#[ ♛ ] | letters » ... a dragon'' lair.

[zobriezalarys]

@lannisther asked: ❝ And why should I listen to you when you broke our betrothal to marry that bronze bitch? ❞

"And   you   think   that   was   my   choice?   When   I   do   anything   I   can   to   be   away   from   the   Vale   and   that   woman's   cold   bed?"   No,   it   was   never   his   choice   to   break   the   bethrodal.   If   anything   he   would've   preferred   a   Lannister   over   a   Royce.   The   betrothal   had   been   almost   done,   Daemon   had   accepted   Cersei   and   they   had   a   youthful   romance   that   had   made   Daemon   hopeful   for   their   future.   "It   was   the   king   and   not   even   me   can   make   him   change   his   mind."  

His   mind   is   many   things,   many   not   fit   for   a   king   he   thinks,   but   he   does   not   back   away   from   a   word   done.   "He   refuses   to   annul   the   marriage   despite   our   bed   never   being   shared   more   than   once   just   because   he   wishes   me   away   from   this   place."   From   the   capital,   from   the   throne.   From   her.   Lilac   eyes   are   offended   at   the   thought   she   thinks   he   was   the   one   who   broke   it   off.   "It   was   not   my   choice."

[zobriezalarys]

@wcrriorhearts asked: ❝ are you still happy? with me, i mean. with us. ❞ (from rhaenyra )

there   is   a   pause   as   the   prince   lets   the   silence   falls   between   them.   he   does   not   understand   the   insecurities,   but   perhaps   it   explains   why   they   had   been   fighting   and   discussing   matters   when   they   would   be   always   a   united   front.   the   years   of   peace   on   dragonstone   had   been   disrupted   by   the   horrid   realization   that   she   had   been   usurped,   and   daemon's   body   aches   for   revenge.   a   son   for   a   son.   a   daughter   for   a   daughter.   a   father   for   a   father.   even   a   brother   for   a   brother,   as   he   left   king's   landing,   he   had   the   feeling   he   would   never   see   his   brother   again   and   he   had   been   right.   "yes.   the   pressure   of   recent   events   has   gotten   to   us   all.   we   had   no   time   to   mourn,   or   time   to   think."  

daemon   finally   responds   as   he   walks   closer,   the   war   room   empty   for   them   to   speak   in   peace.   "we   made   a   choice   and   I   do   not   regret   it.   are   you   having   second   thoughts,   my   queen?"   he   jest   her   with   her   new   title   but   he   does   wonder   if   perhaps,   she   is   finally   seeing   the   darker   side   of   his   soul   and   what   she   sees   is   not   to   her   liking.   "you   have   giving   me   sons.   and   a   daughter,   if   only   in   spirit   now.   I   have   stepsons   and   my   daughters   regard   you   like   a   mother.  

we   have   a   family   and   perhaps   if   these   had   happened   earlier,   the   war   would   not   be   this   hard   on   us."   caraxes   had   always   been   tender   with   syrax,   and   he   knew   then,   that   his   dragon   wished   to   be   around   the   other   dragon.   daemon   shared   the   fondess   for   his   niece.   targaryens   responding   to   gods,   theirs   had   been   a   rarity   in   the   matches,   it   makes   him   think   of   his   father   and   mother.   "we   will   have   that   peace   and   happiness   again."

[zobriezalarys]

@onetrueheir asked: You know I'm the only one who can make you feel like this.

As   night   falls   over   the   ruins   of   Harrenhal,   the   air   is   thick   with   the   remnants   of   old   power   and   lingering   shadows.   In   the   flickering   candlelight,   Daemon   finds   himself   lost   in   the   familiar   warmth   of   Rhaenyra’s   presence.   She   straddles   him,   her   dark   eyes   reflecting   the   fire’s   glow   as   she   leans   in   close,   her   breath   mingling   with   his.   She   must   leave   in   the   morrow   but   at   the   time,   she   stays   for   the   night   and   the   couple   reunites   in   the   way   they   know   best.  

