#bigdaddydaemon

random positivity meme. | @bigdaddydaemon

» 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐞 🍒 + 𝐚 𝐮𝐫𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦. // @worthyheir

@bigdaddydaemon asked: i have you.

Laena   tilted   her   head,   her   gaze   sharp   and   unyielding   as   she   regarded   Daemon.   The   words   lingered   in   the   air   between   them,   a   quiet   declaration   that   demanded   attention.   A   faint   smile   curved   her   lips,   though   it   did   little   to   soften   the   intensity   of   her   expression.   "Do   you   now?"   she   asked,   her   voice   laced   with   equal   parts   curiosity   and   challenge.

She   stepped   closer,   the   soft   rustle   of   her   skirts   filling   the   silence.   "And   what   does   that   mean   to   you?   So   far,   I   see   no   wedding   being   offered."   Ever   so   bold,   the   woman's   voice   is   laced   with   a   challenge   in   that   moment.   Laena   had   been   as   such   since   they   danced   at   Rhaenyra's   wedding   after   all.   Bold   and   forward.   One   had   to   be,   to   be   a   match   for   a   man   like   Daemon.

@bigdaddydaemon liked for a starter.

The last thing Rhaenyra had expected was for her father to die so soon. Yes, she knew he was in a bad condition but nonetheless, she had hoped to have him around just a little longer, even if just to meet the new baby when the time came. But things hardly ever went as hopes were. And when the knock had come on the doors to her chambers, she had known instinctively what the news was even before she had left her bed.

Rhaenyra’s   fingers   trembled   as   they   gripped   the   carved   arms   of   her   throne,   the   faint   hum   of   the   Black   Council   fading   into   the   distant   roar   of   her   own   thoughts.   He’s   dead,   he’s   dead,   the   words   had   haunted   her   since   the   bloody   battle   at   the   God’s   Eye,   where   dragons   fell   like   stars   from   the   heavens.   Daemon’s   absence   had   hollowed   her   in   a   way   she   didn’t   dare   voice.

But   now—now,   he   stood   at   the   threshold   of   the   hall.   She   had   clung   to   Aegon   the   Younger's   arm   as   if   her   grip   could   protect   the   last   precious   thing   in   her   life   but   there   he   is;   Daemon.   Even   the   Gods   do   not   want   him   like   she   does.

He   was   no   ghost,   though   he   looked   a   shadow   of   the   man   she   remembered.   His   silver   hair   was   disheveled,   his   black   armor   scorched   and   dented.   For   a   moment,   Rhaenyra   forgot   how   to   breathe.   The   fire   that   surged   through   her   veins   was   neither   anger   nor   relief   but   something   rawer,   fiercer.

Her   lips   parted,   yet   no   words   came—what   could   she   say   to   a   man   who   had   already   defied   death   itself?   “Daemon,”   she   finally   whispered,   her   voice   cracking   like   thin   ice.   The   hall   seemed   to   vanish,   the   whispers   of   her   council   drowned   by   the   rush   of   her   heartbeat.

─── 𝕺𝖓 𝖘𝖔𝖓𝖔𝖗𝖔𝖚𝖘 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖊𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖜𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖆𝖑𝖒𝖔𝖘𝖙 haunting in inflection, the unified voices of the dragonkeepers’ filled the cavernous expanse of the pit, the ringing chorus of an ancient tongue dancing through the dark tunnels on the ebb and flow of rippling echoes. All eyes were cast upon the various tunnels that were carved into the surrounding stone walls, each one unstirring and blackened by shadow; seemingly vacant aside from the faint, eerie cries of the trapped breeze that circled within.

     ❝ Hae mērot gierūli:      Se hāros bartossi Prūmȳsa sōvīli Gevī dāerī. ❞

     The harmonious string of voices would continue to chant for many minutes, faltering in their delivery only when a bright glow of red flames had suddenly cut through the shadowy veil of the mouth to the adjacent tunnel, the burst accompanied by a powerful rumble. An intense heat followed in sequence, radiating from within the passage and prompting each dragonkeeper to take a precautionary step backwards. This particular beast had a nasty reputation for his habit of spewing flame on needless whims. Gravely, they had cautioned their prince of the ferocity of the dragon, but even their detailed accounts of the savage-natured creature could not seem to deter him, and far be it from their place to stand in the way of what was a Targaryen tradition.

     As the flickering radiance of the fire began to dim, the sound of a drawn-out whistle came floating out from the afterglow, so sharp in octave that it could make the hair on the back of one’s neck stand on end. Tremors shook the walls like rolling barrages of thunder as the source of the bizarre vocalization rounded the corner of the tunnel and stepped out from the shadows, a long, serpentine neck slithering through the dark veil to reveal the scarlet scales of the blood wyrm himself. An elongated body snaked out behind him, following his chosen path in a twisting pattern as he curved his way up towards the platform.

     ❝ Lykirī, Caraxes, lykirī!  ❞

standing   before   him   seems   a   realm   of   possibilities   away   from   grasp.   worsened   by   the   request   that   hangs   within   a   breath   of   unspoken   pleading.   held   like   a   bird   within   the   cage   of   her   teeth.   there's   a   gap   that   can't   be   as   easily   bridged.   as   if   he   is   miles   away   ..   though   she   could   reach   out   and   touch   him   ,   if   only   the   courage   did   not   slip   away.   like   dying   embers   she   is   desperately   trying   to   reignite.