DOYA: in the dark of our room.

"Do you remember their voices?"

Oya's voice broke the silence that had settled in their motel room. She couldn't sleep and had been twisting and turning on their bed for a while before she decided that it would be best if she stayed awake a little longer. She pulled the sheets off of her and shifted on the bed so she could lie her feet flat on the floor.  Her hair was cascading down her back and spilled a bit around her waist and lap. Dean was not sleeping; as a matter of fact, he only kept his eyes shut for a while to get some rest, but was never able to fall into a deep sleep. So he turned on the light and rolled on his side to look at his wife's back. What was she talking about? It was too vague for him to answer, as she could be referring to anyone, dead or alive. This job was one of the most ungrateful ones. It was thankless, restless, and never-ending. Hunters died left and right. Family.... Maybe she was referring to family.  He cleared his throat and answered Oya's question.

"Whose voice, O?" - That sounded like the most sensible thing to say at the moment, so he said it.-

"Your parents'.  Do you remember what your parents sounded like? I have been dreading this day for years, and it's finally happened, babe. I no longer remember the voices of my parents. I don't know my brother's..." -She bit back a sob.-

Guilt. She was feeling guilty, and he could tell because it was lacing her voice and strangling it. Dean was familiar with this feeling, maybe so much so that it became a second skin to him. Every decision he made, from sacrificing himself to save his brother to sacrificing himself to save the world, was made because of guilt. It fueled his heart during fights, motivated him to go above and beyond to repay a cosmic debt he believed he owed the universe. He didn't save his mother. He didn't save his father.  He didn't save Charlie. He didn't even save his own brother from being possessed by the devil. The world? Well, that he managed to save, and more than once at that! But the people he loved? Those he cared about? No. These people died gruesome deaths either because they wanted to save him or because he didn't arrive on time to stop it. Guilt was nothing but a life companion at this point, so he could recognize it in others. He could see it in Oya. 

She lost her family to a monster she failed to recognize and kill. She told him that he possessed the body of her brother, and she was unable to detect its presence until it was too late, and it killed her mother. That night, she lost both and her father followed suit when cancer took over him.  Her former fiancé, who remained a friend of the family after their breakup, also fell prey to a demon and died a couple of weeks later after that night. She had to kill him with her bare hands, a man she used to love and had known most of her life. Guilt had followed her since then, reminding Oya of how much of a failure she was for not noticing sooner. That thought somehow stayed at the back of her head since she met Dean and the two made a life together, but he knew that it came back. Her nightmares were focused on her family again. Her sleep was restless, and she was more irritated than usual. Dean also remembered that they were getting closer to the anniversary of their deaths, which, of course, opened old wounds in his wife's heart. 

"I... remember dad's voice, but only because he's been around for a long time in my life, and his voice is--- he taught Sammy and me how to be hunters. His life lessons are burned into my skull at this point. I can't forget it. Mom's voice.." -He cleared his throat and sat on the bed, his back leaning into the bed headrest- "Mom's voice I can't remember. She died when I was way too young. I don't remember what she sounds like. I can still see her face and her hair, but I don't...know anymore. I can't be sure. "

"Does that make you feel guilty not to remember her? I feel like I'm killing them twice..." -She admitted, her voice cracked and she put her face into her hands- "I feel like I'm an awful daughter for not remembering how they sounded... I'm.."

"Shhhhh... You know it's not true." He quickly moved and sat next to her. "Oya! Look at me." -She tentatively lifted her head so her hazel eyes could stare at Dean's green ones. His large hand cupped his wife's cheek, and he noticed it was wet from the tears she was crying- "Oya.. Hey.. You're not awful. I know that it happens... we tend to forget things, faces, voices.. It sucks but it happens." -He pressed a kiss to her forehead- "That doesn't mean you're awful for that. You always try to honor their memories. You still remember who they were as people. You still know who they were." -It elicited a sob from Oya, who gently leaned into his touch and put both hands around his wrist-

"I'm sorry, Dean. I know you were trying to sleep, but I wanted to pray to my parents and brother since their anniversary is getting closer. I wanted to remember their voices, but I got nothing." -She sobbed harder, her tears fell onto Dean's hand, and he looked at her with an intense gaze. How he hated to see Oya cry! How he hated to see her in pain and being unable to soothe it. 

