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[halfyeared]

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[halfyeared]

[ from here ]

You are leaving tonight, and you think to tell me this now?

[That hurts.]

[valonqri]

[ Actually he wasn't planning on telling her at all. ]

Would it have changed anything?

[halfyeared]

It changes everything. [She feels like she's holding water in her hands, and it's already slipping through her fingertips. Rhaenyra thinks the conversation has now been useless, trivial, knowing he's just going to leave her. Again.

She can't let that happen. She won't just let it happen. He, in some ways, started her on this, and despite the fact that she must marry, that does not mean she wants them to be pulled apart. Even if none of it is surprising. She must act. She must act now.]

Take me with you.

[valonqri]

[This is exactly why he shouldn't have told her. He couldn't help himself, like pressing a thumb in the wound to test the pain. It's a considerable temptation, so much that he takes a longer time to respond until cunning and reason return to him.]

I can't take you where I'm going. Your place is here.

[halfyeared]

[That is not a sufficient enough reason. She is going to keep pressing, not able to let someone else leave her life. She is too stubborn, too willful to just let it happen when she knows now.]

To be left here you mean? You can take me to Dragonstone. Father wants me wed. Nothing is in place with the Valeryons. You could smooth it out with Lord Corlys. Any children we have could be betrothed to any children Laenor has.

[It is a hasty political plan, but one she is attempting to plead to his rational side, the side that does want this even if he pulls away, continues to pull away right at the moment it matters most.]

[valonqri]

[ It might work better if she knew the pieces she were playing with, but an attempt that is charming nonetheless. It certainly shows the confidence she's been imbued with since becoming a fly on the wall of her father's small council. ]

Wars have been started for less, princess. You seem to forget I have a marriage of my own to contend with should I choose to steal away the heir to the throne.

[halfyeared]

Am I not worth it?

[She feels like she's losing, and she hates it. She could certainly argue against his wife. He's never talked well of her before. She doesn't necessarily care about his opinion of her, but she needs some sort of consolation. It's not as if she does not know her position, what he would gain from marrying her as well. It's less emotional and more practical.]

[valonqri]

I didn't say that.

[ It's just far more complicated than she's making it out to be. There's much more going on and perhaps if she had spent a little more time in court she'd understand why he's treading carefully. Where he's planning on going and the lengths he would go in order to play his hand right for this. For her. ]

[halfyeared]

Yes, you said you are leaving. So what now?

[She feels like he's started something he is once again not finishing, leaving her to fend for herself. She hates it, and it might be like she's stomping her feet against this, but she is hurt.

She knows she's meant to sail off to Driftmark, finalize this betrothal with the Valeryons, and perform her duty as the heir to the throne. But it sounds droll and almost tragic. She knows what they say about Laenor, and she does not think ill of him for it. Rhaenyra needs to find her own way to come on top of this, but that does not mean she will not keep trying to find what she wants out of this.]

[valonqri]

Stop acting like I won’t return after my brother’s heart has softened again.

[Even this will be forgiven with time. He saw it in the man’s eyes, that hesitation. That opportunity. He knows to leave it there. He should have left this conversation before he’d even started it. Like anything else he’s ever done, the impulse carries him away again before he can stop himself. ]

You could leave that door open. Tonight. Just a crack if you so please.

[halfyeared]

You do have a way of always coming back.

[Maybe it’s a little hopeful, but she doesn’t feel comforted by it. Not when things still feel new and wondrous. And maybe it’s because she’s already lost people close to her, but it still feels like a loss.]

It will be open. [How can she refuse?]

[valonqri]

[ There's no further confirmation after that, he's not that generous to give her a further peace of mind. Nor even to explain further why he might come to see her again one last time before he takes his leave and she is to set sail. Partly he considers not going at all, at the risk of further fueling her ire with another unfulfilled promise.

But eventually he does trawl his way back through well loved passages of the red keep. A little later into the night than probably necessary. Hood pulled deep down until the passages grow thinner, darker, and dustier before throwing it back again. No risk of a maid, a beggar, or a well-spotted guard to send word all the way back for yet another incident. Not this time, anyway.

