#rhaenyra.

and that he thinks her cruel, does that?

rhaenyra claws through his tunic over a deeply-wedged singing stream that he hops like a rabbit. he’s given her more pleasure before the sun downs than the castle has in all of its boring generations of standing.

‘ as long as my father’s cup brims, we needn’t worry. it’ll be gone before he knows. ’

what does it matter it’s cost her a twisted ankle? right in the princess slipper, alicent would jibe. the tragedy.

criston has eyes like buffed coals, a sunned complexion that keeps through highland tree cover, a mouth like a kiss. she can smell herself on it still.

her nostrils and mouth expel at once.

what other audacity from the stepmother and the buried confidante on true targaryen grounds? rhaenyra can’t distinguish which it is she shall have punished first, only that she’s granted a step forth.

Things just won't be the same. I'm scared to death I'll scream your name. And still, there's not a thing I would change. That's okay. But I think about it.