alice and barbeloth's dynamic will always be funny to me,
"An old astrologist friend of mine always harps on about the consequences of handing off these kinds of items, but nothing has come of it yet-- So we'll continue business as normal…"
ALICE. SHE'S AN ASTROLOGIST. PLEASE.
Alice is the reason barbeloth has gray hair, because honestly, I would too if this is how my friend responded to my warnings.
(Alice miraculously avoids each and every consequence anyway, so those concerns are probably a tad unwarranted.) (Barbeloth's just trying to make sure this women doesn't fall into a ditch and die guys, please.)
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[ “SOMEBODY TOLD ME”]:
BREAKING MY BACK JUST TO KNOW YOUR NAME. SEVENTEEN TRACKS AND I’VE HAD IT WITH THIS GAME. A BREAKIN’ MY BACK JUST TO KNOW YOUR NAME—BUT HEAVEN AIN’T CLOSE IN A PLACE LIKE THIS.
— The Killers, Hot Fuss (2004)
Princess Rhaenyra’s insolence is wearing her stepmother’s patience thin. Queen Alicent is not ten years her senior, but even during her own sixteenth year, she cannot recall herself behaving so brazenly. She would never burst into courtly discussions in nothing but gilded armor and the underskirts of her riding leathers, awash in blood. (She would never be spotted in blood that was not her own, anyway. Alicent has never picked up a sword, not one that belonged to her.) Nevermind that Rhaenyra is attending to diplomatic affairs with bared teeth and scales, no—the crux of the matter is just that, her affairs. Rhaenyra is the Realm’s Delight, a beauty incomparable to any fair maiden, Alicent included. She indulges herself with appetite of a spoiled child, the confidence of man, and the pickings befitting only to her royal blood. Criston Cole. Daemon Targaryen. Harwin Strong. Laena Velaryon. She’s full of love, isn’t she? That selfish, foolish girl. What does Rhaenyra Targaryen know of love, of duty? She is a child in so many ways—she thinks killing makes her a man, thinks the throne is hers despite being a woman, thinks she can have her knight and her uncle and her protector and Laena Velaryon in one fail swoop. She’s wrong. She doesn’t know herself half as well as Alicent does. Alicent, who sees her for what she truly is, who wants to see all of her and more of her and none of her. Alicent has been stolen into the Keep by her own father—both of their fathers—but Rhaenyra is the key to this place, is the window to everything barred. Rhaenyra Targaryen has a dragon. Rhaenyra can fly.
That’s what Rhaenyra had promised her once, with her lips pulled back in a grin, exposing the white of her teeth like the violently radiant creature she was. “Perhaps when you grow tired of plotting against me, we shall ride on dragonback together,” she had said. The tease.
Alicent had yanked her into an empty corridor by the silk of her sleeve, ready to chastise her for her ill behavior. Conversing with the lords and ladies of the court at a feast was one thing, but chattering about her bloody encounters in battle over the pudding tureen were another. The lord at her elbow was going green. Alicent’s own face was likely red; her heart raced whenever Rhaenyra got like this. Alicent had never seen the battlefield—only seen battered men in dented armor and the slumps of corpses lined along dirt roads in the aftermath of war—but her own imagination terrified her like nothing else.
(Rhaenyra is better with a sword than half of the knights in Westeros, and more lovely than the lot. Her reign has not yet begun, but already the commoners flock to her—lured in by tales of her beauty and fine hair—and soldiers would follow her into battle. Alicent would not follow, but she would watch and bite her nails down to the quick.
She thinks of the figure Rhaenyra cuts in full armor, the heat in her gaze underneath the slots of her helmet. Alicent remembers the weight of her own hand in Rhaenyra’s—which was gloved—when the princess rode up to the spectators box and grasped it in her own, bringing Alicent’s knuckles to her lips. She thinks of Rhaenyra murdered in the sky, skewered with another man’s sword, plummeting to the ground, torn in half, streaking crimson across the clouds. Alicent would scream, or cry. She might laugh. She would throw herself from the window of her tower. Rhaenyra’s bloody exploits terrified Alicent for reasons she could not identify, and excited her for reasons she refused to.)
“I’d sooner be confined to the castle for the rest of my days than get on the back of that bloody lizard,” Alicent scoffed. Rhaenyra only tucked her hand over Alicent’s, where it was resting on her forearm. She flexed her fingers, moving to release her grip on the dark fabric, but Rhaenyra intertwined their fingers and held them fast.
“You’re confined already. You are already accustomed to such a thing. I know you. But—”
“But you forget yourself. You think you’re invulnerable, Rhaenyra. You don’t know who you are.” Alicent intends for it to be a sneer, but instead it comes out quietly, and too gentle for disdain. She can’t know. Rhaenyra is as trapped as she is, but they’re trapped together. They belong together. She belongs with Alicent.
“I am Rhaenyra Targaryen, Heir to the Iron Throne and all of Westeros. I am a dragonrider. I am—I am your daughter. In a way. Your sister, too. Your enemy. Your sword, your shield.”
“And what am I?” What else is left for me? Alicent wonders.
“My Queen. For now.” Rhaenyra cocks her head, and the gleam in her eyes burns like fire raining down. “When I am Queen, you will be my lady.”
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ok book club <3 what are we reading that’s actually good and would maybe fill the trc shaped hole in my soul???? and don’t say reread. unless you say reread the dreamer trilogy because i’m so close to giving into the urge.
please. please. give me your suggestions.
as a frame of reference here are non-trc books i love & would recommend (different content, same soul):
watch over me by nina lacour
in memoriam by alice winn
under the whispering door by tj klune
these violent delights by micah nemerever
the anthropocene reviewed by john green
summer sons by lee mandelo
a tale for the time being by ruth ozeki
i need an actual book club but tumblr took away my group chats :(
anyway love you please give me suggestions!!!!!
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Based on that Ask about if it's Parish who usually patches up my blorbos. The answer is Yes.
Parish has been dealing with Dallan's tendency to run into unfortunate shenanigans for the past 10 or so years. Dallan would probably have died a long time ago if he weren't pals with/working for a very good elven doctor. Poor dude's got Chronic Whumpee Disease.
ANYWAYS. What really started it was a dinner party Dr. Parish and a half-elf friend attended at Mr. Richard's greathouse. Dallan was just the lil resident servant boy cinnamon roll who took their coats & stuff.
The head maid wasn't a fan of how the half-elf friend was critiquing her methods of keeping her staff busy so she tried to play a bit of a prank on him by messing with his food that backfired horrendously and nearly killed Wolf (and littol babby Dallan by proxy because Wolf was sharing his snacks because look at him. He was just so smol and helpful and looked like he needed a lil treat 🥺)
Doctor Parish was furious.
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like are bella and edward even friends? like i mean this is in a “what are they actually doing when there’s no danger around?’ like my entire view of their relationship is Bella trying to be the perfect girlfriend for him (which she can’t because she’s literally a human caprisun) and Edward is overcompensating for his inability to connect with her on a human (no pun intended) level but i swear big dingus is always bagging on her interests (because classism)
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