[ not so different from the night dany had bathed and eren had entered her cleaning quarters, the dragon does so again— though this time, unseen and arriving first, seems like. a little early.
dusk has yet to bleed through a sky with no sun, and perhaps they only know the time through the means of their magitech or how foggy to solid it becomes. he finds a place to lay in wait, windows closed to leave any hint of his arrival hidden away, masked by the scent of oils and dim lit shadows his midnight scales could disguise behind.
he comes with aid, with gift and word, and when the footsteps and clanking of guards pique at his pointed ears— eren spreads his wing over himself on the floor, blanketed by blackness and helped by the lack of candle light. he put that out when he got here. ]
[ She had felt tired. Weary. Worn. There were moments of weakness where she wishes she could simply return to Aefenglom and hide away from the rest of the world. To bundle under a heavy blanket and wait until she awakens from the dream (nightmare?) they find themselves in.
Time is an odd thing here, with the moon gone and the stars hidden by blanketed fog... she doesn't realize the time. Rushing from her quarters – her heart leaps in a spiral when she finds herself confronting Eren's appearance in the dim sanction of her cleaning quarters. Fortunately, she was dressed this time in a robe (literally no time for getting dressed) as opposed to just nakkid, so #progress. ]
God's above, you shouldn't do that! I almost screamed out!
[ Alerting a guard would be, interesting. How To Hide Your Dragon.
The hand on her chest lingers there, fingers knotting at the fabric in relief. ]
We'll need to come to an agreement on when it is appropriate to come to me in such ways. [ Her privacy is important, but there's that same teasing in her voice... ] It could leave a bad impression if found out.
[ with the door shut and only the scent and small footsteps of the woman there, eren pulls back his wing to show himself, and the sphere he coils his fingers around just as she turns the corner— at a bad time. it’s a hellish figure she’d see, he forgot about that. perhaps he had camouflaged too well, which could’ve been a good thing. not a good thing if she shouted. he doesn’t verbalize his apologies, but eren’s brows do curl with concern and he nods in agreement.
. . . only slightly. she still manages to tease him somehow, and for a moment, some of his scales shift in color, deep and warm red-oranges like skin would flush. he had gotten serious— too serious. and forgot any and all appropriateness. he is not that kind of dragon. ]
I didn’t know how else to reach you this time. [ in fact, he knew, though let us assume that our messengers were rather busy from uptight watchers. ] —How’re your scales?
[ sure, he had things to say, but, this comes first, the orbish object being held in his hand as he approaches her looking more and more like a container of sorts. ]
[ Of course, she regains her composure a bit once she can breathe. There had been a bit of worry since they arrived — Jorah ensured she stayed aware and alert, trained to view any movements out of the ordinary in fear of an assassination attempt. Her bear worries, but she was simply not skilled in such things. She does her best, but here? The Coven would not have a dignitary's head on a spike, she's sure. ]
You only need to track a Coven guard. They stink of potions and magic and follow me like a shadow. [ Says coldly. Dany didn't make many appearances after some of the initial riots began — she was advised against it. She's tried to make pleasantries as best as she could, tried to handle things without feeling stir-crazy. And soaking in scalding hot water for hours on end. His question earns almost a laugh as she tugs the top of her robe down, bare shoulder inflamed but the scales spiraling the back of her neck look... healed. Mostly. ] It's spreading downward, only mild fits of irritation. I'll live.
