[ Daemon leans into her, touching his forehead to his wife's without pause, breathing her in. There is comfort here, even if he might dwell a little overmuch on his failures; the notion that he might fail to protect his sworn queen, that he has not the strength to care for her in a realm that would cause her such harm. It makes him ache with rage, and he has to breathe in and out to force himself to settle and be comfortable.
His bruises ache. His broken arm aches. But here he remains, still, at her side.
He had made a vow, after all. ]
I was attacked. [ He tilts his head, sighing softly. ] In anger, it seems, despite our truce.
no subject
His bruises ache. His broken arm aches. But here he remains, still, at her side.
He had made a vow, after all. ]
I was attacked. [ He tilts his head, sighing softly. ] In anger, it seems, despite our truce.