#meledarys

[haemuna]

𝖙𝖔𝖙𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖞 𝖎𝖓𝖈𝖔𝖗𝖗𝖊𝖈𝖙 𝖖𝖚𝖔𝖙𝖊𝖘 𝖋𝖊𝖆𝖙. @meledarys

[zobriesdaria]

𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠   𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐝   𝐭𝐨   𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝   𝐀𝐝𝐝𝐚𝐦   𝐚𝐧𝐝   𝐒𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐦𝐨𝐤𝐞   𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤   𝐭𝐨   𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞   𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡   𝐭𝐡𝐞   𝐧𝐞𝐰𝐬   𝐨𝐟   𝐭𝐡𝐞   𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐲   𝐚𝐧𝐝   𝐭𝐡𝐞   𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫   𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬   𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥   𝐢𝐧   𝐚   𝐟𝐞𝐰   𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬   𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞,   rhaenyra   finds   it   best   to   remain   there   by   his   side,   let   them   see   the   queen   in   person,   who   they   fight   for   but   also,   that   the   king   and   queen   were   a   united   front.   ser   simon   had   offered   her   a   room   of   her   room.   but   she   had   simply   stated   that   she   would   share   bed   with   daemon,   as   a   wife   would.   eyes   look   around   the   room,   beyond   the   few   leaks   and   damp   spaces,   she   could   imagine   once   the   glory   of   this   castle,   the   sounds   of   caraxes   and   syrax   outside,   reunited   once   more   makes   her   feel   happy,   she   knows   their   dragons   reflect   their   own   personalities   at   time.

  "nyke   maghatan   daor   grēze   yn   se   ones   va   ñuha   arlī   (i   brought   no   clothes   but   the   ones   on   my   back)".   the   queen   speaks   now   they   are   alone   and   the   tension   that   felt   in   the   room   before   was   now   palpable.   she   was   always   weak   when   he   had   shed   of   moments   where   the   warrior   in   him   shone   through,   igniting   that   fire   inside   of   her.   @meledarys

"yn   issi   grēze   jāre   naejot   sagon   bēvilagon?   (but   are   clothes   going   to   be   necessary?)"   rhaenyra   asks   as   she   steps   close   to   him,   taking   in   a   moment   to   appear   as   poise   as   she   can   before   no   longer   contain   it   inside   her   and   her   hands   pull   on   her   coat,   down   to   her   frame   as   lips   crash   into   her   own,   the   familiar   feeling   of   his   mouth   against   her   own   causing   the   queen   to   sigh   in   relief   at   the   touch,   hands   braid   through   his   silver   hair   at   the   base   of   his   neck,   foreheads   touching   one   another.   "i   missed   you."

[treheks]

@meledarys asked: ❛ you’re mine , until you’re rotting in the ground . ❜

𝖊𝖞𝖊𝖇𝖗𝖔𝖜𝖘   𝖗𝖆𝖎𝖘𝖊   𝖆𝖙   𝖍𝖎𝖘   𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖘𝖊,   𝖑𝖎𝖕𝖘   𝖈𝖚𝖗𝖛𝖊   𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖔   𝖆   𝖘𝖒𝖎𝖑𝖊   𝖉𝖎𝖒𝖒𝖊𝖉   𝖔𝖓𝖑𝖞   𝖇𝖞   𝖙𝖍𝖊   𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙,   half   her   features   obscured.   "you   say   such   romantic   things   to   a   woman.   who   will   put   me   there,   you?"   and   her   tone   does   nothing   to   stop   the   dream   like   tone   of   her   voice   as   she   is   lured   into   his   trap.   or   perhaps   he   is   into   hers,   she   cannot   truly   say   at   that   point   but   her   hand   leaves   his   as   it   presses   into   the   fabric   of   his   shirt,   where   she   feels   the   heat   that   the   dragon   radiates   through.   "you   say   i'm   yours   but   you   have   not   laid   your   claim.   i   told   you   so   when   you   first   came   here."  

another   claim   entirely   but   alys   was   always   one   to   know   more.   "you   have   not   left   a   mark   on   me   yet.   but   it   is   not   too   late."   and   fingers   wrap   on   the   strings   of   his   shirt,   green   eyes   shining   bright   upon   the   light   of   the   moon   by   the   window   and   looking   back   at   those   lilac   ones   of   his.   "if   you   want   me,   then   have   me.   i   never   expected   you   to   be   a   man   who   lingers."   who   waits   and   who   keeps   steady   and   out   of   the   way.  

she   knows   of   him,   the   rogue   prince,   king   consort,   blood   of   the   dragon   that   shine   as   bright   as   her   gods.   her   breath   lingers   over   his   own,   neck   craned   upward   as   she   speaks   and   leans   over   his   body.   "how   long   has   it   been?   since   the   touch   of   another?"   

