𝐎𝐅 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐒𝐇
❝I would like to burn them to the ground and stand on their ashes.❞
in which the eldest child of viserys targaryen and aemma arryn is a little too violent, a little too wild, and a little too lost.
HOUSE OF THE DRAGON...
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THE GARDEN WAS NESTLEDNEARTHE ARCH of the Dragon's Tail, with tall pine trees and bushes of wild roses. A cool breeze pushed the scent of pine and brimstone around them. It beckoned them deeper, near the boggy spot where cranberries grew. In the centre of the garden, a large and dark pine tree with pine needles strewn around its trunk with handfuls of wildflowers. Their heart tree.
Dragonstone had never believed in the old gods as the northmen and the crannogmen did. The pine tree had been there before the castle was built, before Aenys Targaryen moved from Valyria and began the tale of a conqueror that united the kingdom under the banner of the dragon. An ancient thing Rhaenerys had spent her childhood with, her grandfather in tow as they both raised branches as their swords.
Rhaenyra rarely joined them, always behind their mother's skirts or with their father as he met with lords of the crownlands.
Rhanerys laughed as she pulled Daemon to sit beneath the pine tree. "Are you always this caring when it comes to other girls, Uncle?"
Daemon rolled his eyes and leaned back against the trunk. He lifted his knee and laid his arm over it, his fingers tapping against the air as if he were playing an invisible piano."Only for the pretty ones."
"You must tell that to all the girls you meet at the whorehouse." She laid her head on his shoulder and inhaled through her mouth. There was a fuzz at the edges of her vision from the countless drinks, her mind wavered with the thoughts of the joy she had experienced while dancing with the boy and the strangeness in her belly from the thought of Daemon with whores.
It made her feel strange, too high in the air and too low on the ground.
"I haven't met many of them." He entwined their fingers together and laid his head on top of hers. "The prettiest one is at my side this night." His voice was soft, tender like biting into a peach and letting the juice fall down the chin.
A snort left her mouth. "Yes, I can hear how you barely use it to get what you want from the whores." She glanced up at the sky, at the countless stars twinkling down at her and the shape of a dragon high in the sky, far above the clouds. "Or, is it because of the coins you give them after?"
His laugh echoed through the garden, head thrown back and his eyes shut. When they opened, he stared at her with pure amusement. "It appears the drinks have made you bolder, little bird." They were a pure and light green, she realised, and it reminded her of spring. The soft colour of leaves when they first sprouted; the name of his father's title given to him by the people for being born two days after spring.