"I know." -Was all he could say and repeat while he pulled her into a tight hug.- "You have nothing to apologise for. I'm sorry, baby. I'm sorry." -He repeated while his left hand slid into her thick mane so he could pet it.-

Oya kept crying. She wrapped her arms around his waist so she could lean her cheek against his chest. She would have preferred to have a nightmare that night. At least they knew how to deal with them.  At least her body was used to it.  To be unable to remember a loved one was distressing to her, and he knew all too well that feeling. There was nothing to be done but to let her cry her soul out while he was petting her hair, in hopes it would bring her some comfort. The fact that he held onto him, crying on his chest, indicated that it was working. It was what she needed. It was the least he could do. Perhaps even the best in that circumstance, but at least he was here for her, and Oya knew it. Oya knew it! 

-TBC-

Doya: "Comfort"

I was once told that comfort and routine would make us forget the dangers of our job. For a while, I was scared of it. Of being so comfortable in my life that I would forget how it felt to lose everything. I have a family...I have a family and it took me a while to realize that comfort didn't make me forget the dangers of this life. If anything, now I have something to lose. 

I can't forget the fear that sticks to my bones as I fall asleep. I can't forget the fear of losing my boys... How could I go on without Cas, Sam, and "Chuck forbids", Dean? How could I go on without the people I love?  I know I can't and just thinking about it makes my skin crawl. Just thinking about it, makes me choke on my spit. I do not want this to become a reality.   

Happiness, especially the little corner of joy we managed to have with Dean and me, is rare. It is rare and fragile and fleeting and we have to protect it at all cost. We have to sacrifice so much just for a day spent together. 

This is the reality! Routine and comfort only make you freak out more.  

This is the reality. 

This is my reality. 

I am always afraid to lose them. 

Always... 

Even in my sleep.

A vintage's touch: Burrying the hatchet

 // Lizzie and Mary have a complex relationship. Of course, over time, Lizzie would realize that her feelings for Tommy were unrequited and she would try and better her relationship with her former rival for the good of the family and Tommy's well-being.  I am also taking the opportunity to reflect on the latest storyline development. 

xxxx

Lizzie watched as Mary ran from Tommy's office to the restrooms. She looked at the door, only to watch Tommy standing by it and closing it. She looked down, at her hands and pondered about what she should be doing. Should she follow Mary? Should she leave her alone? Their relationship had been highly rocky, to say the very least. Lizzie went as far as slapping the brunette in a rage after she failed to sabotage their relationship. She knew that she owed Mary and Polly her seat at the table because if anything, Tommy would have fired her and would have severed all ties with her.  She grabbed a cigarette and a lighter and once her cigarette was lit, she decided to follow Mary to the office restroom. She found Mary trying to wipe out the tears that had rolled over her cheeks and ruined her make-up with a wet towel. She failed to do so and instead cried harder into the wet fabric.  The noise of the door closing forced Mary to stand up and wipe out the mascara smear with the back of her hand. 

"Let me help you, Mary."

"Did you come here to laugh at me, Lizzie?" -Her voice had tremors in it, indicating that she was still on the verge of sobbing.  Lizzie shook her head and inhaled some smoke she puffed out.- "You could..." -She admitted in a weak tone, slowly turning around to face the woman who once was a "rival".

"I could, yeah... but I won't." -She paused for a minute. Her blue eyes set upon the green ones of Mary. She could so easily perceive the fear in the eyes of the young woman, that it moved her. Mary was vulnerable, in ways Lizzie had never seen her be before and she couldn't help but feel a pang in her heart. " Stay here. I'm going to help you clean your face and you're going to tell me what's going on."