[ She doesn't ask him what he was carrying — it would be rude. Her questioning was clear in the way her eyes flick up to his gaze. ]
[ he wished it were that easy. and she has it rough now, truly. if only she could drift away from them for a little while, trapped in doors and behind walls. she’d live after that as well, of course, their stay isn’t permanent— but it’s frustrating. one thing was to be a prisoner that could leave at any time they desired, running their own plans, another was being under perpetual house arrest with little leeway to work with.
he’s almost tempted to get her out, crack his bones into a larger shape, crawl out the window and fly. if it were so doable, if she was not a guest and a woman with responsibility to keep names clean, and if he was not a mere ghost in the streets with no name and little history— he would not make that thought simple temptation.
it’s stupid, either way. like a child’s day dream. what was real now were her shoulders that charred the more they grew, and seemed sleek where they’ve settled better. eren lifts the container in his hand, a gesture as he twists the top with his palm and leaves it ajar: ]
It softens the skin and eases the burning. [ it’s a creamy sort of substance, muddy green in color and clearly made from a variety of plants with suitable effects. essences are added naturally to promote calm, and no magic was needed to brew it. not that eren made this, he just knew what to look for. he’s used something similar. if she’d like a better look, he holds it out. ] Makes it easier for them to settle.
[ There's a beauty in her silence. How she looks at him with a vulnerability that she was not quite use to doing. Eyes soft, curious with why he truly came to visit her. He had no reason to – with everything going on, with her own recoil from getting involved at the base level many others were...
She tries to read him and fails every time, like a child not taught the written word. Daenerys listens when he speaks, a brow perking a bit upwards in response. ]
...And is that for me?
[ She clarifies, as if there was an answer different than the obvious. ]
[ remember that time when it was harder to smile? it comes out some now, the whites of his fang tips poking out from beneath his lips. too much of them in his mouth to hide them away unless relaxed. her question was endearing in its own way, and after a moment’s surprise, as if to gauge whether or not she jokes with him (which he sees that she isn’t), ]
My scales already grew in.
[ he demonstrates when he dips two fingers in to scoop some of the substance out, and holds out the digits that come from his palm, still a seat for the container, to beckon for her arm, or her hand, to slip the dab of cream against her palm and allow her the chance to test it herself. it touched him, see, and he’s just fine— even spreading them on some of his own to show harmlessness. the only other one with scales in this room was, in fact, she. ]
[ She can keep her tone light too – how her cheeks push up, the creases under her eyes a bit sharper. It feels foreign at times to feel the warmth in her face when she smiles, because who even has time for that any more?
Eren's display does at least gain her curiosity. Her scales are in... hm, interesting places – neck down her shoulders to hips and thighs, so when he offers, she merely takes some in her palm. Fingers prod and smear, testing the thickness of the substance.
Slowly, she tugs at the collar of her robe, the scales that once bled and flaked away had begun to settle, but there was still a pronounced carnation pink heating at the red scabs near each interweaving scale. Her eyes look up to him as she smears the cream to the scales, flinching with a twitch of her eye and clench of her teeth. Tender, sore – it still pains her but she trusts him. ]
I am honored, truly, for such a gift. [ Her manners exceed all else, even in the face of her vulnerability. ] I would ask you where you learned of such a medicine, but you seem to have been more useful than any book could be here.
[ ain’t nobody got time for that (eren truly wishes he had more of it, though, who wouldn’t?).
she’d find that the salves blended into the paste are what they’re said to be. it’s cold and chilly when spread across patches so inflamed, but one of the reasons why it calms the irritable spots. the reaction that happens underneath can be felt easily as seconds became minutes— the smell was suave, the feeling true to bringing comfort in otherwise painful nights of tossing about with no easing position to sleep in. he knew his cane with itches, and it was unbearable.
he laughs, not too audibly— it seems to come out as a brief huff past his lips as he watches her. ]
That only works with the right company. [ which is to say— he enjoys talking to her, yes. he wouldn’t be much of one if he were in what he’d consider a poor crowd. the healing aid won’t do anything to his hands either, if only leaving them and his scales with a pristine, healthy shine.
and flowery smell. ] I asked almost every nurse in Aefenglom when they started growing. I couldn’t sleep. [ —so, ] They don’t talk about it much here, but they’re still around for healing other things.
[ he considers, for a moment, before adding as he plays with the containers cap. ]
My father was a doctor. A healer.
