~Judas did this for him, but his soul still howls / his mouth still aches~
Daenys Velaryon no longer knew the difference between sacrifice and self-slaughter, nor where the violence against oneself ended. A Kinslayer, a rabid dog; such creatures had...
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"I want the parts of your hand-grenade heart That pulse slowly with anger and fear."
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Daenys's return to Dragonstone had been remarkably uneventful, a stark contrast to the tumultuous events leading up to it. In the days that followed, she dedicated herself to making herself useful in any way she knew how. She was her mother's constant shadow, never far from her side, ready to assist with anything. Even now, she trailed behind the queen, who paced her chambers, deep in thought.
The princess's footsteps echoed her mother's in tandem, a rhythmic duet of concern and determination. She could feel the weight of the crown pressing down on her mother, its metal marring her regal brow, and the stress of the looming war was etched into every line of her face. The queen paused suddenly, turning to face her daughter with a tired, weary smile that barely reached her eyes.
"I should just make you my sworn shield," Rhaenyra joked lightly. "You seem to be everywhere, these days."
Daenys evaded her gaze, unsure how to respond. How did she properly convey that her only sanctuary was her mother now, that her presence was the only place she didn't see the spiders crawling across her vision.
She simply shrugged, "I wouldn't want Ser Erryk to be out of a job, Mother. He's more capable of it anyway."
In the doorway, Ser Erryk Cargyll chuckled softly, "The queen can never have too much protection, Princess. We are all watching over her, even the gods."
Rhaenyra sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly, "Thank you, Ser Erryk."
She took another step forward but stumbled, her exhaustion betraying her, and her daughter was there in an instant, her hand on her elbow, guiding her gently to a nearby chair.
"Mother, you need to rest," she said, her voice a mix of concern and gentle admonishment. "You have not had a moment of peace since this all began. Everything is being handled, so please, for all our sakes, you need to rest. You will overwork yourself at this rate."
Rhaenyra grimaced, her eyes closing briefly.
"Sleep does not come easy."
They had that in common; sleepless nights filled with worry.
The queen's hand moved to her temple, wincing as she tried to rub away the headache and Daenys stepped forward, gently pulling her fingers away and replacing them with her own. She placed her crown aside, momentarily feeding her from its burden, and massaged her temples, her calloused fingers smoothing over her skin with gentle, circular motions, which her mother gave into with some reluctance.
"You girls are so good to me," she mumbled, her voice soft and filled with bittersweet emotion. "Rhaena sings to me sometimes too. I do not deserve it."
