#valyrianvows

[witchyxwoo]

@valyrianvows // continued from HERE

Myrcella had gone out for a stroll in the gardens. She'd had guards nearby her, but at a safe distance. The flowers that were in bloom had caught her attention and brought a smile to her face. Whether it would be a wise choice or not she couldn't help but pluck a couple of the flowers. At least they weren't roses or she may have let out a little screech. Nothing serious, but grateful for that having not happened.

Almost as soon as she had pulled the flowers to her nose had she heard one of the guards greet her. "Thank you, I'll head back then," she nodded as she stood up and turned in the opposite direction. Myrcella traveled back up the few steps before she'd inevitably made her back inside the Red Keep. When she nearly tripped on her cloak she took a moment to adjust it. As her eyes began to look up she'd noticed an unfamiliar figure walk past.

She clutched the flowers in her one hand, a couple of the petals falling down in the process. It took her a split second as she turned and the question slipped out. Once she saw their eyes and brief color of their hair her eyes widened in shock. She had read about the Targaryens in books and she's heard her father's loud stories about them as well. Myrcella knew it her heart this had to be her. The one her grandfather had referred to as the 'targaryen girl'.

Of course those set of words all but confirmed it for the princess as well. Myrcella felt frozen in her tracks. What would happen next? Was she in danger? Were the guards just around the corner? Too many things went about in her mind that she ended up just shaking. "I do not know what to do," her voice had been laced with nerves. She raised a brow at their last words, a little confused. Maybe this was naive, but she couldn't bring herself to yell for the guards. "Should I scream for help? Do you actually want me to be a host?"

[kingmaketh]

he plucks an apple from her hand – expression mildly disapproving with the hint of a grin currently being masked. ❝ when i proposed we run off together and you allowed the word infamy to slip off your tongue – ❞ as he speaks, he closes the distance between them, using the shoulder of her dress to gently rub the apple against, all before bring the fruit to his lips and take the first bite. it is loud and obnoxious – and manners are all but forgotten as he speaks through a mouthful.  ❝ i never imagined you would stoop so low as to steal apples from a stand. ❞ it may be true that he hadn't warned her of how things would likely work around here in essos. people trade goods and any foreigner could have easily mistaken an unattended stand as free for the taking. ❝ we've yet to establish roots here and already you're wanted as a thief. what am i to do with you, i wonder? shall i turn you in? be free of you? ❞ but even as he spoke, he could no longer hide his smile. there's a playfulness within his eyes, accompanying the grin as he offers the apple. ❝ i propose we try again. we'll head inland, find a profittable city and … we'll make a home. be happy. ❞ or at the veryleast, hope to be.

@valyrianvows , forbbiden romance au.

[roguecrown]

@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.

For   once,   Daemon   drew   her   into   his   arms   without   desire   or   ambition   behind   the   gesture.   He   held   her   firmly,   one   hand   against   the   back   of   her   head   as   if   shielding   her   from   something   unseen.   "I   am   here,"   he   murmured.   "The   burden   is   not   yours   alone.   Whatever   comes   next,   whatever   remains   of   this   war,   we   carry   it   together.   And   when   you   are   too   tired   to   be   strong,   then   lean   on   me.   That   is   what   I   am   for."

[medicullen]

          ❛             does it .. does it get easier , my queen ? dragon riding , i mean.            ❜          if he spoke the proper language , perhaps silverwing would mind him , beyond the occasional friendly chuff or curious sniff. unlike the other dragons carlisle had observed during his stay at dragonstone , his new silver friend didn't seem as volatile , though at the end of the day , she was still a dragon. carlisle straightened slightly , continuing to grind the stone mortar into the bowl of dried poppy seeds in front of him , knowing full well that when war finally broke between the two sides , they'd be in desperate need of medicine.

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.

@valyrianvows / closed hotd starter !

[kingmaketh]

sometimes he forgets his place. he's no ordinary knight. he hails from a small house of no real importance. he's known only a humble life prior to being knighted. but now, thanks to her, he's a knight of the kingsguard and her sworn shield.

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. ❞ 

@valyrianvows , continued.

[jacaeryse]

@valyrianvows continued from x

Jace opens his mouth to protest, but his words are quelled by the soft touch of his mother. He childishly presses into her palm while his tense shoulders deflate. Jace had been prepared to make an argument about how and why he should be out there fighting alongside Daemon. He yearned to prove himself on the battlefield, and had been forced to remain within Dragonstone. "It is my duty to fight for you, mother. Let me prove myself as heir to the throne." Jace implores his queen, standing firm in the face of her motherly resolve. "I'll be high upon Vermax in support of our troops. No harm will befall me while I'm in the sky." He says, trying his best to convince himself and Rhaenyra. One day he would inherit the throne, and while he had already proven himself a worthy heir he didn't want to appear as nothing but a coddling princeling with political prowess. He wanted the respect and adoration of his people.

[deathmerit]

"I shall not beg for what is mine by blood and by right." from rhaenyra to daemon

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.

He towered over her without touching her. "You will have what belongs to you but- speak like this again and I might forget myself on the next council. And whoever it is that watches us."

[deathmerit]

"Is it always this bloody? Will those poor men die? Someone must see them." Dany to Jorah

"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.

"It also takes a good ruler. Which you are." He added with a comforting smile, his gaze immediately softening. "You do not stand alone. I told you to use me as you see fit. I am here."