perfervvidus

[perfervvidus]

(some) locations from the South of Westeros

#⧼ demeanor ⧽ — 𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐌 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐘.

[perfervvidus]

where : the blackwood - bracken apartments within staerdale when : evening, like seven or eight who : gilwood bracken ( @aliquantun​ )

having never gone beyond the westerlands to the west, and the twins to the north, going to the vale was a novelty galena wasn’t fond of — perhaps had she been a guest of the arryn, she would have enjoyed the trip a tiny bit more, but when you join being summoned ( read: intimidated / obligated ) to a dragon’s laird, with the steep heights and rarer air of the vale ( new valyria, whatever the king wanted to call it ), all she could hope is that their sojourn would be a short one. less critical was gyslayne, however, so accustomed she was with the riverlands, it was easy for her to enjoy being far from it, especially when it meant she was coming to court as a so called grown woman ( not in galena’s eyes, no ). the youngest bracken had spent the entire afternoon getting to know same aged friends, and by the time she had arrived to the joint apartments of the blackwood - bracken, she had done so with a smile on her lips, a faint dust of red upon her cheeks and way too much to tell her siblings.

that had been two or three hours ago, and still she talked; lena closed her eyes, bringing a finger to rub at the side of her face, barely keeping a smile up as she indulges on her sister’s words, which cease only when, finally, the door opens to let in the ruling lord bracken, unannounced, not that either of them cared about that. “gilwood.” it is pointed, perfectly paired with a glare. she’s been perfecting the disdainful manner she speaks his horrid name, and shoots him daggers since they were teens, so she’s not even sure he can feel the jab anymore, and yet, she does it all the same. “how kind of you to join us. i thought you’d only come for breakfast, surely the food can hold until then.”

#⧼ dialogue ⧽ — 𝐆𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐀 𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐍.

[perfervvidus]

Devrim Lingnau as Empress Elisabeth of Austria in The Empress

#⧼ demeanor ⧽ — 𝐆𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐀 𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐍.

[perfervvidus]

I call my wife “the missus” because when she’s at work I misses her 😔

#this is 'spouses of the council' coded #⧼ analysis ⧽ — 𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐌 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐘. #feat : seda yildiz dayne.

[perfervvidus]

hisham did not like the red keep — once, he had adored it, when the flaming dreams of joining the most noble guard of the seven kingdoms still sparked in his mind, making him lean over available plants of the imposing castle, in hopes his knowledge of every corner would be of use when he was to serve the king and kingdom. such desires had been extinguished by the time he would become an inconstant regular of the keep, and there was not many sort of sentiments as he watched the castle crumble and burn, while they ran as far away from it as fast as they could. 

and yet, the red keep, and king’s landing, were familiar. not comfortable, but at the very least, a place he knew the ins and outs, with people he did, to a certain degree, know of. in this new court, he knows not the terrain, nor the castle, and most importantly, not the people ( somehow, even as he loathed the king, he had underestimated his penchant for cruelty. how were they to retain any semblance of comfort and security under the roof of a man who thought it wise to out himself as a ruthless tyrant? ).

so he trails after the hand, more attentive than he’d like to admit it as the tour offered was a welcome one to a place so unknown to him. “i see you’ve been intimately involved in the rebuilding, lord velaryon. do you see it as a downgrade, from architect to tour guide?” there is a certain amount of mischief in his words, good intentions pointed out by a quirk of his lips. in fairness, hisham knows he, himself, would much rather be a servant of lower scale than someone as involved with the council as ishan or seda or lysara. “do you prefer it, then? this...staerdale — “ the name was a foul affront to the arryn, to all valemen and women yet he could not have expected any different from lucerys targaryen. “to the red keep?”

when: first day in staerdale, new valyria who: anyone where: TOUR OF STAERDALE

 the entire small council was put into overdrive for the construction of this new epicenter for westeros. he could recall his countless letters back and forth with lysara about this place, he even began to switch the color of his paper so lysara would know which letter was intended for business and which letter was intended for simple viewing pleasure. even when he was told he would have a day off, it was always a lie. the last two months were horrid, as he could recall how adamant he had been of going to staerdale. he didn’t want to go, not when his marriage seemed so fragile. he knew it was his fault, the facades he worked so hard to keep separate from one another was becoming hard to distinguish to even those closest to him. cassana was the main victim, as the words that escaped her lips would often cause him to stop in his tracks. 

