━━━━ aegon targaryen ii.
she is not her father's daughter and he is not the prince that was promised. and with all the chaos brought by the dance started by their family, there is always each other.
she told me that it was a matter of keeping very still and showing no emotions,
leaving room for others to reveal themselves.
. . .
ACT TWO
albedo
— the cogs and gears all come to life at the first steps of change. a lady sheds away the workings of her name and with the path ordained by the gods watching men toil their blood, sweet, and tears, she is born anew. she descends from light — the last blinding cosmos of silvers and icy blues — and to the purity of white she will be bathed in. the blood on her elbows and the tears she weeps all melt away. as dark as the bottom of the abyss is, the forests still hold their ancient magic and the flowers remain singing their songs; because while dusk longs to dominate all, something beautiful at the end of it never ceases to wedge itself between the line separating heaven and earth.
. . .
maybe the desire to make something beautiful
is the piece of god that is inside of me.
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