[ he knew a thing or two, through secondhand memory hopping or otherwise. ]
[ It reminds her of simpler times — when her handmaidens would knead her flesh with oils, wash away her sweat with fragrance and water, and truly allow her to find a relaxation that felt so rare. Eren gifts that to her as much as the salve — reassurance. ]
I am the right company then. Interesting. [ There's a wry look to him as her fingers pull from sore scales and skin now cooling. ] You'd believe with their monster population growing they would prepare for such things — some sort of welcome tour of what to expect. Had I no one, I would suffer and sob in my bed until exhaustion took me, I believe.
[ Without saying it again: she is thankful. Daenerys notions for him to follow her — there is wine if he'd have it, or stomach it, and fresh fruit in her bed chamber. She is tired of their conversations occurring in bathrooms. ]
[ she was right now, and the only thing the droll smile would be left with in turn is palpable reassurance in his. there’s enough of it to toss around the chambers and back, so follow her, she does. there’s a part of him that’s even relieved they won’t be in close proximity with water. he hasn’t spoken to his witch since he cut him off; most of his charms would’ve worn off by now.
his tongue flicks when he sees wine, even fruit when they enter the room that follows a studying little head bob— he’s grown more omnivorous than he had been humanly, to much of his surprise (most dragons are carnivorous). a drinker with a heavy stomach to hold as many glasses necessary without hindering his senses was a trick he’s built up during his time in liberio. he wouldn’t reject the offer, sauntering over carefully to get in better distance for a more thorough inspection.
distrust for the coven was obvious enough, but he’d prefer to double check that all drinks and treats were exactly what they’re offered. ]
I was his opposite. [ — and continues being, but time had become such a muddy process. ] I’m much more a fighter than a healer.
[ and fighting meant destruction. but there’s still care in him. in his own way. ]
[ No worries, Dany will be carnivorous for the both of them when her time comes. She does not resort to downing the bottle like a certain Lannister would, but she pours herself a healthy glass and does the same — leaving it on the small table with the rest of her food offerings.
Eren is interesting. The shock of his changes has wore off and now, she almost looks forward to when their paths cross. There's a kinship she's beginning to feel — an ease that she will not be alone in her own impending changes. ]
And he healed you, then? [ He was someone Eren needed, and Eren was someone he needed? There's a curious glance — the talks of fathers always a sore subject for her. ] When you needed it.
[ eren will just be that fancy dragon that eats pineapples with his picanha .
the topic of fathers, on the other hand, is a complicated one. they had needed each other when the time came, yes, but . . . not in the way one would expect with their own children (and, eren was not a victim of his father— it was the other way around). ]
He gave me what he could, but not when I really needed it. Doctors want to help people— not fight them. [ it was forced and squeezed out of grisha. it’s still clear, at least, the air of disappointment that eren holds when he takes his glass, filled to the brim, and indulges in his drink. ] He was a good man.
[ and perhaps that, is what he’s implying, was the problem at the time. ]
Daenerys would have rather avoided the topic of fathers. Shame fills her, but she is too damn stubborn to let the weight of his madness pin her down. She has done everything in her power to be a better person, to leave the world a better place than he had. It takes everything in her to not project, for not all fathers are cruel and lost in their mind. Assuming the best is the humble route, the one she naturally feels inclined to travel down.
She stays quiet, taking a harsh swig at his odd admittance. What else could she say about that without prying...? Was sticks out with her and she offers him a solemn, respectable gaze. ]
I'm glad. Good men are rare in any world, it seems.
[ Where Dany goes, evil men die. One day, she'll run out of them. It was nice to hear of them sooner rather than later. ]
[ he oddly wouldn’t mind prying, but to each their own— it’s not the first thing most would even want to ask. they’re both pretty ashamed with their fathers some way or another. ]
What’s good to you?