When he arrives, he pauses at first, slumping beside the frame of the door to peer and listen for unanticipated company. Only tapping quietly to alert his presence once he's confirmed there is none.]

[halfyeared]

[His lack of a response would be telling if it were anyone but him. It neither confirms nor denies that he's coming. She leaves the door open a crack though. He's welcome if he does come, and while she is not entirely sure if Criston is posted out in front of her door that night, she knows her uncle well enough to know that will not stop him. There are other ways into her room as he's already taught her.

She's quiet as the night passes, debating if she should send another message. No, that is desperate. If he wants her, he knows what to do. So she changes into soft linens, brushes her hair, readies herself for bed in case he does not show. Her silver hair is down, unbraided. She busies herself, occasionally glancing at the door.

The knock doesn't startle her, but she is sitting in her bed. The blankets and sheets remain untouched as she sits up. The tapping alerts her enough, and she's up, standing at the foot of her bed. Rhaenyra can't help at the smile that plays at her lips, finding herself glad he did come.]

[valonqri]

[ He'd barely been in King's Landing near half a day before his brother had him thrown back out. It had to be a new record. Impressive, even to himself, but by far not the most impressive thing to happen tonight. Though, 'thrown out' is a loose term. They'd yet to find him yet to drag him out on his feet or knees, but it'd been made clear that he was no longer welcome. Somehow he made it out to be the lesser spectacle of the night. Second, maybe even third ranking? Depending on what wedding guest was asked. It hasn't left him embittered at all.

He'd left the hall on his own terms, slipping under the advantage of the chaos. Rhaenyra's taunts were the only thing rattling around as he'd pushed through the fleeing crowd. Only later he found out who'd been involved. The guards turned him away when he returned. Named specifically by order not to interrupt the ceremony. It's impressive that his brother acted so fast this time. Cutting a week's worth of festivities into half a night.

He knew once he left the Red Keep there would be no coming back. In the dead of night he only had few places to turn to, but none of them felt appetizing. For once in a rare time, he wanted to be home. He wanted to sleep in a bed made for a man of his title. He wanted to dig his heels into the stone out of spite for every time he walked away willingly. Perhaps that was the sign he really should just go. Go and fight for Runestone. Take his losses and be done with the capital. He loved it as much as he hated it and now it seemed there truly was nothing left for him.

This was his home, he'd spent long divulging the secrets behind the walls. He knew where the cellars of wine were kept and even further where no one bothers to keep an eye. Instead of a nice bed, he was sitting in the dirt against a pillar looking up at the candle lit skull of Balerion the Dread. Watching each of the candles burn down one by one unattended. It's not his favorite place, but it's the least bothered. Knowing maybe here at least he can drink and keep his peace. Once again to take leave in the morning.]

[halfyeared]

[It had happened; the inevitable had happened. Before they could even clean up the Knight of Kisses blood on the hall's floor, Rhaenyra was standing in front of Laenor Valeryon. It was a rush, but something her father would not budge on, the ceremony happening at night with none of the pomp and circumstance that was expected of both their stations. Honestly she tried to push it off. The sounds of Laenor's understandable sobs did not help.

That had been done hours ago, being ushered to their new rooms that had to be hastily put together near a week earlier than expected. There are enough customs in Westerosi culture for weddings, but most of them were forgone that night to no one's surprise. In truth Rhaenyra has no desire when none of it really felt right between the two of them. She tries to comfort her new husband, of course not expecting anything-- even if they get to that part of the night, that is something they would need to discuss when the body of his lover is not so fresh. She does not know what to say, to excuse Criston Cole's actions and why he would do that.

Eventually Rhaenyra decides she needs to take a walk, saying that she needs to go to her old room, making some sort of excuse. From there she knows she can escape through the passage her uncle has shown her. So while Harwin does escort her, silently but still somewhat sadly, she closes the door to her old room, grabs a cloak herself, and heads out to the dank passageway. Part of her says she's looking for him, but she has no way of knowing if he's even in the castle at all or if Viserys was able to throw him out entirely.

