#ofprevioustimes

[kallistcs]

Helen got up, and Paris contemplated stealing her bath for himself. But the water was too cool, even if it wasn't cold, just yet, and though he could ask for more hot water brought, Helen's comment thoroughly distracted him.

Sitting down in the tub, Paris just watched Helen go through the motions of drying herself up at first, bewildered like a sacrificial bull struck right before the knife hits. Light slid down her limbs, caught highlights in her dark hair, and Paris sat there, watching the gleam of Helen's skin hair, drawn to it, yet his thoughts were of something else entirely than what heat was slowly stirring in his loins.

She must be wrong, surely.

Except...

Shaking his head, Paris too got out of the sunken tub and snatched up a towel. It was still half-forgotten as he stepped in behind Helen, trailing fingers through her wet hair and pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

"I suppose I do," he agreed quietly, turning that thought, those words, over in his head. "I thought I already did - Troilus, and Lykaon, when he first disappeared... Each were digging out the same hole, like farmers digging out a well, but all that comes up is water that's too bitter to drink. It was grief alone."

Paris kissed Helen's shoulder again, lingering just as much as his slightly baffled words were trailing off as the realization settled. Troilus' death had been so brutal, but though it'd upset him, it had been simple, unmixed grief, and so for Lykaon as well.

Slowly, Paris dried himself off, frowning.

He didn't care about those reasons. Helen clearly did, but her vehemence in this matter meant little to him. The idea that it was supposedly his responsibility because he was the oldest son of Priam and Hecuba with Hektor now dead, and because of whatever dishonour...

Well, whatever she said.

Paris nodded vaguely and said nothing to that. The reason it had to be him, he knew, was not for those reasons, but because none of his brothers would be able to do it because they'd all want to face Achilles in a duel, or similar. None of them would be able to kill that mad dog in that way.

"With Apollo beside me, I can't see how I'll fail," Paris said breezily. But when he met Helen's gaze again, the grim cast to his smile was back. "I'll do it however it's necessary to gain the results we need. I'll certainly not meet him like Hektor did, like my brothers wish to do. I want him dead, Helen, and I care little for the honour and glory that might come from facing him fully on the battlefield. If I have to take him from the shadows of the Scaean gates, I will - or even if I have to kill him off the battlefield itself."

The glory and fame to had from the battlefield had never interested him as it was. Now - even less so. If his name was cursed because he killed the greatest of the Achaeans' noble warriors with an arrow to the back from the shadows... well, at least Achilles would be dead.

That would still probably be the potentially easier way to do it. If he had to figure out how to lure Achilles somewhere to kill him out of battle, he had no plan, yet.

[nav1gating]

@ofprevioustimes liked for a starter from alicent hightower. & gets one for helaena.

MOTHERHOOD HAS NEVER COME NATURALLY TO ALICENT - it was simply another duty she was expected to fulfil. Daughter , Wife , Mother. THE THREE THINGS SHE HAD BEEN TAUGHT SHE MUST PERFECT. Yet she'd never felt farther from her children. She has never been able to understand her son's - the distance between herself and them growing steeper by the second. She fears she has lost the ability to reign them in & that the destruction each one caused , would only worsen with time.

Helaena however , was different in the sense that the Dowager Queen saw herself in her daughter. UNDERSTOOD HER STRUGGLES & carried the guilt of knowing she had caused them , herself. There were moments where she considered taking Helaena and Jaehaera , and fleeing Kings Landing. Taking a ship to some unknown land.

IF SHE HAD LISTENED TO HER HUSBANDS WISHES , of course - she would not need to flee at all. Still , her fathers voice echoes in her mind poisoning her thoughts as it always has. Such a thought was naieve , of course they wouldn't have been safe. HER CHILDREN WOULD HAVE ALWAYS BEEN A THREAT TO THE LINE.

