For almost her entire life, Daella Targaryen has lived as Mellara Rivers, the bastard daughter of Arnold Arryn and cupbearer of Lady Jeyne Arryn. First and trueborn daughter of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, Daella had but slight contact with her fami...
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T H I R T Y - S E V E N
Burnin' hot through my veins Love is torture, makes me more sure ─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Daella turned on her side, a mumble of dismay escaping her mouth as she pulled the covers under her arm. She felt a cold breeze over her bare skin and letting out another soft grunt, she pulled the soft fabric of the duvets up until her chin. She reached out for Aemond, still half-asleep and longing for his presence. It had surprised her how quickly she had gotten used to sharing a bed with someone else, even though she had slept alone all of her life, and Daella had not only gotten used to it, she had grown to love it.
Clenching her eyes shut and pressing the side of her face into the pillows, she willed herself to fall asleep before her mind would keep her up for the rest of the night again. She had been married to Aemond for a fortnight now and there was no longer any denying the feelings she cherished for him. Though she was yet to admit it out loud, Daella was certain that she had grown a love for him. It was a delicate and conflicted thing and she was deeply afraid it could shatter her at any given moment.
Feeling another breeze of cold wind passing over her cheeks, Daella's blue eyes fluttered open. Lazily, her gaze flickered over the right side of the bed, where Aemond should lie asleep in the dim light of the moon. She rather enjoyed watching him sleep, all the traces of his coldness melted from his hand-carved face, though that was another thing she would never admit out loud.
Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of the empty bed and pulling her hand back, she turned her head to look into the chambers. Daella's eyes latched onto his rigid frame like a second nature, drawn to him like he was an addiction. He was sitting with his back to her, wearing simple robes he had gone to bed with and bent over a book he was reading with the light of a single candle. For the shortest of moments, she looked outside the open window and noticed that it was still deep in the night, with the moon and the stars smiling down on her.
Pushing herself up from the pillows, she pushed the covers from her body and slipped her legs over the edge of the bed soundlessly. Daella had her own chambers still, but she hadn't spent a night in them ever since the wedding, slowly turning the King's apartments into hers as well, with sheets of parchment and books covering every possible surface.
A shiver crawled down her spine as her bare feet touched the cold tiles and Daella rose quickly, tiptoe-ing to her husband. He did not hear her approach, but when she leaned down and hugged him from behind, placing her chin on his shoulder and locking her hands over his heart, he let out a good-natured hum. Though his eyes did not wander from the pages he was reading, he reached up with his hand and the tips of his fingers trailed gently over the length of Daella's arm. His touch was gratifying and a thin layer of goosebumps broke out on her skin.
