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[holyposition]

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t.laughlin

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[provoke]

Whoever attacked you will likely try again. You could just wait for them to come to you.

[ aemond even helps with the shirt, if it's giving tim some trouble. see, he can be helpful. ]

Put some distance between yourself and the hurt. The cold of vengeance provides clarity.

[holyposition]

[ He sighs, puts his arms up, letting Aemond help him. His bedside manner could be better, but it's the thought that counts. He'll remember. ]

I want him caught. Not strung up on the grounds.

[provoke]

You would reward him for his daring? The jail cells are likely better furnished and safer. The house wants us to strike back.

[ he could be wrong; he's handling tim like he's handling his sister's children, which is that he's oddly careful so that their small and fragile limbs don't snap off in his grip. tim isn't a small child of four, but he's also currently injured. he's not in pain now; his blood is up enough that it shields his mind from it.

but later — later, the full brunt of his injuries will creep in, and they will be harder to ignore. ]

The fewer players there are to mind, the faster this game will end.

[holyposition]

Alia's guilt was confirmed because we voted for her. If you--

[ He coughs, and reaches for a glass of water he has on his bedside. The adrenaline is starting to wear, the soreness setting in. ]

If you take it into your own hands, we'll never know for sure.

[provoke]

You can know for certain and still kill your attacker. The gods gave you hands to take your justice if you need it.

[ aemond is no help with the water, but he does offer a steadying hand when tim starts to drink, just so the glass doesn't tip over and spill water all over the man. if aemond seems weirdly adept at handling a person like an invalid — well, sometimes his mother's not around to mind their father.

(and sometimes, he wonders what it would take for viserys to trip over himself and break his own neck.) ]

Some people deserve to die, Tim Laughlin.

[holyposition]

I don't believe that.

[ As firm as he can be, with his voice shot from the strangulation. Tim takes the hand that's offered to him, grasping firm, pleading. ]

Alia wasn't in control of it. Whoever came for me probably wasn't, either. Your anger ought to be with the house.

[provoke]

Should I be mad at the Iron Throne as well, given how it takes from the realm as it pleases? The house does as it does for reasons that have nothing to do with us. That is the game we're truly playing.

[ he doesn't shake off tim's hand, but the responding grip he gives tim is— not gentle at all. ]

We either win or we die. You would rather die, then?

[holyposition]

Maybe you should be.

[ Yanking his hand back. Excuse him if he's sensitive to rough handling for a while. ]

The game has rules, we can win it without becoming wolves ourselves. You will not kill my attacker.

[ If it were done for his sake, it would be as bad as Tim killing them himself. He couldn't live with the guilt, not when this game is temporary but death is not. ]

[provoke]

No.

[ what a lovely word, that. how succinct of a refusal it is. ]

You said I deserve to have a say in what is done to me. That to share my will with another is to build trust. But you would command me to stay my hand? Do as you preach, but not as you act?

I will not kill without reason. That is as far as I'll allow.

[holyposition]

So do I!

[ He coughs, a heaving fit that makes his throat burn, everything from his chest to the crown of his head. ]

I was the victim. It should be my word.

[provoke]

You are not the only victim or casualty to the game. You're not dead. Take it as the victory that it is.

[ regardless of what love is absent in him for rhaenyra and jacaerys, their deaths should have been by his hand. and that baela was killed — he would have spared her, out of respect for her skills and her grandmother's memory.

but he nonetheless places a soothing hand to the back of tim's neck, soothing the tenseness out with small, firm touches. ]

You do not have sole claim to rage, in this. Sleep for a few hours at least.

[holyposition]

I know that. But the one who attacked me? He lives. Give me this one thing. Please.

[ It feels like a sacrifice, not demanding the same for them all. But he's too exhausted to fight every battle, not just physically, but mentally, spiritually. If he laid down to sleep, he's not sure he would even be able to, with all the possibilities and fears running through his head, about the wrong choices he's made, and the ones he'll continue to make.

If he's alone, he thinks, he'll panic. Aemond's talent for soothing him would, perhaps, be outshined by other potential company, but it's meaningful that he's making the attempt, rubbing out tense muscles. Tim leans forward, against him, head on his shoulder. ]

I kept the belt. Maybe some magic can be done on it.

[provoke]

I won't strike to kill. If he lives, he lives. [ he's trying here. he can't promise to spare a life when he's never seen any value in keeping enemies alive. ] Do not press any further, Tim. I won't argue with you when you're injured.

[ manners demand he not pick a fight with the injured, much as he would not give a care otherwise. his mother would judge him harshly for the shameless behaviour. that's his reason, if anyone asks. ]

May I see the belt? Before you let the idiot witches touch it?

[holyposition]

...fine.

[ He's not so pure to insist that he doesn't deserve a smack. Well, for Aemond it's probably a stab, but again - picking his battles. ]

It's there, on the table by the bed...and they're not all idiots.