As she enters the gardens , her gaze finds Helaena , her heart softening and saddening at the same time. The Queen had seemed much like a ghost since the brutal murder of her son & it seemed even the blooming of her favourite flowers could do nothing to cheer her up. Instead , Helaena seems to be looking right through them.

"Sweetling - you must be cold. Come inside , i'll have a fire drawn for you." Flowers or no Flowers , Alicent could feel the chill in the wind. THE REMINDER THAT WINTER WAS COMING - as those loathsome Starks often uttered.

[storiesofthenight]

@ofprevioustimes liked for a short starter. [Verse info.]

Being back in King’s Landing was weird after all this time. In a sense, it all looked familiar, and yet … everything was different. Perhaps with time, his memories would help him find his way around again, but right now, he was simply disoriented. He had just undergone a thorough check-up by the Maesters and was now seated outside with a plate of lemoncakes  before him, feeling out of place in his own home. Reaching out for one of the cakes, he took a bite and let out a soft sigh, still unable to believe that he was back home.

[wayfaringstrangxr]

@ofprevioustimes asked for angst

He can still feel her thin wrist in his hand. How close was he from breaking her bones? Of breaking her? For the first time in a long time, Aemond felt ashamed. The memory of her light touch on his arm upon facing Meleys at Aegon's coronation, made him grip even tighter on the dagger in his belt. For a moment, the anger inside was directed to himself; at his failures, especially towards her.

Still... at the end of each day, Aemond feels like he's the only one putting any effort to keep them alive, to prevent their family from being slaughtered. These conflicting feelings only increase the anger within.

The Prince regent pace fast towards where her protector indicated she was. Aemond stood in the shadows for a minute, looking at Helaena silhouette, bathed by the moonlight.

"Helaena…" His voice was low, as if he wasn't worthy of even saying her name. As if of all the pain she'd been through, he's the one inflicting the worst. "Sister… listen to me." His tone was almost a plead. "I know you have no wish to be part in this. But our family needs you." Aemond reach for her arm, but doesn't touch her. How long until he lose his temper and hurt her again? "I will not allow what happened to Jaehaerys to ever happen again, but if we don't fight-"

Should have he died in Jaehaerys place? Would the war come to an end and Helaena would be happier?

"Look at me..." The Prince utter another plead, still not laying a hand on her.

[godresembled]

@ofprevioustimes asked ❝ [INJURY] ❞

His jaw grit as he refused to flinch or wince from the pain of Helaena cleaning the cut. He had been too haughty, had gone unscathed in a sparring match for too long. In the end he had won, but not without the gash currently on his cheek. "You don't have to do this," he murmured as he looked at her, mesmerized as he always was by her lilac eyes and silver-gold eyelashes. Somehow the Targaryen looks suited her even more than the rest of them, he always thought.

His gaze fell from her eyes to avoid falling under her spell, just to settle on her lips. His determination not to move began to soften, especially when she pressed the cloth a little too hard against his wound. Pain had always made him do something, and this time it was something much gentler.

Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to hers, forgetting all about the burn sting along his cheekbone.

[evershiftingmuse]

@ofprevioustimes

The violet gaze of the Valyrian man stares off away from the crowd he was standing in. He had been so used to being isolated that standing amongst others was both fearful... and uncertain. It was as if the world was moving past him by accepting he was there and yet ignoring him all the same. "Useless…" Viserys tells himself of the people that surrounded him. All the while he knew his sister was in better shape than he was with the situation at hand. "How do you stand it? Look at these people, as if they are around nothing more than their own kind." As if they were to stop and take in the effect of what his name might have on the world.

"We are Targaryens; all they care about is…themselves." He spoke as if it was a bad thing but still he sighs as if the world was against him because everyone lived their lives. "You ask me here, for what purpose sister?" Viserys decided to be quick as he turns himself completely to the woman.

"Do not think I am here because I care of plight for these...people."

