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    Summary

    It's a calming thing, and a privilege, you know, to be able to make even the smallest oasis within the Red Keep. Somewhere away from whispering mouths and pointing fingers, somewhere away from judgement-casting eyes and ever-changing allyships. Even your handmaidens are barred from your solar at this time.

     

    Yes. It's only you, your brush, your canvas, your muse, and the silence that flows between you.

     

    "This is foolish," Aemond scowls once more, but he doesn't move from his prettily-postured position. The silence has been snapped in two, and you huff a laugh.

     

    "What is, my Lord Prince?"

    Series
    Language:
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