song_of_ice | Duplicity Inbox

"I wish I knew." This was foreign territory for them both, it seemed. She likely had lovers before, but was it ever like this? He didn't think something like this could really ever exist, even Ygritte fell short of this intensity. But that made this city all the more dangerous and brought greater agony than anywhere else. "We are going to suffer either way."

Even if he left here and didn't return, didn't speak of his feelings again and kept them suppressed, it wouldn't make the watching any easier. He would always be aware there was another man in her room, that there was someone that she left kiss her and touch her, curl up to her in the night. It would always make him sick and angry, but one had some sort of balm, even if it was temporary.

"The war with the city...I don't know if it can be fought the way we battle in Westeros. If something happened to you..." He can't finish the thought. The very idea is like a vice grip around his throat. He didn't want to even contemplate it.

He's right about suffering. The cruise was already difficult enough, and that was long before today. She folds her arms over her chest, staring long and hard at the floor. And then she begins pacing. She moves enough that it awakens Drogon, who waddles into the room they're in. She misses as her son flaps over to the couch by Jon, nudging the wolf's thigh with his snout.

"I don't have dragons. Drogon's too small and I won't risk him." No, there would be no chance of pulling her son into this. "The wars we're accustomed to may not be entirely appropriate for our escape, but we've experience with strategizing... as a number of others in this place who are also unhappy with the way of things."

If something happened to her, what? She glances over at him, finally noticing Drogon's beside him.

Her mind was drifting away from the personal and shifting back to battle. As much as he wished to regain that intimacy, he had raised the wrong subject. The throne wasn't far from her mind, he knew that. Just as the war with the dead wasn't far from his. Even here, they had their people to consider and such things weren't limited to realms or time.

"I don't think it is wise. We know so little about our hosts or what they are capable of. They could make us fade and lose physicality. They could take the moon from the sky. This isn't a battle against normal men." And he has no idea where they would even begin.

Drogon's presence is comforting. He reaches down to the small dragon, running his hand over him. It didn't occur to him how strange it was that the dragon had taken a liking to him. His mind was so wrapped around Daenerys, this seemed natural.

"We know little because we've tried to gather little. It's been one thing after the next in this place. No one's organized." They could fade, they could lose their minds like Tumenalia, or the moon could disappear again, the city seemingly abandoned. "What would you rather do? Stay here and wait to see if they'll be kind enough to return us home if we do their bidding?"

Drogon tilts his head, a toothy grin his answer to being petted. There's a deep rumbling purr-like sound emanating from his chest, something Jon will likely feel while petting such a small sized dragon.

Dany stares at this, her next thought forgotten.

"I would wait." Something he should have done with the battle for Winterfell, but time and weather were not on his side. There were elements against them here, but they had all of the time they needed to find out what they could of this place. "We don't know what they plan. Some have already left this city and apparently were sent home. I would at least want to more about them before I think of the next step."

He looks down at Drogon then, enjoying the obvious displays of affection. It was no different than what Ghost would offer his friends, no different than how he was a moment ago with Dany.

"I should go back soon." As much as he wanted to stay and bask in this. Ghost was waiting for him and eventually, her submissive would return.

She still stands frozen in place, completely speechless in the face of Drogon cozying up with Jon. He's never approached another, save herself, and this... he's not Viserion. He doesn't seek these kinds of touches or attention.

That's what repeats in her mind, over and over, as she watches the two, partly gaping.

And then Jon's saying he should leave, which brings with it... something she doesn't want to think about. A tightness in her chest again. The urge to scream and kick like some child in a tantrum. Instead, she stiffly retrieves his shirt, still damp, and offers it to him, not meeting his eyes.

"Perhaps you should take the stairs today."

Duplicity Inbox

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject