#daedreamingdragon

[bloodlaurel]

Starter for @daedreamingdragon

Of all the people that Cornelia could have reasonably expected to run into in Dock Town, Daeron Targaryen was not one of them.

For a second, she couldn't believe what she was seeing. She tried to rationalise it. No, it wasn't him. It was just some random man who happened to have a passing resemblence. Maybe she was being overly paranoid. After all, she was once a noble and no noble would be caught dead in Dock Town. At least, not for any legitimate reason.

Then again, what she remembered of Daeron, Dock Town may have been exactly the place he would end up. The Threads though? That one she couldn't have predicted.

Considering their ground with the Threads was shaky, even after making sure Aelia didn't murder their leader, she couldn't put him up against the nearest wall and demand answers. She wanted to. It had definitely been her first instinct. She was sure the only person who wouldn't raise an eyebrow at that behaviour was Neve. The detective had long since sniffed out that Cornelia was not who she had been claiming to be.

Instead she slid silently into the spot beside him at the bar, chewing over what words to say. What did you say to someone you knew in a different life? She wondered what her parents or Zara told the Targaryens when she left.

"They must serve decent wine if it got you all the way down here to drink it or do you particularly enjoy the taste of fish and misery?"

[oakthcrn]

𝑺𝑯𝑬 𝑵𝑬𝑽𝑬𝑹 𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑹𝑫 𝑨 𝑩𝑼𝑺𝑯 𝑺𝑵𝑶𝑹𝑬 𝑩𝑬𝑭𝑶𝑹𝑬. She had gone strolling through the gardens of Summerhall. It was warmer here, and yet, she felt compelled to wear her cloak. Prince Maekar was gracious enough to let her visit when the Red Keep grew tiresome and boring. 

Where Prince Valarr was, she didn't know, but she was enjoying the solitude if she was being honest. She was…until she passed a snoring bush. She blinked a few times before pulling her blade from its home on her hip. She gently smacked the bush with the side of her blade only to notice a hand. Ah. A person. That was significantly less interesting. 

❝ Who's in there? ❞ She called. She didn't wait for a reply before grabbing the hand and with all her strength she could muster, she pulled the culprit free, and by pulling, did she drag the man out of the bush and across the terrain. 

❝ Oh! Prince Daeron! ❞ she started and sighed. She knelt down and gently smacked his cheek. 

❝ Hey now, you need to get up and go to your room. If your father sees you, he will be angry. ❞  She could possibly drag him if she had to…but she didn't really want to do that. Instead, she smacked his cheek again.  ❝ Come now, Prince Cousin, wake up now. Shall I fetch a pail of ice cold water? Or do you prefer if I roll you into the river? ❞ 

@daedreamingdragon ⤷ liked for a starter.

[taleswritten]

@daedreamingdragon sent ❝ Your body is my place of worship, and it’s time for me to say my prayers. ❞ (to astarion, can be pre-game in Cazador's Palace if you want >.>)

They cannot be doing this. Not here or anywhere else for that matter. Astarion belongs to Cazador and when he finds out that he’s even entertained the idea of being with someone else, Cazador will be pissed. He’s not allowed pleasure unless Cazador says he can have it. 

But Gods above, how can he resist the man before him? He’s tried and he is so tired of denying himself something that will actually feel good for once. This one carnal pleasure that will make him feel something other than pain. 

And maybe there’s a certain thrill of doing it right here in Cazador’s castle, right under his ugly little nose. 

“We can’t. We shouldn’t.” And yet Astarion finds himself moving closer and closer, like a moth drawn to flame. So close that there is nothing but inches between them, so close that Astarion’s body is almost pressed up against the other’s. 

“What if he finds out? Do you have any idea what he will do to me? It won’t be good.” 

[dionadaiir]

@daedreamingdragon sent: ⤷ "You’ve become the melody I can’t stop humming."

𝑯𝑰𝑺 𝑶𝑪𝑬𝑨𝑵 𝑻𝑰𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑫 𝑬𝒀𝑬𝑺 𝑭𝑳𝑼𝑻𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑬𝑫 𝑶𝑷𝑬𝑵. He listed his head from the pillow and blinked away the sleep, an easy smile gracing his lips. Eden sat up and let out a soft yawn before turning to Daeron proper. 

❝ That is a lovely thing to say, princeling.❞ His calloused hand reached out to tuck a piece of stray hair behind Daeron's ear. 

❝ Ye ken ye mean a great deal to me. It makes ma heart sing ye feel somethin' fer me in return.❞ 

[bloodlaurel]

☆☆☆☆ put this star into the inbox of your favorite blogs - it's time to spread positivity! ☆☆☆☆

THANK YOUUUUUUU

[witchered]

' 𝕻𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖈𝖊 𝕯𝖆𝖊𝖗𝖔𝖓 , ' he mumbles gruffly , awaiting a response from the prince. lying face down at a table in an inn just outside ashford , maybe a day's ride , he's quite sure that this isn't how things are supposed to be. at least , not for the suspiciously bald stable boy that led roach inside with an accent that is hardly one of a fleabottom orphan. some cunning plan to avoid entering the lists no doubt , but he'll more than be drawn into this trouble should he turn a blind eye. call it a gut feeling. ' you're expected at the tourney , are you not? ' @daedreamingdragon

[taleswritten]

@daedreamingdragon sent WATCHED: for sender to wake up and find receiver watching over them. (tadpoled!orin)

Is this a strange thing for her to do? Perhaps to everyone else. They might find it offputting that she’s perched at the man’s feet watching him so carefully. If anyone gets close to him, she hisses at them. This one is hers. Why she feels the need to stake a claim upon him, she doesn’t know. Perhaps she just wants to keep him safe? 

She sits at his feet, legs crossed, simply watching. He stirs awake and still she does not move, she does not budge, remaining exactly where she is. Still as a statue for a moment, as if studying him in utter silence. 

Then, she finally opens her mouth to speak. “Good morn. You were slumbering for quite some time. What were you dreaming about?” A curious little thing, she is, and she does not care how intrusive her questions might be. 

[oakthcrn]

@daedreamingdragon sent: ⤷ ❛ sword & lance have lost whatever appeal they ever had for me. ❜

𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑹𝑬 𝑾𝑨𝑺 𝑭𝑶𝑵𝑫𝑵𝑬𝑺𝑺 𝑰𝑵 𝑯𝑬𝑹 𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑫𝑨𝑵𝑻 𝑮𝑨𝒁𝑬. The sword and lance wasn't for everyone. It took dedication to master the weapons and quite frankly, Lark was aware of the fact that swords and lances--especially blades--were a niche interest of her bordering hyperfixation. 

She researched the history of the sword, how they were made, watched blacksmiths hone their crafts, and practice when she was able. It was foolish to think everyone shared her intense interest in swords. 

Daeron was such a soul. She lifted her hand and reached upward to gently set it on Daeron's head before tussling his hair affectionately. 

“ Tis alright, Daeron, you're a gentle soul. Such things don't appeal to you because of it. ” She had always been a bit gentler when it came to Daeron, his plight made her empathetic to him. With a brother like Aerion, who was known for cruelty, and apathetic father who didn't understand the dragon dreams, there was scant people the lad could rely on. 

❝ It matters to me that you listen to me talk about swords anyway. ❞