"You will think I am being ridiculous." -Mary replied as she lowered her face to look at the floor.-

"Nonsense! Do you mind if I smoke?" -Mary shook her head and Lizzie closed the distance between the two of them. She gently took the wet towel from Mary's hand and opened the tap to wet it again. She then slowly applied it under Mary's eyes- "You look scared."

"I...yes... I am... There is a lot going on." -She sighed and relaxed her shoulders. Lizzie's touch was kind which surprised the young woman. Lizzie had all the reasons to hurt her, after all, didn't Mary steal Tommy from her? - 

"So I've heard..." -Lizzie said, her blue eyes averting from Mary's face to her chest. Mary was breathing hard and fast and the tall woman noticed that she was shivering.-

Lizzie heard about Mary's bad encounter with a donor from the Grace Institute. She heard that the man had tried to assault the nurse but she managed to fight him off and run away from him. Tommy had been restless, angry, and murderous since the accident. She saw the same eyes he had when Grace was killed, the desire to hurt the person who hurt Mary was written on his face. Lizzie could relate to Mary's fear since she had been assaulted in her younger years. She felt relieved that nothing worse happened to her and the incident prompted her to greet Mary whenever they crossed paths. At first, Mary ignored her, but Lizzie persisted and Mary warmed up to her, returning her greetings. Tonight was different, Lizzie decided to do more than just greet the nurse. She decided to try and comfort her, so her gesture was smooth and kind as she wiped Mary's face clean. 

"Mary, I have time today. There's just you and me here, in this room. So you can talk to me and I will listen." -Green eyes set upon blue ones as Mary was scanning the face of the young woman. She was looking for any trace of lie or doubt on the slender woman's face but found none. Lizzie was sincere.-

"......" -Mary let out a sigh and closed her eyes again.- "Tommy wants me to be his plus one at a gala. I panicked and told him that he was a fool to even consider taking me there. I would cause him so much trouble than he realizes."

"Trouble? How so?" -Lizzie asked, furrowing her brows. It was one thing to feel inadequate, mostly because Mary, like Tommy, was not born into nobility and therefore could feel out of place at a gala held by the rich, the bold, and the beautiful. Still, Tommy felt right where he belonged and would never let anyone think less of him or consider he didn't. He would never let Mary be treated as a second-class citizen and would never allow anyone to disrespect her because she didn't come from a rich or noble family. Lizzie failed to grasp the fear Mary had about herself.- 

"Lizzie, really? Look at me. Look at me closely and try to tell me that a person like me wrapped around Tommy Shelby's arms would not cause a ruckus there." -She put her forefinger above Lizzie's lips, sensing that the woman was about to protest her claims and added- "I am black, Lizzie. They could excuse and tolerate me if I'm poor but married rich. They could excuse me if I'm not from a good family because I would be with an MP... but they would never excuse the color of my skin and my origins. Lizzie... I have seen firsthand how they treat people like me, like Isaiah and Jeremiah... We're not wanted in public space...we're not wanted...I don't want to hinder Tommy's career... I don't want him to be mocked or insulted because he's with me...I am scared for him."

She finally admitted, allowing tears that had pooled at the corner of her eyes to roll onto her cheeks. It was a fear Mary had kept to herself for so long that the confession broke her heart. Lizzie knitted her brows together, as she felt the pain of the young woman. She inhaled some smoke and puffed it out. Lizzie shook her head and put the towel on the sink. Her hand, now free, gently cupped Mary's cheek and she stroked it with her thumb. 

"I never knew..." -Lizzie started before she squeezed Mary's cheek.- "I never knew you were hurting."

