Laettaee



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  1. Rec *

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    “Let it fall on ice and wolves,” Aerion dismissed. “Were I king, I’d not waste breath on dead lands in the North.”

    Valarr felt himself grow irritated. “And what would you see fit to spend breath on, if not that?” he asked, dry. “The hatching of dragons from stone?”

    Valarr survives the great spring sickness, inherits the crown, and, somewhere along the years, is summoned north by Lord Stark.

    His first mistake is taking Aerion with him.

    Art for the fic here

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    19 Mar 2026

  2. Rec *

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    Aerion was momentarily speechless, his mouth clamped shut, caught between shock and the immediate need to mask it—Valarr would know. This Aerion’s very own brand of flustered pride. However, he didn’t seem seconds away from lashing out at Ser Duncan. Nor he stepped away.

    Valarr’s jaw ticked before he was aware of the motion.

    In which Valarr had always known about the arranged betrothal between him and Aerion.

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    15 Mar 2026

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