he would be beheaded for treason if he entertained his wife, he was certain. he couldn’t have that, he couldnt leave his family with no ruling lord, to leave his wife with no husband his children without a father. but at what point could he jeopardize his loyalty to daemon and the crown for the sake of his family’s own sanity? it was a fine line, and he threaded on it for far too long and now he wasn’t sure where to go. he prayed for guidance, he hoped said guidance would show up at some point. yet in the meantime, he was meant to be the guide. so he guided, his voice booming in the halls of staerdale as he took yet another walk across the new architecture. 

“if you look to your right, you will find the sept, so conveniently located near the gardens. most of this flora was brought from lands all across of westeros, replanted in pots and finally depotted and placed in the fertile vale land to hopefully grow as grand as you once saw at king’s landing. though, with this soil, i do hope the gardeners enjoy having to trim this wonderful shrubbery far more regularly than they did over at the red keep.”  

#⧼ dialogue ⧽ — 𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐌 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐘.

[perfervvidus]

there was much to be done at horn hill, even if not within the keep, and with so many moons away, ascertainments had piled up; hisham liked to do those himself, unwilling to simply remain perched on his seat, and though it could take hours at the very least, he was glad to do it, especially with his wife at home. seda’s presence at horn hill was not an unusual one — she took absence from the capitol when she could, which they all tried understanding, in various degrees of success — but the length of this stay was, and hisham would be lying if he said that it did not give him hopes of extending it indefinitely, possibly permanently; not only for him, or the children, but herself as well. what would it be of them had she been in her office, with the velaryon boy? it ached him to even imagine it, making him hold tighter onto her during the evenings, relieved he was able to relish on her warmth, and not just on memories.

yet, upon his arrival, he knows better than to expect her to welcome him as a mindless, pliant wife may have — the silence of the household, however is an unfamiliar one, and the manner in which one of the servant boys tells him the mistress seeks him, whilst helping hisham out of his outer layer, startles him. it is not easy to not let dread fill his heart as he goes towards his chambers, and harder still it is to remain expressionless when, as he enters the room, his eyes fall on the object of disturbance. at once, he can feel his stomach drop, and his step is heavier as he goes towards the letter, picking it up; he does not sit next to seda, instead going towards a window sill, and leaning against it, as his gaze reads up the content within parchment, at least three times each brief line as it sinks in, uncomfortably.

he should have known it would come sooner or later. it had been foolish to believe the dragon would release a valuable belonging as his mistress of whispers. “took him long enough,” is the first thing he says. “i don’t know why we are surprised.” yet he was, a bit, though his displeasure outweighed that — with fairuza in the room, he had to swallow his anger, not to let the volume of his voice disturb her too. “making a court out of the place he’s destroyed, on top of the grave he ordered...” his face twists in disgust. “you do not have to bear it.” it was discussed, briefly, but he had not imposed it on her, as he did not believe himself capable of doing so. yet, he could not miss the suggestion, eyes pulled from the words into her own, still across from him in the room. “do you want to?”

𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞   …   the   chambers   of   the   ruling   couple   ,   horn   hill   ,   the   reach   .     𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡   …   hisham   tarly   (   @perfervvidus​   )   .   𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧   …   flashback   to   around   three   months   ago   ,   after   the   return   of   casper   lannister   but   before   the   death   of   senya   tyrell   née   rowan   .