Daemon's   hands   grip   her   hips   with   a   possessive   strength,   his   fingers   tracing   the   curves   of   her   back   with   deliberate   intent,   savoring   the   feel   of   her   beneath   him,   as   he   pushes   her   dress   down   her   shoulders   to   expose   her   breast   to   him.   He   takes   one   of   them   in   his   mouth,   as   a   silent   apology   for   his   lack   of   news   and   the   fight   they   had,   and   he   tastes   her   against   with   delight,   paying   attention   to   both   of   them,   one   with   his   tongue   while   the   other   is   taken   in   his   hand.   As   his   touch   maps   the   familiar   terrain   of   her   body,   the   connection   between   them   burns   hotter   than   the   flames   that   light   the   room.  

His   free   hand   moves   to   her   hips   and   encourage   the   grinding   movement,   to   feel   her   atop   of   him   and   for   her   to   feel   him   to   confirm   her   words.   "Ānogar   ānograro."   He   whispers   against   her   skin,   his   hand   moving   to   push   skirts   away   and   between   her   legs,   two   of   his   fingers   testing   that   delicious   thing   between   her   legs   and   finding   her   wet.   "And   I'm   the   only   one   who   can   make   you   feel   like   this."   He   whispers   in   turn,   the   hand   upon   her   breast   brought   to   her   neck   so   they   can   kiss,   ferocious   lips   upon   hers   as   tongue   open   her   mouth   with   eagerness   to   feel   her   again.   "Nyke   missed   ao,   ñuha   perzys."

[zobriezalarys]

@gwaynes asked: ❝ these games are done in honor of the king’s heir. ❞

Lilac   eyes   flash   back   toward   the   toddler   in   Alicent's   arms   and   Daemon   can   hardly   conceal   his   eye roll   at   the   way   the   other   sounds   so   proud.   He   would   rather   die   before   seeing   that   thumb   sucking   toddler   on   the   throne.   Those   usually   grow   up   to   be   the   worst   of   all.   "As   far   as   I'm   concerned   these   games   are   done   for   the   king's   son   nameday.   His   heir   is   nowhere   to   be   found,   Ser."   The   prince   speaks,   softly   but   clearly,   the   hilt   of   his   elbow   always   resting   on   Dark   Sister   by   his   side.

  "But   if   you   mean   to   say   little   Aegon   there   is   the   heir   and   go   against   the   king's   proclamation,   you   are   welcome   to   do   so.   But   pray   those   words   do   not   reach   the   king."   As   far   as   he   knew,   Viserys   had   not   changed   his   mind   regarding   Rhaenyra   as   his   heir   and   thus,   talks   of   others   on   the   throne   was   treason.   "High   treason   would   not   look   good   on   the   Hightowers   colors."

[zobriezalarys]

@khalesci asked: When I’m Queen, I will create a new order.

"You   sound   like   your   brother   Rhaegar.   He   was   big   into   the   new   order   too."   No   one   truly   knows   what   his   nephew's   plans   were   for   the   throne   if   his   father   had   ever   let   him   have   it.   Daemon   suspects   Aerys   was   too   mad   and   too   paranoid   to   let   anyone   near   him,   let   alone   his   heir,   who   was   more   popular   and   smarter   than   he   gave   him   credit   for.   The   dragonrider   takes   a   sip   of   the   drink   and   simply   nods.  

"Hopefully   it   works.   His   new   order   didn't   quite   end   as   he   expected   I   believe."   Eyebrows   raised,   the   prince   shrugs   it   all   off.   The   past   is   the   past,   though   he   cannot   hide   the   judgment   hidden   under   all,   as   those   actions   led   to   the   almost   extinction   of   their   family.   "Steal   a   wolf   girl   and   let   her   bleed   in   a   dornish   tower   while   his   wife   was   left   under   your   father's   rule.   Not   quite   the   bright   spot."