[ it’s not meant to be intrusive— with a drink wetting his lips and a lax across his shoulders as he leans into the wall behind him, he really is only asking to converse. you know someone better through their opinions than history. ]
Honor. Kindness. A sense of justice. [ The ability to feel something other than self preservation. The answer feels simple enough. What makes a good woman? Many would have different answers, but Daenerys saw something rare – the same qualities as a man. ] I've known very few of them in my life.
[ it was an answer to a question that had many loopholes— honor for what? what justice? where was the kindness directed? there wasn’t much use in delving so deep, but it did make eren think himself, and of all the circumstances that would’ve surprised him. the same way there are assholes, and there are better people.
. . . he’d probably describe what is good in a similar fashion, aware that there was another side of the coin that was exactly like them. or they really are just shitty in character. those exist off the charts. ]
They’re hard to come by. [ he’s at half a glass already, and looks deep into it. ] Especially when you’re conspicuous.
[ Dany was not use to answering to anyone. Her will was a magnitude unmatched. Not Targaryen, not of dragons — but of Daenerys herself. It makes sense to her, why wouldn't it? Those who turn a wheel of oppression to those who can not crawl from underneath it — they were evil men. That is where her fire was always directed. ]
You should be humbled to know a good man created another good man, then. [ She knows not of his father, but if Eren claims he is good? The system is easy to surmise — Eren himself had been good to her. She saw no reason to claim otherwise. ] Please keep that tradition continued.
[ And she drinks heavily, the topic weighing on her. ]
he knows why, when his chest churns some at being called a good man. everything had become so twisted during the last four years, eren knows not where good even stands anymore. he was a killer. thousands of families and children crushed under the rubble of his collateral damage to usurp one trump card for himself. a manipulator, disregarding his father's feelings, taking advantage of a child and deceiving his own brother. the cause of hate not from only his own island, but friends and enemies across the globe. a thousand more would be gone when the rumbling succeeds. there was no undoing any of that.
but he'd still go out of his way to do it all again, if it meant that the cycle of oppression ceased and freedom be something all could grasp at equally. it's why he's grown so silent, his smile grateful, alas— melancholy. he doesn't know if he'll have the chance to even make that tradition continue through blood. he saw the end, scenery that had no words to describe— but then again, the last thing he saw was a firearm going off, aimed at his head.
. . . blood doesn't mean anything, in hindsight. if that sort of good continues in others, then he'll be happy. he'll have to keep moving forward to find out about all of that. ]
Maybe, [ he says as his next gulp is also a rather heavy one, throwing his weight forward to leave the wall he leans on, and reach for— a grape? five grapes. ] You said you had children, once.
[ please, tell him. he doesn't care if they're scaly, and regards them as if they weren't. ]
[ The sad reality is their work was unfinished. Good and bad — it was clear to her at times and then so murky at others. For her, Eren had done nothing but given her a confidence that she was not to fall victim to this world. To still hold true to what makes her Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen.
He grows silent, she grows silent. Her wine is chugged down, eyes shut and lips tense as she enjoys what little privilege that soothes her nerve. Just as being called a good man may be hard to swallow for him, the next topic he brings up needs to be swallowed down. ]
I did. My son did not live. [ Nor would any child bore from her womb. The topic was dear to her — a fresh wound that was buried beneath layers of ambition and self-preservation. ] However, the people of my world call me the mother of dragons. I did not carry them to term nor did I allow them to swell my stomach — but I bore three dragons from eggs long lost from my world. From funeral flame, I allowed them to hatch and grow to claim their right to continue on. Just as I claimed mine.
[ The topic was veiled in dramatics, so she speaks more clearly: ]
You understand why it is difficult to experience these changes knowing this now, yes?
