"Ser Harwin." Rhaenyra greeted the man with a small chuckle, caught red-handed stealing the dried up slices of apples from the kitchen's cupboards. The cravings were getting more and more ridiculous, her tongue demanding for something sweet & sour at the most unbelievable of times. "What brings you to the kitchens at such a late hour?" 

Kiss my muse | No longer acceepting - @drcgnrider​ sent;

💋

          🔥IT SEEMED TO HIM IMPOSSIBLE TO SEE HIS BROTHER like a shadow of the man he has been. Upon visiting him, and introducing his children to him, Daemon had abandoned his chambers in complete silence. It was not uncommon of him to become silent the second he was triggered by something or someone and this case it has been the sight of his brother dying in his bed.

          Memories of their past filled his mind and the compelling fear of death that was lurking in the Keep everywhere were he looked. Every corner, and dark alley, all of it filled with a dreading feeling of loss. He wondered if the rest felt the same, if Rhaenyra felt it too. But he dare not to look at her, as he kept to himself in moments like these.

          This was why when she kissed his temple Daemon seemed to have been shock out of a daydream. His purple-green eyes looked up to meet hers, and he gave her a tight smile. “Whatever for?” He asked at the surprise kiss. But before she could say or do something else, he took one of her hands on his and squeezed it softly.

"You're always like this when you are worried. Disagreeable." 

A heavy sigh leaves the knight as he shakes his head. Harwin knew how right she was, how well she knew him. But could she blame him? The elder Strong didn’t think so, but still he looks over his shoulder and turns to face her fully after her words. “Can you blame me?” Harwin finally says, speaking up as he takes several steps in her direction. If anything, they were lucky they were alone, making it easier to speak more freely in each other’s company. He gets closer, hands moving to take her’s in his as thumbs gently brush or the back of her hands as he held them. “I worry about, about the children. Everything else doesn’t matter, but unnecessary risks are where I have to draw a line.”

send me    ‘  ♡ _  ♡ ‘    and my muse will admit one to three ( 1-3 )  features of your muse  ( physical or personality )   that they find incredibly attractive from here @drcgnrider

Definitely her fierceness. The passion and fire in her, the rebellious nature that is so unlike any other princess he ever knew. It’s something he deeply admires especially cause she’s so much younger and sometimes seems stronger and braver than he feels himself.

If it comes to her looks it’s definitely her hair he loves cause it proves she’s a true Targaryen and has the same old Valyrian blood in her veins which always catches his interest.

"Aren't you a little bit too comfortable," (the cuddling thing we talked about)

Laying there with her, his head on her chest, Harwin could feel like the world revolved only around this room. Her fingers running through her hair calmed him down as they lay wrapped up together in each other’s arms. Naked bodies covered by the sheets, his arms around her waist, a deep chuckle leaves him. She no doubt felt the vibrations against her skin as he partially moved his head to look up at her with a soft smile. “I wouldn’t say I’m too comfortable, princess.” A small tease as he used her title. “I would say I’m just the right amount.” He doesn’t move, keeping his gaze on her in the small upward tilt of his head. “Or is it a crime to enjoy being in your arms?” This he adds knowing there might be some truth to it but in this moment, there was no crime. Not in his mind, they lay together out of love and nothing more. He wanted nothing from her but her love in return, her presence with him. After all, she had all of that from him and more. He would give everything for her. Well, expect moving from using her as his own personal pillow.

rhaenyra had inherited many things from her father, though hesitation had never truly been one of them. she questioned when others accepted, challenged when silence would have earned easier praise, and carried herself with the certainty of someone born knowing the iron throne had been promised to her. nonetheless, even she had moments when doubt found its way through the cracks left behind by court whispers and sidelong glances, each lord convinced he knew better than the realm's chosen heir.

daemon recognized that look long before anyone else ever could.

his hand reached her first, fingers pressing just under her jaw with surprising care before turning her face until there remained nowhere for her attention to wander except him. no force was needed; she had followed him through dragonstone's smoking cliffs as a child, through the corridors of the red keep, through conversations where everyone else had spoken to the princess while daemon alone addressed the future queen. the touch lingered only long enough to make certain she was looking at him rather than whatever pains had stolen her thoughts.

"there you are," he smirked rather fondly, "i was beginning to wonder whether the court had finally managed to convince you that their opinions deserved consideration."

his thumb brushed once along the line of her cheek, more absent than purposeful, though there existed precious few souls within the seven kingdoms who would ever receive such familiarity from him without consequence. daemon had never possessed much patience for ceremony where rhaenyra was concerned. the realm insisted upon placing crowns, titles, and expectations between them-- but he had known her before courtiers began closely observing every breath she drew, before every smile became another piece in someone else's game.

"look at me," he murmured again, though she already was. "not at otto hightower, nor whichever lord has discovered fresh reasons why a woman cannot inherit what your father has already placed into your hands."

a faint laugh escaped him, touched with ridicule meant for everyone except her.

@drcgnrider asked: ❝ stay, please. ❞

Daemon  had  already  turned  halfway  toward  the  door,  every  intention  of  putting  distance  between  himself  and  the  room  before  anger  or  regret  found  a  way  back  into  his  mouth.  At  her  voice,  he  stood  still.  His  shoulders  remained  rigid,  though  the  tension  in  them  shifted.  Rhaenyra  had  always  been  the  one  person  capable  of  asking  something  of  him  that  no  one  else  could.  He  looked  at  her  over  his  shoulder.  She  had  not  raised  her  voice.  She  did  not  need  to.  Silence  settled  between  them.  Daemon  let  it  linger.  For  once,  he  did  not  rush  to  fill  it  with  sharp  words  or  false  confidence.  He  studied  her  face  instead,  searching  for  the  answer  she  had  not  spoken.  Not  the  queen  before  him,  burdened  by  crown  and  council,  but  the  girl  who  had  once  climbed  onto  the  back  of  a  dragon  simply  because  she  trusted  he  would  catch  her  if  she  fell.