[reinerose]

@meledarys wanted a thorny rose.

no   one   in   highgarden   was   expecting   the   sight   of   the   blood   wyrm   above   their   skies   and   to   land   outside   the   walls   of   highgarden.   the   staff   scattered   around,   the   sight   of   a   dragon   one   unknown   to   many,   and   her   brother   and   grandmother   were   dealing   with   the   hightower,   while   garlan   and   loras   were   dealing   with   things   elsewhere.   it   was   left   to   the   young   rose   to   deal   with   things   and   so,   with   all   the   valor   she   conjured,   she   lead   the   way   outside   the   walls   upon   the   sight   of   the   prince.   king   consort   now.   it   all   depended   who   you   asked.   "Your   Grace."   Margaery   curties   politely,   eyes   shifting   to   the   dragon   beside   the   man,   and   she   cannot   help   her   fascination   with   the   creature   before   she   is   returned   to   the   present.

  "I   apologize,   my   grandmother   and   brother,   the   lord   of   highgarden   are   dealing   with   the   hightowers.   they   been   trying   to   disuade   them   from   continuing   this   war   inside   the   reach."   she   speaks,   hoping   perhaps   those   words   do   please   the   dragonrider.   "if   you   are   here   to   claim   the   castle,   i'm   afraid   I   am   in   no   position   to   give   it   as   such.   but   I   can   offer   fresh   wine   and   good   food   while   you   wait."   rosy   lips   offer   a   kind   smile   in   turn.   "I   am   not   aware   what   dragons   eat   but   I   am   sure   we   can   gather   something   for   him,   as   long   as   it's   not   our   horses."

[zobriesdaria]

@meledarys asked: ❛ say you want me, and i’m yours. ❜

𝐡𝐨𝐰   𝐜𝐚𝐧   𝐡𝐞   𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧   𝐝𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐭   𝐨𝐫   𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐝   𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭   𝐨𝐟   𝐡𝐞𝐫?   everything   she   ever   done   around   him   has   spoken   out   for   her.   the   way   her   eyes   always   find   his   own   in   the   crowd   and   how   she   finds   all   of   his   comments   the   most   hilarious   at   court.   everyone   can   see   it.   she   knows   it   well,   how   they   say   that   the   rogue   prince   had   always   proclaim   her   the   most   beautiful   of   westeros,   even   above   the   queen   and   more.   her   eyes   more   black   than   lilac   look   upon   him   and   cling   to   his   shirt,   as   if   he   would   run   away   if   she   releases   him.

  "do   you   need   to   ask?   after   everything?"   but   she   obliges   then,   her   hand   reaching   where   his   beats   and   feeling   it,   so   in   sync   with   her   own.   "jaelan   ao.   mērī   ao.   ānogar   ānograro   (i   want   you.   only   you.   blood   of   my   blood)."   she   speaks   in   high   valyrian,   their   language   when   trying   to   speak   their   truth   andd   their   feelings.   rhaenyra   shakes   almost,   with   how   much   she   is   feeling   in   that   moment.

"  īlen āzma naejot zālagon lēda ao  (i   was   born   to   burn   with   you)."   a   proclamation   of   love   in   the   highest   order   for   the   dragons.   like   syrax   had   found   her   companion   in   caraxes,   rhaenyra   knows,   daemon   is   the   one   for   her.