[zobriezalarys]

@korzion asked: "Do not allow your temper to guide your judgement."

the   laugh   fills   the   room   for   a   moment,   eyes   looking   down   at   the   sea   below.   rhaenyra   had   just   return,   and   no   sign   of   lucerys'   remains   or   his   dragon   and   daemon   is   aware   he   should   not   let   her   do   this   on   her   own.   even   more,   he   should   be   doing   more   than   just   help   but   to   plan   further.   a   son   for   a   son,   he   had   promised   to   a   grieving   mother   and   the   idea   grows   inside   him.  

"could've   used   that   advice   years   ago,   but   not   anymore."   lilac   eyes   look   toward   his   cousin,   grief   unites   them   all   in   different   ways   he   supposes,   but   he   won't   show   it   in   anything   but   anger,   and   in   the   distance,   caraxes   screeches   feeling   the   need   for   action.   "you   know   what   this   means   now.   war   cannot   be   avoided."

[zobriezalarys]

@drejedaria asked: ❛ come back to bed. ❜

He   had   risen   from   the   bed   in   the   dead   of   night,   his   mind   haunted   by   the   vision   he   had   glimpsed   beneath   the   ancient   weirwood   tree.   Its   red   leaves   whispered   secrets   that   gnawed   at   his   soul,   unsettling   him   in   a   way   few   things   could.   The   moonlight   poured   through   the   chamber’s   windows,   casting   pale   shadows   across   his   figure   as   he   stood,   staring   into   nothingness,   still   caught   in   the   echoes   of   the   vision.

The   familiar   voice   of   Rhaenyra,   pulling   him   back   to   the   present.   He   turned,   meeting   her   gaze   in   the   dim   light,   her   silver   hair   spilling   over   the   pillow   like   a   river   of   moonlight.

For   a   moment,   the   weight   of   the   world   faded   away.   Daemon   returned   to   her   side,   slipping   beneath   the   covers   as   if   seeking   shelter   from   the   storm   of   his   thoughts.   He   couldn't   help   but   admire   her,   the   curve   of   her   lips,   the   softness   of   her   skin,   the   warmth   she   exuded.   She   was   his   anchor,   the   one   constant   in   the   chaos   that   surrounded   them.

As   he   leaned   down   to   kiss   her,   he   let   the   moment   linger,   savoring   the   feel   of   her   lips   against   his,   as   though   this   kiss   could   be   their   last.   Time   seemed   to   slow,   and   in   that   kiss,   he   poured   everything—his   love,   his   fear,   his   unspoken   worry.   The   world   could   wait,   but   for   now,   here   in   the   darkness,   Rhaenyra   was   all   that   mattered.   "Worry   not,   I   would   never   leave   your   side   for   too   long."

[zobriezalarys]

When you're on top of him teasing him and he suddenly flips you over because he can't take it anymore. (@mysria)

Daemon   patience   was   thinning.   He   does   not   mind   when   she   takes   control.   Theirs   was   one   relationship   of   push   and   pull   and   knowing   when   the   other   needed   something.   But   she   does   play   the   game   too   well   at   times,   the   roll   of   her   hips,   the   way   she   presses   down   each   time   her   hips   brush   against   the   growing   hardness   on   his   breeches,   the   trace   of   her   hands   over   scars   and   muscles.   Mysaria's   teasing   smile   hovered   above   him,   her   delicate   fingers   tracing   maddeningly   slow   patterns   across   his   chest.   She   leaned   closer,   her   breath   warm   against   his   skin,   and   the   playful   glint   in   her   eyes   only   fanned   the   flames   of   his   desire.  

She   does   not   kiss   him,   but   her   breath   is   near   his   lips   as   he   feels   the   press   of   her   bare   chest   on   his   own,   breast   brushing   over   his   chest   and   he   feels   the   warmth   of   them,   the   way   she   deliberately   glides   so   he   feels   all   of   her.   He   could   feel   the   tension   coiling   within   him,   a   storm   ready   to   break.  