"How could you? It's not an issue you have to deal with, Lizzie." -She replied, a faint smile creeping on her lips before she opened her eyes again- "For some people, the color of my skin is an issue. They don't want to know me, they don't want to know the content of my character or judge me by my deeds...For some people, I mean nothing. I mean less than nothing and they won't like to see Tommy with me. Ada's already witnessed it. Arthur soaked his hands with blood because someone punched me in the stomach for being in the wrong bar...Tommy had never witnessed it and he's an MP...What if... What if...What if I ruin everything, Lizzie?"

"Mary... I'm so sorry!" Lizzie couldn't bring herself to finish her cigarette and decided to crush the butt of her cigarette against the sink she put her other hand on Mary's other.  She held her tightly and leaned her forehead against hers. She then pulled away from her and ran her hands over Mary's arms down to her hands.  "Tommy..." -She bit her bottom lip and furrowed her brows as words were dying at the back of her throat.- "Tommy chose you and that is all that matters. He doesn't care about the way people see him and, as much as it hurts me to say, he is in love with you, Mary. He loves you deeply...He loves you so much that he would never let you be harmed. He would never let someone disrespect you in front of him. He would never allow you to be hurt, especially in front of him. You are, you are everything to Tommy. You make him happy. you keep him together and he would always protect you. He chose you, Mary. He chose you and he would never go back."

"You think so?" -Mary's lips quivered and Lizzie held her hands tighter. Her thumbs stroked the back of her hands and she gave her a soft smile.- "How kind of you." -She said, her voice breaking down as she spoke softly. "Thank you... Lizzie."

"Don't mention it, Mary!" Lizzie replied, her smile still plastered on her face.  She gently released her hands and took a couple steps away from Mary and ran her hand through her black hair. She started to walk in a circle. Silence slowly settled between the two of them and Lizzie felt fresh tears pool into her eyes. There were a lot of things she wanted to say to the young woman, words crashed at the back of her throat and she ended up rubbing her throat. Mary followed her with her green eyes and tilted her head to the side. "Mary... I just...wanted to apologize. I have been mean to you, straight up a savage. I hurt you."

"Lizzie... we've already---" -Lizzie shook her head-

"No. Please. Let me finish, Mary. When you came into our lives, I didn't think much of you. I didn't feel threatened by you because Grace was alive then. I made my peace with the fact Tommy had found his one true love.  It all changed when Grace died. It all changed because I had my hopes high. Tommy came to me, and we fucked, I thought that I would be able to win him over but I was so wrong. I was so wrong, Mary.  I was nothing but a drink for Tommy, you know? He used me to drown his pain and I mistook it for genuine love and interest.  When you started to live with him, I was devastated and jealous because you got to live with him and you stole my place. I was upset, so upset because I wanted to be you. I wanted to have what you had with him. I mean, why would he choose you over me? I wanted to be you but I didn't realize why I couldn't be. Ah... It took Tommy's scolding for me to realize that I was in the wrong."

"Lizzie... "

"You were right... I was looking for a way out. I thought Tommy was the solution to my problems.  I thought he would make an honest woman out of me and... I wasn't able to see how much you were in love with each other and how much good you did for him. Tommy's happy because he's with a woman who loves him for who he is. You welcome everything he is... I would never have been able to do it. Mary. I feel ashamed for the way I acted before. I wanted to apologize. I am sorry, so sorry. Please, forgive me."

Mary bit her bottom lip and gently walked towards Lizzie. Her apologies were sincere and that moved the young nurse to comfort the older woman. In the end, deep down, Lizzie Stark wasn't a bad person. She was just stranded, upset, and in desperate need of companionship. She helped Tommy more times than not and she was loyal to the family. Lizzie proved to be a decent person and she seemed to truly care about Mary. The hug was welcomed with eyes wide open by the taller woman. She had not anticipated Mary to come to her so easily but she didn't deny her. Instead, she wrapped her arms around Mary's frame and cried on her shoulder. How the tables have turned! 

-TBC-

 

Bäahal x Jaime: Breath

Bäahal x Jaime: Breath

A/N : Mood piece, taking place right after their first « night » together.

