#sigilsongs

[zobriefyre]

𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐄𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐃𝐀𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐒 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐄𝐍

Upon the birth of Prince Aemon's second daughter, a match was proposed by the man himself to King Jaehaerys, for the princess to wed Prince Daemon, second son of his beloved brother Baelor, when she was of age and continue the puracy of their bloodline but the match was rejected and Daemon made to wed Rhea Royce. Years later, the Rogue Prince made a similar request over the Princess' hand when her brother, namesake of King Viserys I, passed away and the Princess was able to hatch three dragon eggs from his funeral pyre but the request was request, perhaps advised by Otto Hightower, fearing the match, with three dragons that saw the woman as their mother and the Prince's fearsome Blood Wyrm and any future hatchlings of their dragons. But one cannot put a fire by ignoring it and eventually, the cousins grew curious of one another. To him, she was as close to a goddess that could be, A Valyrian beauty that embodied the three heads of their House. To her, Daemon represented everything she was not when it came to Valyrian strength; a man of support and strength and passion, whose fire could match her own. The tease of future suitors from across the sea could only be endured so far before the Prince became a dragon and took the princess, except the princess too was a dragon.

@sigilsongs daemon and daenerys ( @zobriefyre )

do not reblog unless tagged. mutuals are welcome to comment.

[kastadarias]

@sigilsongs asked: 💋 its from laegon targaryen - Send me a 💋 to shut my muse up with a kiss.

Jaehaera   stood   by   the   window,   staring   out   at   the   darkening   skies   above   the   Red   Keep,   her   thoughts   as   heavy   as   the   storm   clouds   threatening   to   unleash   their   fury.   The   weight   of   the   crown   bore   down   on   her   that   day   more   than   usual,   the   whispers   of   her   court   echoing   in   her   mind.   If   she   did   not   produce   an   heir   soon,   what   use   would   she   be   to   the   realm?   The   pressure   was   suffocating.   She   had   been   lost   in   her   worries   when   Laegon   approached   her.

Laegon   had   always   been   a   presence   in   her   life,   a   source   of   quiet   strength.   Son   of   Laena   Velaryon   and   Daemon   Targaryen,   he   carried   the   fire   of   his   lineage   with   a   grace   that   soothed   her   nerves.   He   had   never   asked   anything   of   her,   never   pushed,   only   stood   by   her   side   when   she   needed   him   most.

But   today,   something   shifted.   His   hand   touched   her   arm   gently,   pulling   her   from   the   depths   of   her   thoughts,   and   before   she   could   ask   what   was   wrong,   he   kissed   her.   It   wasn’t   tentative   or   hesitant   but   full   of   the   emotions   she   thought   she   had   buried   deep.   Her   lips   parted   in   shock,   her   heart   racing   as   the   kiss   lingered.

For   a   moment,   she   didn’t   know   what   to   do—didn’t   know   how   to   feel.   Had   she   entertained   thoughts   like   this   before?   Perhaps,   in   the   quiet   moments   when   she   allowed   herself   to   think   of   anything   other   than   duty.   But   she   had   never   let   them   surface.   Or   so   she   believed.

She   could   feel   the   tremor   in   her   hands   as   she   brought   them   to   her   chest,   a   shield   against   the   unexpected   warmth   blooming   inside   her.   She   wanted   to   speak,   to   say   something,   anything,   but   the   words   failed   her.   He   had   been   her   solace,   her   friend.   Now,   in   a   single   impulsive   moment,   everything   had   changed.   “Laegon...”   she   whispered,   her   voice   barely   a   breath.   Could   she   afford   to   entertain   this,   to   find   solace   in   a   man   so   close   to   her—yet   not   her   king?   "You   should   have   not   done   that."

[isefyres]

@sigilsongs / @arenagods / @sigilsins asked: "I don't give a fuck what the original terms of our arrangement were." from a spicy robert to elia martell

The   hall   was   silent,   its   grandeur   seeming   vast   and   empty,   though   Elia   Martell   could   feel   the   weight   of   every   breath   in   the   air.   Robert   Baratheon’s   presence   loomed   over   her,   his   broad   frame   blocking   any   escape.   His   hand,   rough   and   calloused   from   war   and   hunting,   rested   possessively   on   her   waist.   Warmth   radiated   from   his   touch,   seeping   through   the   thin   fabric   of   her   dress,   burning   against   her   exposed   skin.   She   did   not   pull   away,   but   her   dark   eyes   flicked   around   the   room   in   search   of   someone—anyone.   It   was   futile.   The   hall   was   deserted,   save   for   the   two   of   them.

