Post by ARGELLA ARRYN on Jul 18, 2015 14:22:28 GMT
There was a voice inside her head, the voice of reason, that cruelly told her to come back to her senses, that she was a Baratheon, that she should never allow herself to belittle herself in such a way: alone, in the woods, at night, with an ironborn? Was she insane? Perhaps some part of her was. Perhaps the bitterness ate her body and mind from the inside and now she was just the mother of insanity. Could she have killed Darius if she tried? Perhaps. But did she want to kill him? No, she was too curious as to what would happen next. Would Daemon find out about this and kill Darius? Would he kill them both? No, he was not that cruel, although at times he should have been.
He was blaming it on her, that he didn't get to see his brother, and she didn't feel the slightest bit guilty or responsible. He could have walked away and she could have fought until the very end: it was how she wished to die, in the midst of a fiery, violent battle, swords clashing with someone worthy of her anger. Even if her leg had betrayed her when she was young, when she was at the beginning of her life, when she could have easily become someone, she wasn't going to let it take her entire life away from her. She didn't become Dione the Fighter, but she wasn't going to become Dione the Useless Cripple anytime soon.
But it was nice to be just Dione for a little while, to forget about the weight of her name on her shoulders, and she opened her eyes when he said her name in a way that few men ever said it before. Before, a long time ago, when she was wilder, younger, the ideal sort of woman one would want. He held her close to him, and she did her best not to wince when he rose up from the ground, as she was forced to bend her knees slightly.
"I don't know if you are lying and at this point I am too tired to find out. But if you are lying to me, I will do everything in my power to make you regret it." She spoke the words simply, like she was speaking about the weather or the book she read last week: Dione Baratheon, although broken, could still instill fear if she so wished. She was, after all, her father's daughter, from head to toe. "You saved me, good for you. You will get your reward, I will make sure of that. Is that alright with you?"
He was blaming it on her, that he didn't get to see his brother, and she didn't feel the slightest bit guilty or responsible. He could have walked away and she could have fought until the very end: it was how she wished to die, in the midst of a fiery, violent battle, swords clashing with someone worthy of her anger. Even if her leg had betrayed her when she was young, when she was at the beginning of her life, when she could have easily become someone, she wasn't going to let it take her entire life away from her. She didn't become Dione the Fighter, but she wasn't going to become Dione the Useless Cripple anytime soon.
But it was nice to be just Dione for a little while, to forget about the weight of her name on her shoulders, and she opened her eyes when he said her name in a way that few men ever said it before. Before, a long time ago, when she was wilder, younger, the ideal sort of woman one would want. He held her close to him, and she did her best not to wince when he rose up from the ground, as she was forced to bend her knees slightly.
"I don't know if you are lying and at this point I am too tired to find out. But if you are lying to me, I will do everything in my power to make you regret it." She spoke the words simply, like she was speaking about the weather or the book she read last week: Dione Baratheon, although broken, could still instill fear if she so wished. She was, after all, her father's daughter, from head to toe. "You saved me, good for you. You will get your reward, I will make sure of that. Is that alright with you?"