If I Fall Silent, I'm Sorry But A Snake Just Killed My Cat This Afternoon

if I fall silent, I'm sorry but a snake just killed my cat this afternoon

@aclashofmuses sent: “No, no, no, don’t die on me!” okay but this in contrast to the Robb/Torrhen thread we have going — I’ll send more but I’m currently supposed to be sleeping 👀 

Send me “No, no, no, don’t die on me!” for a scenario in which my muse dies protecting yours.    

torrhen lets out a cry as he throws himself between robb stark and jaime lannister, his sword raised. a last minute turn of the wrist, and the kingslayer severs him, torr watching in horror as his sword hand is cut. his fingers gone, save his thumb and the stump left at an angle. blood streaming, not stopping, and a cry leaving him once more. this one of fear. men grapple the kingslayer to the ground and robb rushes to torrhen’s side. the two young men, barely out of boyhood try to staunch the bleeding. to no avail. the blood keeps flowing at torr starts to feel lightheaded. he leans into robb as the other man starts to yell, the words falling on deaf ears as everything around him starts to muffle and go black.

ANYA TAYLOR-JOY as Olga of the Birch Forest THE NORTHMAN (2022) dir. Robert Eggers

@flayersdaughter/ @secondsonofwinter sent: “No, no, no, don’t die on me!” (with whoever you want to hurt me with from our many ships) 

Send me “No, no, no, don’t die on me!” for a scenario in which my muse dies protecting yours.  

She hadn’t thought as she threw herself between Eddard and the Bolton soldier. All she had thought was that she couldn’t just stand by and watch him die. His name had left her lips when she had started to move, his head had turned in time to see the sword slice into her neck.

Fear filled her, her hands moving to her throat to press against the bleeding as she sinks to the ground. The sounds of the battle around them dim as she refocuses, looking at him as his arms move around her. His words aren’t reaching her ears as she looks up at him, but she can make out what he is saying still. She watches his lips to know what he is telling her, lips that she had watched on so many different occasions.

There were so many words left unsaid.

Edd, she tries to say, her cut throat leaving her words silent. One hand stays on the wound, blood still pooling around her fingers, while the other clings to his surcoat. I don’t want to die. She sobs, her body shaking as he holds her in his arms. There was so much she wished she had said before, so much that she wishes she had done. I love you, please don’t leave me. I’m scared.

@aclashofmuses sent: “No, no, no, don’t die on me!” arianne for quentyn!! 

Send me “No, no, no, don’t die on me!” for a scenario in which my muse dies protecting yours.    

quentyn moves between arianne and the spear that was being thrown her way, shoving his sister to the ground in case his body did not stop the projectile entirely. the young prince’s body arches as the long shaft of wood pierces it, going in his back and out of his chest. a weapon thrown by one of the sellswords from essos, aimed to take the allies of the golden company out of the picture. viserion lets out a screeching roar as quent goes to his knees, letting a stream of flame across the battlefield as her rider gasps for breath and checks on his sister.

“ are you alright? “ he asks, coughing as it is hard to breathe. “ i brought dragons for you and father... “

@ofvalyriansteel sent: ❝ I must admit I expected far worse from an arranged marriage. ❞ (for viserys i ) 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ* ARRANGED MARRIAGE SENTENCE STARTERS 2.0

Viserys looked at his cousin as the words left her lips, their grandfather had arranged their marriage to shore up Aemon’s line of succession, and though she was three years older than he was he’d been the best option. Jaehaerys had stated that he wanted to ensure that the throne would follow the Targaryen name, the other option would have been to marry her to another Valyrian blooded family in the Velaryons or the Celtigars. None of them would have ensured that the Iron Throne would belong to a Targaryen, however.

Viserys was the fourth in line, following his own father and Rhaenys herself in the succession. It was a good match, and at least they liked each other well enough. There were fuzzy memories of him running after her on tiny legs, calling out her name. He already could envision their reign, how it could look, with the two ruling equally like their grandparents, a throne shared by two dragons.

“Is that so, Cousin?” he asks, trying to figure out if that was a compliment or not, though he had to agree with the thought. Their grandfather could have chosen anyone for the two of them to marry, it was better that it was someone that they already knew and liked well enough. He could have engaged them to someone that they hated from the offset. “What is it that you were expecting from an arranged marriage?”