the  raven  that  had  flown  with  the  missive  of  the  king  tied  to  it’s  leg  had  been  a  half - starved  thing  by  the  time  it  had  reached  horn  hill,  frightening  the  studying  tarly  children  and  startling  fairuza  from  her  nap  on  the  ruling  lady’s  lap  when  it  had  landed  with  a  loud  squawk  on  the  table,  sending  an  ink  pot  clattering  to  the  ground  ─  with  her  youngest  babe  in  hysterics  from  the  sudden  jolt,  seda  had  ordered  the  maester  to  tend  to  the  damned  bird  as  she  attempted  to  corral  her  overexcited  children  away  from  smothering  the  raven  with  attention,  but  the  silence  that  had  come  from  the  man  had  caused  her  to  turn  around  eventually,  dark  furrowed  brows  smoothing  out  with  surprise  at  the  letter  that  he  had  held  up  between  two  fingers,  the  crest  of  the  king  embossed  proudly  upon  the  wax  seal.  her  children  had  seemed  to  understand  the  sudden  somberness  that  flooded  the  room,  quietening  down  and  gathering  at  her  sides  as  the  letter  was  passed  from  the  hand  of  the  maester  to  the  hand  of  the  master  of  whisperers,  and  none  of  them  grumbled  when  she  lingered  to  kiss  the  tops  of  their  heads  before  leaving,  breathing  in  the  smell  of  their  hairs  as  she  carried  fairuza  to  her  chambers  for  a  nap  while  she  waited  for  the  return  of  her  husband.

the  wait  was  not  long.  undoubtedly,  one  of  the  servants  had  recognized  the  expression  of  sheer  dread  on  her  features  and  had  gone  to  look  for  him  as  it  had  been  less  than  an  hour  before  the  door  to  their  chambers  creaked  out,  bringing  with  it  the  visage  of  her  husband.  seda  had  been  soothing  their  youngest  babe  to  sleep  in  the  middle  of  their  bed,  limbs  curled  around  her  little  girl  protectively  but  she  rose  from  where  she  had  been  lying  down,  propping  her  weight  on  the  balls  of  her  elbows  as  she  gazed  at  him  silently  for  a  moment  before  her  eyes  dropped  to  where  the  letter  laid  opened  on  her  dressing  table.

#⧼ dialogue ⧽ — 𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐌 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐘.

[perfervvidus]

when : two days after the tarly’s arrival to horn hill, around month one. with : brynden marbrand ( @servtudes )

dear brynden,

i address this missive to ashemark, hoping it has reached you well. i have also written to your mother, though i am doubtful she will decide to respond to me before you do, nor am i inclined to believe she will be objective about things. do not see it as a slight to her, for you know i love her dearest, but she is a mother, and the events must have shaken her to the core — do tell me how she fares, and your father, and your siblings? i believe i have seen addi with another flame haired person, but it is not up for me to discuss such things in a raven. perhaps they will be able to come visit her uncle, and we will talk it over ourselves.

but most importantly, how are you? the night must not have been any easier for you. you were often in my thoughts while we left the city, but i could not return and try and find you to see if you were well. below is a list of herbs for nebulization i know can be helpful to aid you at night, your maester or addisyn herself can fetch them at the nearest market. it seems that winter is coming, and though it is unlikely any of the southerners shall feel it much, i know any hint of cold can wound us two easier.

breathe in the herbs, don’t overindulge on arbor red before bed.

your uncle, 

hisham.

#⧼ dialogue ⧽ — 𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐌 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐘.

[perfervvidus]

.

hisham felt much like a fool. after leaving king’s landing in the manner they did, he had believed he would never bring his children to another capitol whilst he lived, yet regardless of his wishing, and of his authority, it was not an easy feat to remain resolute when not one but five of his children joined together against him, pleading for them to be together once more with seda, who by then had been at least two moons away from home. it was true: he could not keep them away, and the older they were, all he could do was to watch, keeping his distance lest he be scolded and iced out for being too overbearing. 

so it was what he tried doing now, keeping himself enough steps away so neither girl — not his own, sirin, nor lysara’s, neina — would be able to accuse him of stifling their explorations on the new court. truthfully, he had not noticed the lady until she speaks, and even as he wishes to look at her, his gaze is first on his daughter and pseudo-niece, only then on the northerner. “am i in the way of your fresh air? or do you also keep watch on your own?” cocoa hues find two other dark haired teens, and he hesitates, before deciding to sit down — chasing down sirin and neina would only worsen his discomfort, already made prominent due to the cold and all the stairs in this gods-forsaken place. “sisters? daughters?” he raises a brow, before lifting his cane so he can point in the direction of his own. “my second eldest. doesn’t quite appreciate the hovering.” neither did his eldest, and it seemed fairuza was to follow the others, but at least to his youngest he could simply put her in his arms and pull her away from anything if he wished.

