#dragcnlxrd

“Westerners?  The tales spoke of how the Westerners had betrayed the true queen…the one that should be in King’s Landing, rebuilding the city that her ancestor began so many decades ago…rebuilding the lands that the King’s and even their queens had allowed to grow…prosperity and peace before civil wars and personal vendettas. 

Her eyes danced when she saw his grin as he spoke of the Westerners.  She had heard the stories but never believed them…maybe she had been naïve but now…not she understands that the ones that live in the Houses beyond Dragonstone and the free cities were people or beings feared by the old Valyrians and why they did not move anywhere past this.  She had felt and been a victim of their hateful ways…the pain of those who said were her allies and friends…

“I do believe you, @dragcnlxrd Lysander.  A true Valyrian is a being that is loyal and honorable…they are the ones that built so much, and people were influenced by but these people…these Westrosi only know loyalty to their House and no allies…friends…they would stab the other in the back to just get ahead.”   “An Asshian woman once spoke to me in riddles of finding the light after I pass under the shadows…  It was my closets advisor that had mentioned Asshai…and Kinvara has spoken to me of this place.”  

The shadow and the light…the light was where her answers were.  Daenerys knew now, she had to go home…to find where she began.  “Many would say I am looking back but I believe I will find answers there.  Answers of the past…the present and the future.”  She knew she was the last Dragon of House Targaryen, but she also knows that more Houses did survive that horrible destruction and she believes there are more dragons in the east.

“I would like to think that the darkness of Asshai…is a ruse but only true dragon riders or those descendants of the Asshians can see the real Asshai…it is what my dream seem to reveal but I saw so many things…I have heard stories of how glorious the Five Forts was with its dragon fire made walls.”

“Riiiight birthday gift”, he snickered as he began to situate himself after placing the food order. He found the first movie of the series and clicked on it. There was still a small smirk on his lips as he lay the remote down.

He noticed Ravus while at times comfortable seemed to also be somewhat withheld at times almost as if restraining himself. Lysander found it odd that he would be so collected in his own home. He figured it was perhaps due to his reclusive nature or something. What he didn’t understand was why? They’ve been fucking for some time so Lysander had seen aspects of the man that probably no one else had seen why then was he so reserved?

“So care to indulge me as to why you always seem so shy around me”, he mused as he glanced over at the man nestled in a blanket. He poked him with his foot just to close whatever distance Ravus created.

“One minute you’re close then next you’re burrowed in a blanket like some kinda chastity fortress”, he mused as he stretched out yawning.

⋞⁘♔⁘⋟     His eyes reflexively cast down to Lysander's foot, then he let out a huff of a breath. Ravus had been suspecting such a conversation would bloom soon, so it shouldn't have taken him by surprise. Well, not even surprise, so to speak, but more nervousness. Given his unusual schedules and peculiar dispositions, deeper conversations on what was growing between him and another typically ended in disaster. Perhaps that was part of the reason he'd normally put distance between himself and any intimate partners in the past. Granted, none of them had been living with him.

He idly stared at the remoted that Lysander had set aside, mostly to have something to center his stare on while he tried to choose his words, carefully.

"I just... have a difficult time knowing what is appropriate and what it not," he finally explained, pausing to clear his throat. It took every bit of willpower not to recoil in on himself and change the topic of conversation. "This... Us, that is... I am unsure where we stand when not actively involved."

A faint blush spread across his cheeks as he continued. "Whatever feelings I have for you, I wouldn't want to make you feel uncomfortable in you own home when you are just attempting to relax by me acting on them."

Walking through the garden from the pathways that lead to the Dragonmount he found himself lost in thought. While he'd originally come to the island to claim it and then make move upon the mainland he found himself very far from such goal. With one dragon sure he could perhaps do what he dreamed but oddly he found it less of a priority at the moment.

Hearing that familiar voice of the blight which seemed to have sprung up upon him he sighed softly. While he had fought his damnedest to accept the unwelcomed guest he resigned to accepting he would never be rid of him. He was like a wart or tumor, you could cut him away but he would never leave.

The question was odd though. He saw many things when he looked up but the word that was oft associated with such a sight slipped from his lips.

"Freedom". 

“Freedom?  Ah, I enjoy that answer. Yet, there is also a bittersweet undertone to the existence of it, for if one were to desire freedom, does that not imply that you feel ensnared or imprisoned in something or another?” Ardyn waved his hand in the air as he spoke, ever as animated as usual, but his voice a fair bit lesser in volume or flambouyancy. 

He took another long drink from his bottle as he laid back into the grass again, amber hues locked on the passing clouds. While he typically would love nothing more than to ogle over his favourite little dragonling kingling, the urge was weak, that day. 

