Qeya River time for dying

stærk’s vision tunneled as claws rake through his fur, teeth snapping dangerously close to his flesh.

you did it. you did it!

her accusation struck like a blow to his ribs, stealing what little air he could muster. confusion clouded his thoughts, her words twisting through the jagged fragments of his memory like knives.

rhaegon was hunted down, torn apart... you did it.

he froze beneath the chieftain’s weight. the fury in his eye dimmed. he didn’t remember. the blood, the vengeance, the fall of their family.

he wanted the throne. always. and so did you.

her accusations lashed at him like whips, each word a crack against his pride, his purpose. his growls quieted, but the tension in his body remained, coiled like a spring ready to snap.

a coward. a traitor. and a fool.

her final words cut deepest of all. what had he done, if not uphold her rule? everything, everything, everything! everything he had ever done—it had all been for her! for his sister! for his blood!

he will not submit. he will not! so he heaves, strongly, making to push himself to his paws from beneath her husband. their teeth crashing together as he fights to his paws, only to be wrenched back below. stuck. unable to claim dominance in their battle. he is stricken. so be it!

the seven shall g— he sputters, a splatter of saliva and blood to paint sun eater's black coat. -uide me. to the heaven— another choke.