HE COULD SEE HER FACE CLEARLY. The full moon illuminated her before him, shining off her golden curls and her big blue eyes. She was, he conceded, very pretty, very agreeable to look upon, especially in the moonlight. If this were one of the stories his mother used to read to him.
Of course, in those stories, Luke would be a hero, Dafney would be a princess and his mother would be planning his rescue as they spoke.
Luke concentrated his eyes down at her hand. He remembered his words, what he was swearing to. They had spent days going over the words, and then stringing them into phrases and sentences.
He watched Dafney light the candle and set it on the windowsill. He watched her unsheathe the dagger, before meeting his eyes with a sharp breath.
"Are you sure about this? It is not to late to make a simple agreement. I would understand."
"No. We must be willing to die for this." Luke said, swallowing. She nodded, holding the dagger. She drew in a breath, before gently taking his thumb and running the tip of the dagger over it longways, a trail of blood following behind it. In Valyrian tradition, the cut's length signified how much she trusted him, and how much blood she was willing to gamble on that trust. The smaller the cut, the more trust you had in the other person, the more you had to lose if they betrayed you. But likewise, a smaller cut honoured your fellow oathmaker, and it would be to their honour that they would keep their promise.
Conversely, then, a longer cut signified distrust, a message to be sent about how important the pact was. The more of the other's blood you took, the more you would suffer should the oath be broken.
He took the dagger from her, blood dribbling from his thumb as he gently repeated her movements, the soft skin of her thumb severing along the tip of the blade.
" Nyke kivio naejot dohaeragon se mīsagon ao ēva ao issi lenton ." Luke said, gently using his free hand to take her thumb to his lips.
" Nyke kivio naejot dohaeragon se mīsagon ao ēva ao issi ȳgha ." Dafney answered, doing the same with his thumb, and together, they spoke the final, important words;
" Jemot kivio ñuhe tepan; nyke tepagon ao issa glaeson. " And to seal the pact, they placed their bloodied thumbs in each other's mouths, the exchange.
His thumb was salty, the blood coating her tongue like a sauce, before he withdrew.
"You said that stringing the words together would be the challenge, but you've even picked up the speed of Valyrian. Perhaps you should learn it conversationally."
"You think so?" Dafney raised an eyebrow.
"Yes. For secret conversations, of course. I know mother and my stepfather use it for that purpose as well."
"But your uncles -"
"Only know enough to command their dragons. My mother was insistent that we all learn to speak it regularly. Jace still struggles a bit, but I found I rather enjoyed learning."
"You seem to rather enjoy teaching, too." She smiled, blowing out the candle before rising to her feet. "We'll need our rest, let's get to bed,"
Rhaenyra,
Your son is to be married and we have heard naught from you. Could it be you wish to abandon him in your pursuit of the throne? I would not have expected such flouting of your role as a mother. Come, now. We both know I would not fill your head with falsehoods about your son's survival, and I truly do wish to mend this tear in the seams of our family.
YOU ARE READING
MAW OF THE DRAGON - LUCERYS VELARYON
FanfictionFIRE CANNOT KILL THE DRAGON. and, so it seems, neither can being mauled by the oldest known dragon and plummeting into a raging tempest. lucerys velaryon washed up on the shore of storm's end. he's mangled, practically torn apart. but he's alive. he...
