#crownburdened

Beneath his palm, the enormous egg nestled safely between its parents twitched, and Baelor froze. He looked down at the rocking orange and red shape. Bits of its shell cracked.

Baelor's nails moved to that snaking line. Theit little one would need help ; it was not as equipped in the ways of its scaled kin to break free on its own. "Dunk," Baelor said, voice firm and urgent. He dragged himself up onto his forearms. Warmth flared in his chest, a warmth that ached, and the blistering heat in the room felt too cold. Whimpering, he dug his hand into the meat of the egg and carefully pulled it back. His fingers pushed aside the sludge inside until he saw their squirming child.

A gasp, a choked sob, a continued plea issued of Dunk's name. Their sweet baby dragon was ready to meet them.

@crownburdened, unprompted.

Though the heat in their quarters had been sweltering for weeks since their egg was retrieved, Dunk had never slept better. It was the proximity, he imagined; Egg teased him about his pack animal tendencies, to which Dunk had only furrowed his brows with a curt "I don't know what you're talking about". But if being a pack animal meant that he was happiest with his lover and their child safely nestled between them, then perhaps there was some truth to the argument.

In any case, the only reason he stirred was because that perfect bubble of bliss was shattered by the uncharacteristically drastic tones in Baelor's voice as he called him.

"Hm? Wha's it, love?"

Dunk's eyes were bleary when they opened, and after such a deep sleep his senses came to focus in waves. With one hand cradling Baelor's face, Dunk's eyes followed his line of sight, and as his head dipped to look in the space between them, he felt jolted at the visible lack of orange shimmer below.

"The..." But the reason the egg was no longer whole was because it was open. Dunk felt his eyes go wider and wider, and his lips parted on a gasp when the little one's head began to move.

"That's..."

The child's eyes opened, shining a pretty purple. Dunk's own filled with tears, and the hand on Baelor's cheek trembled.

There was a noise. A shift of small, chubby limbs. The child seemed to struggle in its casing, and so Dunk carefully pulled at the already broken ends to take it apart. The mess that stained their bed was nothing; it was all worth it to see the baby squirm, and kick its-- her-- legs, and twist, and whine, and then, with the force of a thousand storms, start crying.

"Oh!" Dunk blinked, laughed, and felt the tears slide down his cheeks. He wanted to hold her, to touch her, but feared his own strength, waiting instead for Baelor's expertise on how to handle her. "Oh-- Baelor, seven fucks, she's fucking strong.

"Those lungs-- what do we--"

Oh, she's so delighted to hear as much! Her smile is bright and dimpled, an innocent contrast to the quite horrifying stories she's just shared with him over tea.

       ❝ Thank you!  I am not told this quite often - ❞   ah, but it doesn't last long, does it? The stars seem to understand the route of innocent dishonesty more than she does. Though her smile softens, it does not falter nor fall. Realization has simply dawned on her, and she accepts it with a light, amused puff of air.   ❝ Perhaps I should simply play up on my unsettling nature, hm?  What do you say? ❞   Like she is trying to joke in return.

Baelor propped himself up on one arm, the heel of his hand scrubbing down his face in an effort to finish waking him up. The warmth of a summer's night was thick in their bedchamber. Soft rays of morning sun crept in through the pretty glass windows. His eyes gradually focused — taking in the room, and the dawn, and the figure of his wife slumbering next to him. Smiling blearily, the royal leaned in. Baelor's knuckle traced the curve of her shoulder first. A simple hello before his fingers moved lower. Months ago, he would have pulled her toward him with the greed of a dragon hoarding its golden treasure. Now, though, he brought himself to her — out of consideration for the baby, which was supposed to arrive so terribly soon. Baelor's palm cupped her breast and then the swell of her pregnant belly. He nuzzled into her neck as he gently overwhelmed her. Angela was intoxicating to him. The sweet smell of her, the flutter of her eyelashes, the sound of her breathing ... the gods had never made anything so beautiful. ❝My Queen.❞ Baelor kissed the shell of her ear whilst he whispered to her. His fingertips drew lazy circles across their child. ❝Come back to me ... I must have a kiss to survive the day.❞

even in the golden queen’s early morning haze, the sensation of her husband's skin against her own, of his skilled hands gently working along her oh-so-sensitive frame, and his body pressed up behind her was perfect. right here, in this bed, she felt completely and utterly content, as if she could stay right in this moment forever — and when the whispering in her ear began, angela shivered softly despite the warmth of the room.

“ you are terribly demanding, my king, ” she replied. of course, they both knew she was doing nothing more than teasing. a gentle rapport, established through a love that came easier than breathing.

beneath baelor’s hand, their little dragon stirred as if in greeting — a sensation that drew a sharp intake of breath from its mother. the child was strong ; a fighter, just like its father. angela's hand shifted, moving to rest against baelor’s for a moment atop the baby targaryen. it was only once the moment had passed that she then shifted in the king’s arms, rolling over with effort so that she was instead on her back, propped against their pillows.

baelor’s eyes swept over her bare frame as the blankets, due to the change in position, fell from their place around her — angela’s teeth sank into the inside of her cheek at the sheer amount of love and want she saw in his gaze. baelor had always looked at her as she were the most beautiful thing in all the lands, and it had not lessened since she had grown soft and swollen with his child. if anything, it has only deepened the desire she saw, and for that, angela was grateful.

