*•.DB🩸 | "In the midst of the flames and chaos, when all seemed lost, Jacaerys found her eyes. There was something in her gaze that called to him, something more powerful than dragon fire. In that moment, he knew that the fate of his heart was seal...
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✮˚. ᵎᵎ𖦹彡‧₊˚────୨ৎ────✮˚. ᵎᵎ𖦹彡‧
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✮˚. ᵎᵎ𖦹彡‧₊˚────୨ৎ────✮˚. ᵎᵎ𖦹彡‧₊
"Some historians consider the announcement of Aemond Targaryen's proposal to Nathearys Targaryen as the true beginning of the Dance of the Dragons."
—robb stark, king in the north.
✮˚. ᵎᵎ𖦹彡‧₊˚────୨ৎ────✮˚. ᵎᵎ𖦹彡‧
xii. proposals and wine
THE TABLE REMAINED in a charged silence, as if the unspoken words floated among the attendees, weighing heavily on their shoulders. The tension was palpable, almost tangible, and Nathearys felt it as an uncomfortable pressure in her chest, growing with each passing second.
She was seated between her father, Neysarion, and Lorcan Blackwood. The young woman used the moment to discreetly observe the others: first Rhaenyra, then Alicent. Both women, so different, represented the polar extremes of a war that had yet to begin, though its prelude seemed to echo in every glance exchanged.
"I'm glad to see you all here tonight... together," King Viserys spoke with extreme difficulty, his voice barely a broken whisper. A brief but intense coughing fit interrupted his attempt to continue.
The king's deteriorated and absent gaze swept across the table, as if trying to memorize the faces of those who would one day outlive him.
Alicent inclined her head slightly and took the opportunity to speak, her tone marked with the practiced serenity of someone who had been playing a dangerous game for years. "We prayed before dinner, Your Majesty."
Nathearys lowered her gaze to her plate, uneasy. The mention of prayers reminded her how skeptical she was of religion, a doubt she often kept to herself. Would her disbelief eventually be punished?