Elia’s   breath   hitched,   though   her   expression   remained   poised,   ever   the   princess   of   Dorne,   though   her   pulse   raced.   “Our   arrangement   was   for   one   night,”   she   whispered,   her   voice   soft   but   clear.   She   let   the   words   linger   between   them,   hoping   to   remind   him,   to   calm   the   storm   she   saw   building   in   his   eyes.   But   there   was   something   else   behind   his   gaze—something   darker,   more   dangerous.   She   knew   where   his   mind   had   gone.

Rhaegar.   The   she-wolf   girl.   The   whispers   that   reached   even   the   farthest   corners   of   Harrenhal   had   not   spared   her,   nor   had   the   quiet   rage   she   herself   had   harbored   against   the   man   she   once   called   husband.   Her   fingers   curled   lightly   against   Robert's   chest,   her   body   betraying   the   icy   facade   she   tried   to   maintain.

"You   behave   like   this   because   of   him,   don’t   you?"   Elia's   words   were   barely   more   than   a   breath.   Her   thoughts   spiraled   with   the   image   of   Rhaegar   and   Lyanna,   the   scandal   that   had   set   kingdoms   aflame.   She   had   raged   too,   in   her   own   quiet,   refined   way.   But   that   rage   was   turning   into   something   else—something   dangerous   beneath   the   stag’s   touch.   Robert's   grip   tightened,   possessive,   jealous.   She   could   feel   the   heat   between   them   rising,   not   just   from   anger   but   from   the   raw   tension   that   neither   of   them   had   intended.   And   still,   Elia   did   not   move   away.   It   was   a   man's   touch,   a   man   who   wanted   what   he   wanted.   Rhaegar   had   not   touched   her   since   Aegon's   birth,   and   with   this,   she   felt   disgraced,   and   the   stag   before   her,   pressed   between   her   legs,   is   asking   her   to   give   herself   again.   "You   are   a   greedy   man,   my   lord."

[drcanerys]

@sigilsongs asked: ❛ if only you knew how much you truly mean to me. ❜ — from daerax

Dragonkeepers.   The   name   is   one   from   Viserys   old   stories   but   the   order   was   thought to   be   gone.   After   the   dragons   danced   and   they   died,   no   one   wrote   any   longer   about   the   dragons.   They   say   many   left,   when   Rhaenyra   resorted   to   have   more   dragonriders   in   the   war   that   ended   with   most   dragons   dead,   the   order   refused.   Others   say   they   selfishly   led   the   dragons   to   their   death   but   now   before   her,   some   of   them   stood.   Hail   from   Asshai   they   say   and   she   remembers   the   key   words   told   to   her;   in   Asshai   she   would   found   her   secrets.   Who   she   is,   how   to   speak   of   dragons.   "I   am   no   savior,   Daerax   of   Old   Valyria.   I'm   just   my   brother's   heir,   and   rightful   queen   of   the   Seven   Kingdoms."   And   what   she   had   taken   on   this   side   of   the   sea   to   prove   her   worth.  

"But   I   believe,   if   you   are   who   you   say   you   are,   then   you   might   help   me   with   my   dragons   before   I   sail   to   Westeros."   There   is   a   short   pause   as   the   Queen   walks   down   to   be   eye   level   with   the   Dragonkeeper   and   his   order.   Amethyst   eyes   look   upon   for   a   moment   before   nodding.   "I   been   able   to   ride   Drogon,   but   while   Viserion   and   Rhaegal   bond   with   me,   they   are   considered   wild.   Perhaps   you   can   help   me   with   that."   The   dragon   must   have   three   heads,   she   been   told.   But   as   far   as   she   been   told,   there   is   only   one   Targaryen   like   her.   Is   she   meant   to   give   her   dragons   to   bastards   who   would   betray   her   like   they   did   Rhaenyra?   "Who   truly   has   enough   Targaryen   blood   for   them   to   become   riders?   Who   can   I   trust?"

[zoklaanogar]

a plotted starter for @sigilsongs (alicent)

A SNOW , NEVER A TARGARYEN. that was the hand he had been dealt , the fault of his mother and father one drunken night in the north. he had been a SURPRISE to the king of the seven kingdoms , a lesser stark cousin standing upon his doorstep with a babe in her arms. but viserys had taken in his son , raising him alongside his daughter , rhaenyra , treating him NO LESS than a trueborn son. even the queen consort , lady aemma , had treated the boy with kindness , with jon viewing the woman as a MOTHER. but because of his bastardy , his father had informed him that he would hold no titles nor land ; however , he had reassured him that he did not love him any LESS than he did rhaenyra.