               ❝ Don’t tell me you’re not a fan of this cheap ale either. ❞

˖ ༻ ❀ ༺ ˖  Traveling to Dragonstone was not an event that Margaery would have ever foreseen in her life. Of course, nothing that had occurred in the years of recent could have been predicted. Everything had been a whirlwind, to say the least; the fall of the Lannisters, the Dragon Queen’s assault on King’s Landing, all of it. 

The only triumph that Margaery carried from her previous reign was the fact that she was still alive, much to the unknowing of the world. How she had escaped the Sept had been nothing short of a miracle, but she had fled, back to Highgarden... only to see what had become of it with her own eyes. There were still many that were unquestionably loyal to her, however, and they had given her shelter and kept her existence secret while she planned how to reclaim her throne-- or what was left of it. Rumour told that Daenerys Targaryen’s dragon had melted it with it’s own fire. It was hardly a loss; that unsightly thing had been terribly uncomfortable. 

With a handful of her most loyal soldiers on board, her ship sailed to Dragonstone, her intention to meet this man that referred to himself as the sovereign of the island. Whispers of that had made it to the mainland and Margaery was quick to set her own plans into action before the Starks could make motion. 

It was time to cease hiding...  

First, the silhouette of the land mass became visible, followed by the intricate shapes of the Old Valyrian structures. It was actually incredibly gorgeous and stole her breath away for a moment. How beautiful. 

The ship found a dock and she instructed two of her men to secure it while she descended onto solid land. The patrolling Unsullied caught her eye first and she strode to them, chin raised high and with a confident smile on her face. “I seek audience with your King,” she stated, hoping they would understand her.

wHY ?? Why though ? Why? Why ? Why ? I DON'T WANT TO TASTE THE PEANESS. ... hang on. IS THAT MEANT TO SOUND LIKE THAT WHEN YOU SAY IT OUT LOUD!?

☽⋆✩⋆☾   Traveling by ship had never been Lunafreya’s preference, but in that particular situation, there had been no other option. She would simply need to endure it. The letter she had received from her brother had contained so many surprises! At first she had almost wondered if it had been a ruse to lure her out of Braavos, but as she’d read on, it was clear that the words written had to be Ravus’. There were little snippets included, small details that only the two of them and Maria would be aware of, so that was proof enough. 

There had been just enough time to focus on tending to the last of her visits and farewells in Braavos, then concentrate for a couple days on packing her belongings, as well as even collecting a few of her brother’s that he had been incapable of taking with him and left behind with her, then she was heading down to the docks. The ship was already at port when she arrived, Maria at her side and Luna and Pryna trailing along behind her. She hadn’t even noticed when those around gave the two direwolves a wide berth of wary, looking at the ship in awe. 

“Are you ready, my lady?” someone asked. She nodded and took one of the crewmen’s hands as she boarded, then paused, motioning to Maria. 

“Assist her as well, please,” she requested, then walked along the dock, admiring everything. It seemed sturdy, and it wasn’t that which concerned her, but more her dignity of how she would feel after so long by boat travel. 

Fortunately, it seemed that the narrow sea was favorable to their journey. She spent the majority of her time reading her books or playing card games with the crew members. She was very talented ad Wicked Grace, much to the dismay of the men, and by the time they approached Dragonstone, she suspected she had more coin on her than Ravus had left Braavos with. 

Pryna began to bark in excitement as the beaches came into view, and Umbra released a loud howl in signal of their approach. “Calm,” she whispered to the wolves, stroking their first to ease their enthusiasm. Startling those of her new residence would not be the best introduction, even if she was sure there was no way that howl could not have been heard from the ship. 

When they finally pulled into dock, the wolves were the first to rush offboard, eager to sniff the surroundings and find somewhere to relieve themselves to mark territory, as was the nature of canines. Lunafreya spotted the bright white of Ravus’ coat first, smiling, then her eyes strayed to the man who stood beside him. That had to be the person that had been spoken about in the letter. There was a large steed that Ravus held the reins of and his clothing looked crisp and ornate.  

Once her feet were safely on sturdy land, she hurried over to the two of them, ignoring the formalities for a moment to wrap her arms around her brother in a hug. “Sister,” he said in a relieved greeting and the squeezed him tightly before stepping back to look at Lysander. 

“I believe I know who you must be,” she said with a grin, bowing her head to him, momentarily. “I must thank you for so generously extending invitation to me, your Grace.” 

She had been told she was the last of her kind, the last dragon. Yet the young dragon queen had heard whispers that was not the truth. Surely there wasn't any more of her kind? Her blood was surely the only one that was of Valyria? There had been whispers in the Queens ears that these men were hidden, the Shadowlands they called it. Mounting Drogon, many told her to not do it, to not search out those whose blood were equal to hers. Drogon ascended to the sky, with Rhaegal and Viserion trailing behind; if there was any real threat, Daenerys knew to take all three of her dragons for added protection.