[zobriesdaria]

@meledarys asked: skorkydoso bōsa issi ao jāre naejot mazverdagon nyke umbagon? [how long are you going to make me wait?]

unable   to   control   herself,   the   queen,   side   eyes   him   as   he   speaks,   it   had   been   a   while   since   they   spoke   in   valyrian   just   to   themselves,   and   despite   herself,   she   had   missed   him   in   those   days   he   had   spent   in   harrenhal.   "patience,   iksis   iā   sȳz   run   naejot   emagon   (patience   is   a   good   thing   to   have)."   she   jest   in   turn,   feiging   innocence   as   her   hands   sweep   across   the   pages   of   the   book   she   pretended   to   read   now,   lilac   eyes   raised   to   daemon,   aware   that   patience   had   never   been   one   of   his   best   qualities.  

"yn   ��lē   dōrī   mēre   naejot   umbagon   (but   you   were   never   one   to   wait)."   she   finishes   then,   closing   the   book   and   standing   up   from   the   desk   as   she   stands   before   him,   a   smile   on   her   lips.   somehow,   dragonstone   feels   safer   with   him   around.   "skoros   gaomagon   jaelā,   ñuha   dārys?   (what   is   it   that   you   want,   my   king?)"   she   uses   teh   title   to   give   into   his   ego,   for   he   is   her   king,   consort   or   no,   he   is   in   title   and   he   had   done   well   by   her   name   to   raise   such   an   army   in   her   name.

[treheks]

@meledarys asked: they're unhappy, and unhappy people look for someone to hate.

"most   unhappy   people   look   above   for   those   to   blame.   and   when   the   gods   don't   answer,   they   see   who   is   directly   belove."   the   witch   speaks,   eyes   up   to   the   skies,   the   weirwood   treet   seem   to   be   their   place   to   speak   and   reunite,   the   truth   always   spoken   before   the   face   of   the   old   gods.   green   eyes   look   upon   the   man   before   her   and   eyebrows   look   in   amusement.  

"dragons   are   close   to   gods,   and   those   who   ride   them   even   more.   are   you   not   afraid?"   alys   poses   the   question,   her   hand   touching   the   dried   leaves   of   the   tree,   the   red   of   them   contrasting   over   the   palish   light   of   her   skin,   almost   in   a   ghostly   nature.   "that   the   charm   of   the   dragons   will   die   one   day."

[zobriesdaria]

following from this @meledarys

"īlē   daor   isse   konīr   (you   were   not   in   there).   in   bed."   the   woman   speaks   against   his   back.   she   will   consider   it   his   fault,   that   sleep   is   restless   when   he   is   not   around,   but   he   too   is   up   at   high   hours   and   she   wonders   what   is   keeping   his   mind   occupied.   lilac   eyes   look   expectant   at   his   own   as   he   keep   speaking   of   rest   when   he   is   one   that   seems   restless   that   night.   "iksā   mēre   naejot   ȳdragon.   skoros   iksis   va   aōha   mind?   (you   are   one   to   talk.   what   is   on   your   mind?)"

  she   asks   instead   as   she   feels   the   weight   of   his   forehead   upon   her   own.   eyes   close   for   the   brief   moment   before   they   lay   on   the   fire,   something   burns   inside   her   as   much   as   it   does   him.   "you   are   restless."   she   switches   to   common   tongue   then,   her   own   hand   brought   to   his   neck.   "speak   to   me."

[treheks]

@meledarys asked: there’s a fine line between gossip and history , when one is talking about kings.

𝕿𝖍𝖊   𝖌𝖔𝖉𝖘𝖜𝖔𝖔𝖉   𝖔𝖋   𝕳𝖆𝖗𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖍𝖆𝖑   𝖜𝖆𝖘   𝖆   𝖕𝖑𝖆𝖈𝖊   𝖜𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊   𝖘𝖍𝖆𝖉𝖔𝖜𝖘   𝖜𝖍𝖎𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖉   𝖘𝖊𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖙𝖘,   𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖎𝖗   𝖛𝖔𝖎𝖈𝖊𝖘   𝖜𝖊𝖆𝖛𝖎𝖓𝖌   𝖙𝖍𝖗𝖔𝖚𝖌𝖍   𝖙𝖍𝖊   𝖆𝖓𝖈𝖎𝖊𝖓𝖙,   𝖙𝖜𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖉   𝖇𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖈𝖍𝖊𝖘   𝖔𝖋   𝖙𝖍𝖊   𝖜𝖊𝖎𝖗𝖜𝖔𝖔𝖉   𝖙𝖗𝖊𝖊. Alys   Rivers   stood   beneath   its   blood-red   leaves,   her   dark   eyes   reflecting   the   dim   light   that   filtered   through   the   canopy.   The   air   was   thick   with   the   scent   of   earth   and   decay,   a   fitting   backdrop   for   the   ruins   that   surrounded   them.

