grab my muse’s jaw & direct their gaze towards yours
rhaenyra had inherited many things from her father, though hesitation had never truly been one of them. she questioned when others accepted, challenged when silence would have earned easier praise, and carried herself with the certainty of someone born knowing the iron throne had been promised to her. nonetheless, even she had moments when doubt found its way through the cracks left behind by court whispers and sidelong glances, each lord convinced he knew better than the realm's chosen heir.
daemon recognized that look long before anyone else ever could.
his hand reached her first, fingers pressing just under her jaw with surprising care before turning her face until there remained nowhere for her attention to wander except him. no force was needed; she had followed him through dragonstone's smoking cliffs as a child, through the corridors of the red keep, through conversations where everyone else had spoken to the princess while daemon alone addressed the future queen. the touch lingered only long enough to make certain she was looking at him rather than whatever pains had stolen her thoughts.
"there you are," he smirked rather fondly, "i was beginning to wonder whether the court had finally managed to convince you that their opinions deserved consideration."
his thumb brushed once along the line of her cheek, more absent than purposeful, though there existed precious few souls within the seven kingdoms who would ever receive such familiarity from him without consequence. daemon had never possessed much patience for ceremony where rhaenyra was concerned. the realm insisted upon placing crowns, titles, and expectations between them-- but he had known her before courtiers began closely observing every breath she drew, before every smile became another piece in someone else's game.
"look at me," he murmured again, though she already was. "not at otto hightower, nor whichever lord has discovered fresh reasons why a woman cannot inherit what your father has already placed into your hands."
a faint laugh escaped him, touched with ridicule meant for everyone except her.
"they mistake noise for strength. let them. while they spend their days talking themselves into circles, you'll still have syrax... and you'll still have me." @drcgnrider