* 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆.
@strongbastrdsecondborn son to rhaenyra targaryen. * && HIS NAME IS LUCERYS. #hotdrp * PARODY.
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𝐐ueen && 𝓽rue 𝐡eir. 【 ❛ 𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐅-𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐑 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃.ᐟ ༉ ♡ && ↻ x #mvrp; #hotdrp; #fantasyrp
// 🥹🤲
An AU solo. tw for gore, animal death, torture, suicide thoughts implication and angst. The sky has fallen. He flew too close to the sun—to flee the terror of his waking nightmare. The world was whole, the world was safe, but it has shattered. He has fallen, +
A world of silence; pain a lover of the quiet, he cannot help but to curl into himself. A painful ache where an eye once rested and rest does not come easy.
𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 ! && of the blacks, son of Rhaenyra Targaryen. Strong and bold as the gods. Indie and semi-active. #hotdrp.
He 𝓷𝓾𝓻𝓼𝓮𝓼 the eyeless socket of his own, water drenching where a violet eye once rested. He hissed sharply, world silent from perilous injuries.
❝I’ll do it again. 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍.❞ He twists, he struggles, thrashing like a wild beast in his tight grasp. Fingers spread wide as he presses against the wall. He feels a trickle of crimson from the crown of his head, foul and wet. ❝You’ll be like Aemond. Blind.❞
❝You are not in a position to make threats, little shite.❞ Lips pull back in a snarl && he presses his nephew’s skull into the wall. He lazily swipes a tongue to taste his own dried crimson. ❝You did a right mess to my face. It’s only fair that I do the same to you.❞
There is a painful crunch when his head finds the mortar of the Sept’s wall. All that consumes the silence is the ringing of a bell that does not sing in reality. He is laughing betwixt his agony. ❝You’ll be like your little brother! One eye once I’m done with you!❞
❝That’s the 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 aim, bastard.❞ His chuckle is without the light of mirth, fingers tearing && tearing at dark locks. He hauls the boy to a wall, to collide a cranium with stone, ❝Eat my eye, you say?❞ a hiss into his ear. ❝You say this, as if I am not familiar.❞
❝STOP! You’re 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 me—❞ A shrill sound—almost resembling a screech, boots unable to find purchase on the ground. He’s sobbing for 𝐡𝐢𝐬 mother, cheeks wet. ❝I’ll take your eye first! I’ll eat it in front of you! Then you can match with your jester of a brother!❞
❝Still crying for your mother?❞ A breathless chuckle rolls off the tongue as easy as the 𝓹𝓸𝓲𝓼𝓸𝓷 he is drunk on. He shakes Lucerys from where he grasps him, pulling at his scalp. ❝Cry again. She won’t hear you, bastard.❞
He will not scream, he tells himself—tears weeping from the corners of his eyes. He bites back his growing scream, but he instead howls of his hatred. ❝My mother will 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋 you, 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐘𝐎𝐔.❞
A scoff, free hand cleaning his bleeding face of crimson && spittle—his head turns from the force of the 𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐃’𝐒 feeble attempt of defence. ❝Your mother isn’t here, is she? She won’t save you. You’ll be my gift for my brother. He can have your eye, little 𝓫𝓻𝓪𝓽.❞
He struggles in his tight grasp, head tilting back so he might gaze at his 𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐞 uncle better. Lips press together tightly before they part, to spit in his face as he strikes his cheek with an open palm. ❝I’m not scared of you! I’M NOT SCARED OF YOU! My mother—❞
His nasty little claws do not daunt him, grasp tightening && tightening as lips pull back to expose 𝓼𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓹 porcelain teeth. Crimson trickle down the side of his face, 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 pale flesh. ❝If I can blind my sisterwife, you should be afraid what I’ll do to you, twat.❞
He chokes on his sharp inhale, breath shuddering as he bites down on his lips, chaining the sharp cry threatening to spill free. A hand strikes out, nails raking down the side of his face. ❝I’ll take your eye! 𝐈’𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨, 𝐔𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐏𝐄𝐑!❞
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐎𝐘 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐊𝐄. His anger, his loathing for an eye-stealer does not simmer. A 𝓷𝓪𝓼𝓽𝔂 snarl spewed from wine-stained lips as fingers reach for dark locks, tearing at hair. ❝Get in line, bastard. I’ll feed your mother && 𝐘𝐎𝐔 to my dragon.❞
He hates him. He actually hates him.
Rhaenyra—𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐑𝐎𝐓 with no honour, to be fed to his sister’s beloved maggots. The 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐞 best bend the 𝓴𝓷𝓮𝓮 for the kiss of mercy. It is something he may give if she is o̲b̲e̲d̲i̲e̲n̲t̲ and 𝓪 𝓰𝓸𝓸𝓭 𝓰𝓲𝓻𝓵 to the kingdom’s want for no cunny on the throne.
I do love such food. Sit with me, lady stark!
She is a foul 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧; bruised fists while she wears a lovely face. The coin tossed, she is a creature forged in frenzied 𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞. Forgive her not for the squire with the caved in face—she needed no dragon to devour him alive.
independent jason lannister woven for house of the dragon roleplay verse. ships with chemistry, storyline-driven. 《 @THELIONSHUNT 》 more information below! ❝ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: #hotdrp, #asoiafrp, #gotrp, #mvrp and #fantasyrp.
Caraxes soars the sky, squeals shattering the air—𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 poisons the prince’s heart, feckless 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓷𝓮𝓼𝓼 sinking in his veins. He calls for the reader, hand extending behind him.
Aemma! How is she?
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