❝ born the second the sun reached the horizon
the castles' very own at night creeping ghost
wears a crown made of roses
its thorns cut her own
slowly torn
healed by the sun of dorne
and deeply mourned
dead or not
a mistery no one every solved. ❞...
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and if I didn't know better i'd think you were talking to me now if i didn't know better i'd think you were still around
𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐣𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞 – 𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐭
✦
𝟏𝟏𝟎 𝐀𝐂
DAEMYRIA TARGARYEN HAD tried to speak to her father once in the time that had passed since her mother's funeral.
And it had turned her thoughts upside down.
Alicent Hightower seemed lot be a gentle presence. Not loud, not rude and she wore a smile as comforting as a summer breeze. She always dressed in pale blue colors and they made her beautiful auburn hair gleam all so dreamily.
Daemyria didn't speak to her often. But she saw how much Rhaenyra loved talking to the girl. The way her sister's eyes lit up and the way she smiled at Alicent Hightower – exactly like the stars watched over the sea.
They fell for that mighty presence, but they were too far away to ever really touch... To ever really love.
Daemyria didn't claim to know exactly what was going on between her sister and Lady Alicent. But she was not blind.
And as she approached her father's chambers, hoping to find some solace, she stopped in her steps when she saw Alicent Hightower exit her father's very room, dressed in a gown in darkest shade of blue like the ocean during a storm - the girl seemingly drowning in its waves - and her hair falling more dreamily than ever, bewilderment clouding her mind, and the ache of realization soon followed.
Daemyria Targaryen was not blind.
She was not stupid either.
Alicent Hightower leaving her father's chambers was all Daemyria could think about as she stood on a railing in a rather remote part of Maegor's Holdfast - her shoes lying abandoned and forgotten on the stone floor as she played with her life, like she had done so many times before.
She took one step after another, arms outstretched to help her balance, and her eyes closed.
"You will fall, Princess"
She almost slipped.
She opened her eyes and looked over at the person to whom the voice belonged - the very ghost haunting her thoughts.
Lady Alicent stood there, the dark dress long gone and instead the pale blue one with the beautiful neckline, which she seemed to love very much for Daemyria had seen her wear it many times.
She gave a small smile, but Daemyria's attention was drawn to something else. The torn nailbeds of Alicent's fingers, adorned with fresh blood.
Daemyria also had such habit. Just like her sister. Several rings were always on Rhaenyra's fingers and whenever she was anxious she twisted them around and around. And for Daemyria, the sleeves of her dress were her dearest friend. But obviously theirs were less messy than Alicent's.
