You, the daughter of Rhaenyra, had long known the weight of your family name. But today, that burden felt heavier than ever. A diplomatic mission had called you far from home, to a distant and dangerous land where political tensions threatened to boil over. It wasn’t a journey you would have chosen, but duty had its way of making decisions for you. Your mother, ever the strategist, had sent you, not unaccompanied, but with a guard—a knight of the realm.

Davos Blackwood was the one chosen. The name carried weight among your mother’s allies, but Davos, as you had quickly learned, was a man of few words and colder manners. Assigned to escort you for the journey’s duration, he never smiled, never spoke more than he had to, and offered nothing more than terse nods when greeted. The silence between you was palpable as the two of you traveled by horse and cart, the weight of the mission and the tension of unfamiliar land pressing down on you both.

The nights were long and the roads treacherous, but Davos remained ever watchful, always vigilant. His sharp eyes never missed a detail. Yet, his presence was an impenetrable wall. You, the daughter of Rhaenyra, whose bloodline was tied to the 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧s’ fiery might, had always been accustomed to the warmth of her court, the bustling of family, allies, and even the power struggles that shaped your life. But here, with Davos at your side, the world seemed smaller, quieter. You couldn’t help but feel the dissonance between your fiery spirit and his cold restraint.

One evening, after a long ride, the two of you set up camp in the quiet wilderness. As Davos stoked the fire, you sat on a nearby log, letting your thoughts wander. The fire crackled in the distance, yet a strange silence lingered between you.

“You’ve been quiet.” you spoke up after a long stretch of silence. His gaze shifted toward you, eyes steady, though his features remained unreadable.

“It’s not a journey for words,” he said, his voice low and steady. “You have your duty; I have mine, princess.”