In the aftermath of the Great War, Westeros struggles to find peace. Daenerys Targaryen, the Mother of Dragons, thought her fate was sealed. But fate has other plans.
"From the ashes, a legend rises anew."
A fanfiction based off of game of thrones...
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The air was warm as it hugged Daenerys' exposed skin, in contrast to the cold, rigid wall she leant against as her gaze, intense and fascinated, was held by Rheagan who was expertly adding the finishing touches to the fresh leather satchel. Her timeless effort had begun to take form, contrast to the hides she once started with. Two weeks of hard work and a gruelling journey for both women, Daenerys had struggled though out the recovery process but with Rheagan by her side made a world of difference. Just two weeks for Daenerys to transform from a fragile, resurrected queen to a strong, determined leader once more, her eyes burning with renewed purpose.
She watched on as Rheagan's hands moved with precision, her fingers weaving the final threads into the satchel's intricate design. As the dragon born worked her eyes flicked up to meet Daenerys', a soft smile playing on her lips. The former queen's gaze held a newfound intensity, one that Rheagan had witnessed over the past fortnight. It was a fire that had been rekindled, burning brighter with each passing day. As their gaze lingered, Rheagan's mind struggling to define the soft, warm sensation that spread through her chest. Her brow furrowed, ever so slightly, as she tried to grasp the unfamiliar feeling. It was a sensation she'd never known before, one that both soothed and unsettled her.
Averting her gaze, refocusing on her task at hand Rheagan spoke up, "were you never taught that it is rude to stare?" her words playful as a smile lingered on her lips, the Targaryen could only smile as her gaze never faltered. "Indeed, I was" Her voice was quite as her eyes danced across Rheagan's features. "Then I must ask your grace, why is it you still stare?" Rheagan spoke mockingly formal eliciting a chuckle from the younger woman. "Because although rude to stare... I was informed that you are allowed to admire art" Daenerys' words caused Rheagan's hands to stop their ministrations.
Rheagan's cheeks flushed, her eyes darting back to Daenerys', sparkling with amusement. "And do you find me a worthy masterpiece, your Grace?" she asked, her voice laced with teasing innocence, her confidence tearing Daenerys' down, her cheeks warmed and her fingers trembled slightly. Never had she behaved like this before. Daenerys' gaze never wavered, her eyes burning with an intensity that made Rheagan's breath hitch. "I find the artisan's skill unparalleled," the Targaryen replied, her voice low and husky, face flushed.
"But the true masterpiece lies not in the craft, but in the beauty that inspires it." Rheagan's hands remained still, her fingers poised on the satchel's crisp leather, as she searched Daenerys' face for hidden meaning. She couldn't understand why hear heart began palpitating in the Targaryen's presence nor why her skin tingled under Daenerys' gaze. Daenerys couldn't fathom why her heart was drawn to the woman before her, or why Rheagan's smile made her feel vulnerable.
"Then you must stare at you own reflection for hours, old blood" Rheagan's words flustered Daenerys, her words dying on her tongue at she breath caught in her throat, emerald orbs meeting violet ones as the women stared at each other. The air thickening with tension, neither daring to move or speak. The soft glow of the flames cast a warm light on Daenerys' rose dusted cheeks, Rheagan's imitating the younger woman.
