"i choose you, from this day until the end of my days. i choose you, to hold my heart whether to break or to cherish. i choose you and should you fall, then i will follow."
eighteen years after the dance, aegon iii must ready for concessions to be h...
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BORN TO DIE —lana del rey
There was a storm brewing in King's Landing that night. The skies were dark and grey, clouds covering the moonlight as the smell of the upcoming storm filled the senses.
Daenerys sat in the garden alcove that she and Aegon visited frequently, quiet and solemn. Her eyes puffy from crying after her argument with her father. It had been hours since then, and night had fallen—yet she hadn't moved from this spot.
Her room was crowded with flowers and the luxuries that Aegon had gifted her made her fall more in love with him, and yet, she couldn't stand the sight of any of it with her father's words lingering in her mind.
She wasn't good enough for Aegon. She wasn't good enough to be Heir of Harrenhal, or for her father.
She just...wasn't enough.
She was leaned back against the tree, just sitting there while holding the intricate box in her hands. Her fingers tracing the embellishments.
Once, when she was a girl, she stumbled upon a box of belongings of pretty dresses, hair clips and ornaments, necklaces and unopened letters—and this box. She had been told by her Septa that it all belonged to her mother and furthermore, the old woman took petty on her and gave Daenerys the box to keep. As long as she never told her father.
The box was made of a dark wood with an intricate gold latch. The swirls of painted gold like flame, and the name painted read...Little Dragon.
Her mother was some common woman, from what her father always said. But she always thought that box of belongings costed a pretty coin, let alone this box. It looked like it could buy a castle.
Daenerys continued to play with it while she saw the man she loved approach from her peripherals. She stayed quiet, saying nothing to him but not pushing him away either when he drew close.
His kingsguard stood at the entrance, but turned their backs to them for some semblance of privacy.
Without a word, Aegon settled down beside her, his shoulder brushing against hers in a reassuring gesture, yet he didn't say anything. He remained quietly by her side, waiting patiently for her to speak.
Was she so predictable that he knew where to find her?
She sniffled, knowing he was there brought a comfort and a pain to her. She continued to trace the edges of the ornate box for a few more moments.
"This belonged to my mother," Daenerys told him so quietly, barely above a whisper. Her voice was strained from crying so much. "It's one of the only things I have left of her."
Aegon peered at the ornate box, taking notice of its intricate details and embellishments. It seemed unusual for a woman of smallfolk background to possess such a decorative item, he thought. His gaze flicked back to her, his expression filled with a mixture of curiosity and concern. He reached out, his hand gently covering hers, offering unspoken support. "Do you know anything about her?" he whispered, his voice gentle and tender, a silent encouragement.
