˚･ﾟ✧ 𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 ˚･ﾟ✧
' a targaryen and a stark love drunk
on one another. what could go wrong? '
˚･ﾟ✧ ⸻ in which rhaenerys targaryen and robb stark find themselves enchanted with one another
Started: 8.29.22
Finished: 7.2.25
( The...
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THE DAY WAS BLEAK. COLD. Muted light streamed through the windows of Dragonstone, grey and dull and void. The usual sun that bathed the castle in golden sunlight hung low that day, as if it too was hesitant to rise. It was quiet outside, eerily quiet.
The sound birds had ceased sometime during the night, and the only sounds were the ones of the sea breeze and clinking armor as twenty-five thousand men prepared for war.
Rhaenerys, like many others, had woken up with a feeling a dread in her stomach. Deep down, she knew it wasn't going away soon.
Not until this was over.
Not until Robb was safe.
He had been beside her when she opened her eyes that morning, and the thought of that being the last time had terrified her.
She held him tight, whispering sweet nothings and words of encouragement in his ear. She told him that he was brave and strong and that she had full confidence-and expectations-that he'd come back to her. Rhaenerys did everything that she could think of to try and ease his nerves-but Robb insisted that he had none.
His eyes held a steely determination that caused Rhaenerys a sliver of ease. They were cold. Muted. Ready.
Robb wasn't sure what was waiting for him, but whatever it was he said,
"We're prepared to face it. We're prepared to win."
His unrelenting confidence seemed to be a common theme among the men. Though they were quiet, they were also ready. The Northmen weren't as fierce or as well trained as the Unsullied-but they were older. Harder. Living in the North had solidified them. Many of their faces were worn with battle already.
The Unsullied, of course, were ready as well. There wasn't even a question of that. They stood prepared to face what awaited them across the sea and Rhaenerys knew that they had been trained for this, bred for this. But still she worried.
"Be careful," She told Wyrmrot, "Look after him."
She pointed to Ser Barris, the old warrior who had fought and dedicated his whole life to House Targaryen. To her.
Ser Barris' armor was dark steel, old but well-kept, etched with faded Valyrian script. His sword hung at his side, the hilt worn from decades of battle. He moved silently as he reached her, a neutral expression on his face. He wasn't sad, or fearful. He looked more like a man that was going on a simple fishing trip rather than fighting a war.
