Despondence
Aegon III, King of the Seven Kingdoms, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men
"[...]I will not be led astray by those who think they know what’s best for my throne nor my house”
[...]
“I know I hurt you,” he continued, voice thick. “And I still did it. It was selfish. There are days where I can do nothing. I cry. I get angry. I get lost. And I can’t control it. There are things I saw—things I lived through—that changed me. I’m not normal, Daenaera. I don’t think I ever will be. And I won’t let them make you bear that. Not now. Not ever. When I behave this way, get angry at me, you have every right. I know what they say to you, it’s a burden a person your age shouldn't bear. You don’t have to fix me or make me happy.” He knew and yet he did nothing, that would change, but first, she should know it “You are queen, my queen, even if we don’t act like a married couple, even if we don’t walk around like adults and pretend to be perfect. No one will take that away from you. No one will touch you. Not until you’re grown, and only if you wish it. So don’t bear a weight that is not yours to carry”
Queen Daenaera of House Velaryon, The Little Queen
"For the first time in what felt like forever, Daenaera felt warmth—not just the heat of candles or the weight of the gown, but a warmth that filled her chest. A warmth that whispered of home. The hall rippled with laughter. She turned to see a fool clad in mismatched colors capering beside the throne. “Now you have a lady to sing about!” he crowed, pointing at a blushing singer. The fool’s antics drew every gaze, but Daenaera felt a deeper truth in their stares. The hall was no longer watching the Baratheon lady. They weren’t even watching the king. They were watching her. And in that moment, she stood not as an orphan or a ward, but as Daenaera Velaryon—the future queen of Westeros."
Prince Viserys of House Targaryen, "The Lost Prince"
"He sighed, he felt as if his chains tying him to the island grew heavier. He liked it here, but it was not home.
He wanted to go home.
He will go home."
[...]
"His hands clenched at his sides, nails pressing into his palms. He died protecting you, a voice whispered in his mind. Your brother Jace died trying to save you, and yet you covered your eyes as he fell, you can't even bother to remember his face, none of their faces. His breath hitched. His vision blurred.
And Viserys had only hidden. It was his fault. [...] His."















