ᵀᴴᴱ 𝙋𝙍𝙄𝙉𝘾𝙀 𝙍𝙀𝙂𝙀𝙉𝙏
@endesiderium
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⠀ ⠀ IT LOOKS 𝙱͟𝙴͟𝚃͟𝚃͟𝙴͟𝚁 ON 𝗠𝗘 THAN IT EVER DID ON HIM.
Joined January 2019
i did not mean to become like this: a 𝐦͟𝐨͟𝐧͟𝐬͟𝐭͟𝐞͟𝐫， a 𝘭𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯. a 𝘬̵𝘪̵𝘭̵𝘭̵𝘦̵𝘳̵ ， a 𝒘𝒆𝒂𝒑𝒐𝒏 𝒐𝒇 𝒘𝒂𝒓. ╱ but i know * nothing of peace， and what solace can i 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘬 if not in 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 ?
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𝑎̲fter all this, my love is up and must be leaving ..
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ᅠᅠ ᅠᅠ ⠀⠀⠀ ᅠᅠ ᅠᅠ
ᅠᅠ ᅠᅠ 𝓐ll t͟h͟e͟y͟ have sowed ᅠᅠ ⠀⠀⠀ now shall t͟h͟e͟y͟ ᅠᅠ 𝑟 𝑒 𝑎 𝑝 . ᅠᅠ ⠀ ⠀
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im obsessed oh my god
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решила редравнуть #hotd
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she’s as passionate as the flames that lick the sky on a summer day. & though she may possess a fiery temperament akin to the flame elementals, there is still a delicate touch to her passion.
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one day， i am gonna grow wings.
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Day 5 - Early life #aemondweek2025 "𝐶𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑑 𝑖𝑠 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑘 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑅𝑢𝑡ℎ𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑖𝑠 𝑚𝑒𝑟𝑐𝑦"
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ᅠᅠ 𝓬𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐚 wept 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐲 when she learned that the king had 𝗱𝗶𝗲𝗱 and that she would not be 𝒂 𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒆𝒏. https://t.co/okqV1FIX5S
https://t.co/lbBYpoHgsq ᅠᅠ ᅠᅠ
ᅠᅠ ﹙ ... ﹚ she will give me 𝓼𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒈 sons, 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗵𝘆 of the 𝖎𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝖙𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐞. ᅠᅠ
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ㅤ ݁ ៚ ˖ ࣪ 𓉸 . 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐒 ﹔ ❛ 𝓸h ﹐ 𝐰𝐡𝐨 is * 𝘴𝘩𝘦 .ᐣ a 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑦 memory ﹐ a⎛ 𝗵𝗮𝘂𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗱 ⎠face .ᐣ ㅤ
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⠀ He also caught the attention of his mother across the room he let out a sigh before turning his frame back to face her. “ I don’t have the appetite nor energy to be at court today. ” ⠀
ﾠ cup is raised to her lips for a quick sip, eyes raised to him. “where are you going .ᐣ”
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⠀ . . . How come? she looks in deep sleep after — what they done? tsk . sliding a hot drink towards her direction before standing up from the breakfast table. ⠀
ﾠ yawning.
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⠀ he didn’t sleep well ( don’t ask why he was up all night for a *reason ) silence and glaring will he present this 𝗺͟𝗼͟𝗿͟𝗿͟𝗼͟𝘄. ⠀
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ㅤ ݁ ៚ ˖ ࣪ 𖤓 . 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 ﹔ ❛ 𝓲 have 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 a 𝒑𝒊𝒆𝒄𝒆 that you * 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 about the 𝙱𝙾𝙰𝚁𝙳 ﹒ ㅤ
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of his words, he closes the space — not in fury, but in a claiming that is both tender and inexorable. His mouth finds hers, swiftly, fiercely, a kiss that tastes of ash and promise.
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so near their breaths tangle. “You curse me with your tongue and betray me with your pulse and your eyes. That is the truest confession of all.” Aemond’s single eye softens in a way he never shows to courts or counsel — perhaps saved for her. Then, as if to prove the truth
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“Then be damned with me, 𝑛̃𝑢𝘩𝑎 𝑗𝑜𝑟𝑟ā𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑎𝑟𝑧𝑦. If my existence is your sentence, let it be the only sentence you ever need endure.” His grip at her wrist is firm but not cruel; enough to hold, not to harm. He lets his forehead rest an inch from hers,
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