[ oh he's just— hitting the bull's eye one after the other, isn't he. eren jaeger, good with people. the words nearly ice his gut, saved by the juice of crunched grapes between his teeth and a sip of remaining wine that forms a warm pool in his belly. it helps him take things with stride and steadiness, avoiding the consistent condolences that never truly make things better. it doesn't make him feel any less, but he has his own way of doing things. he's always preferred silence and true words rather than sorry, though that's just him.
he isn't a parent. but there always had been a pang when he thinks of his mother, thinks of his father, and thinks of when they had actually been together. ]
I don't think I can like you do. [ he admits, honesty the best policy, though— he has a feeling he knows on the surface like his own feelings show. filling his cup, he offers the jar for her as well, if she'll take him filling it for her. ] They're apart of you, aren't they?
[ Please fill her glass, goddamn this is heavy. There's a nod in his courtesy – respectful and appreciative. ]
They are. They were born the moment I was reborn. [ Birthed through fire and tragedy – to a world that was not ready for them. ] I miss them. My heart... calls for them and with each scale that pushes through my flesh, I feel they are here with me.
[ It's silly. She is at war with herself – the cosmetic changes unlike anything she had hoped for, but she was the dragon who brought change to the world. ]
But, it is not enough. My goal is to return home to them. Back to my people and the Kingdom rightfully mine.
[ And she gazes to him directly, as if cutting the conversation short: ]
[ it isn’t silly— who was eren to call any sentiment silly? he has, at least, empathy enough to resonate with her. not personally, but he can feel the palpable mourning in her voice and lips wet with wine. ]
I have to. [ eren puts his hand in motion enough for the drink in it to swirl along the glass edges. they share the same end goal, ] Even if I don’t know what’s waiting for me now. [ . . . there’s something she doesn’t know, that dawns on him, and it wasn’t the particular experience her had, but . . . a free claw drags down the root of his hair to split ends of black strands, pinching them between his thumb and index finger. ]
My hair growing wasn’t part of my changes. The mirrors still take us back.
[ His mention of his hair makes her tilt her head. A curious glance, one that she isn't quite sure what he gets out. It was not a disadvantage of her times, like her knowledge of a cellular / magical network. It was curious. She sobers more from the heavy topic, finding a renewed energy elsewhere. ]
Before going to Dorchacht, [ he begins, his claws tapping against glass, so lightly that for each tap— it felt as if they were hovering away bit by bit from the heaviness. maybe it was hope, or just a tremendous amount of more speculation— but it was something. his tone does not make it seem so simple, though. eren's glass is empty, but he decides to hold the remainder and wait it out through the rest of the grapes he collected. ] I was lured to the Looking-Glass House until I sat in front of my mirror, watched a year go by, then realized I was still here . . . In Aefenglom.
[ it's all . . . very awkward to explain, but he's trying his best. ]
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a follow up sort of.... ??? pls feel free to be whenever
dusk has yet to bleed through a sky with no sun, and perhaps they only know the time through the means of their magitech or how foggy to solid it becomes. he finds a place to lay in wait, windows closed to leave any hint of his arrival hidden away, masked by the scent of oils and dim lit shadows his midnight scales could disguise behind.
he comes with aid, with gift and word, and when the footsteps and clanking of guards pique at his pointed ears— eren spreads his wing over himself on the floor, blanketed by blackness and helped by the lack of candle light. he put that out when he got here. ]
slams hands down repeatedly
Time is an odd thing here, with the moon gone and the stars hidden by blanketed fog... she doesn't realize the time. Rushing from her quarters – her heart leaps in a spiral when she finds herself confronting Eren's appearance in the dim sanction of her cleaning quarters. Fortunately, she was dressed this time in a robe (literally no time for getting dressed) as opposed to just nakkid, so #progress. ]
God's above, you shouldn't do that! I almost screamed out!
[ Alerting a guard would be, interesting. How To Hide Your Dragon.
The hand on her chest lingers there, fingers knotting at the fabric in relief. ]
We'll need to come to an agreement on when it is appropriate to come to me in such ways. [ Her privacy is important, but there's that same teasing in her voice... ] It could leave a bad impression if found out.