OPEN FOR FIVE ! where: a courtyard

Sarisa watched her daughters with a careful eye as they explored the grounds with each other, far enough that they had the freedom to talk as they wished, but within range of stepping in if she had to. Maege understood the depth of their visit a little better than Zei did and Sarisa could not help but notice that her eldest did not leave Zei on her own often. Already her daughter was falling into the protective role of heir of Bear Island. It eased some discomfort the mother had about having her children here, but even with her daughter’s keen eye, the snakes that walked these halls would not get close to her children.

Her hands were folded in her lap as she sat, eyes still tracking her daughters when she spoke. “Sit with me or walk away,” She did not need to turn her head to know that someone had been standing near her side, just out of her eyeline. “I do not have the patience to deal with you dallying with your decision.”

#⧼ dialogue ⧽ — 𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐌 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐘.

[perfervvidus]

where : alerie’s chambers within the tyrell aparts in staerdale who : alerie tyrell ( @glvrious​ )

“alerie!” the doors are opened and forth comes the princess, unbothered to announce herself — if alerie was somewhat bare, it would be nothing new, and aerea was willing to aid her into her robes if necessary; what she could not do was to wait for her presence to be declared and possibly declined. “were you napping? i heard your condition makes women very sleepy.” it had been one of the ways matteno had attempted to convince her into motherhood, sharp jest that if she was to stay in bed and sleep all day, she may as well do so while carrying his child ( needless to say, it only pushed her to do otherwise, both on the fortification of her moon tea and on her jumping out of bed to explore the city of lys ). “i have a gift for you.” is said with a dazzling smile, one of which only few have managed to pull from her truthfully. “the graftons have so generously given us one of their cook for the festivities, a certain tyroshi who makes heavenly fruit pastries in all colors of the rainbow. i’ve had barbrey try one, so we know it is not poisoned.” a lingering glance is offered to the young woman that accompanies her, the food taster assigned to her during her stay in the palace, a much necessary servant when one was to stay in a place they destroyed and rebuilt to their own fashion.

#⧼ dialogue ⧽ — 𝐀𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐀 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐄𝐍.

[perfervvidus]

there was no better contrast to dragonstone than summerhall, the later with its vasts gardens, endless sunshine and no small amount of laughter — it was not to say the keep on the crownlands was without its reason for joy, but it had been so long since aerea has been under such clear skies that she can feel a permanent heat over her cheeks, threatening to leave an imprint upon pale skin. yet, the good weather and the company of those she had not seen in so very long, seemed to not always have the desired effect on her, who could still feel bitterness spread in her mouth even as they savored the sweetest of wines and the smoothest of jams for a meal added in the middle of the day in an effort to keep alerie fed. even with their presence, her mind is far away, festering in resentment at the absence of the one who should most be here, for her. her annoyance is such that when his name is called out by one of her companions, aerea has half a mind to curse and tell alerie to keep their mouth shut, but curiosity and the senstiivty she has been forcing herself to have in her friend’s situation ends up winning over and she turns to where the rest of them looked.

her anger seems to dissipate, melting away to give room to a feeling of unbridled glee she has not felt in many moons now for, however much she cared for her friends and family, and laughed and enjoyed their days, there was a place in her mind and within her heart that belonged to no other, even when said room was as clouded as the skies back home. forgotten of all else, the princess resumes to familiarity, and she’s thrown herself at her tyrell at once — where once she’d be held, and spun, before cradled safely back into his embrace, the security crumbles, as do the both of them, to the ground, his body softening her landing against his own. “aster!” his name feels almost wrong in her tongue, when she has been stilling it for so long, sound muffled into paper that never feels quite as right. “you fool! you could have hurt me!” she says, as if it was not her to flung herself against him.

