#⚔ The Conqueror ⚔

[infernal-general]

@infernal-feminae

Rozália had to applaud her army's unwavering composure during the most uncertain moments they ever lived through since the very first clash with Heaven. And now she wasn't present as an unshakeable pillar of support, protection; she was the one who collapsed after taking a tremendous risk for all of them. She barely had slivers of memories regarding the past few weeks, all she remembers is embracing heat, the Fallen urging her to stand and brief bursts of restless drive forward.

Nobody could hide the relief when she finally woke from her coma, seemingly without any lasting damage. At least physically. The mental part was always trickier when it came to divine or demonic possession, let alone both at the same time. A day and she was already on her feet, testing, carefully threading the murky waters under the watchful eyes of her officers. They refused to tell how Marcell ended up with second degree burns on his arms. Not like they needed to, she had a devastating guess.

After three days, she ventured outside of her district the first time, with purpose in her stride. Almost the whole Pride was still barren land, torched beyond recognition, glass solidified in unnatural shapes. She followed the path of fiery destruction to the very center where she'd set up the trap, the seal. The site mostly intact, only a deep gouge slithered across where the once glowing seal cracked. And she found what she was looking for.

Her steps leisure, as if she was taking a friendly stroll in Cannibal Colony; only the tiniest smirk occasionally catching the corner of her lips. Those who survived, hadn't forgotten 1930. Good. She never intended them to. A justified slaughter ended by an abrupt decree, a heavy chain reigning her bloodlust, her rightful vengeance by force. The corpse unceremoniously tossed over her shoulder swayed with her steps. So did the head belonging to it in her grip.

“Ms Rosie.” the General's smile was cold like a slithering viper among flowers

“I'm well aware that our...history hasn't been the best. I believe I managed to achieve a new order, and having such bad blood with you, being the Overlord of the territory neighboring mine isn't beneficial for any of us.” she laid the angel's corpse down, batting pine green ashes from her bright cape

“I've brought you a gift. A Hunter, a human turned Exorcist, roasted by Hellfire. I'm not going to act like I have any idea how does it taste, but I can guarantee such combination is rare. The armor is melted to skin, but I assume you have the tools to get to the insides. If not, I feel generous enough to help prying it open.” the burnt head with unrecognizable features molten together placed next to the corpse

“I think you are aware that I favor rather...straightforward methods regarding settling conflicts, instead of using poison. But. To soothe worries that might arise, I would like to stay during your feast as insurance that I have not tampered with it in any form. If you'd have me.” Rozália concluded, given her frequently proclaimed disgust regarding cannibalism, her offer was almost as strong as an outright apology and attempt to work towards a less rocky future.

[dolorequiem]

I have no idea what I'm doing, this is so random and came from a sentence that crossed my mind. I didn't correct it so I apologize if it's a torture for the eyes (my english sucks sometimes). "She" is literaly whoever you want her to be for Aegon, and honestly that's just a one shot (Aegon isn't a rapist in this thing, need him to be pathetic not loathsome).

Anyway have fun reading it ig ? No warnings it's nothing. (It's very short)

Love ya ♡

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𝕯𝖔 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖈𝖗𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝖎𝖙 ?

⋆༺⋆°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ 𓆩⚔𓆪

── He missed childhood. He missed how careless he could be, how free he was, how funny it had been to be with his nephews, even when they were fighting.

Now the fight was all different. Freedom was gone, and the crown he had never asked for was heavy on his brow. It was hard to keep a head high, when all he wanted to do was to crawl back in the bed of youth and carelessness.

Of course, alcohol helped in a way but it did not ease all of the burden. As Aegon walked through a corridor, holding himself against the wall to keep his balance, he stumbled on the step he hadn't seen and fell on his knees, his crown dropping from his head and rolling on the floor.

When she saw him lose his balance, she sighed. Her heels echoed on the stone floor as she walked toward him and bent down, picking up his fallen crown.

Aegon felt humiliated. His hand shot out, trying to reach for it but he just stumbled on his knees more as she pulled her hand away, holding the crown high above her shoulder. He gritted his teeth as he saw the look of judgement on her face. He felt like a child and he hated that, he hated this gaze, it was like his mother's. Cruel, disappointed...and careless, in a way.

"Give it to me." He said, voice cold as he got to his feet.

He hated being made a fool of. And that was all he felt like, a drunken fool. Her eyes swept over his disheveled form, his black cape splayed on the stone as he stayed sat. He had given up on trying to stand, leaning his back against the nearest wall.

"What, this?" She looked at the dark iron crown in her soft hand, and the little rubies in it. "It seems too heavy for you," she murmured, her voice soft like honey, but holding the same bitter-sweet taste as it.

Aegon's eyes narrowed and he gritted his teeth some more. It was clear, she knew he was drunk, and she was mocking him. It only increased his irritation. She'd go around and tell the whole castle how awful of a king he made, how awful of a human being he was.

"Give it back!" he repeated as he tried to reach for the piece of jewelry.

She intercepted his hand by taking it in her own and helped him to stand back on his feet. Her fingers were warm and soft in his sweaty palm, her grip stronger than he expected.

He stared down at her hand, the way it fitted in his, the rings on her fingers cold against his skin She sighed, letting go of his hand once he was settled on his feet, her fingertips lingering on the back of it.

Aegon remained quiet, staring at her. He could have her head. One order, and she'd be dead for having snatched his crown like this.

"Careful where you make it fall, one day it will roll at the feet of someone craving it," she ended up murmuring, holding the heavy iron piece up and setting it down onto his brow.

Aegon was still, listening to her words and feeling the weight of the crown on his head again. Gods, he hated it. The crown of the conqueror, yet he had nothing to conquer. He should, he should want to take those lands, this power back from his older sister Rhaenyra... but it felt wrong. He just wanted to crawl back into his bed and sleep endlessly, away from duty, away from the title he never asked.

"Do you crave it?" He asked, looking down at her. "The crown, I mean."

"Power is a poison. Yet when you taste it, you need more." She shook her head, her hand falling of his crown, now sat back upon his silver white hair. "I'd rather stay away from the throne."

She was right. This crown was pourring poison right into his glass of wine and one day, he'd choke on it and die, murdered by the weight of a burden which wasn't even his.

"Wise choice." Aegon said, nodding, his eyes now trailing from her hand, up her arm, to her face.

She looked up at him. "You should chose wisely too," she whispered, before she walked away from him.

She had seen right through his inner conflict.

Aegon stood there alone, following her with his gaze, a hand against the wall to keep himself steady. Maybe he should just fly to Dragonstone and give his crown to Rhaenyra. She was kind, she would spare him. And maybe then he'd go live a quiet life, somewhere is Essos.

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⋆༺⋆°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ under the light of the seven 𓆩⚔𓆪

[apkville1]

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[atheyrie]

The conquerors