‘ 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐀𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐒 𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐍.

𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 ! && of the blacks, son of Rhaenyra Targaryen. Strong and bold as the gods. Indie and semi-active. #hotdrp.

❝Aegon deserves no divinity.❞

𝓔w. 𝐀 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐍.

𝓦elcome to the 𝖋𝖊𝖆𝖘𝖙.

𝓐 boyish grin and beneath his 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐥𝐞 rests a certain kind of 𝓳͟𝓸͟𝔂͟ from such utterance of the 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐓𝐇. ❝Marelle—I only treat her more than a beast to be tamed and bred. If that is 𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓮𝓲𝓰𝓷…❞ a certain venom laces his words, frustration blooming.

𝓐 lovely day to scheme the death of the Greens.

𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐍𝐎𝐖 clings to dark locks in the wake the ball’s impact against his head—a hand shifts, to act as a shield against 𝓯𝓾𝓻𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 assault. He sprints, before hurling himself at Sara—to take her down to the ground. ❝𝓗ow unbecoming of you, my lady.❞

❝𝓟lease, there is 𝐧𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 to say.❞

❝𝓖oodnight to the 𝐁͟𝐥͟𝐚͟𝐜͟𝐤͟𝐬͟, only.❞

𝓗e draws back, to 𝓼𝓹𝓲𝓷 her—a marionette’s puppeteer pulling strings. He 𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐒 in her splendour, and he cannot look away. ❝𝓘’𝓶 afraid, I will find it hard to share you with a 𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐞 soul.❞

❝𝓣here will be 𝐧͟𝐨͟ dread of the night for you, my lady,❞ he almost 𝓹𝓾𝓻𝓻𝓼 with a lazy drawl, ardent 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 in their dance—with no song save for the beat, 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐭 of his heart thudding in his cranium. ❝I must confess, you must have been a beautiful bride.❞

❝𝐼’𝓂 not saying 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠.❞

❝ 𝐼 am glad to be of 𝔰𝔬𝔪𝔢 amusement.❞

❝𝓢he just may have to.❞

𝓐 lazy grin returned : bold and 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 in red of wine. Compliant fingers curl around steel, red spewing from 𝓷𝓮𝔀𝓯𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭 wounds across a palm. He winces. ❝𝐎𝐧𝐞-𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐣𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫. I see your 𝓿𝓲𝓵𝓮 lust for elixir of life has little end.❞

❝ 𝔍ust as well. I will not break that sweet trust.❞

❝𝐼 will give you 𝐦𝐲 word.❞

❝𝓛et us see if the usurper king will answer to his name—𝖈͟𝖚͟𝖓͟𝖙͟.❞