#with; daemon

[valyrianvows]

I am plagued by dreams of fire and ash. I believe them to be portents. / daemon @ dany

𝒜 𝒟𝐎𝐖𝐑𝐘 𝒪𝐅 𝐵𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐛𝐲 𝐬.𝐭. 𝐠𝐢𝐛𝐬𝐨𝐧 accepting

“Do your dreams often come true?” She whispered almost childlike to him in awe and wonder. Daenerys had heard the stories of other Targaryens whose dreams and visions had come true, like those of Prince Daeron and others born with the sight.

If Daemon believed these visions meant something, then she wasn't going to dismiss them. She respected him too greatly, admired the strength in him even when its buried under all his anger and pride.

“I believe,” she went on, turning her stare over the railing toward the sea beyond Dragonstone, “that the world will go up in flames, and from the ashes our House will rise to claim the seven kingdoms again.” Her fingers curled around the stone railing, glancing up at him with a soft smile.

“Perhaps that is what you are seeing. Not ruin, but what comes after it.”

[valyrianvows]

i love you. look at me, rhaenyra, my jewel, my wife. i love you. don’t do this.

𝒜 𝒟𝐎𝐖𝐑𝐘 𝒪𝐅 𝐵𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐛𝐲 𝐬.𝐭. 𝐠𝐢𝐛𝐬𝐨𝐧 accepting

Rhaenyra pressed her tongue to the back of her teeth as Daemon pleaded with her, his hands resting against her cheeks. She could hardly remember why their argument had started, nor how she had ended up on the winning side of it, but his pleading was breaking down her walls and ruining any attempt she made to continue fighting him.

“Daemon, please.” She eventually wished softly, her eyes finally pulling away from the spot on the wall she was staring at to meet his so she could stare at her husband. For all her anger, she could not bear see to the desperation she found in his eyes. “Do you truly think I would do that?”

Rhaenyra scoffed as she grabbed his hands, pulling them away from her face and holding them between them. “I may be furious with you. I may wish to scream until every stone in Dragonstone hears me, but I would not leave you.”

[valyrianvows]

❛ i was well-acquainted with violence by then. ❜ for rhaenyra

𝒜 𝒟𝐎𝐖𝐑𝐘 𝒪𝐅 𝐵𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐛𝐲 𝐬.𝐭. 𝐠𝐢𝐛𝐬𝐨𝐧 accepting

“Is that why they call you the Rogue Prince?” Rhaenyra teased him, though she knew well enough about the stories they tell about Daemon.

A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, despite how hard she was fighting it to stay down, and she studied him before going on. “Were you born mad, or did that come later?” The question was attempted to be delivered with all the innocence she could muster up, but the glimmer in her eyes betrayed her.

Rhaenyra shifted where she stood, her hands folded neatly in front of her. “I have heard a hundred different tales about you. Every lord seems to have his own version. In some, you are a hero. In others, a villain.” Her smile widened a bit. “Though I notice the most entertaining stories are always the ones told by men who dislike you.”

She tilted her head, looking at him with an almost smug expression as she continued to poke at him. “Violence I can understand. Most men of our bloodline are acquainted with it sooner or later. But you seem to have embraced it far more eagerly than the rest.” A little laugh escaped her. “So tell me, Uncle, should I blame the gods for making you this way, or is this a talent you cultivated all on your own?”

[valyrianvows]

❛ it took every ounce of self-control i had not to pin him down and tear out his throat. ❜ / From Daemon to Rhaenyra

𝒜 𝒟𝐎𝐖𝐑𝐘 𝒪𝐅 𝐵𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐛𝐲 𝐬.𝐭. 𝐠𝐢𝐛𝐬𝐨𝐧 accepting

Rhaenyra wet the cloth in the bowl before turning back to her uncle, dabbing it against his cheek as she cleaned the small cut he had somehow managed to get during the brawl out in Flea Bottom. She has always wanted to see the place for herself, to learn what kept the guards whispering when they thought no one important was listening, but there had never been a proper opportunity for her.

“I'm sure he looks far worse than you do right now,” she joked lightly, the hint of a smile tugging at her lips as she turned away to wet the cloth again.

“Though tearing out his throat might have made the evening more interesting.” She wrung the cloth between her hands, taking her time as she pushed her agenda.

“Perhaps next time, I could join you.” The suggestion was made lightly, but the interest in her eyes reflecting in the bowl betrayed how serious she was.