“missed me so you had the moment to change, instead of coming here at once to kiss me?” a challenge she does not miss the tempo of, fingers grabbing at his coat to tug at him so she may press her lips against his. there is a sound in some distance, a scratch of some sort as his sister, and her brother, seem to walk away, but aerea can not bother with noticing anyone, or anything else. “aster,” is beckoned softer now, the dusting of pink upon her cheeks not by agency of the sun’s touch, but by his; there is no intention, by her, to move, seemingly content to rest her weight upon his as such, her skirts bundling against the grass, lashes fanning over her features as her obsidian gaze focus on his hazel eyes. “promise me we shall not be apart for so long ever again.”

closed starter for @perfervvidus​ ( aerea )  when: summerhall, a week before coming to new valryia. 

summerhall   had   shifted   out   of   his   plans   when   senya   passed,   the   months   long   trip   he   had   planned   was   nothing   but   a   distant   passing   daydream.   the   months   away   from   his   beloved   were   beginning   to   wear   away   on   him,   as   much   as   they   tried,   no   one   else   could   soothe   his   soul   as   much   as   his   targeyan   did.   their   letters   remained   superficial,   fearful   to   put   too   much   of   his   emotions   on   paper   less   it   scare   her   away.   less   she   think   he   no   longer   remained   the   man   she   once   had   loved.   would   she   even   recognize   the   shell   of   a   man   he   felt   he   was   now,   so   much   loss   tainting   the   edges   of   his   being.  

his   nights   had   remained   restless .   days   till   their   departure   for   staerdale   ticked   away,   struggling   to   maintain   a   positive   composure   as   he   watched   davios   begin   to   drink   more   and   more-   listened   as   his   mother   and   aunt   began   to   whisper   of   having   the   man   court   once   more.   it   was   all   so   much.   till   it   bubbled   up   within   him,   tossing   together   a   trunk   and   taking   off   for   summerhall   at   the   first   light   of   morning.   sending   a   single   raven   off   to   daella   so   only   she   knew   of   his   intention   to   still   come.   note   hastily   written   for   his   mother   letting   her   know   that   a   raven   had   arrived   from   alerie   requesting   he   accompany   them.  

several   days   later,   aster   had   arrived,   hitching   his   horse   in   the   stable   before   meeting   with   daella   first   secretly.   his   beloved   sister   had   agreed   to   the   secrecy,   leading   him   quietly   to   his   room   at   summerhall   so   that   he   may   change   out   of   his   riding   clothes.   once   done,   she   helped   him   sneak   down   to   where   the   entire   family   was   enjoying   a   mid   afternoon   meal.   aegon   notices   him   first,   face   lighting   up   at   the   sight   of   his   good   brother   standing   there.   he   motions   for   him   to   keep   quiet,   taking   soft   stops   to   the   blonde   he   could   recognize   with   his   eyes   closed   in   the   dark.   alerie   gives   him   away,   his   sweet   sister   calling   out   his   name   before   he   can   fully   reach   aerea.  

her   head   whips   around   as   if   in   disbelief   and   when   their   eyes   meet,   everything   else   melts   away.   aster   is   staring   at   her   as   if   she   is   the   only   thing   he   ever   needs   to   truly   live   again,   foolish   smile   on   lips.   before   he   can   speak   or   touch   her,   the   princess   is   running   at   him,   his   arms   out   stretching   to   catch   her   as   they   had   done   so   in   the   past.   however,   her   speed   is   unexpected   and   they   both   tumblr   over   into   the   grass,   embracing   her   tightly   as   he   lets   out   a   laugh   for   the   first   time   in   months.   “   my   sweetling,”   he   whispers,   pressing   soft   kiss   over   and   over   again   to   the   crown   of   her   head.   “   i   have   missed   you   fiercely.”

#⧼ dialogue ⧽ — 𝐀𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐀 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐄𝐍.