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. . . only slightly. she still manages to tease him somehow, and for a moment, some of his scales shift in color, deep and warm red-oranges like skin would flush. he had gotten serious— too serious. and forgot any and all appropriateness. he is not that kind of dragon. ]
I didn’t know how else to reach you this time. [ in fact, he knew, though let us assume that our messengers were rather busy from uptight watchers. ] —How’re your scales?
[ sure, he had things to say, but, this comes first, the orbish object being held in his hand as he approaches her looking more and more like a container of sorts. ]
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You only need to track a Coven guard. They stink of potions and magic and follow me like a shadow. [ Says coldly. Dany didn't make many appearances after some of the initial riots began — she was advised against it. She's tried to make pleasantries as best as she could, tried to handle things without feeling stir-crazy. And soaking in scalding hot water for hours on end. His question earns almost a laugh as she tugs the top of her robe down, bare shoulder inflamed but the scales spiraling the back of her neck look... healed. Mostly. ] It's spreading downward, only mild fits of irritation. I'll live.
[ She doesn't ask him what he was carrying — it would be rude. Her questioning was clear in the way her eyes flick up to his gaze. ]
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he’s almost tempted to get her out, crack his bones into a larger shape, crawl out the window and fly. if it were so doable, if she was not a guest and a woman with responsibility to keep names clean, and if he was not a mere ghost in the streets with no name and little history— he would not make that thought simple temptation.
it’s stupid, either way. like a child’s day dream. what was real now were her shoulders that charred the more they grew, and seemed sleek where they’ve settled better. eren lifts the container in his hand, a gesture as he twists the top with his palm and leaves it ajar: ]
It softens the skin and eases the burning. [ it’s a creamy sort of substance, muddy green in color and clearly made from a variety of plants with suitable effects. essences are added naturally to promote calm, and no magic was needed to brew it. not that eren made this, he just knew what to look for. he’s used something similar. if she’d like a better look, he holds it out. ] Makes it easier for them to settle.
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She tries to read him and fails every time, like a child not taught the written word. Daenerys listens when he speaks, a brow perking a bit upwards in response. ]
...And is that for me?
[ She clarifies, as if there was an answer different than the obvious. ]
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My scales already grew in.
[ he demonstrates when he dips two fingers in to scoop some of the substance out, and holds out the digits that come from his palm, still a seat for the container, to beckon for her arm, or her hand, to slip the dab of cream against her palm and allow her the chance to test it herself. it touched him, see, and he’s just fine— even spreading them on some of his own to show harmlessness. the only other one with scales in this room was, in fact, she. ]
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[ She can keep her tone light too – how her cheeks push up, the creases under her eyes a bit sharper. It feels foreign at times to feel the warmth in her face when she smiles, because who even has time for that any more?
Eren's display does at least gain her curiosity. Her scales are in... hm, interesting places – neck down her shoulders to hips and thighs, so when he offers, she merely takes some in her palm. Fingers prod and smear, testing the thickness of the substance.
Slowly, she tugs at the collar of her robe, the scales that once bled and flaked away had begun to settle, but there was still a pronounced carnation pink heating at the red scabs near each interweaving scale. Her eyes look up to him as she smears the cream to the scales, flinching with a twitch of her eye and clench of her teeth. Tender, sore – it still pains her but she trusts him. ]
I am honored, truly, for such a gift. [ Her manners exceed all else, even in the face of her vulnerability. ] I would ask you where you learned of such a medicine, but you seem to have been more useful than any book could be here.
[ Softly, jesting: ]
And a better conversationalist.