She doesn't know how long it's been-- the cool air feeling better on her skin, though the reality of her situation sits no better with her now than it did earlier. In some ways she almost feels more trapped now. It is not the way she imagined her wedding night. She ends up far more down than she was intending, finding herself in the cellars of the Red Keep. She's a little surprised by it, but maybe something in her knew this would be the place to find him if he was going to be anywhere, without directly looking for him.

She comes into the large area, knowing where Balerion rested. It was a place she used to come to as a child. It always mesmerized her to think that her father got to ride on his great back when he was still a prince. As she steps forward, she can see another is drawn to the great beast, and she slowly pulls her hood to reveal who she is. There's a small smile on her lips despite looking so withdrawn, tired, and almost defeated over the course of the night's events. If only he had taken her words to heart, they could have already been on dragonback, far from here even though she knew her words were more taunts than a real plan. Still a girl could dream.

No words need to really be said. It's not a surprise she somehow found him here and now. Part of her is happy to see him though, even if she's not entirely sure what to say or what to do now. The last time she saw him alone plays in her mind. This is not how she expected to see him again either. It was inevitable though. She would marry, though he no longer had the excuse of his wife. Rhaenyra could have been his this night, but she's not in a mood to gloat. Instead her hands are behind her back.]

[valonqri]

[ He hears her before he sees her. Too light of steps to be any guard roaming on duty. He thinks at first a servant, maybe. One who might keep word to themselves or spread it around. Like rats, they'll travel and maybe then his hours will be numbered. It does nothing to change his demeanor, staking his presence in the room that cannot be moved any easier than it would for them to drag that skull even an inch off its pedestal.

When she steps into view he realizes he was wrong. Pleasantly or unpleasantly, at this point he is still not certain. He hadn't expected to see her again tonight. His boots shift under the grit in their silence. His knees are drawn high enough so that his arms can rest on them, the bottle of wine he'd plucked held in his lap between his legs. Picking off bits and pieces of the wax cap that have turned into a small pile of shavings on the floor.

In the silence he mirrors a smile to hers. Both tired and defeated, only his twists into something more embittered once he looks away. Down at the bottle in his hands be raises it to drink from. It refreshes the warmth in his veins. As the cold of the night sinks in, he clearly hadn't gone anywhere else since leaving the great hall. Only having unfastened the top portion of his leather surcoat so that his neck may breathe. ]

All considering, not the worst wedding in more recent history. I still think that one goes to Alys Oakheart. [ He's the first to break the silence, his head lulling back against the stone as he looks at her. Far less violence and treachery. So it's not the worst, but certainly not the best. Leagues far from what'd either of them wanted by the way she looks at him now. But these are circumstances that are now out of both of their hands. ]

[halfyeared]

[Her wandering has been rather aimless, but she seems to find her destination nonetheless. She would be happier to see him if she did not feel so empty at the moment. He’s found the wine while she’s been married off. She takes in his manner, and it feels as if he has lost something as much as she has, despite the fact that he is not the one who has been married off.

His words do not get the reaction he is expecting as she finally decides to sit beside him. Crossing her legs, she manages to get down on the dirt floor before managing a scoff right as her head leans on his arm.]

Please do not make light of it, Uncle. [For her sake and what had happened to Alta Oakheart. It has been bad enough for herself, but she cannot fathom the fate of the other woman. Her own tone isn’t too chastising though, just hurt and disappointed in what has come to be now.]

[valonqri]

[ The response speaks enough and he says no more. Nor does he shift to make room or comfort for her, though she does seem to find it. He pauses to look at her from the corner of his eye before lowering his knee beside her to present the bottle atop his thigh. It's hers for the taking. He can only imagine that she might need to ease herself after such an eventful night. ]

I take it your new lord husband was not up to his duties. [ Daemon remarks instead. The tone of his voice shifts and settles, sounding more sincere than the last. As it is by no means any sort of jape or currish remark. There is far less an interest in any bedding or lack thereof, that he already knew the answers to. More a remark to why she was down here with him at such an hour into the night. ]

[halfyeared]

[She sees the offered bottle of wine and pulls it from his lap. Tonight she certainly needs it. Picking herself up from leaning on him, she moves to hold it before taking a long drag from it, like perchance she can make sense of this night if it is at the bottom. Maybe not though. Likely she might just be able to fall asleep without feeling nearly as hopeless, stuck in this situation now.

