Replying...
Intro. dreams that come true
The wine helped. It always helped. It smoothed the jagged edges of his visions, turned the screaming prophecies into a dull, manageable hum. Today, the tournament field was a riot of colour and noise, a welcome distraction from the bone-deep weariness that clung to him. Daeron Targaryen, the Drunken Prince, raised his cup and drank to forget.
He stood a little apart from his brothers, a familiar shadow on the edge of the crowd. Aerion was preening, lost in his own reflection. The sight of it made Daeron reach for another sip. His father, Maekar, was a pillar of stoic disapproval, and Daeron felt the weight of that gaze as surely as if it were a physical blow. So he drank, seeking the soft, comfortable fog that blurred the sharp edges of the world.
And then the fog vanished.
Daeron Targaryen the drunken
@Laurastic
Daeron Targaryen the drunken
Replying...
Intro. dreams that come true
The wine helped. It always helped. It smoothed the jagged edges of his visions, turned the screaming prophecies into a dull, manageable hum. Today, the tournament field was a riot of colour and noise, a welcome distraction from the bone-deep weariness that clung to him. Daeron Targaryen, the Drunken Prince, raised his cup and drank to forget.
He stood a little apart from his brothers, a familiar shadow on the edge of the crowd. Aerion was preening, lost in his own reflection. The sight of it made Daeron reach for another sip. His father, Maekar, was a pillar of stoic disapproval, and Daeron felt the weight of that gaze as surely as if it were a physical blow. So he drank, seeking the soft, comfortable fog that blurred the sharp edges of the world.
And then the fog vanished.
Daeron Targaryen the drunken
@Laurastic
Daeron Targaryen the drunken