HE GREW UP IN THE RED KEEP , learning to fight in the yard with his father's kingsguard , acquiring an education from the maesters , and mingling with the noble children ( even if their parents SNEERED from the sidelines ). and as he had clung to his sister as a child , jon had grown alongside alicent hightower , daughter to his father's hand.

JON HAD TAKEN A LIKING TO ALICENT , his feelings growing as he got older. a FORBIDDEN romance , perhaps ──── a BASTARD and a LADY ; oh , her father would never allow it , no matter the LOVE they had for one another. they had been forced to keep their affections behind closed doors , with only rhaenyra clued in on the romance between her brother and best - friend. and though jon was the son of the king , bastardy or no , it would SULLY the hightower name for otto's only daughter to tie herself to a baseborn man. perhaps that was why courtiers whispered of plans to marry alicent to viserys , what with lady aemma deceased. she had been in his father's presence as of late , sorrow in her eyes whenever jon caught her gaze.

AND NOW , THE TWO STAND in an empty room within the keep , the door locked behind them , jon anxiously running his hands through his thick hair. mad. she was MAD to want to tell his father of them , what with viserys' having taken a liking to the young woman. rhaenyra would back them , of course , but where would that get them ? what would happen when otto discovered this forbidden romance ?

" YOUR FATHER WILL CONVINCE MINE to send me to the wall , " jon utters , his FEAR clear in his grey eyes. " he will never allow this , nor will my lord father. i've SEEN the way he looks to you , alicent. he wants you , and it is RARE the a king does NOT get what he wants. "

[d0wager]

Alicent   stood   with   poised   composure,   her   delicate   hands   clasped   before   her   as   King   Viserys   delivered   the   news   that   sent   ripples   through   the   court.   The   Great   Hall   was   abuzz   with   whispers   and   gasps   as   the   announcement   echoed:   she   was   to   wed   Prince   Daemon   Targaryen.   A   flicker   of   emotion   crossed   her   father,   Otto   Hightower's,   face—an   uncharacteristic   display   of   displeasure.   Yet,   Alicent   masked   her   true   feelings   behind   a   quiet   mask,   her   heart   a   swirl   of   suppressed   excitement.   The   Prince's   desire   to   annul   his   marriage   to   Rhea   Royce   was   granted   but   only   if   he   proved   himself   to   the   crown   with   a   new   marriage,   and   it   seems   that   King   Viserys   thought   she   would   be   a   good   bride   to   the   Rogue   Prince.  

His   fiery   spirit,   his   defiance   of   convention,   and   the   raw   charisma   he   exuded   had   captivated   her   from   afar.   Now,   as   fate   would   have   it,   she   was   to   be   his   bride.   The   prospect   sent   a   thrill   through   her   that   she   dared   not   show,   knowing   full   well   the   delicate   politics   at   play.

Alicent   made   her   way   to   Daemon’s   chambers.   She   had   been   informed   that   he   was   aware   of   their   engagement   and   now,   with   a   heart   pounding   in   her   chest,   she   approached   the   door.   She   knocked   lightly,   and   the   door   swung   open   almost   immediately,   revealing   Daemon’s   intense   gaze.   She   had   wore   her   best;   she   heard   he   favors   a   woman   from   Lys,   a   dancer,   often   wearing   white   and   greys   and   her   dress,   alike   the   one   from   the   tournament,   was   on   the   same   color   and   shape   as   those   of   the   Lyseni   dancing,   hoping   at   least,   he   will   be   intrigued.  

“Your   Grace,”   she   began,   her   voice   steady   despite   her   nerves.   “I   wondered   what   you   thought   of   our   betrothal.”   Her   eyes   searched   his,   seeking   any   hint   of   his   true   feelings.   “I   do   hope   you   do   not   find   me   displeasing.   I   am   aware   of   your   dislike   for   my   father's.   .   .opinions.”   she   asked,   her   tone   softer   now,   almost   tentative.   Everyone   knew   of   his   disdain   for   his   first   wife,   the   Lady   of   the   Vale.   It   was   no   secret   that   their   marriage   had   been   devoid   of   love   and   warmth. @sigilsongs ft. daemon.