[perfervvidus]

as a child, aerea had been fearful of dragonstone. it was cold, the air ever so heavy of salt, and, on the notions of a toddler, the dragons built out of stone were more intimidating than those that breathed fire, for the later were at least warm, and so very alive. it would take her a few years still of exploration and coaxing by her elders for her to be comfortable within its grounds; at the age of four and ten, she was as good as a native, bare feet on the sands, daring her lowborn and highborn companion alike to take to a boat so they may see who would arrive faster to driftmark, or craw isle, by whose shores she knew someone awaited her in. ten years later, the sands are still cold under her bare feet but, as of late, the beach is quieter than it had been then, and if not by the soft shuffling by elaena  now and then, upon a rock in some distance, and the waves’ crash, there would be silence, a perfect complement to the solitude felt by the blonde by the shore.

that meant that the approaching of another was noticed at once, even if the princess did not bother to confirm the identity of the newcomer — elaena’s approval of whoever they were was enough for her, and if not, it would not take much for the she - dragon or the princess herself to scare the other away. the voice that gives away its owner’s identity tells aerea, however, that the presence is even less pleasing than she expected, and at once her nostrils flare in the anger she had been seething in for two moons now. of course. “lady baratheon.” the title is uttered and spit as one would the most harmful of poisons, unbefitting of her cousin for both its unworthiness, and for how early it had been — they were not yet wed, as far as aerea knew, but they lived almost as if they were, didn’t they? so much so everyone else was secondary, even the bride’s own blood. 

the disgust is spilled on a derisive laughter as the elder waxes affection aerea can not, nor does she want to, reciprocate. “your beloved must be on a worse castle than this one, lady baratheon. or is he back on the halls, pouting about leaving his shit keep and his horse and the beggars he call siblings?” the younger raises a single brow, as cruel an action as her words. “plead, to me? it is not i who holds your money, cousin. it is my father. perhaps he shall take kinder to your begging. it is for the coin you’ve come, isn’t it?” another brow joins the other, high in her forehead, mockery singing almost sweet in her timbres. “after all, what else could you have here? emmelyne celtigar remained a corpse for all of crownlands for at least a week. it is emmelyne baratheon, the new addition to the destitute of storm’s end, that comes forth.”

where ; shores of dragonstone when ; a flashback - the second month who ; emmelyne celtigar &. aerea targaryen @perfervvidus

a second coming that emmelyne never intended , her cousin the only reasoning as her boat docks on the rocky shores. how similar and still a noticeable difference to a shore they both can call their own. her princess’ shore is smooth and sure. emmelyne , alone in the darkness , can only ponder how easy it is to come and go. though the past few months have been turbulent enough , she is certain her cousin has her own fair share of turbulence.

violet eyes scanning the skies as she enters the targaryen’s atmosphere. suddenly feeling as a stranger would , on edge and unwelcome. perhaps the outcome of choosing a family that was not her own. “ aerea. “ speaking lowly as she breeches the shoreline of dragonstone. the former’s letters passing between the cousins with her own hopes that her dearest won’t forsake the path she has taken. knowing the pain it has caused her cousin , emmelyne is aware of the loss she has brought upon the princess. the unspoken words before their parting among the blaze of an inferno once their shared home. “ princess , must i beg to see my dearest beloved? my irreplaceable one? for you are it. “ truthfully her home now in the confines of another human being , “ i will plead on my knees if it pleases you. “

#⧼ dialogue ⧽ — 𝐀𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐀 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐄𝐍. #classicism tw #i- dont know but im sorry for the baratheons and emme for her :sob:

[perfervvidus]

where : wherever the targaryens stayed at the vale of the arryn when : after queen visenya’s funeral who : aegon targaryen ( @crvwnfought​ )

the role of a caretaker was not one that any would believe suitable to aerea targaryen, the most spoiled, silliest noble of her line, yet that had been the one she had subdued herself to, uncharacteristically quiet throughout the service. it was an odd thing, to mourn without a body, yet somehow it felt right that this was done where the justice for the lost one had been served — aerea can not help but to feel somewhat relieved that the scent of mother’s body, burned by balerion as per their tradition entailed, would not add to the nausea that has settled in the base of her throat, for she already struggled with it, refusing to let her sibling stand even if her stomach twisted uncomfortably. 

