"A dragon might not be the only thing you ride tonight."
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Where the Dance of Dragons is stopped before it truly begins-with Rhaenyra as the Heir to the Iron Throne, Daemon Targaryen decides to stick it to Alicent and Otto Hightower one last time...
Ups! Tento obrázek porušuje naše pokyny k obsahu. Před publikováním ho, prosím, buď odstraň, nebo nahraď jiným.
The next morning, Daemon and Daenaera laid side by side in a bed, they were wrapped in one anothers arms like they never wanted to untangle from each other.
They had ridden off on their dragons to some stronghold in the Vale near Runestone owned by a lord who 'owed' him a favor or some such.
He couldn't exactly turn them away, what with their two dragons hovering over the lands.
Daemon's fingers were gently running through her hair, savoring the moment. The soft strands finally clean and brushed through, and he weaved his fingers through with gentleness.
He missed this. He missed her.
She laid there quietly, head on his chest and silently tracing the scars on his torso. She was in deep thought, that much was clear.
"Where are we?" She asked him quietly.
He could feel her tracing the ugly scars that covered his torso, his heart breaking that she had to see the man he had become. He turned on his side, so he could face her while she was laid on his chest.
"Some castle on the edge of the Vale," he said softly, "The Lord owed me a favour and offered us a room." He paused, studying her face, he was still finding it hard to accept that she was here and alive. "What's on your mind?"
Not once since last night has she looked him in the eyes. It worried him. Made him fear the worst.
Daenaera rested her head on the pillow when he shifted. She took slow, deep breaths. "I don't know what to believe anymore," She spoke quietly. "I feel as though I am growing mad..."
"What do you mean?" he asked gently, shifting his body so he could place a gentle kiss to her neck. She shivered under his lips and he smiled softly.
He let his hand shift into her hair, running his fingers through it as he awaited her answer, with every deep breath she took he felt even more relief, just to have her in his arms again.
"The man you killed, Marcellus...I thought he was my friend. Then I saw Jacaerys the day before last and I felt that I hurt him deeply," Daenaera whispered. "Then Ser Harwin said not to believe you, that you were using me for your own gain..."
He listened patiently to her words, remaining still as she spoke. He was glad to be given this time in his room with her, it was a far cry from their last meeting.
"And what of me, do you believe me?" he asked softly, still running his fingers through her hair, her scent filling his nose, it felt so good to be back in their comfort zone.
"Can I?" Daenaera asked, sad eyes on his scars. "Believe you...after everything that happened. I heard you that night on Dragonstone, you told Rhaenyra that I was just some...plaything..." Her voice cracked. "...for revenge against my mother."