With   a   low   growl,   Daemon’s   restraint   snapped.   In   one   swift   movement,   he   flipped   her   over,   pinning   her   beneath   him   on   the   bed.   One   hand   moves   to   grab   both   of   hers   and   pin   her   above   her   head,   one   of   his   legs   between   her   own   where   his   pants   rub   friction   against   her   cunt,   feeling   the   drip   of   wetness   over   the   fabric.   "You   tease   too   much,   Mys.   What   a   bad   girl   you   are."

[zobriezalarys]

ㅤㅤㅤHER  FINGERS  CLENCH  THE  LETTER  so  tightly  that  it  tears  in  her  grasp.  The  letter  of  an  informant,  giving  her  news  of  his  death  on  a  piece  of  parchment.  All  the  calm  composure  of  Lady  Misery  breaks  in  that  moment,  like  a  shattered  mask  of  porcelain,  slowly  falling  piece  by  piece.  He  had  told  her  he  would  die  at  Harrenhal.  He  had  warned  her  of  the  fate  that  awaited  him.  What  a  fool  she  was  to  deny  it.  And  what  a  wretch  he  is  for  breaking  his  promise  in  such  a  horrid  way.  His  promise  that  he  would  live.  Anger  rips  through  her  body,  rising  abruptly  from  her  desk  as  she  screams  at  the  messenger.  ❝ Get  out.  Get  out!  ❞  The  poor  girl,  she  leaves  with  a  face  full  of  fear,  but  once  that  door  closes,  Mysaria  feels  the  weight  of  loss  strike  at  her  shoulders,  threatening  to  topple  her.  Eyes  pass  over  the  letter  again,  her  brows  furrowing,  quivering  as  she  keep  reading  it  over  and  over  and over again,  but  no  matter  how  hard  she  wills  them  to,  the  words  upon  the  parchment  do  not  change.  ❝ Ao  nādrēsy  ─  ❞  she  hisses,  but  it  soon  turns  into  a  growling  scream,  guttural  in  the  base  of  her  throat  like  some  a  wounded  creature.  ❝ How  could  you?  You  promised!  ❞

ㅤㅤㅤMysaria  rips  the  parchment  to  shreds,  scattering  them  viciously;  some  thrown  at  the  wall,  some  into  the  fire, some tossed into the wind,  but  no  matter  what  she  does,  she  cannot  make  the  words  any  less  true.  She  kicks  over  her  chair,  smashes  pots  and  vases  of  flowers  to  pieces,  breaks  her  mirror  with  a  silver  candlestick  and  rips  her  curtains  and  sheets  with  one  of  the  shards of glass.  ❝  You  promised  me,  Daemon!  You  promised  me!  ❞  Mysaria  screams  so  loud  that  it  echoes  against  the  stone.  But  nothing,  nothing,  nothing  changes  the  fact  that  her  Daemon  is  dead.  Not  the  rage  in  her  heart,  the  blood  that  drips  from  the  fresh  cuts  of  shattered  glass  on  her  hands,  her  tears  nor  her  pleas  are  a  good  enough  sacrifice  to  the  gods  to  bring  him  back.  How  is  she  supposed  to  tell  their  son?  How  is  she  supposed  to  tell  his  queen?  Perhaps  this  is  the  greatest  betrayal  of  all,  for  him  to  now  leave  her  alone  in  this  life  after  all  this  time together,  to  go  somewhere  that  she  cannot  follow.  To  die  while  her  love  for  him  still  lives. To condemn her to love a ghost.

ㅤㅤㅤHer  limbs  shake,  an  empty  echo  within  her  chest  from  a  beating  heart  that  mocks  her.  When  the  rage  is  gone,  all  that  is  left  is  despair.  It  crushes  her.  The White Worm  falls  to  her  knees,  her  arms  wrapping  tightly  around  her  own  torso  as  if  everything  within  her  would  spill  out if  she  doesn't  hold  herself  together,  the  blood  on  her  hands  painting  her  white  silk a deep crimson.  Her  body  bends,  shaking  with  quiet  sobs  as  she  tries to  gather  herself  to  no  avail.  ❝ You  promised  me ─  ❞  she  chokes  out  one  last  time. ❝ Come back to me. Please. I don't mean it. I won't be angry if you just come back. Please, Daemon. Ñuha dārilaros. Ñuha zaldrīzes. Please ─ ❞  Then it  all  comes  apart.  Soon  the  sounds  of  her  destruction  and  wailing  cries  lead  others  to  her  chambers.  And  this  is  how  the  castle  learns  that  Daemon  Targaryen  has  died.