[drageulv]

@ofprevioustimes asked: “A king is not his throne nor his crown.” - from dany

Jon   met   Daenerys’s   gaze,   her   words   lingering   between   them   like   smoke   over   a   battlefield.   A   king   is   not   his   throne   nor   his   crown.   He   knew   that.   He   had   never   needed   a   throne   to   lead,   never   sought   a   crown   to   define   him.   But   the   North   had   seen   what   a   Targaryen   on   the   throne   could   do.   “They   won’t   kneel,”   Jon   said,   his   voice   steady,   resigned.   “Not   again.”

He   could   still   hear   the   whispers   in   the   halls   of   Winterfell,   in   the   camps   along   the   Kingsroad,   in   the   quiet   conversations   of   lords   who   had   followed   him   beyond   the   Wall.   The   North   had   bent   the   knee   once   to   a   dragon,   and   they   had   been   burned   for   it.

The   scars   of   the   past   still   ran   deep—Harrenhal,   Summerhall,   the   echoes   of   dragonfire   that   had   left   nothing   but   ash   in   their   wake.   And   then   there   was   his   father.   Rhaegar   Targaryen   had   loved   and   lost,   and   the   cost   had   been   war,   blood,   and   a   North   that   would   never   forget.   “They   fought   for   independence   before,   and   they’ll   fight   for   it   again   if   they   have   to.”   He   exhaled,   shaking   his   head.   “I   can’t   ask   them   to   do   otherwise.”

Jon   had   come   to   the   same   conclusion   Daenerys   had—power   was   not   in   a   crown,   nor   in   a   throne   of   swords.   It   was   in   the   people   who   chose   to   follow.   And   the   North   had   made   its   choice.   For   now,   it   would   stand   alone.   "If   they   wish   to   kneel   and   call   you   their   Queen   once   this   is   all   over,   then   I   will   grant   them.   But   the   North   chose.   The   North   chose   to   kneel   for   Aegon   the   Conqueror   and   chose   to   rise   independent   again."

[snowfyres]

@ofprevioustimes asked: "It is not love I ask for, only loyalty." - alicent @ viserys

Viserys   sighed,   the   weight   of   the   crown   pressing   not   just   against   his   brow   but   deep   into   his   very   bones.   The   fire   crackled   in   the   hearth,   but   it   did   little   to   warm   the   cold   that   had   settled   between   them.   Alicent   stood   before   him,   straight-backed   and   composed,   but   he   could   hear   the   plea   beneath   her   words.

Viserys   looked   at   her   then,   truly   looked   at   her.   Once,   she   had   been   a   comfort   to   him,   a   quiet   presence   in   the   long   nights   when   grief   had   hollowed   him   out.   Now,   she   stood   apart,   a   queen   in   all   but   closeness.   Her   green   dress   caught   the   candlelight,   and   for   a   moment,   she   reminded   him   of   her   father—of   the   way   Otto   had   once   spoken   to   him   in   measured   tones,   urging   reason,   urging   duty.

But   she   was   not   Otto,   and   he   was   not   the   man   he   had   been.   "My   loyalty   has   never   wavered,"   he   said,   his   voice   softer   than   he   intended,   though   the   meaning   was   firm.   "You   are   my   wife,   and   I   have   given   you   sons—strong,   worthy   sons.   But   Rhaenyra   is   my   heir.   That   has   not   changed.   That   will   not   change."

How   often   had   they   circled   this   argument,   the   same   plea   met   with   the   same   answer?   He   knew   what   she   wanted,   what   those   around   her   whispered:   a   son   should   follow   a   father.   Aegon   should   sit   the   Iron   Throne.   And   yet,   he   could   not   do   it.   "She   is   my   firstborn,"   Viserys   continued,   leaning   forward   as   pain   ached   in   his   joints.   "Named   before   gods   and   men,   before   all   of   Westeros.   I   will   not   betray   her.   I   will   not   dishonor   my   word."