[provoke]

That is true, I suppose. Pierce Strickland has more sense in a thimble than most. More by miles compared to that... Who was the fool one? He was rightfully attacked for his idiocy. A lot of the accusations have been that way, these imbeciles.

[ it's a fine belt, when aemond finds it. the leather is sturdy but aged, and the notches have seen a lot of wear. DW is imprinted on the inverse, along the length of it. ]

You have seen the initials on the belt?

[holyposition]

I was thinking of Harry Dresden, actually. You're thinking of Matt. Jamison.

[ Fool is a little harsh, in Tim's opinion, but making an accusation, retracting it, and making another, only for neither one to go anywhere was...a bad look. Messy. He didn't vote until the last minute because he wanted to be sure. He sighs again, accepts the pain that comes with it, and settles onto the bed. ]

DW, yeah. There's only one person here that I'm aware of with those initials, and I've never spoken to him. I don't know why he would want to attack me, I'm not...

[ Important, he nearly says. Not the leader of anything, not outed as having any special role that might make him a strategic option instead of a personal one. It doesn't make any sense. ]

Dean Winchester. You know him?

[provoke]

Not at all, but we have his name now. If nothing else, that would mean we have three of the wolves accounted for. [ oh– ] Do not worry about the second one. It'll be taken care of in due course.

[ he'll ask his mother if she knows of a dean winchester. later; for now, he tests the belt for its sturdiness, wrapping both ends round his fists and pulling it tight over his elbow with a sharpness. if it seems like he's testing how it holds against skin, the way aemond looks over to tim's neck leaves no doubt about it. ]

He'll have exerted a great force to leave the bruises and scrapes you have. He should have welts in his hands, if he had done this and had not worn gloves. Did you struggle? Did you injure him in some way?

[holyposition]

What do you mean don't worry about the second one?

[ Leaning forward to hack painfully into his shirt, the collar pulled up over his face as he coughs. It sounds rough, painful. ]

Of course I struggled. But it was dark, I don't know how effective it was. There might be scratches on his hands or arms. I really...I don't know. Who's the second one?

[provoke]

Daemon will handle it. Leave it be, he will cut you if you get in his way.

[ much as he'd love to see his uncle on a rampage, it would not do well for his already stressed mother to see more of her friends hurt or killed. he does note down the possible injuries tim's attacker might have. the weather has gotten mild enough to justify wearing thickened sleeves; this could require some work.

aemond welcomes it. ]

Just lie back, Tim. Truly. You won't be attacked in the next few hours, and you need to heal.

[holyposition]

I'm not - I just want to know who, so we can focus on uncovering the rest. I could be following other clues instead of wasting my time looking for someone we already know.

[ But he complies, laying on his side, so he can keep watching Aemond. ]

Are you staying?

[provoke]

Hmm. I'll speak with my mother first.

Move over.

[ he orders tim to move, but he also leaves the belt and walks over to the belt and all but pushes tim to the centre of the mattress, slipping into place next to him with shoes on and all. he roots around the bedside and finds a softbound book, a bible attributed to some king named james. aemond opens to a random chapter, and begins reading out loud. ]

"And there appeared another wonder in heaven; and behold a great red dragon, having seven heads and ten horns, and seven crowns upon his heads..."

—Is this text from your home?

[holyposition]

[ Tim lets himself be handled, not that he could put up much of a fight if he wanted to right now, but he doesn't mind, and that's the important thing. He sits with Aemond, shoulder to shoulder, and winces with the chuckle that trickles out of him. Because of course he would find this very page first. ]

Yeah, it is.

And no shoes on the bed, I know you weren't raised in a barn.

[provoke]

[ just as quickly replied— ]

The servants will clean it.

[ he's not taking his shoes off if there's a chance he'll need to be up on his feet and defending themselves against an attack. mind, he still has a missing eye; being highly trained to compensate for the loss does not make it any less of a disadvantage. ]

What happened to the dragons of your world?

[holyposition]

They’ve got enough to deal with.

[ What with the corpses. ]

This is, um. A prophecy, sort of. The dragon is mostly symbolic, of a great evil coming to wreck havoc. My grandmother takes it completely literally, but I don’t-- [ Cough cough hack ugh!! ] You know, this isn’t really the most comforting part of the book. Try Psalms.

[provoke]

Do you question the tax collector for doing his duty? It's not blood. It'll wash clean and easily.

[ surely some dirt won't hurt. aemond hums and flips the pages to somewhere closer to the middle of the book, and lands on psalms 78; ]

"I will open my mouth with a parable; I will utter hidden things, things from of old, things we have heard and known, things our ancestors have told us. We will not hide them from their descendants; we will tell the next generation the praiseworthy deeds of the Lord, his power, and the wonders he has done."

[ hm. this sounds familiar— ]

'Tis a book of prophecy, this text? Your God entreats to have witches his own?