[azmenka]

@sigilsongs says laegon targaryen is a humbling 6'5

yeah well, I guess when you literally have l(a)eg in the name, you kinda have to deliver . . . but why so much of it?

[kingsl2yer]

@sigilsins / @sigilsongs asked: "I know you're being a brat just because you want to be choked." // reversed // Jaime is saying it to Elinor Tyrell ???

Jaime   leaned   back   against   the   wall,   arms   folded,   his   gaze   flickering   over   Elinor   with   the   kind   of   piercing   focus   he   reserved   for   reading   the   unspoken.   The   way   she   stood,   one   brow   raised,   lips   twisted   in   a   defiant   smirk,   only   made   him   sigh—though   he   couldn’t   entirely   smother   the   spark   of   amusement   in   his   eyes.

“You’re   relentless,   you   know   that?”   he   said,   watching   her   with   something   between   exasperation   and   intrigue.   “Being   a   brat   because   you   think   you   can   get   what   you   want   by   provoking   it   out   of   me?”   He   smirked,   though   there   was   a   hardness   to   his   expression,   a   challenge   there,   as   if   daring   her   to   continue.

He   let   his   words   hang   for   a   moment,   as   his   steps   drag   him   closer   to   her   his   voice   dropping   to   something   darker,   a   faint   smirk   touching   the   corner   of   his   mouth.   “Maybe   you   should   be   more   careful   with   what   you   wish   for,   my   lady.”

“I   might   just   give   it   to   you.”   Simply   because   of   the   sheer   insolence.   "A   better   mind   would   not.   But   I   think   we   both   know   I'm   not   a   good   man."

[isefyres-archive]

"It has been a while since you gave me the honor to dance with you." — aegon i targaryen (@sigilsongs ) to obsidia celtigar

"I   was   under   the   impression   you   did   not   wish   to,   Your   Grace."   She   greets   with   a   small   bow,   amusement   and   curiosity   spread   upon   her   lips.   It   had   been   a   while   since   the   King   was   seen   on   the   feasts   or   participated   in   the   dances   at   court.   Queen   Rhaenys   was   a   force   of   nature   that   seemed   to   force   the   King   out   of   his   shell   to   have   some   fun   outside   of   his   kingly   duties.   "And   I   believed   I   have   danced   for   you,   not   with   you,   Your   Grace."   She   did   at   the   festivities   of   his   coronation   and   the   announcement   of   the   pregnancy   of   his   son,   a   Celtigar   tradition   for   the   daughters   to   bring   fortune.  

Perhaps   she   had   danced   with   him   once,   but   he   had   been   sullen   then,   and   one   could   almost   feel   the   hand   of   his   advisors   forcing   his   hand.   This   time   seems   different,   and   her   hand   lands   upon   his   offered   hand.   "It's   a   Valyrian   tune.   My   father   said   you   might   enjoy   it.   A   little   gift   from   House   Celtigar   to   you,   my   King."   Another   one   of   her   Houses'   Valyrian   kept   secrets.   They   withhold   them   as   a   dowry   upon   suitors,   mostly   the   dragons.   Maybe   this   time,   it   will   work.  

She   picks   up   on   her   dress   as   they   move   toward   the   room   to   dance   and   Obsidia   feels   like   a   queen   for   a   fraction   of   a   moment.   "You   are   in   good   graces   today.   Is   it   the   wine   or   have   your   spirits   lifted?"

[ashedrose]

I wish we never met, you are too hard to forget. (from Jon Snow oop)

she takes a step forward , one she perhaps shouldn't have taken , as the whispers in westeros were faster than its winds , but she needed to . ❛ is somebody demanding you forget me ? ❜ the furs on his shoulder now coursed between her fingers , her gaze fixated on the buckle keeping his cloak in place . ❛ i don't want you to forget me . ❜

[zobriefyre]

@sigilsongs asked: "Oh sweetness, someday a real man is going to make you see stars and you won't even be looking at the sky." — daemon targaryen

Daemon’s   words   lingered   in   the   air,   as   rich   and   smooth   as   the   smirk   he   wore.   Daenerys   arched   a   brow,   her   lips   curving   into   a   teasing   smile,   though   a   flicker   of   something   unspoken   stirred   behind   her   violet   eyes.   “Real   men   sound   like   a   distant   dream   these   days,”   she   replied,   her   tone   light   but   her   gaze   sharp.   “Hard   to   recognize   one   when   none   have   appeared.”

