pressed   to   bare   back   and   the   fake   appendage   slick   with   the   queen's   own   wetness   and   she   teases   her   entrance.   "⸻   now   breathe,   khaleesi.   and   let   me   fuck   you.   show   you   how   it   works."   it   slides   with   ease.   "most   of   it   goes   inside   you   but   as   you   move   with   me?   a   small   part   touches   me,   bringing   me   pleasure   too."   and   she   feels   it   then,   around   her   clit,   touching   her   as   she   begins   to   thrust   inside   daenerys   and   making   slow   circles   to   let   her   adjust   to   her   movements   and   size   and   the   odd   feeling.  

one   hand   grips   on   a   waist,   while   the   other   moves   to   bend   the   queen's   back   gently,   as   she   presses   further.   "how   does   it   feel?   do   you   want   me   to   go   faster?   slower   until   you   come   around   me?"   doreah   speaks   and   thrust   upward   once   again,   shivering   in   turn   as   she   moans   at   the   feeling.

[snoblomst]

@sigilsins / @sigilsongs asked: josera takes val from behind, josera snow and val .

she   had   fought   him   with   claws   and   teeth.   handsome   northern   men   are   no   stranger   to   her,   and   per   her   own   free   folk   laws,   the   man   who   had   taken   her   captive   now   own   her.   she   tease   him   for   it,   that   he   could   now   lay   a   claim   on   her,   use   her   as   he   pleased   her   until   fantasies   had   become   reality   when   harsh   kisses   where   placed   upon   her   for   a   brief   moment,   her   own   teeth   nibbling   at   his   lip   to   see   that   fire   the   northern   men   have   as   she   is   turned   over.   "don't   ruin   my   silk   dresses."   val   jest   in   turn,   her   hands   had   been   taken   both   and   bound   by   her   back   by   one   of   his   own   as   she   feels   the   cold   air   brush   her   skin,   overwhelmed   by   then   the   feeling   of   his   cock   warming   her   cunt   as   he   brushes   and   make   her   wet.  

he   does   not   seem   intend   to   take   her   there   though   and   val   knows   how   tantalizing   the   sight   might   be,   as   her   body   bends   and   arches   her   waist   for   him,   his   feet   keeping   her   legs   apart.   "is   this   how   you   fuck   your   women?   are   you   imagining   someone   else,   lord   snow?"   val   quivers   when   he   finally   begins   to   seat   inside   her,   throbbing   cock   inside   her   and   making   her   moan   in   turn,   as   face   is   pressed   to   the   wooden   frame   of   the   walll.  

"⸻fuck.   yes.   you   wanna   hurt   me?   keep   going."   and   she   delights   in   the   feeling   as   he   moves   in   turn,   the   slap   of   his   skin   against   her   own   as   he   thrust   upward   making   her   eyes   close   in   delight   and   moan,   and   she   makes   sure   it's   loud   so   all   can   hear.

[myrc3lla]

@sigilsins / @sigilsongs asked: in a hallway, near a party. myrcella and edmyn

the   lady,   once   princess,   attended   the   gathering   at   the   king's   request.   her   uncles   were   all   there   as   well   her   father,   though   he   is   surely   somewhere   else   with   the   former   hand   of   the   king   or   with   some   other   mind   elsewhere,   giving   her   yet   another   bastard   sibling.   regardless,   cella   had   found   herself   the   entire   gathering   with   stolen   glances   with   lord   edmyn   tully.   he   had   been   on   her   sight   before   and   his   touch   had   lingered   once   or   twice   and   she   could   not   help   to   notice   how   handsome   of   a   man   he   was,   age   wise   he   might   be   as   her   uncle   jaime   but   one   cannot   avoid   that   water   steel   gaze   when   it   was   on   her.

  it   made   her   feel   a   pool   on   her   belly   and   a   quiver   between   her   legs   and   she   had   been   wise   enough   to   read   to   the   point   to   know   that   this   is   more   than   just   a   young   maiden's   blush.   and   when   she   finds   herself   between   a   wall   and   his   frame   she   can't   help   but   moan   in   a   delighted   quiver   her   cup   now   on   the   ground   forgotten   as   his   lips   had   attached   to   her   mouth   and   his   hand   had,   somehow,   with   expertise,   shifted   some   of   her   silk   away   from   her   shoulders   so   his   hand   sneaked   inside   her   breast   and   let   her   feel   his   touch.  