it is only when vasila is returned to a chamber that aerea is able to breathe with some ease, though that is non - transparent on any other body language, from the manner she swallows, to the way she turns her nose as her fingers feel a small spot of red upon her gown, from her sibling’s blood. there is not much time to put herself together, however, and though, for a split of a moment, she considers she should have, when another arrives in the hallway, her defenses are lowered, the sharpness she vowed to bestow upon him dulled. “have they been like this often? what do your maesters say?” aerea can not help but to give her brother a look over too. “do you think maester florent would have a cure for this?” the old man had served their grandfather, then their father — vasila could not have been the first to suffer of a bite from one of their own, and she finds herself thinking that she’d be keen to even ask help from that decrepit old fucker ( may the stranger keep him ).

#blood tw #injury tw #funeral tw #⧼ dialogue ⧽ — 𝐀𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐀 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐄𝐍.

[perfervvidus]

king’s landing was not a place for snow — aerea herself had never seen or felt cold as such, and yet, after the disaster that made the red keep crisp and crumble, the capital had seen its first snow, a constant layering of ashes that fell throughout the first night and first day. it is the first she notices as valyris approaches the colder airs of the vale, causing a soft gasp to cease the awkward silence that had taken over the saddle big enough for three, were they to squeeze themselves close; the motion allows the soot to enter her mouth, then her lungs, and aerea coughs out, tears filling her eyes even before she can see anyone else. 

her legs tremble as she jumps to a patch of earth that feels warm even through the thick fabric of her shoes, but the princess finds grounding on the arms that envelop her, soon enough. her throat is still full — of tears, of ash, of grief, and she does not find it in her to laugh, or even scold her brother as she may have done in a different situation, instead hugging him back, as it so seemed needed, to the both of them. she pulls away quick enough, however, a gentle push to allow one of her hands to cup at his cheek, and another to feel up his torso, looking for an injury of some sort, but if she feels blood, there is no open wound. “what happened? daemon he didn’t say much—” her gaze is still wet with concern, but when she blinks, not many tears escape, not even enough to cloud her gaze as she seeks something around them. “where is she?” elaena, does not need to be added. “daenys?” that she does complement, a small furrow of her brow as the hand on his side comes to hold at his own palm.

aerea targaryen ​〉 @perfervvidus, closed starter

rhaegar is restless. all that is in his mind, his body walking and going wherever it needs to go without the prince even realising what he’s doing until he’s already halfway through. he feels as if someone else is taking charge of his arms, his legs, a mind so overwhelmed with what he’d done ( and how much he did not regret saying ‘dracarys’ through gritted teeth ) that it just lets muscle memory and a subconscious gaze guide him through. the arrival of his sister comes as an anchor, an alarm that pulls him back from whatever cloud his head is that. as soon as he hears aerea has arrived, rhaegar makes his way to greet her. which he does, arms around her as he pulls her into a hug that he never wants to let go of. “gūrotan ao bōsa enough naejot māzigon, aerea.” took you long enough to arrive, aerea, words spoken and muffled by the way he buries his face. truth be told, his sister could have come only a handful of minutes after him that he would think it too long, especially after all that’s happened. all that he’s done. 

#⧼ dialogue ⧽ — 𝐀𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐀 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐄𝐍. #blood tw

[perfervvidus]

HOTD FASHION (PRT. 2) | COSTUME DESIGNER: JANY TEMIME

(PRT. 1)

#⧼ demeanor ⧽ — 𝐀𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐀 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐄𝐍. #feat : vasila targaryen.

[perfervvidus]

Natalie Díaz, from "American Arithmetic", Postcolonial Love Poem

#⧼ analysis ⧽ — 𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐌 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐘.

