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[halfyeared]

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[halfyeared]

[She wills herself to keep going, to add to the steely resolve she will one day need. Things still feel raw and in ruins, but she holds onto her pride, because it is the only thing she does currently have other than her wit. That's not particularly serving her in the moment, but this is teaching her something nonetheless.

She does stumble as she reaches the opening into the passage back up into the castle itself. Her hand goes for the wall, but she feels his hand on her elbow and looks up suddenly. There's less anger than even she would like, but she is resigning herself to her current position. She just wishes she felt better about it. She will, somehow, even if she can't see it, but the taste is a little too bitter in his mouth.]

I know. [And it seems that should be the end of what was never meant to be. Rhaenyra knows the alternative. She is already wed now, so it would mean the death of her husband and her father. Both of those see too grave to comprehend. She has lost a mother already. The sadness doesn't dissipate any less.]

I wanted you to know where I stood-- if I had a choice at all. [She doesn't. She knows that. She's known that for a while. But if she had her own agency, she would be his.]

[valonqri]

[ His grip is firm enough to keep her stable, but he can still see the weight of her sway. Only fighting her own gravity rather than himself.

Perhaps hearing those words should please him more than it does. What little joy is left in knowing is spoiled. His attention stays focused on the space in between them, jaw twisting lightly under her re-affirmation. As though forcing him to swallow them, reject them. Mind himself for the hours he'd spent letting go of this bitter loss.]

You're drunk. [ Daemon releases her when he speaks. Whatever he might have wanted to say in return, whatever else he might have felt is forcibly ejected. Dismissive, because he must. For the sake of both of them, he must. For giving her anything else entangles it all the more in the wanting he's already resigned to put behind him in the hours before she'd found him down there.

What does she expect him to say more? That he wants her too? Even when he's still not so sure to believe it's even what she really wants. If she knows what she means when she says it. He's can't keep entertaining it anymore and this time takes a step back. ] Words you'll regret on the morrow, I'm sure.

[halfyeared]

[He steers her from falling completely on her face. Rhaenyra braces her hands forward, one hand out that occasionally skims the wall beside her as they continue on. She knows the way well enough, but she's sure he knows it better. There are probably enough little divots and hidden passageways that she's not even aware of herself. She's explored enough as a child, but he's probably made it his knowledge for more nefarious reasons.

Her eyes flick back up at him, making her sway and then re-adjust. She knows what she says. Is it more honest than she is intending, more emotional even? Yes, but she knows what she says and the weight behind it.]

I know what I say, and I will not regret it, because it is my truth. [She is sure of herself despite how bittersweet it is to admit it. She knows they can't live in some pretend world where it might have worked out-- where he could have taken her to bed and swept her away before her father made the Septon marry them this night. It is foolish to dwell on the 'what ifs', but just as with her father, she would say her truth.

She doesn't particularly care how he receives it or how he shrugs it off. She doesn't push the matter though. It is said, and that is what she means to get off her chest, telling herself it will be easier to move on from him now.]

[valonqri]

[ Her truth he thinks is little more than she can reach with her tiny outstretched hand. Truths he wishes not to trample on, although it could be so easily done. It's charming, in a way, her simple affections for him. Her faith in him. In the same stroke, it's not the answer he's seeking.

Where she finds peace in speaking it, he finds himself the opposite. Shirking up his bones as he steps further away from her. Allowing her the space to continue on without him. Whether he thinks she has the capability of finding her way back on her own or not no longer seems to matter. She is home, if she does not find her own way back eventually someone will do it for her. He's quick to shed the responsibility with a scoff. Fleeting. His head shaking more to himself than anything she's said. He needs to sober himself.]

Then I leave you to your truths. [ He disengages, formally. Wading a step or two back to look her over once more. A fitting scene to once again be leaving her from. At least she still has her trousers on. ]

Goodnight, princess. [ Bidding her at least one last goodbye, even though most of it slips under his breath as he propels himself away. He turns on his heel and is gone down the corridor far more swiftly than he'd come. ]