"my   lord   ⸻   edmyn."   she   whispers   against   his   lips   as   leg   hiked   around   his   waist   and   despite   protest,   her   hands   help   gathering   skirts,   made   of   dornish   silk   and   so   easily   undone.   "anyone   could   see.   or   hear."   myrcella   blushes   at   the   thought   as   she   knows   herself,   and   a   sentiment   makes   her   aware   she   is   not   exactly   a   quiet   one,   specially   when   his   mouth   presses   over   her   pulse   and   his   fingers   tease   her   cunt   and   slip   inside,   causing   myrcella   to   inhale   deeply   and   hum   in   delight,   her   nails   digging   on   his   arms.   "you   make   me   a   wanton   woman."

[d0wager]

Dragonstone   was   imposing,   and   she   was   surprised   he   was   allowed   to   make   home   there   while   Rhaenyra   was   meant   to   be   heir.   But   guess   she   had   to   remain   in   King's   Landing   in   order   to   prepare   herself   for   the   throne.   She   does   not   mind   the   change,   fresh   air   and   less   filled   walls,   court   life   seems   gone   now   she   remains   there   now   as   the   man's   soon   to   be   bride.   She   supposes   they   are   there   to   be   wed   on   the   tradition   of   Valyrian   weddings,   she   does   not   see   Daemon   bend   and   pray   to   the   Seven.   "Some   of   these   are   in   Valyrian."   She   said   looking   at   a   few   of   the   manuscripts,   treading   carefully   the   pages   on   her   hand.   They   show   drawings   of   dragonriders   and   Valyria,   her   attention   to   the   songs   that   had   been   translated   and   the   ones   speaking   of   weddings.  

"Do   you   think   I   would   look   good   in   a   dress   like   this?"   She   jest,   showing   him   the   drawing   of   the   Valyrian   costume   dress   and   headdress,   she   is   so   used   to   wear   neutral   colors   but   the   idea   of   wearing   his   colors   thrills   her   regardless.   "Issi   īlon   naejot.   .   .dīnagon   kesīr?"Are   we   to.   .   .marry   here?   She   frowns   a   little   as   she   did   her   best   to   keep   her   pronunciation   as   she   was   instructed   but   she   is   not   quite   sure   she   said   it   right.   She   does   not   wish   for   her   father   to   attend.

@sigilsongs asked: ❝ They have an astonishing library. Since you are so fond of reading, I thought you might join me? ❞ from Daemon, in their engagement verse 🙏🏾

  And   there   is   a   short   pause   as   hands   pass   over   another   drawing,   Balerion   and   Valyria   but   her   mind   is   focused   on   the   impending   nuptials.   "Will   there   be   a   bedding   ceremony?"   Alicent   cannot   hide   her   blush   at   the   thought   to   be   seen   or   heard   by   someone   who   would   report   back   to   her   father.   But   it   is   westerosi   tradition,   to   confirm   a   bedding   had   taken   place   and   after   his   marriage   with   Rhea   Royce,   surely   the   crown   wants   to   confirm   he   did   his   duty,   so   did   she.   "If   so,   I   just   wish   to   be   prepared.   Septas   had   explained   a   few   things   but   never   much."   And   what   they   did   only   refer   to   a   man's   pleasure   and   made   it   sound   rather   painful.

[brokcncrowns]

@sigilsongs // for Perianne

"Right! The game is simple," the princess said with a clap of her hands, gathering the attention of her companions.

