#valyrianvows

@valyrianvows asked: i want to weep. i want to be comforted. i’m so tired of being strong. ❞ from rhae

Daemon   looked   at   her   for   a   long   moment   without   speaking.   The   words   struck   harder   than   any   accusation   could   have.   Not   because   they   surprised   him,   but   because   they   were   spoken   aloud   at   last.   Rhaenyra   had   carried   grief   like   armor   for   so   long   that   even   now   she   seemed   ashamed   of   the   weight   of   it.   He   crossed   the   space   between   them   and   took   her   hands   in   his.   They   were   cold.   "Then   weep,"   he   said   quietly.   "No   one   who   has   lost   a   son   should   be   asked   to   do   otherwise."   His   grip   tightened   slightly.   "You   have   been   strong   because   you   had   no   choice.   Not   because   you   were   meant   to   bear   this   alone."

At   the   mention   of   Jace,   something   dark   passed   across   his   face.   The   wound   was   his   as   well,   though   he   carried   it   differently.   "I   miss   him   too."   The   admission   came   rougher   than   he   intended.   "The   realm   saw   an   heir.   I   saw   a   good   man.   A   brave   one."   His   thumb   brushed   across   her   knuckles.   "You   do   not   need   to   be   queen   tonight.   Let   the   lords   and   councils   wait.   Let   them   all   wait."   It   has   been   a   loss   after   loss,   and   he   had   enough   of   it.   His   grief   turns   to   dust   and   rises   again   as   anger,   but   he   soothes   it   down,   for   his   wife   seems   lost   in   her   grief.

several bottles of dried marigold , essence of yarrow , & milky vials of poppy sat stacked along his workspace behind him , but it wasn't nearly enough. he was stretched thin , being the royal physician & constant on - call healer , as well as a new dragon rider & potential tool for battle. the bags under his eyes reflected as much as he glanced at her , rolling his lips together to pin between his teeth.          ❛             or , just .. well , all of it. it is so far beyond my studied knowledge , i ..            ❜          he didn't want to disappoint her , or any of them.

most knights would not be so familiar or free to jest with a prin ess of the realm, yet he does. perhaps because she, too, speaks freely with him. she shares her concerns, he offers to kill her problems. the fact she's not scolded him thus far has only emboldened behavior – followed by the occasional bow of his head and quick murmur of 'forgive me, princess'.

this time around he listens to her as she studies from the texts. sometimes he wants to correct her – but he remembers, these are not his studies, but hers. still, he stands by his initial claim. he's seen battle, shed blood. the initial shock of taking a life has since worn and the horrors he's seen in battle, he feels desensitized to. it's all normal now. and he believes he's about seen all the horrors there are to see in this wretched and corrupt world.

❝ you read passages from a book and you suddenly hold all the wisdom there is to have then? ❞ a brow rises and ser criston mildly scowls at the book. as far as he is concerned, one could read about war. yet unless they've experienced it, they do not truly know it. ❝ you may not have known me during the dornish skirmishes, but i have blood on my hands. i do not think myself a changed man – other than more skilled by the blade. ❞ as he meets her eyes, shoulders squared up begin to relax and he murmurs, ❝ forgive me, princess. ❞ he forgets his place by arguing. ❝ perhaps there is some truth in those histories. perhaps … there are horrors i've yet to see. but under your father's reign – and yours to follow, i do not see war or famine or men turning against their own blood. i believe yours will be a reign of peace. ❞ 

Daemon was familiar with the tension that plagued them often. It was not a fight to shrug off, not a joke either; it was words that clashed one after the other until they burned too warm for other hands to withhold. "Have I ever made you beg ever since you were denied your throne?" His voice echoed within the empty council room of dragonstone. The rogue prince had made it clear for all that he was to be left alone with his wife. Not the queen.

Whatever distance the table forced between them, Daemon denied it and began rounding the furniture with his eyes set on her. Predatory and purposeful. "I have gone to war for you, slain beasts worse than men and travelled to give you the army you wished for." Every sentence counted for every step he took. "The list goes on but I know better than to recite it as you're my queen. I serve you." Daemon stopped before her until his armour brushed against her chest and his breath grazed her cheek. His tone was solid and unforgiving because of her complaints; today he was not her war lord or general but the man she had chosen to marry.

"It is the greatest tradition within the people of Meereen, Khaleesi." Jorah explained as they stood side by side, in one of the exterior terraces of Meereen's Great pyramid. From that high point, they saw the self-made fighting circle that the folk had created to fight with each other since Daenerys was against re-opening those fighting pits.

The pyramid of Meereen had became their new home, for now, once Daenerys had occupied the specific land, yet peace was at the furthest way. "It is difficult to teach something new to one who has been born and raised into something old. It takes time, patience." He averted his gaze from the gruesome sight to look at Daenerys and, momentarily, his heart dropped.

Every time a new Targaryen is born, the gods toss the coin in the air and the world holds its breath to see how it will land.

Independent, multi-verse/fandom and Selective - Daenerys and Rhaenyra Targaryen (book and show influences)