She knows ultimately of any of her suitors, she had found some sort of way to cope, to find some sort of happiness, but now Ser Criston has dashed it, and she has no answers as to why. Likely he would not tell her either. He did not seem to like the arrangement she had made with her now husband, but surely that is not a reason to murder his lover in cold blood. It just leads to more questions the more she thinks on it.]

He needed time to himself. [To grieve. Rhaenyra neither needs to explain that nor will out her husband, regardless what the rumors may say and that Daemon himself likely already knows. She does have respect for Laenor, and she will do what she must to at least make this marriage appear as if it is working. She has no choice there. Appearances are everything now.

But that does not help her circumstances now. It just confirms his assumption as to why she is alone and wandering the cellars at night. It could not have been at all the hopes of finding him.]

[valonqri]

[ A confirmation he only hums in response to. Laenor's proclivities weren't unknown to him and would assume anyone who wasn't deaf, dumb, or blind could see it. They'd also shared a battlefield only until very recently, a place where it was even harder to keep secrets. A further reckon that after tonight, it'd only added more conspiracy to their union.

The silence sinks in once more and he does not rush to try to fill it. The two of them passing a bottle in silence and not a soul's way of knowing what the other might be thinking.

Every time his mind tries to wrap around what he's doing feels like trying to secure a slippery knot in a wild storm. He'd left her in a state, ambition on the mind to perhaps to fulfill a fever dream half-cooked but achievable. But his brother had outsmarted him this time and the nettles are still sting deep in his bones. Daemon's fingers continue to fidget and scratch into the softness of his palm still sat atop his bent knee. Knowing how well Viserys is probably sleeping well tonight.

Even with her there now, shoulder to shoulder, she feels lengths away than when she did when he saw her this evening. Knowing he should have taken her there on the razor's edge when he still had his chance. It probably wouldn't have worked, he knows that. But at least he wouldn't be here ruminating endlessly what could have gone differently.

Pulling from his thoughts turns his chin in slightly to look over at her. There's plenty that either of them could say, certainly more than either of them seem to want to. He doesn't know where to start nor does he really seem to want to try, but the silence may be slowly killing him.]

[halfyeared]

[The silence falls between them, and it's almost suffocating. Even as they pass the bottle between them. She searches for something to say, but everything rolls back into what should have been and where they now stand. It doesn't sit well, but she doesn't know how to fix it or change it. It just simply is now.

Rhaenyra takes a small drink before handing him the wine again, the liquid dark, but not quite hitting her, yet. She sighs after a moment of watching him, feeling just how distant he is despite being so close to him. It feels like he's never been farther, especially when there seems like nothing can be said.

But she needs to. Because the silence is too stifling.] Where did you find the wine?

[Her hand just brushes his when she passes it back, causing her to inhale sharply. With a question like that she was attempting to steer away, as if they have ever been the type to keep to small talk like it was so simple. She is not sure what it is now with him or what it could be.]

[valonqri]

[ If anything, it sounds as though the tempestuous silence only got to her before it to him. His eyebrow raises in slight as he withdraws the bottle. At first steading it back onto his thigh to fix his grip on it but does not drink immediately. ]

Lord Beesbury. [ He sighs, tipping the head back against the pillar to rest his eyes a moment. Unlike her, he'd spent far more time working down the bottle. Long enough to feel it tempering him and the tingle in his cheeks. Far from any sort of drunkenness. He should have opted for something stronger. Though considering her size, he'd reckon the warmth will creep up on her slow soon enough. ] He's always been picky with his wine. Ships a crate in once a fortnight.

[ Even has he talks he sounds fed up with his own answer. Filling up the last of his words by bringing the bottle back to his mouth. Small talk did not suit them. They were too alike, too above it all to play that kind of complacency of court. At least not for long. It's almost insulting now, after everything. Which is why when he sets the bottle down atop her leg, he simply cannot help himself from saying something.]