Viserys   closed   his   eyes   for   a   long   moment.   He   knew   the   fears   she   carried,   the   future   she   envisioned—the   bloodshed   that   might   come.   But   his   choice   had   been   made   long   ago,   and   he   would   not   undo   it   now.   "Their   place   is   secured,"   he   said   at   last.   "As   long   as   I   live,   no   harm   will   come   to   them.   And   when   I   am   gone…"   He   exhaled   slowly,   meeting   her   gaze   once   more.   "When   I   am   gone,   Rhaenyra   will   be   queen.   That   is   the   will   of   the   king."

[unbeleveable]

@ofprevioustimes gets a rhaenys starter for alicent

Ever since being forced to watch as her beloved dragon's head was paraded through the streets of King's Landing, Rhaenys had been listless. She spent her days lying on the thin pallet in her cell, the only comfort offered to her, barely touching the hard bread and gruel that was provided once a day. It hurt to move even if she had the desire, with her ribs badly broken and third-degree burns covering her body.

The princess was in the same position, facing the wall with her back to the door, when the sound footsteps approached. They were too light to be that of the guards, indicating that of a woman, which prompted her to try to turn, only for her to end up grimacing and stifling pained noises. Regardless, she managed to catch a glimpse of her visitor as they came to a stop outside her cell.

The Dowager Queen.

Rhaenys' mouth curved into a tiny, sharp smile of greeting and there was an edge to her hoarse voice. "Your Grace. What a surprise."

[audaciiae]

receiver finds sender stood over a body - kass & apollo

Apollo is silent as he approaches Hektor's funeral pyre, surprised to find Kassandra still lingering, too. He was hoping to grieve in solitude, but alas...

How odd, he thinks, that such a horrific thing should bring them back in each other's company. He crosses his arms, trying not to betray the storm of emotions that rushes through him. He had loved Hektor in his own way, in the way of a selfish, demanding god. This was always fated to happen, but it doesn't mean that it doesn't hurt all the same.

Deep down, he wonders if he had been too cruel to Kassandra. There's nothing to be done about it now, even if parts of him wouldn't regret his decision. If he had not cursed her, where would they be now? He lets out a long breath, slowly looking over at her.

"Troy is doomed," he finally says, shaking his head. "And there is nothing I can do for it."

[nav1gating]

@ofprevioustimes liked for a starter from jaime lannister.

HE HAS NEVER HAD MUCH OF A SAY WITHIN THE LIVES OF HIS CHILDREN - and he had detached himself from the notion of fatherhood a long time ago. Not that he'd had much of a choice. It wasn't as if he could claim them as his own , regardless. THE SHAME IT WOULD BRING TO THE HOUSE OF LANNISTER ; coupled with the fact their very existence was an act of treason within itself , had made lies & secrecy , necessary.

Besides , if Jaime were to look at it too much - he would find himself buried in a shame he had long since taught himself to discard. SHAME HAD NO PLACE WITHIN THE HOUSE OF LANNISTER , they were lions , surrounded by sheep.

Yet , as he stands in the courtyard , watching his 'niece' - he cannot help that small yet sharp pang of guilt that he has fought so hard to ignore. GUILT AT HIS LIES , at the situation they had all found themselves in. Even with Robb Stark dead - his family along with him , there were other threat on the horizon. Jaime doubted Stannis had given up ; THE MAN WAS AS STUBBORN AS HE WAS COLD. No , Stannis Baratheon was not so easily deterred. Perhaps , Jaime thinks - Tyrion had been right. Myrcella would have been better off had she remained in Dorne , had Jaime not insisted on her returning here.

Crossing the courtyard , he glances around , to ensure they were not being overheard. "You are not supposed to go anywhere without your guards , Myrcella. Your Mother would have a fit if she saw you out here alone."

[storiesofthenight]

@ofprevioustimes asked: ❛ i'll stand by you, no matter what challenges may come our way. ❜ helaena to aegon [X]

No matter what challenges. 