It was the usual lot- Jonah, Stinger, Roy, and Perianne, all present with the exception of Alys Turnberry, who had claimed a stomach ache that night. Saera had whined, raged, and lamented, but her dear Sweetberry could not be moved. Reluctantly, Saera had sent word Stinger to bring a third maiden to even out their little group. The girl he had chosen was remarkably dull but the princess didn't seem to care much. She was simply there to keep things balanced.

"We form a circle and then we each pick a stick," Saera started as she raised a small handful of painted wooden slats. "Whoever draws the shortest straw is blindfolded and put in the middle. Then we spin them around and set them loose to guess who is who. If they guess right, they win the turn. And just to make sure things are extra fun, if you lose... you have to kiss your opponent. "

[asshaid]

@sigilsongs asked: You make it hard to look away. - from Edric

"You   sound   unsure   if   that   is   a   good   or   a   bad   thing."   Lips   are   always   curved   into   a   smile,   ruby   like   eyes   stare   back   into   the   bastard   born   with   a   certain   awareness.   They   all   say   the   same   thing   about   her,   do   they   not?   Fear   her,   love   her,   want   her,   hate   her.   It   all   steems   from   the   same   place   for   her   and   Melisandre   knows.   Regardless,   it's   always   fire   to   her.   "Do   you   find   me   attractive   or   you   are   scared   to   look   away   for   what   I   might   do?

"   Her   voice   carries   as   she   walks   closer   to   the   younger   man   her   hands   rest   on   her   stomach,   inspecting   him.   Unlike   Stannis,   he   seems   to   favor   the   stormlander   looks   she   heard   of,   those   of   Robert   Baratheon,   whose   blood   runs   through   his   veins.   "Are   you   afraid   of   doing   more   than   looking,   perhaps?   Because   I   belong   to   no   one   but   my   God   and   myself."

[reinerose]

"You   look   like   Renly.   Just   a   bit.   Right   on   the   nose."   That   was   a   good   thing.   Edric   Storm,   they   tell   her,   bastard   of   Robert   Baratheon,   but   he   doesn't   look   like   the   other   she   knew   of.   Gendry   looked   like   Robert,   but   it   seems   Edric   had   inherited   more   delicate   features   but   it   was   hard   to   ignore   the   blue   eyes   and   hair.   Baratheon   genes   always   seem   to   stand   out.   "If   sanctuary   is   what   you   seek,   you   may   find   it   here   in   Highgarden.   I   too   I   am   in   hiding.   The   world   thinks   me   dead."   Among   with   her   family.   But   she   is   planning   already.   She   wonders   if   he   would   join   the   fight   too   or   he   would   prefer   to   remain   in   hiding,   for   she   has   plans,   and   they   involve   going   North.  

"My   brother   has   prepared   you   a   room   and   if   anyone   asks,   you   are   his   new   secretary.   As   you   know,   Willas' mobility   is   not   that   good,   and   it   would   raise   no   eyebrows."   Margaery   speaks   in   turn.   The   former   queen   plains   her   skirt   and   sits,   eyes   on   the   man   before   her.   "But   I   do   need   to   know   your   plans."   A   short   pause   before   she   continues,   her   hands   toying   with   the   ring   on   her   finger,   a   rose,   burnt   by   the   wildfire,   all   that   remain   of   most   of   her   family.  

"Because   I   have   plans   that   require   discretion   and   joining   forces   with   people   who   hold   territories   around   the   Westerlands   and   King's   Landing.   And   some   of   those   people   are   in   alliance   with   some   that   had   cause   you   harm   I   believe."   Those   red   priestess,   she   had   never   seen   one   but   the   Reach   had   their   own   little   witch   in   the   Webber   family   and   she   knows   their   magic   and   shadows   are   nothing   cheap   or   tricks.    @sigilsongs ft. edric.