She   glanced   at   Daemon,   she   suspected   he   wasn't   speaking   of   husbands   or   thrones.   He   rarely   did   when   he   turned   his   charm   on   her.   Daenerys’   thoughts   drifted   for   a   moment,   unbidden,   back   to   before   her   brother’s   death,   to   the   idea   she   had   lived   with   for   years—Viserys’   ambition   had   always   meant   them.   She   would   have   married   him,   sealed   their   bloodline   as   Targaryens   always   had.   It   was   fate,   her   duty.

But   Daemon   was   speaking   of   something   else   entirely.   Not   duty,   not   marriage.   Her   teasing   smile   softened   as   she   stepped   closer   to   him,   her   voice   a   touch   lower   now,   tinged   with   that   same   sharp   edge.   “Any   marriage   that’s   arranged   for   me   would   never   make   me   see   the   sky,”   she   murmured,   her   words   carrying   weight   beyond   the   playful   banter.   “Stars   aren’t   found   in   cages.”

[edrurysvejes]

@arenagods / @sigilsongs asked: [ SHIELD ]: jahaegar of old valyria uses their own body to shield helaena from an attack.

Helaena's   heart   pounded   in   her   chest,   the   chaos �� of   the   crowd   swirling   around   her   like   a   storm   she   could   not   control.   She   had   never   seen   the   people   so   angry,   so   feral   in   their   rage.   Her   guards   struggled   to   hold   the   mob   at   bay,   but   it   felt   as   though   the   walls   were   closing   in,   their   jeers   and   the   occasional   tossed   stone   becoming   more   dangerous   by   the   moment.

Before   she   could   draw   her   next   breath,   Jahaegar,   a   descendant   of   old   Valyria   and   fiercely   loyal   to   the   crown,   was   suddenly   at   her   side.   His   tall,   imposing   frame   blocked   her   view   of   the   approaching   attackers.   His   voice   was   steady   but   she   could   not   remember   what   he   said,   only   that   she   was   being   dragged   away.

A   rock   came   hurtling   toward   her,   but   Jahaegar   threw   his   arm   up   just   in   time,   the   sharp   edge   grazing   his   forearm   as   he   shielded   her.   Helaena,   trembling,   clung   to   his   side.   She   was   no   warrior,   no   dragonrider   in   this   moment.

Once   inside,   the   doors   slammed   shut,   and   the   carriage   lurched   forward,   leaving   the   frenzied   mob   behind.   Helaena   could   only   sit   there,   staring   at   Jahaegar   as   he   caught   his   breath,   blood   staining   his   clothes.   "You   saved   me,"   she   whispered,   her   voice   fragile   with   disbelief.   And   then   a   short   pause,   as   she   looks   at   his   arm.   "You   are   hurt."

[isefyres]

@sigilsongs asked: "Safe. When you're with me, I want you to feel safe," says Quenton to Myra

not   the   marriage   she   decided   or   wished.   she   had   been   content   to   marry   her   knight   in   mooton   colors   but   destiny,   and   her   father,   had   other   plans   themselves,   approved   by   their   new   king.   quenton   qoherys   is   not   the   man   she   expects.   he   is   tall   and   fierce,   handsome   and   built   and   nothing   alike   the   men   she   knows   from   westeros.   he   looks   like   a   warrior   but   he   speaks   gentle   prose   and   myra   cannot   help   but   to   blush   and   know   he   means   it   by   heart.   one   should   only   see   eyes   to   know   that   the   man   was   speaking   in   truth.  

"I   do   not   fear   you   husband.   and   i   know   you   will   keep   me   and,   god's   willing,   any   family   we   have   in   the   future."   he   might   be   older   but   the   maids   do   whisper   and   queen   rhaenys   herself   had   said   quenton   was   a   man   of   many   talents.

  "though   I   hope   your   sword   will   be   sharp   enough   to   protect   against   the   ghosts   that   await   us."   quenton   had   gained   harrenhal   with   this   marriage.   but   people   already   spoke   the   castle   was   cursed   after   balerion's   fire   had   burn   it   and   harren   the   black   down.   not   the   most   gentle   home   for   a   bride   but   she   will   make   due.   all   tully's   do   after   all,   they   adapt.   

