For almost her entire life, Daella Targaryen has lived as Mellara Rivers, the bastard daughter of Arnold Arryn and cupbearer of Lady Jeyne Arryn. First and trueborn daughter of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, Daella had but slight contact with her fami...
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T H I R T Y - O N E
She'll answer me Wherever she may be ─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Daella had never been a girl of the Faith. Whenever she saw a depiction of the Seven-Pointed star there wasn't a particular emotion rushing through her, neither had the words of her Septa's and Septons really moved her heart with devotion and whilst she understood that the Faith was necessary to keep a grip on the common folk, Daella had never really been considerably involved. She had listened to the tales Maester Helliweg told her and she knew most of the essential stories from the holy books, but never for once had she believed in the Heavens or delights greater than the ones found in normal lives.
Feeling the gentle touch of Aemond's lips on hers changed all of that. Suddenly Daella could imagine heaven very easily, as well as the joys some people may devote their lives to running after. She could feel one of his strong hands gliding from the small of her back to her cheek and hers slid from his face to the collar of his tunic, pulling him closer. She felt dizzy, breathless and better than she ever had before.
"Daella," he muttered softly, his voice barely audible.
Never before had Daella hated the fact that she needed to breathe, but unless she wanted to faint in his arms, she had to pull back. Aemond didn't let her, their foreheads resting against one another as she gasped shakily for air. For just a moment, she clenched her eyes shut and tried to cherish everything about the moment, from the way he was holding on to her cheek, not like she was made of porcelain but like she was strong enough to handle anything he might throw in her way, to the feeling of his breath tickling her skin. She knew that this moment wouldn't last and that it might very well be a one-time thing, whilst both of them were lost in their emotions.
"Look at me," Aemond said hoarsely. Daella's eyes fluttered open, allowing her face to be angled up by Aemond. She stared deeply into Aemond's mismatched, yet unmistakenly beautiful ones, feeling utterly and completely lost. "No more haunting thoughts about fertility rituals, madness or any other sort of silliness."
"No more," she agreed in a whisper. She felt like she might agree to anything Aemond dared to ask her at this moment, so completely intoxicating was his presence. It scared her, to feel so close to the person she had felt such deep annoyance for before, but it also was the best feeling ever.
Aemond looked down at her, his eye following his fingers as they brushed back a lock of silver hair behind Daella's ear, before flickering back to her eyes. "Promise me."
She swallowed, the grip on his tunic tightening for a moment. "I promise."
Aemond pulled his hand back from her face, his other hand falling from her back as well and despite not wanting to, Daella let go of his tunic and took a step back. She still felt breathless, her mind a jumbled mess and her knees weak. She looked away, slowly snapping out of the trance Aemond had managed to put her in, and the heat rushed back to her cheeks. "Aemond?" she asked hesitantly, her gaze flickering back to the man standing before her. He let out a soft hum, a sign that he was listening. "When do you reckon the wedding will be?"