But   his   voice   cut   through   the   stillness,   his   words   as   sharp   as   Valyrian   steel   he   holds   dear.   Alys   tilted   her   head,   her   gaze   narrowing   as   she   considered   his   words.   There   was   a   certain   truth   in   them,   an   acknowledgment   of   the   power   that   stories   held.   In   her   years,   she   had   learned   that   the   tales   spun   in   the   halls   of   castles   often   shaped   the   fate   of   realms   more   than   any   blade   or   battle.   Yet,   standing   in   the   heart   of   Harrenhal,   where   the   weight   of   history   pressed   down   on   them   like   a   suffocating   shroud,   she   could   not   help   but   wonder   how   much   of   it   had   been   twisted   by   the   tongues   of   men.

"History,"   she   mused,   her   voice   a   low   murmur,   "is   often   written   by   those   who   hold   the   quill,   not   the   sword.   But   gossip...   that   is   the   quill   in   the   hands   of   the   common   folk.   It   is   no   less   dangerous,   and   perhaps   more   so,   for   it   can   turn   a   king   into   a   monster,   or   a   monster   into   a   king."

[treheks]

she   knows.   too   long   without   another's   touch   and   alys   herself   cannot   said   she   had   not   suffered   the   same   matter.   her   reputation   remarks   her   as   a   witch   and   almost   a   ghostly   manifestation   of   the   castle   they   inhabit   right   now.   and   like   harrenhal   itself,   the   witch   wants   the   dragon   as   he   finally   takes   claim   to   her   neck   and   feel   teeth   grace   upon   her   skin,the   grip   on   his   shirt   tightening   to   keep   herself   in   place   as   he   does,   a   humming   sound   of   approval   for   the   man   to   keep   going.  

"yes."   alys   speaks   against   his   ear   as   he   sucks   and   leaves   a   mark   on   her   skin,   a   delicate   shade   of   purple   will   appear   soon   on   her   neck   to   contrast   on   her   skin   and   she   moans   at   the   thought.   her   own   fingers   find   his   ipon   her   dress   and   dare   him   then,   with   a   tug.  

"you   can   rip   it.   i   do   not   mind."   let   the   gods   witness   them,   they   demand   souls   and   blood   as   much   as   they   demand   the   union   of   two   people,   and   alys   was   rewarded   with   a   man   fit   for   the   task.   she   takes   his   earlobe   on   her   teeth   and   pull,   tongue   soothing   whatever   pain   that   came   next.   "do   not   be   gentle."

if he had been another man , daemon would have almost admitted that alys look beautiful in the moonlight. violet hues watched her every move , the prince could feel her hands tangling into his shirt instead of his hand. the action was . . intimate. it made his breath hitch as she spoke. not laid his claim? the words made daemon huff , lilac eyes staring at the woman in front of him with an almost animalistic look. like predator at a prey.

as alys began to speak of leaving a mark on her , daemon had let out an involuntary noise- his head moving ever so closer towards the strange woman. daemon had felt almost as if he were like a spring , coiled up so . . tight. ready to unravel at any moment. lidded eyes looked up to alys's face for a mere moment before glancing down towards her neck , the way it craned up and he could catch a glimpse of the smooth skin.

" too long . . " daemon had murmured in reply , like he was entranced. tired mind had registered exactly what she had said , that alys was his. the king consort almost growled softly has head surged forward , lips and teeth gentle as they explored along the skin of alys's neck. she was soft against his lips , the smell of her hitting his nose as lilac hues shut instinctively.

wandering hands moved to grasp gently at the sides of the woman's dress , fingers clutching onto the material. like if he let her go , she would disappear . . that this was another one of his vivid dreams. daemon licked and sucked down the flesh of alys's neck like a starving man , that she was like the first bit of food he had seen in ages.