[perfervvidus]

where : vasila’s chambers within summerhall when : around a month ago who : vasila targaryen ( @trgryns )

guilt did not agree with aerea, yet there was no other way to describe the sentiment she felt whenever she saw vasila. even now, when so many moons have passed, and she only once or twice has to step away from elaena as she devours an animal carcass until only charred bones remain, the youngest princess looks at the eldest’s arm and feels something tighten within her torso, whatever of a heart that still beated within her ribcage giving signs of its agony. of course, she also believes there must be a sort of sisterly devotion that moves her to be so patient when otherwise she would have been frowning and whining, but aerea knows better to swallow that tantrum, the only sign of it on the manner her lips crisp as the needle falls to the ground with a small sound. 

dutifully, the youngest fetches it with a small motion, before bringing it once more to her sibling’s hand. “the maester said you must work on your grip,” she had never bothered to listen to the annoying grey - cloaked physicians when it came to herself, but a few years ago, when she had been allowed within daella’s birthing chambers, aerea realized she could be obedient with the right encouragement, and nothing better than the betterment of her family. “i know it is fucking boring, but you’re much improved from when i saw you last.” of course, the last they had seen each other before the dragonstone party arrival had been to their mother’s funeral, and aerea well recalls then, her gown had been sullied with her sibling’s blood, soaked through their garnment. “i am also missing my stitches, if that makes you feel better.”

#⧼ dialogue ⧽ — 𝐀𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐀 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐄𝐍. #animal cruelty tw #bc elaena is going thru a widdle phase #blood tw #injury tw

[perfervvidus]

where : one of the many gardens at summerhall when : around a week after the massacre of the vale who : aegon targaryen ( @crvwnfought​ )

hisham had never been one for stillness, finding that not being able to explore further than he already had — and keeping the books proper, but at least he could use his own maester for this nonsense — to be the most distressing part of ruling a land of his own, yet the moons in the capital, particularly the disastrous manner in which they had departed, had left him more or less willing to be rooted upon horn hill. however, he knew he could only delay what must be done for so long, and there was comfort in the manner in which the roads between dorne and the reach had not yet been flooded by the exodus of valemen escaping from the fires of the hell lucerys targaryen had incited; the lord tarly tried to remain focused on the lullabies fairuza sang on the road to summerhall, even if he could feel a stone in the pit of his stomach at the knowledge that he was willingly going towards where one of the monsters resided. 

thankfully, the white she - dragon was nowhere to be seen, and it would be many hours, a bath and a nap until he was to be receptioned by the prince of the keep, on his arms a little girl of his own. “princess rhaenyra,” he gives her an exaggerated bow on purpose, before poking at her stomach, which prompts giggles from her lips in response, arms outstretched for a familiar bearded face; the weight is also familiar to him, and he takes the child with an easy smile. “fairuza will get jealous if i carry you for too long,” he whispers to her, purposefully low enough only for her to hear, so the girl mentioned grabs and pulls at his trousers, then at rhaenyra’s feet. “rhaenyra!” she demands, and the princess promptly comes down with her friend, hisham exhaling a small grunt with the effort. at once, the girls hold hands, and begin to walk away, leaving their fathers by themselves. 

“you have lost weight.” he notes. aegon doesn’t receive a bow, respectfully or playfully, but hisham has known the other for too long to bother with such poise, even more now, when he felt…wary, to say the least. it was not that he believed aegon a monster as the dragon he rode, or his father, but he could not help the hesitancy in his spine. still, he reaches forward, two fingers lifting the prince’s chin. “you should eat more so daella does not worry. she has plenty on her hands as it is.” a pause, and his eyes soften, less of a physician, more of a friend — it is what they are, are they not? aegon has given him leave for it, after all. “as do you. have you plans on staying, or shall you join your father on his new…” graveyard, is the word that sours his mouth. aegon had been a murderer, too, so however comfortable they are with each other, perhaps that is not something he wishes to be remembered of. “court?” his hand drops, and his fingers curl around his cane’s head, before he takes a step to motion them into movement. “you should write to oldtown, to send for more maesters to care for the injured. if you have not already, that is.”

#⧼ dialogue ⧽ — 𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐌 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐘. #this got long for no reason. if you match i WILL bite you. #death tw