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she’d find that the salves blended into the paste are what they’re said to be. it’s cold and chilly when spread across patches so inflamed, but one of the reasons why it calms the irritable spots. the reaction that happens underneath can be felt easily as seconds became minutes— the smell was suave, the feeling true to bringing comfort in otherwise painful nights of tossing about with no easing position to sleep in. he knew his cane with itches, and it was unbearable.
he laughs, not too audibly— it seems to come out as a brief huff past his lips as he watches her. ]
That only works with the right company. [ which is to say— he enjoys talking to her, yes. he wouldn’t be much of one if he were in what he’d consider a poor crowd. the healing aid won’t do anything to his hands either, if only leaving them and his scales with a pristine, healthy shine.
and flowery smell. ] I asked almost every nurse in Aefenglom when they started growing. I couldn’t sleep. [ —so, ] They don’t talk about it much here, but they’re still around for healing other things.
[ he considers, for a moment, before adding as he plays with the containers cap. ]
My father was a doctor. A healer.
[ he knew a thing or two, through secondhand memory hopping or otherwise. ]
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I am the right company then. Interesting. [ There's a wry look to him as her fingers pull from sore scales and skin now cooling. ] You'd believe with their monster population growing they would prepare for such things — some sort of welcome tour of what to expect. Had I no one, I would suffer and sob in my bed until exhaustion took me, I believe.
[ Without saying it again: she is thankful. Daenerys notions for him to follow her — there is wine if he'd have it, or stomach it, and fresh fruit in her bed chamber. She is tired of their conversations occurring in bathrooms. ]
Were you his student, then?
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his tongue flicks when he sees wine, even fruit when they enter the room that follows a studying little head bob— he’s grown more omnivorous than he had been humanly, to much of his surprise (most dragons are carnivorous). a drinker with a heavy stomach to hold as many glasses necessary without hindering his senses was a trick he’s built up during his time in liberio. he wouldn’t reject the offer, sauntering over carefully to get in better distance for a more thorough inspection.
distrust for the coven was obvious enough, but he’d prefer to double check that all drinks and treats were exactly what they’re offered. ]
I was his opposite. [ — and continues being, but time had become such a muddy process. ] I’m much more a fighter than a healer.
[ and fighting meant destruction. but there’s still care in him. in his own way. ]
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Eren is interesting. The shock of his changes has wore off and now, she almost looks forward to when their paths cross. There's a kinship she's beginning to feel — an ease that she will not be alone in her own impending changes. ]
And he healed you, then? [ He was someone Eren needed, and Eren was someone he needed? There's a curious glance — the talks of fathers always a sore subject for her. ] When you needed it.
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the topic of fathers, on the other hand, is a complicated one. they had needed each other when the time came, yes, but . . . not in the way one would expect with their own children (and, eren was not a victim of his father— it was the other way around). ]
He gave me what he could, but not when I really needed it. Doctors want to help people— not fight them. [ it was forced and squeezed out of grisha. it’s still clear, at least, the air of disappointment that eren holds when he takes his glass, filled to the brim, and indulges in his drink. ] He was a good man.
[ and perhaps that, is what he’s implying, was the problem at the time. ]
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Daenerys would have rather avoided the topic of fathers. Shame fills her, but she is too damn stubborn to let the weight of his madness pin her down. She has done everything in her power to be a better person, to leave the world a better place than he had. It takes everything in her to not project, for not all fathers are cruel and lost in their mind. Assuming the best is the humble route, the one she naturally feels inclined to travel down.
She stays quiet, taking a harsh swig at his odd admittance. What else could she say about that without prying...? Was sticks out with her and she offers him a solemn, respectable gaze. ]
I'm glad. Good men are rare in any world, it seems.
[ Where Dany goes, evil men die. One day, she'll run out of them. It was nice to hear of them sooner rather than later. ]
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What’s good to you?
[ it’s not meant to be intrusive— with a drink wetting his lips and a lax across his shoulders as he leans into the wall behind him, he really is only asking to converse. you know someone better through their opinions than history. ]
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. . . he’d probably describe what is good in a similar fashion, aware that there was another side of the coin that was exactly like them. or they really are just shitty in character. those exist off the charts. ]
They’re hard to come by. [ he’s at half a glass already, and looks deep into it. ] Especially when you’re conspicuous.