Baelor headed toward the dining hall, dark robe loose around his ever - changing frame. His gray curls were pulled behind his head. Multi - colored eyes swept over the halls, purple and brown taking in the servants shying away. Perhaps, they sensed his mood ; the other royal's usual kindness was absent from him. Come to dinner, he was told. — as though any of this were normal. Even for their strange, cursed life, these days were not the same as all those before. Baelor's hand drifted to his belly when the doors opened. He supposed, really, it wasn't the child's fault. A pain lanced up his back when he sat, and the size of the beast's offspring forced it up into his ribs ( Baelor would have sworn so ). Air puffed out of his lungs after he winced. Gingerly, he leaned to the side. The stare he fixed Adam with, or not - Adam, or - whatever - he - was, was duller than it used to be. Obviously, he was exhausted. ❝You have not called on me in two days,❞ Baelor said softly. Food graced his plate, but he did not move to eat it. His statement was a poorly disguised question.

since the moment that baelor entered the room, adam's eyes had not left him. no, he had watched with an intensity in those blue eyes, one that only lingered when the other prince finally took a seat. there was almost always a treacherous feeling of pride when he watched baelor now, heavy with child — adam is not exactly sure how to feel about the sensation, no, but he supposed it was to be suspected.

after all, princes were raised to want heirs and the other half of him, the one driven by an instinct not entirely of his own ... well ... let's just say it was more than pleased to see that the job had been done, that the seed had finally been sown.

“ i thought you might need your rest, ” adam finally replied, one claw absentmindedly leaving marks in the wood of the table. “ was i wrong in such an assumption? ”

despite the ironic tone in which the beast prince spoke, there was truth to those words : after all, baelor looked far more tired these days as the child within him demanded more and more, and contrary to what is believed, adam was not entirely heartless.

❝EEEEEGG.❞ Ryland crawled forward, sticking her sweet face near Egg's. Perhaps, it was a result of the love that surrounded the littlest Targaryen dragons — Ryland had no respect for her cousin's status. He was just Egg to her, obviously at times an important Egg to other people, but really just Egg. Her Egg, even.

❝Stop sleepin' ... ❞

（ @crownburdened. ）⸻ °｡

Had he even truly been asleep to begin with? How else had he kept from stirring when Ryland came poking and prodding about her cousin? Aegon - Egg had remained stock still with such even breath he'd hoped it'd fool the child into scrambling back to her chambers. Not that it ever did before. When she comes up and sticks her face to his, only then does he finally show any sign of wake. Eyes open like curtains pulled wide, brows lifting to fix the girl with a look that tried its best to be intense ( it has no bite whatsoever behind the eyes though ). The little one thought to command the king so brazenly?

       ❝ What trouble are you trying to make, Ryland? ❞ Egg gives as harsh a whisper as he can muster, immediately taking the girl under her arms and lifting her up away from his face. He's holding her in the air, flightly over his face now rather than pressed into it.

the running is nothing but a glorified game to the both of them.

on all fours, the bestial prince had stalked through the trees, with a silence uncharacteristic of a creature of his size. adam knew these woods better than baelor did : after all, a childhood was spent on these castle grounds — he knew every little pathway, every nook and cranny worth hiding in. there is no scenario, too, in which adam will not catch him ; the scent on the wind is too prevalent, stoking an already burning fire.

baelor's scent was all too familiar, and the beast growled lowly in the back of his throat. it was not born of aggression, no, but rather that of want. the chase added a thrill to this whole exchange — and regardless of whatever complaints the other prince might offer, adam knew that baelor felt the same. otherwise, why else would baelor flee through through the woods that surrounded the castle? after all, there isn't any leaving this place — the curse and its rules make sure of that.

he followed that familiar scent though the dark night, the moonlight shining down through the canopy of trees and onto the ground below, and when those bright blue eyes finally landed upon the familiar figure ahead, adam wasted no time in closing the gap. in a flash, he pounced, pinning baelor to the forest floor beneath them. there was no care taken to be gentle, for he knew that the other could handle it — after all, that was what he was made for, was it not?

Baelor shouldn't have been surprised to find his son sitting out like this. If not for the guards required to be near, no one would have seen the young prince sat on the stone bench. Baelor, too, found the gardens relaxing ; he could hardly blame Valarr. With a hum of consideration, Baelor moved along the path toward his son. He left his considerable entourage behind, perhaps pleased himself to be free for just a moment. ❝Valarr ...❞ Baelor greeted. His fingers laced together and settled in his lap. The crown prince did not ask for permission to join the youth. There was no place in this grand fortress, save for his own father's rooms, that he could be denied entry, and it was obvious that he was used to that privilege. ❝Is there something troubling you ?❞

Valarr had straightened upwards as he noticed his father approaching, knowing that slouching wasn't the way a prince should carry himself. Though, it was clear by his words that'd he'd already noticed his demeanor. Perhaps having been so easily found out drained the effort of putting the façade of the perfect prince from him as his shoulders drop once more.

Tentatively, he gazed upon his father before looking back at his lap in shame.

@crownburdened​ asked : “It’s fun to move to a new place. It’s an adventure.” from mal

“I’m tired of adventures.” They’ve crossed oceans, visited foreign lands, done things Alina would’ve never dreamt of in her wildest dreams... or her worst nightmares. Sure, their travels have been exciting, maybe even fun at times when their lives weren’t in peril, but she wants safety, security. She wants a peaceful life, settled down somewhere where they don’t have to be constantly on guard. It seems hopeless to want a normal life, with who she is now. It doesn’t seem possible to have normalcy. Is it selfish of her to want that? Thousands of people are depending on her, but she just wants to go back to the life she had before her first journey into the Fold.