[kastadarias]

@sigilsongs asked: "i’ve never met anyone as kind as you." — say Laegon Targaryen, having both survived the Dance

𝐓𝐡𝐞    𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧'𝐬    𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬    𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞    𝐟𝐨𝐫    𝐚    𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭    𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞    𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠    𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧,    𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠    𝐡𝐞𝐫    𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝.    Some    would    say    more    meek    and    docile    than    kind.    Jaehaera    barely    speaks    or    weeps,    simply    does    what    is    expected    of    a    queen,    with    lessons    sprinkled    through    her    life    by    her    grandmother    and    her    mother    and    the    last    oens    from    her    father,    when    the    marriage    was    arranged    with    her    cousin.    "I'm    sure    they    are    kinder    people    in    the    world,    my    prince.    Ones    who    carry    less    burdens    than    I    do."   

That    perhaps    she    does    so    much    out    of    guilt    for    the    damage    her    family    caused.    Most    dragons    are    gone    now    and    Morghul    has    barely    been    rode    because    Aegon    does    not    like    the    sight    of    the    dragons,    and    he    remains    on    the    pit    or    in    Dragonstone,    where    he    at    least    roams    free    with    what    dragonkeepers    remain.    "I    always    heard    your    mother    was    as    fierce    as    she    was    kind."

[myrc3lla-a]

The    weight    of    the    crown    is    heavy.    But    Arianne    had    said    she    was    born    to    be    a    queen.    What    a    cruel    fate    that    was,    when    this    came    at    the    expense    of    her    little    brother    Tommen's    death.    Sylva    helps    her    dress,    discarded    are    the    more    Dornish    clothes    and    back    are    those    clothes    that    are    more    for    a    queen    of    the    realm.    Her    coronation,    the    true    coronation    was    in    a    few    short    days    but    she    felt    it    was    an    expensive    affair.    "Could    we    not    do    this    in    a    quieter    manner.    The    realm    certainly    does    not    need    more    of    us    spending    their    money    in    a    show    like    a    coronation." 

  She    thought    of    a    parade    through    the    city    and    visiting    all    through,    from    Flea    Bottom    to    the    Crownlands    and    then,    the    best    thing    to    do    would    be    to    make    a    tour    through    the    lands    but    there    is    still    a    war    going    on.    "I    wish    you    could    stay    here    with    me.    All    of    you.    This    court    is    all    full    of    vipers    and    those    who    would    prefer    to    have    me    dead."    At    least    she    is    far    from    her    Uncle    Stannis,    but    there    are    many    things    to    think    of. @sigilsongs ft sylva.

[d0wager]

@sigilsongs asked: a kiss to the forehead, meant to soothe. — from daemon 🥺

𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠   𝐧𝐮𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐬   𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩   𝐭𝐡𝐞   𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠   𝐭𝐨   𝐛𝐞   𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞   𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐲   𝐚𝐧𝐝   𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐬   𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡   ��𝐡𝐞   𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠   𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬.   He   had   taken   her   to   Dragonstone   already,   for   her   to   settle   alongside   the   preparations   and   now,   the   dress   was   made,   and   she   had   learned   the   dance   from   the   Celtigars   so   she   could   show   it   to   him   later   on.   It   was   the   sight   of   Caraxes   for   the   first   time   that   caused   her   to   be   nervous,   as   much   as   she   was   used   to   Syrax,   the   Blood   Wyrm   was   another   beast   all   together,   much   alike   his   rider,   a   mystery   and   she   had   been   nervous   to   meet   him,   even   with   Daemon   by   her   side.  

But   it   had   gone   well,   and   she   was   allowed   to   touch   him   which   was   a   good   sign.   How   gentle   he   seems   when   he   is   away   from   others,   so   unlike   the   image   she   has   of   the   Rogue   Prince   and   the   tales   they   speak   of   him.   "Thank   the   Gods   you   did   not   make   me   go   on   a   ride   today.   Perhaps   later.   After   the   wedding."   She   laughs   as   she   feels   the   kiss   on   her   forehead   and   her   hands   grasp   on   his   jerkin   to   steady   herself.   "Perhaps   by   then   he   will   know   I   am   yours."   A

nd   she   blushes   more,   because   the   implication   in   her   mind   is   that   Caraxes   will   feel   that   she   and   Daemon   were   together,   by   the   ritual   of   Valyria,   and   the   sharing   of   a   bed.   She   already   pictures   so   much   in   her   mind,   asking   Rhaenyra   for   help   to   pick   an   egg   for   a   son   or   daughter   if   she   is   blessed   with   one,   the   two   of   them   sisters   by   blood   by   then.   "I   believe   he   liked   me."