#adreamofsilk

Helaena hadn't undressed after the funeral. Instead she hurried to her and Aegon's apartments and gathered Jaehaera, hurrying her into her bed chamber. The mild mannered girl had fallen asleep quickly, but Helaena remained, lying awake on her side, the seven year old clutched to her chest. Her eyes flick over to the midwife as she enters.

The midwife... the midwife...

With a sharp intake of breath one of her hands clutches at her stomach, looking down in horror. The events of the past two days had her so tired and horrified she'd forgotten the babe within her entirely.

Those were strong words for someone with no claim to any throne especially when spoke in front of a Queen. Daenerys lifted a brow at the other woman trying to decide what to do with this when she had come trading originally. What was she meant to do with this when her intention was to take over the monarchy of Westeros entirely? But no really where was this coming from? She wondered what it was that the captain could gain from such a thing.

Medieval pregnancy starters

The tightening in her stomach released and Helaena began to pant, sweat running down the side of her face. The pain had started an hour ago and Helaena had woken up crying. She was terrified, for months she'd been ill and her belly had swollen. She'd been in pain much of the last three months, since it became obvious to everyone else that there were two babes in her belly. She'd known from the moment they told her she was to have a baby, she'd always known there was two.

Now the labor was upon her, and the pain wasn't the only thing that scared her. Labor meant people, maids coming in and out, mother, and probably maesters too. People touching her, looking under her gowns, trying to help but only compounding the panic. That anticipation was worse then the pain.

🎵🎵

For every 🎵, I'll post a song I associate with my muse! / meme

💜 i see fire - ed sheeran

and if the night is burning, i will cover my eyes. for if the dark returns, then my brothers will die. and as the sky is falling down, it crashed into this lonely town. and with that shadow upon the ground, i hear my people screaming out.

💜 yellow flicker beat - lorde

i'm a princess cut from marble, smoother than a storm, and the scars that mark my body, they're silver and gold. my blood is a flood of rubies, precious stones. it keeps my veins hot. the fires find a home in me.

💜 my blood - twenty one pilots

marriage was like being land locked , or so the iornborn always discussed traditionally westerosi style marriage. the iron born were not meant to have one wife , or so the story had gone from as many years back as he could remember. that the only reason the tradition ( mainly ) remained in place was the ever-looming threat that whatever king sat on the throne of swords would impose some sort of rule on them that would force them to change something else about them. but if he had to consider it with anyone the woman before him seems like the only reasonable choice. he quite enjoys her mouthing off about the topic to ---- some idiot who had decided to cross her in the great hall. the blond knight is simply observing the ordeal with a smile on his face , as the girl yells about some oddity of feminine right to not be beaten by her husband or some other information that he isns't quite listening to but , at least it is amusing to watch the exhibiting behavior.

leaned back in the seat his feet are propped up on the table , peaking a glance at the small interaction until he finds himself plenty entertained at which point , the boots are scrapped off the table and he makes his way to walk back to his sleeping quarters for the night. it seems as though however - his absence is noted. because before long he finds the back of his garment being grabbed rather roughly and as he turns he finds a firey woman staring up at him with anger. a wrath he has no idea how he has encountered. it. a pause , as she demands that he inform her of his whereabouts. she was ironborn at her core , as dangerous as their longships reaving the coastline. but able to effectively impose that fear with her voice.

🎲 → 20. A rough kiss

ㅤㅤㅤSHE  TASTES  OF  A  LIFETIME  OF  BATTLES  AND  BLOOD.  Of  iron,  adrenaline,  and  victory.  The  kiss  of  a  trained  killer.  Dany  cannot  help  but  wonder,  as  Erlira's  lips  hungrily  devour  her  own,  if  she  would  draw  her  blood  as  well,  if  only  to  taste  the  crimson.  It  certainly  feels  close,  her  own  lips  becoming  tender  and  swollen  from  the  fighter's  claiming  mouth.  What  a  dangerous  woman  she  is,  shaped  by  a  life  of  brutality,  and  yet  the  queen  surrenders  to  this  rush  of  madness  nonetheless.  ❝ Don't  stop,  ❞  she  says  when  Erlira  begins  to  break  away;  not  a  queen's  command  but  a  plea  from  a  lonely  woman,  leaning  forth  to  capture  her  lips  again.