Ruin Me

Chapter Forty Three

For a moment, things were right. Granted they were still preparing for a massive war that had yet to take place, but right now, things were ok. Harrenhal was still being repaired and it would still take years before the castle was as grand as it had been before the fires, but it was holding. Not to mention the fact that it housed a platoon of men that numbered in the thousands both inside and outside of the castle. The field camp had only grown as the last of the Rivermen arrived now that all of the Riverlords had pledged their allegiance. Things were moving splendidly.

As for Daemon and Daenyra, they sat in the thick of it. Beneath a tent in the roofless main hall that once housed a grand Throne room, Daenyra sat behind her husband as she ran her fingers through his hair. He was meticulously caring for the condition of their Valyrian Steel blades that would once again see battle. Eventually, the Warrior-Blessed Princess began weaving the strands of her husband's hair together as she prepared him for battle. It had been far too long since she had done this.

However, their peace was interrupted by a murmur that washed over the crowd. It moved and it moved, being whispered from the ear of one man to another as it surrounded them.

"What is going on?" Daenyra wondered as she tied off the end of the braid she'd woven into half of Daemon's hair.

Her question was answered by a distant roar as Syrax perched herself atop the ruined ceiling and peered down at them all, keeping her attention on her Bonded who stood at the front of the hall.

"It would seem that we have an unannounced visitor," Daemon remarked as he beheld the creature, both of them blanketed by the crowd of men, even with their shining silver hair. He offered his hand to her. "Care to greet them, my queen?"

Daenyra's eyes widened. "You cannot say that! My sister already questions your loyalty. It is the very reason she would seem to make an appearance."

Daemon's smirk grew. "I am loyal to your sister, make no mistake, but I am yours and you are mine. I kneel for no one but my wife – I have already knelt for Rhaenyra one time too many. Why would the one I kneel for not be my queen?"

"I do not think that Rhaenyra will see it that way," she said with a pointed look, despite the way her words made her insides melt – and she was a dragon, she didn't melt, at least not for anyone else.

"Shall we find out?" he dared as if he hadn't a care in the world and he offered her his palm again. Ever since he'd seen that vision from the gods, he seemed to be treated each passing day as if it were his last. Daenyra loved it because it meant that he was more affectionate, even in scenes and scenarios where it would not be the most appropriate, but she also hated it. He had promised not to leave, but he was not acting like it. If anything, he was acting like he'd accepted the fact that he would be claimed by the God's Eye. It made sense to a degree that he would need a moment to understand the tumultuous news, but it still didn't sit right in Daenyra's stomach. Yet still, for now, she ignored it. The eve of battle was still far from occurring, she still had time...he still had time.

She slid her fingers over the edge of his hand as he began to escort her through the crowd that parted for them. They were the only ones who dared move, their footsteps echoing off broken stone as they made their way to the front of the sea of people, their heads held high.

Many of them were indeed confused about why they spotted their Lady Commander standing before them, a confused and somewhat wary expression on her face, and much more regal flying leathers adorning her body. Few noted the change in the eyes of Daenyra's mirror image. It was to be expected. It was perhaps the only reason why the men did not attack – not even Syrax would stop them, not when they knew that Myrrax and Caraxes were much larger and battle-hardened. It also ceased to matter that Rhaenyra had also brought Seasmoke and his new rider Addam of Hull along as well.