where we break when our hearts are strong enough
Once, she had been a princess. An almost princess. A child of two rulers of the Chamber, a kingdom both of and before her time. She, along with her two siblings, had been the swan song of their love. They had been the final kiss before death overtook their father, dragging him out and away—leaving them empty and alone. Now she is princess of nothing. She is princess of the moon and the stars and the quiet kingdoms she builds in her head, resurrecting them in the eventide and destroying them come sunrise.
She dances in the space between the moonlight, alone and happier for it.
She is Queen of her own realm.
But he disturbs that peace, drops lakes into the calm waters of her life, and already she feels the ripples of them throughout the edges of her mind. He draws her close and she folds there for a moment, the velvet of her lips tracing his flesh wherever she can find it, gliding over the silk of his young coat. She can taste his pulse, echoing the one that hammers in her throat, and she is relieved when she pulls to dance away, although she cannot deny the regret that thrums in the back of her mind, the ache spreading through her.
When he approaches again, she can feel her legs dancing beneath her, delicate hooves unable to find anchor on the earth, and she only stills when he reaches for her forehead, his voice but a whisper. It winds through her like the breeze in a fogged forest, and a shiver runs across her. She leans up, catching him before he breaks away, lips to his jaw like they belong there. “Careful or I will ask for your heart.”
There is a glint to her indigo eyes but she pulls away, smiling over her shoulder at him before she too launches into the unknown, coltish legs reaching far and wide to keep pace with him. She tucks her chin into her chest as they thunder forward. Playful, excited, flooded with feelings she both understands and those that are foreign entirely, she tosses her head, leaping forward and striking out at the air before she falls into a more rhythmic pattern. She leaves her head out, smiling at him from the corner of her eye before her gallop takes on a new cadence. Her hooves strike the ground with more power, more frequently, and she stretches out—wondering if he feels like they are flying, too.
we can bow 'cause our music's warmer than blood
@[Rhaegor]