It was kind of her to say this, but Aegon couldn’t help but wonder if she had a clue just how difficult things would get. Even if people considered him the rightful heir, there were still those that supported Rhaenyra. Things were going to get bloody. He knew that much. The things he recalled from his history classes told him more than enough to know that people were going to die. 

He closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh before nodding slowly. “Thank you … but I won’t hold you to it.” He admitted, turning to look at her. “If things … go bad, I won’t stop you from leaving if you want to.” Who was he to stop her when he had intended to escape the capital himself before the coronation. Now, … now he felt like he had no choice anymore.

[wayfaringstrangxr]

🕯️- from helaena for all her bros

send me 🕯️to hear my character's inner thoughts about your character.

Aegon

"She's weird sometimes... ok, most of time, but I'm the only one who can pick at her."

Aemond

"I love her ever since I can remember. In the end it'll be us against the world."

Daemon

"The most gentle of souls. I'd die for her."

[godresembled]

@ofprevioustimes asked ❝ ❰❰ GAZE ❱❱ ❞

It had been a long day, but in the pleasant way that comes with inquisitive children who wanted to do everything with their parents. Daemon was certain he had gone over the same explanations three or four times, every time one more child popped up to ask the same question while watching as he cleaned and prepared the dragon clutch he'd brought home.

Finally they had been rounded by the maids to be herded off to bed and he could relax rather oversee attempts at mimicking his movements. Sitting opposite Rhaenyra, he had settled in with one of his favored books about their family's history, feeling the creeping fingers of sleep beginning to take hold. At least until he had looked over at his wife, catching her gaze. She was always beautiful, but the way the firelight illuminated her features made her especially ethereal.

[personaei]

@ofprevioustimes liked for a starter!

the priestess watches the young woman with pity, in silence. the grief that befalls them all is not her fault and yet the blame she will carry for great men never would carry that burden when there was a woman whose shoulders they could drape it across instead. kassandra knows that helen did not ask for this any more than she herself had asked for her gifts.

what terrible horrors could be done in the name of ' love. '

" hail, helen of sparta. do not fear, i bring no prophecy for you, only companionship. " she knew anything she said would be disbelieved, so it was far better to say little and let the silence act as a balm instead.

[ob3ryn]

@ofprevioustimes asked: “Would you find pride a fault or a virtue?” from Myrcella

Oberyn   lips   curled   into   a   knowing   smile,   the   kind   that   held   both   amusement   and   challenge.   He   regarded   Myrcella   with   the   warmth   of   a   man   who   had   seen   much   of   the   world   and   still   delighted   in   the   cleverness   of   those   who   sought   to   understand   it.   “That   depends,”   he   said,   his   voice   smooth   as   Dornish   silk.   “A   man’s   pride   can   be   his   greatest   strength,   or   it   can   be   the   blade   that   cuts   his   own   throat.   It   is   no   different   than   a   sword—wielded   well,   it   is   power.   Wielded   poorly,   it   is   ruin.”   His   dark   eyes   gleamed   as   he   leaned   back,   studying   her.   “Tell   me,   Princess,   do   you   ask   for   the   sake   of   knowledge   or   because   you   already   know   what   you   wish   to   hear?”

He   saw   the   flicker   of   thought   behind   her   golden   brows,   the   way   she   weighed   his   words   before   giving   any   of   her   own.   That,   too,   made   him   smile.   “In   Dorne,   we   do   not   scorn   pride   the   way   the   rest   of   Westeros   does.   We   do   not   tell   our   daughters   to   bow   their   heads   and   our   sons   to   measure   their   worth   in   silence.   We   let   it   burn,   so   long   as   it   does   not   burn   us   whole.   I   think   you   would   like   that.”   He   let   the   moment   linger,   as   warm   as   the   Dornish   sun.   Then,   with   a   tilt   of   his   head,   he   added,   “But   if   you   are   asking   whether   I   find   pride   in   you   a   fault   or   a   virtue,   I   would   say   only   this—it   depends   on   whether   you   let   it   lead   you,   or   whether   you   learn   to   lead   it.”