My muse has died. Send in your muse’s reaction.

[zobriezalarys]

@dcviline asked: ❝ I am all yours tonight. ❞ ( mysaria )

"Are   you   now?"   The   room   is   fit   for   a   prince,   a   queen   too.   Rhaenyra   is   not   with   them   tonight   and   it   seems   Mysaria   had   decided   that   for   the   time   being   he   should   not   be   on   his   own.   He   leans   against   the   doorframe   as   he   watches   her   in   black   and   red   sheets,   dress   in   translucent   white   in   those   Lyseni   colors   he   first   saw   her   and   the   door   closes   behind   him,   bolted   and   locked,   his   hand   on   his   belt   to   let   Dark   Sister   rest   by   the   side   of   the   door   as   he   steps   closer   to   where   she   is   now   in   the   bed.   "Have   you   been   waiting   for   me   or   you   got   impatient?"   The   prince   speaks,   leaning   hands   to   her   knees,   massaging   the   skin   there   before   dipping   lower   on   the   dress,   as   often,   he   finds   her   wearing   her   pearls.

The   years   change   and   she   might   wear   more   lady   like   clothes   but   behind   those,   she   is   still   his   little   misery.   "Come   here."   And   one   hand   moves   to   the   back   of   her   neck   to   pull   her   closer   and   upward,   the   other   around   her   waist,   lips   curve   into   a   smile   as   he   looks   at   her,   his   thumb   brushing   against   her   lower   lip.   "Tell   me,   has   my   cunt   of   a   nephew   ever   touched   you   when   he   went   to   your   establishment?"   The   thought   bothers   him,   and   knows   she   would   never   but   it's   enough   to   start   a   streak   inside   him,   the   thought   that   his   nephew   could   touch   what   does   not   belong   to   him.   "Or   did   you   remind   him   that   only   one   dragon   can   taste   you?"

[zobriezalarys]

@dreamtfyres asked: ❝ does it give you joy to scare people? ❞

"do   I   scare   you,   niece?"   there   is   a   pause   in   his   words   as   he   shakes   his   head,   almost   amused   at   the   prospect.   he   caresses   caraxes'   side,   cleaning   some   of   the   shed   of   old   scales   as   he   watches   his   niece   stare   back   at   him.   "do   you   think   it   was   kindness   that   made   the   conqueror   ruler   of   westeros?   or   kindness   that   made   your   father   exile   me   time   and   time   again   from   here?"   decisions   are   not   made   with   a   kind   heart,   or   joyful.   dragons   were   with   them   for   a   reason   and   he   and   caraxes   are   united   in   mission   and   mind.

  "respect   comes   in   two   ways,   you   take   it   or   it   dwindles   in   time.   I   don't   scare   people,   but   I   would   have   they   respect   through   fear."   a   short   pause   as   he   looks   at   heleana   for   a   moment.   "this   is   why   no   one   respect   aegon.   he   might   be   the   boy   viserys   wanted   but   gods   forbid,   he   is   not   built   as   a   warrior,   or   a   king."

[zobriezalarys]

@roseguided asked: for an argumentative starter . / alicent

"peace   is   not   an   option.   even   before   your   father   dare   to   assume   my   children   would   go   and   be   happy   to   serve   that   drunk   of   a   son   of   yours."   no.   peace   was   never   an   option   and   he   hates   that   he   had   been   right   from   the   moments   news   of   viserys   death   had   reached   them.   poisoned,   murdered   or   anything   else,   it   didn't   matter.   "lucerys   is   dead   and   blood   demands   blood."