REMEMBER KIDS !! some very important relationships are PLATONIC. some are maternal, paternal, friendships, siblingships. they do not all have to revolve around romantic/sexual attraction. please don’t ever think that i wouldn’t write with you if you didn’t want to bring a romantic/sexual ship to the table. I LOVE PLATONIC RELATIONSHIPS. THEY ARE UNDERRATED, UNDER EXPLORED, AND LOOKED PAST WAY TOO OFTEN. THEY CAN BE THE MOST IMPORTANT RELATIONSHIP TO A CHARACTER. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE.
“Viserys, do you like the dress Mommy made for me?” the young princess asked her brother excitedly. The siblings and their mother had reached Dorne from Dragonstone and Daenerys had never seen a more beautiful place in her life.
Viserys looked at the incoming blur that was Daenerys as he tried not to jump having not expected her to come up to him so excited. “Are you sure you didn’t make it? Mom can do way better. You shouldn’t be allowed to hold a needle” He told her as he turned his attention to the Dornish landscape. It had been a long trip from Dragonstone and Viserys was afraid that every day his mother and their own lives would be taken from them despite his mothers reassurance that everything would be okay once they were able to reach Dorne. “We’re to meet with the Dornish Prince’s and Princess’s don’t you have anything better to wear?”
Jasmine smiled and had to hold back a laugh as she saw the face he had made when she called him out by his hair. She waited until he came close, before setting the goblet down for him to fill. “Viserys.” His name rolled off her tongue so easily, warm like honey. She moved closer, cupping his face between her hands, stroking his heated skin.
“I know your name, but they can’t know that I do, you know that. For me to call your name so easily, it will cause rumors.” The warmth was spreading through her, and she was finding it harder and harder to resist. So she moved closer, pressing her lips to his soft skin. “If I had it my way, you would always be close by. So we wouldn’t have to hide as much.”
The princess knew it was wrong, this relationship, but she loved it too much. She loved how he made her feel. It had started not too long after he came here. Jasmine had been all too curious about the man, and one day, she found herself pressed against him. Her lips locked over his, and she couldn’t draw away easily. “Drink up, you look like you could use some.” Jasmine then laid back on the pillow, watching him.
She was so warm and inviting, it was hard not to wonder what effect she had on him for all these months and when she said his name he felt his heart skip a beat. His name had made him touch starved in a way. He rarely heard it and he longed to hear it come from Jasmine’s lips so when she pressed her lips against his skin he found his hands moving to bring her closer to him and pressed his lips to her forehead. This was the little power he could find here in this country, the little freedom he had beyond that of a royal slave.
“I would love that as well Jasmine.” He replied as he looked at her, he never thought he would find love here not in his situation nor happiness. He still wasn’t sure how and when it had started but he had noticed how she had looked at him when he was first brought to the palace and slowly over time, over small fleeting looks and touches that brushed or lingered for far too long and he covered her lips with his greedily, pushing for another moment longer before she drew away and he did as she said, drinking from a goblet and tasting the sweet drink.
It was almost as sweet as Dornish wine and it brought back memories of home and he wondered what Daenerys was doing now but pushed her out of his mind as he sauntered closer to the Princess, extending his hand to give her, her goblet before he laid down to join her “You know back home I’m a Prince…well, a King. My father and brother killed and our tittles usurped from the throne by rebels, my pregnant mother and I forced to flee to safety. She died giving birth to my sister, Daenerys.” He didn’t speak of home often but he’d been feeling home sick as of late and wanted to tell someone his story, his culture and life.
Writing is being on the train and mentally seeing your OCs stumble into other people, or flinching away from the germ-ridden handrails, or sleeping on each others’ shoulders.
Writing is hearing a song on the radio and watching one of your scenes play out to the lyrics.
Writing is laying on your floor or sitting by your computer and spending hours collaging newspaper clippings or pictures or people or plants together and making something that is completely, uniquely, your story.
Writing is drawing your characters in your notebooks, and making tea only your one, picky character would drink, and writing an open letter to all your characters just to remind them you love them.
Writing is moodboards, and playlists, and crafts, and asks, and prompts, and pictures, and memories, and you.
So never think that just because you’re not putting words on a page, you’re not a real writer. Writing is something that follows you everywhere, beyond the word document, and beyond the screen.
Because writing isn’t something you do. It’s something you are.
Jasmine sighed softly as she laid out on her floor pillow. Her body stretched out, resting perfectly, curves resting in the cushions. She was already filling the warmth, a warmth she was too familiar with. It was the feeling she got fo the man she was watching work just outside her window.
A warm smile spreading across her lips, Viserys had not been here long at all. A little less than a year, but he worked always nearby during the day. THen at night, he was to keep watch outside her room. If he was ever not doing as he was told by her, or her father, he would be in trouble.
After all, he was sold to them, and he got a kinder role than most. All because he had caught Jasmine’s eye. The princess licked her lips before sitting up and nodded at her ladies. They knew it meant she was needing time alone and hurried away. Most of the time they just went to take their much-needed break, and the princess was fine with that.
The kind woman looked around before she sat up. She tapped her goblet twice, the metal echoing out into the garden. “White-haired one, I need more to drink.” She called out, using as an excuse to have him come to her. They would be hidden by the thin curtains, he could come to her here.
He’d nearly died, managing to somehow get free of the Dothraki’s grasp and ran towards freedom as he realized his sister would not give him mercy. He’d wondered long and far and eventually was picked up by slavers and sold to a foreign country and he had no idea what was going on as he was pushed towards a male and led to a odd shaped palace and was given to the ruling family which was the Sultan and his daughter.
Fast forward almost a year and he had picked up a great deal of the language and culture and had realized his lot in life had been better than some of the slaves that had been sold. Viserys felt it similar to how he had grown up and also how he had lived with Dany before he had married her off to Khal Drogo. He had some extra luxuries with the Princess and he didn’t mind them at all.
He made a face as she addressed him as ‘White-haired’ and the once proud Targaryen ventured fourth to where the desert Princess was hidden, holding the jug of drink ready to fill her goblet with it as he noted the ladies had left leaving them alone. “You do know I have a name.” He stated a bit grumpily as his violet eyes looked at her.
Goldnwulf 