𝖕𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 .

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ 𐦯 .⋆♱⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

[𝖕𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 . @REXMONTlS]

* ╱

PRINCE ILLARION.

❝ gentle prince — take care, your doom awaits. ❞

➢ house mezaros.
➢ mv. hotd/fab.
➢ 18+.
➢ crossovers welcome.

— ↺

[〝𝑙𝔲꯭𝔫𝔞꯭͡𝑟𝑖𝑠 ┈ᩢ*𝖕𝓇ⁱⁿᶜ͙ℯˢˢᅠ𓉸̸ᅠ @petitporcelain]

⠀

⠀

[𝖕𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 . @REXMONTlS]

— were mine own blood."

of helaena there is no question. he would have done this dutifully, such is his care for her. such as it was even before aemond. the dowager queen... *this* is done for aemond, and perhaps because it is just.

[𝖕𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 . @REXMONTlS]

a cloud of emotions, feathered over features: honored, anxious, fond, wary, proud. a heart in wartime, unsure what colors to fly.

he manages a small smile. a hand, lightly placed to cover aemond's upon the table.

"i will do it gladly. as fiercely and as loyally as if they —

[‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍k̲i̲n̲ ‍𝔰𝔩𝔞𝔶𝔢𝔯 . ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ @BELLlCOSUS]

a hum in reply . he leaned his weight forward , palms flat against the table .

“ the men are weary . the river route is hilled and cliffed , treacherous even for a rested army . ”

index finger traced a winding path along the map .

[𝖕𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 . @REXMONTlS]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀— a history.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

[𝖕𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 . @REXMONTlS]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀— a history.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

[𝖕𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 . @REXMONTlS]

* ╱

PRINCE ILLARION.

❝ gentle prince — take care, your doom awaits. ❞

➢ house mezaros.
➢ mv. hotd/fab.
➢ 18+.
➢ crossovers welcome.

— ↺

[𝖕𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 . @REXMONTlS]

— take his men south, along the blackwater rush, or even the roseroad."

a slender finger taps the line upon the map.

"he will meet ill fate in the face of rivermen and two thousand northmen, no matter his prowess. lord ormund canters a leisurely pace. he will not aid."

[𝖕𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 . @REXMONTlS]

fingers light against elbow, shoulder brushing shoulder. a gentle intimacy belied by the sharp, poised focus of him, the way his gaze wanders over the map.

"i know little of the riverlands, except that any force fights fiercest in their homes. ser criston would be wise to —

[‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍k̲i̲n̲ ‍𝔰𝔩𝔞𝔶𝔢𝔯 . ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ @BELLlCOSUS]

face to face , the sharp lines of him were softened by the pale tricks of light . and in reply , a look that seemed to say : near me , close to me .

“ we number thirty-six hundred , ” said instead , turning away . night still clung to his voice , a quiet rasp .

[𝖕𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 . @REXMONTlS]

disagreement pulls the corners of his mouth. wisteria trembles along the windows in a light breeze.

he slides free of the covers, to his feet. he does not hound upon his worries. no point, with aemond.

"where will you have me, today?" eyes brighter, awake and catching sunrise.

[‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍k̲i̲n̲ ‍𝔰𝔩𝔞𝔶𝔢𝔯 . ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ @BELLlCOSUS]

a glance over his shoulder . sheet of white hair obscuring half his face . and so it began … the weight and worries of day .

“ then let them look . ”

whispered , his voice air-light .

[𝖕𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 . @REXMONTlS]

— "Mm. The servants will be about, by this hour. I've kept you beyond propriety."

The words come out a soft murmur, fingers run back through white-grey locks to tame them.

[𝖕𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 . @REXMONTlS]

he wakes soon after, while aemond is mid-dress. he is, for once, not so much the painting of the perfect prince. blue eyes hazy with sleep, hair in more bunches of curls than normal.

He pushes upright, watching Aemond move, draped in the morning light as if vaguely aglow.

—

[‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍k̲i̲n̲ ‍𝔰𝔩𝔞𝔶𝔢𝔯 . ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ @BELLlCOSUS]

no words yet to break the hush of dawn . tenuous peace , so still you could almost imagine a future . eyes cast down , he touched his left forearm . bandaged , stained red .

he stood and dressed . morning was coming , followed by the unrelenting day .

[𝖕𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 . @REXMONTlS]

— before aemond except, perhaps, as children with his brothers, or at his mother's chest as a babe. he found quickly that he enjoys it.

the feathery touch does not immediately wake him, only creases his brow and thins what dreams he yet dwells in.

[𝖕𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 . @REXMONTlS]

a child, once, of chilled stone and mist-wreathed mountains, hazy light and cool breeze. these are the mornings he prefers. the hearth of these chambers sits barren, unlit. sheets half-strewn off of him, tangled by legs. he is... serene.

he has never slept beside the body —

[‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍k̲i̲n̲ ‍𝔰𝔩𝔞𝔶𝔢𝔯 . ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ @BELLlCOSUS]

a pale, white morning . night’s chill hung in the fog , reaching up from the blackwater . a hand brushes soft over @REXMONTlS’s forehead — hesitant affection , careful not to disturb the sleep so hard to come by .

[‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍k̲i̲n̲ ‍𝔰𝔩𝔞𝔶𝔢𝔯 . ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ @BELLlCOSUS]

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࣪ hen ñ̲u̲hā elēnī :
𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑧𝑦𝑠𝑠𝑦 vestretis
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