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You should be humbled to know a good man created another good man, then. [ She knows not of his father, but if Eren claims he is good? The system is easy to surmise — Eren himself had been good to her. She saw no reason to claim otherwise. ] Please keep that tradition continued.
[ And she drinks heavily, the topic weighing on her. ]
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he knows why, when his chest churns some at being called a good man. everything had become so twisted during the last four years, eren knows not where good even stands anymore. he was a killer. thousands of families and children crushed under the rubble of his collateral damage to usurp one trump card for himself. a manipulator, disregarding his father's feelings, taking advantage of a child and deceiving his own brother. the cause of hate not from only his own island, but friends and enemies across the globe. a thousand more would be gone when the rumbling succeeds. there was no undoing any of that.
but he'd still go out of his way to do it all again, if it meant that the cycle of oppression ceased and freedom be something all could grasp at equally. it's why he's grown so silent, his smile grateful, alas— melancholy. he doesn't know if he'll have the chance to even make that tradition continue through blood. he saw the end, scenery that had no words to describe— but then again, the last thing he saw was a firearm going off, aimed at his head.
. . . blood doesn't mean anything, in hindsight. if that sort of good continues in others, then he'll be happy. he'll have to keep moving forward to find out about all of that. ]
Maybe, [ he says as his next gulp is also a rather heavy one, throwing his weight forward to leave the wall he leans on, and reach for— a grape? five grapes. ] You said you had children, once.
[ please, tell him. he doesn't care if they're scaly, and regards them as if they weren't. ]
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He grows silent, she grows silent. Her wine is chugged down, eyes shut and lips tense as she enjoys what little privilege that soothes her nerve. Just as being called a good man may be hard to swallow for him, the next topic he brings up needs to be swallowed down. ]
I did. My son did not live. [ Nor would any child bore from her womb. The topic was dear to her — a fresh wound that was buried beneath layers of ambition and self-preservation. ] However, the people of my world call me the mother of dragons. I did not carry them to term nor did I allow them to swell my stomach — but I bore three dragons from eggs long lost from my world. From funeral flame, I allowed them to hatch and grow to claim their right to continue on. Just as I claimed mine.
[ The topic was veiled in dramatics, so she speaks more clearly: ]
You understand why it is difficult to experience these changes knowing this now, yes?
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he isn't a parent. but there always had been a pang when he thinks of his mother, thinks of his father, and thinks of when they had actually been together. ]
I don't think I can like you do. [ he admits, honesty the best policy, though— he has a feeling he knows on the surface like his own feelings show. filling his cup, he offers the jar for her as well, if she'll take him filling it for her. ] They're apart of you, aren't they?
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They are. They were born the moment I was reborn. [ Birthed through fire and tragedy – to a world that was not ready for them. ] I miss them. My heart... calls for them and with each scale that pushes through my flesh, I feel they are here with me.
[ It's silly. She is at war with herself – the cosmetic changes unlike anything she had hoped for, but she was the dragon who brought change to the world. ]
But, it is not enough. My goal is to return home to them. Back to my people and the Kingdom rightfully mine.
[ And she gazes to him directly, as if cutting the conversation short: ]
Do you wish to return home?
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I have to. [ eren puts his hand in motion enough for the drink in it to swirl along the glass edges. they share the same end goal, ] Even if I don’t know what’s waiting for me now. [ . . . there’s something she doesn’t know, that dawns on him, and it wasn’t the particular experience her had, but . . . a free claw drags down the root of his hair to split ends of black strands, pinching them between his thumb and index finger. ]
My hair growing wasn’t part of my changes. The mirrors still take us back.
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Explain. What do you mean by that?
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[ it's all . . . very awkward to explain, but he's trying his best. ]
But my body grew as if I left. I felt like I did.
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