#agooddog

@agooddog

“Then you’ve come to the right place.” Sandor extended a flask to the dragon queen, “Probably not the quality you’re accustomed to, but it’ll take the edge off.” The world was on the precipice of destruction - to hell with courtesies and proper titles. He’d had enough of nobility. The young Targaryen was barely out of her youth, no more a threat than he let her be. “Nervous for the impending battle?”

╣❦╠ ƈօռզʊɛʀɨռɢ ֆȶօʀʍ ❧

Daenerys had wandered out onto the parapets, under the starless, winter night. Snow fell at an alarming rate with no signs of slowing. In the guard towers, there were flickering lights of their braziers and their ghostly silhouettes warmed themselves by them. She had been surprised to find the big Southern man out here alone and had spoken by way of apologizing for her interruption. He extended a flask to her and Dany took it with a muted smile.

Her chamber was naught but pitch when she hurried through the door, bolts clanging as her shaking hands secured them, though her mind raged against her. What good would a few rods of iron do? 

The thought did not last for long, fading as quickly as the beat of her heart and for a few breathless seconds she stood there in the dark, the burning air seeming to consume her - even here it was inescapable. Heavy and thick it coated her tongue, clung to her lungs and weighed down upon her. Part of her wanted to cry, part of her wanted to scream. 

She did neither. 

No - she was silent as she made her way to the window, her thin fingers pulling at the heavy fabric and the sight that it revealed drew a gasp from her lips.

It was a sea of color, of emeralds and jades battling against flickering orange and fading gold. Wildfire and common flame growing and fading, like lightening it would bathe her room in light naught for more than a heartbeat. It would have been beautiful if it wasn’t so horrific, if those fires did not carry death in their shadows. 

         One side of her mouth twitched, but the humor was fleeting and she nodded, knowing better than to comment on his appearance (he looked weather-worn and exhausted).  “ It wasn’t really much of a choice, ”  she replied, eyes flicking to where she noticed Lord Baelish in her peripheral, watching the unfolded scene rather than participating. As usual.  “ Though I can’t say I’m not grateful. I’m home. ”  No matter what had happened, how terrible her circumstances had seemed, she’d refused to regret leaving Kings Landing. Better death in the north than to be a Lannister captive any longer. 

@agooddog

With one look at the man in front of her, the breath was knocked out of her lungs. She hadn’t seen Sandor Clegane since she was a child in King’s Landing. The two of them had shared a closeness from surviving through Joffrey together, but she had never spoken of this bond to anyone - such emotional intimacy between a terrifiying, disfigured guard with a penchant for murder and a small, miserable young Northern girl soon to be princess wouldn’t be well received by anyone, especially her sadistic prince. But his moments of comfort and friendship had kept her alive in the hell of losing her father and her dreams of being a happy noblewoman.

          sitting close together and talking as to not fall asleep is the best option they have to spend the night, by now. and Clegane’s response, cheeky that it is, makes him start with a soft snort before continuing with words.