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“I’m not your entertainment,” he shot back, although he can’t help but wrap his wings around her, and press his lips to her cheek, because he would always jump through hoops to keep her happy, as much as he might try to deny it. Novare is not the pinnacle of all entertainment, between Euryale’s seething and Purson’s plotting, Lamashtu’s wicked tongue (Lannister is convinced that she might eat them if they stray too close) there has not been much activity amongst the once neutral land.

They had, both of them, gone in search for entertainment elsewhere, but Ismene was only one person and Lannister could not keep her forever, and Lakhesis had obviously grown bored of trying to dress Rhaegal up in the most ridiculous attire she could imagine. He pulls his wings back to his sides, tucking them against his body.

“Mother is allowed pets,” Lannister shoots back, ears pinning against his head. He does not, would not, consider Ismene a pet, not like Euryale would. He could not deny that he was almost fond of the wide-eyed innocent girl. But to explain to Lakhesis that he likes the fact that Ismene does not judge him, that around Ismene he doesn’t have to pretend, would seem weak. “are you jealous of her, Lak?” He hits the nail on the head, and there is no denying the smugness in his voice. “Don’t be. She’s not nearly as wonderful as you.”

No one is.
No one would ever be.