Soaring_Winds



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    If Valarr was the firstborn, the bursting pride of Baelor Targaryen, and Matarys, the lastborn, his fragile little hope, Aenar Targaryen was his secondborn child - his simple joy - torn away too soon.

    His murder - for Baelor could hardly call it anything else despite the desperate hopes and fervent prayers of his lady wife to recover a boy, not a body - had broken the tentative peace that had been reached between King Daeron the Good and his many bastard brothers, and had earned Baelor his name as both Breakspear and Hammer.

    It hadn't brought his son back to him. Hadn't made his wife any happier, or his sons remember their brother as anything other than a single portrait hung dearly upon the family solar. So Baelor had hid his grief deep beneath his chest, turned his attentions to the few sons he had left, and held them tight.

    It was with that faded memory of his son, tucked so close and dear to his breast, that he saw the man - no, a boy really, despite how massive in height and stature he was - peeking from behind the door into the borrowed solar of where Lord Ashford hosted them.

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    23 Jun 2026

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    22 Jun 2026

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    Ke ba’jurir gar’ade, jagyc’ade kot’la a dalyc’ade kotla’shya. (Mandalorian proverb) [Translation: Train your sons to be strong, but teach your daughters to be stronger.]

    Summary: The rise of the First Order and the resulting destruction of the Hosnian System tore through the very fabric of the galaxy. There is mass destruction on a galactic scale with cataclysmic novae and collapsing planetary systems that continue to spread further across the Known Galaxy. In a last-ditch effort to save the galaxy, a young Mandalorian sets out on doing the impossible: travel back in time and join forces with the Jedi Order before they fall prey to the Sith. With the Clone Wars just on the horizon, there is plenty of work to be done and nowhere near enough time to do it.

    Is it too late to stop the inevitable?

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    17 Jun 2026

  4. Public Bookmark 58

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    17 Jun 2026

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    (and Father taught me how to feast) - Kemi Alab

    “I’m here about the girl,” Tywin continued. “And my son.” Father looked at the Kingslayer, who said nothing, that pained smile still on his face. “No,” Lord Tywin drawled, “My younger son.” He directed a contemptuous look at the Imp, who did not even raise his eyes from the floor. “You see, ser, he’s decided he’s in need of a wife. Unfortunately, he mistook a whore for one.”

    The Imp- the boy, Delora decided, because that was what he was, in truth, no laughing devil but a little boy, ugly and terribly sad about something- all the same, his shoulders were shaking. The Kingslayer looked at his brother for a moment, and his smile wavered. “Now that the matter has been settled, I think it best he wed a more suitable bride.” Tywin locked eyes with Ivor. “The granddaughter of a kennel master should be close enough for him.”

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    12 Jun 2026