You could have done worse. [ A blisteringly obtuse statement coming from him. As though he hadn't just started shit in the middle of her wedding feast by saying she hadn't picked one good enough, but whenever has he been consistent? ]

[halfyeared]

[She hums her response about the wine. No, this doesn't feel right at all. It's too surface level for them, too ordinary when the two of them are anything but. Rhaenyra had to say something to end the blistering silence between them. It was not the right thing at all, but when he passes the bottle back to her, there's a bit of warmth on her cheeks. Huddling her cloak around her shoulders, she takes another drink.

His response gets a look from her, one that says she's disbelieving of his statement. He had just said the opposite before, but then he still had the chance to change it. They thought they had days. She thought she might have been able to make a plan when she saw him there. Why else would he have come? He was already thrown from the castle once, risking the ire of her father, the King.

She can't help the small scoff though, because she tried so hard to come out on top in this.] I thought we had it all figured out. That both of us could be happy. Now look at us.

[Her lord husband is in his room, grieving, and she is sitting with her uncle in the cellars, drinking wine. What a couple they make. She sighs again, passing the bottle back to his lap a little more lazily this time.]

me, somehow surprised, that there was actually a translation for the word cunt in valyrian

[valonqri]

[ It's a consolation if anything, only because he's too stubborn to acknowledge his own failures. It's obvious why he'd come, crashing into her hastily conjured wedding festivities. Fresh off the death of his first wife. Taken barely enough time to peel the stench of dragon off of him before he announced himself through the doors of the great hall. He'd meant to grieve those failures in peace, but now he was stuck forced to grieve hers as well.]

Ao tepagon bē tolī adere. Mirrī ānogar se nykeā orvorta hen nykeā azantys iksos daorun. [ He can't help but sound a little annoyed, catching the neck of the bottle before she tips it into his lap. Annoyed for having to consult her on affairs he honestly doesn't care for. Annoyed that she sounds so easily defeated the first time something has blown up in her face. All but telling her to toughen up. Life is hard. Learn to thrive.

He looks over at her now, though unable to adequately study what kind of state she's in. He instead turns his head back and lifts the bottle up to his eyeline to measure the amount left from what'd been shared between them. If she keeps going at this rate, he'll have to carry her back to her room. After taking another drink, he places it a measure away to keep her from reaching for it again. ]

me, not surprised xD

[halfyeared]

[He's already taught her how to bare down when sorrow feels all consuming. In some ways this is not much different. She doesn't have a dragon to bark 'Dracarys' at this time though, to burn the thing she loved the most. There is no destruction, not literally this time. Instead her jaw tightens as she turns to look at him, not surprised he's not letting her have a pity party. She doesn't give any emotion away, just hardening because it is all she can do right now.]

Nyke pendagon issa valzȳrys jāhor emagon vestretan lodaor. [Her response is hard, but not as snappy as she would have made it. The drink starts to affect her a little more. Her temperament does not have quite the bite to it now. His annoyance would irk her far more if she were sober, but she can feel the creeping warmth, the way things feel not as dire, but still edging on emotional.]

Nyke gaomagon daor tepagon bē. Yn nyke gīmigon gīda aōha dīnilūks bantis istan sȳrkta bisa.

[Plus she has the matters of Cole to contend with, not even knowing of his betrayal, yet, that Alicent has snatched him, and he has confessed his perceived sins. It is a sting she is not even aware of, but enough of the pieces are in front of her that she assumes he is at least no longer her lover. So in some ways there is that loss as well. She did like him after all. He had been a companion for years, someone she has confided in.

She sighs, closing her eyes for the moment, realizing a little how the world turns without her moving. She knows it is not hopeless, but she just wants to take the moment to let the heaviness sit on her shoulders. She wants to have this moment before knowing that she will still not succumb to this societal rule of women being brood mares for their husbands. They cannot change Laenor, nor does she want to herself. Their agreement still stands even if in one moment both of their plans were taken away from them.

Her eyes open again, still looking the same, but figuring no matter what, she still can have the upperhand. It is simply not what she wanted ultimately.]

Iksā iēdrosa kesīr.

[A small comfort. He could have left. He shouldn't even have been there by all rights, but he most certainly should have left by now. What else was keeping him aside from her? He was licking his wounds alone before she found him, but now she turns a little lazily to blink up at him. A silent 'why' on her tongue, but not spoken.]