theon greyjoy bent the knee ---- @moltemcnti.
loyalty was easily malleable these days, as though it was something that could easily be wielded by a blacksmith and undone when the hilt of the weapon had become worn. northern eyes were ever mistrusting, those who were born of winter incapable of finding trust within the mother of dragons. they looked to her and saw a beast ––– unforgiving and merciless, a tyrant of sorts but daenerys stormborn was not her father. even now with THE NIGHT KING and his army defeated, they could not find it within their frozen hearts to thank this foreign invader for saving their lives. it had been jon snow who had risked his life, who had been bold enough to ride a dragon and unleash rains of fire upon the north to defeat them.
it was not as if she had sacrificed her armies, inflicted wounds upon perfectly good fighting men and risked everything that she had ever fought for just to ensure their safety. in the end, their survival had been worth more than her pride and what did she have to show for it? nothing, save for a few less menacing glares. the feast had become all too much, the inability to breathe creeping up on her and threatening to suffocate her. out of her chair and away from the celebration she had taken herself, chest rising and falling with as much haste as the waves of blackwater bay thrashed against her ancestral sea, silently promising to DEVOUR dragonstone as though enough had not already been stolen from her.
as breathing becomes steady, lilac hues look up towards the sky and can finally see the stars. fogs do not hide them away anymore and she wonders for a brief moment, whether drogo will be up there riding in the night lands beside her when she takes the capital. it is the sound of hinges crying into the night that steal her away from her thoughts, amethysts taken from the sea of navy and sinking down to meet those belonging to theon greyjoy. a weak smile welcomes its way onto petals, thankful to have found some familiarity amongst the frozen night. the dead may be defeated and still, clouds form upon her tongue as words ready themselves to cloak the consuming thoughts, though he falls to one knee before her.
any sentence strung together is now whipped away by the winds of winter, brows stitching themselves together as body twists so that she can look upon him truly. although he was a kraken, the north lived in theon just as it did jon snow and the sullen smile somehow turns more genuine ––– stained by surprise and serenity in the same instance. after a moment, daenerys falls down to one knee too, gloved fingers claiming home beneath theon's chin as though to tilt his gaze upward so that their eyes might meet. " i swear to you theon greyjoy, that i will be the queen that westeros deserves. "