Xxx

As the princess closed the door of her cabin behind her, she could finally lean against the heavy wooden door of her cabin and look at the ceiling. Moments before, she was in Jaime's cabin, waking up from the sweetest slumber she'd ever had. Moments before, she was in his arms, her lips pressed to his cheek, to his lips, while his arms were wrapped around her frame. For so many months, probably more than a year now, the princess had been longing for the knight's touch. She'd been dreaming for a moment like this and none of her expectations could match reality. The reality was far better than any wet dreams she could have had. A myriad of emotions went through her body and the first reaction she had was to chuckle and smile to herself.

It felt good, to be in his arms, to smell his scent, to feel his stubble cheeks rub against her soft skin. It felt good to be able to press her forehead to his and smile through the darkness as her heart was content and happy. Her heart raced that night, his too... almost matching her speed. Her heart raced for he was close and it felt natural, it felt right. She felt like she belonged there, with him. She remembered holding onto his shirt as she fell asleep, and then knew their bodies parted ways during their sleep but it didn't matter, for the bed, was warm with his presence and he didn't leave the bed when the sun shone brightly.

After the laughter came tears. She realized that she had been deprived for so long from a loving touch that her body was feeling it too. Never before a man had ever looked at her as an equal, as a person. Never before had a man tried to stay with her and talk with her. All of those she used to know only knew how to force themselves on her and dismiss her once their deed was done as if she was nothing but a toy. Jaime was not like this. Jaime was not seeing her as a tool to use, but a person to love and that made her heartache, and rejoice at the same time. She dropped on the floor and wrapped her arms around her legs so she could keep herself together and cry. For so long, she thought it was impossible for another soul to want to be with her. She'd thought, they would never even consider her for how soiled she was. She thought Jaime could see the abuse on her skin, the brand on her shoulder blades, the fact she wasn't pure or proper...yet he didn't seem to even care about her past, or judge her for that matter. All he knew and all he wanted was the woman before her... nothing more, nothing less.. just Bäahal.

As she wiped her eyes clean with the back of her hand, the ebony Targaryen chuckled again, this time with hearty laugh filled with hope. If even the broken princess could find love in the midst of the fire, then everything was possible. She didn't think of what she lost, at least, not as much as before, when she was with him. She didn't think of what she could be, not as much as before when she was with him. She only thought of the moment they had. Of the peace, she felt in her heart when he held her close, of the love she felt for him when she could feel his skin. Jaime gave her something she never thought she could have, a purpose, a future, a solid foundation where she could build a life. Jaime gave her Hope... even before she knew she was in love with him and now that reality was settling in, she realized that she needed that Hope. She knew that they had crossed a line they shouldn't have crossed. Daenerys could decide to never let them be together and when that happens, what could they do about it, if not feel distraught? Bäahal knew they took a major risk, of opening the door to more suffering if they weren't allowed to be together.. but the princess didn't care, for she thought she had earned a few resting moments and peace... and love. After all, she'd just survived a siege, she could have died a few months ago. Why would she deny herself a piece of happiness when death was at the corner? Why would she deny herself a piece of happiness when she could be with the man she loved? She promised Kyra she would do anything in her power not to cause troubles to her family and keep them safe and she was ready to leave Jaime behind if that meant saving his life... but before they came to such extreme, couldn't she just be happy for once? Hadn't she deserved a little bit of respite? Of joy? Of Love? Hadn't they?

-TBC-

Doya: We can't always win

Doya: We can't always win

A/N: A small nothing, because I thought of our babies. 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Dean came back from his last mission with Sam and found Oya in their room, training as she always did. However, he realized that she had been training for way too long as her fists were blood-soaked, and her bandages were stained with blood. He noticed the fresh scars on her back and shoulder blades, barely covered by her sports bra and the few elements she broke in the room, such as a picture of her, Dean took a while ago and had framed for the both of them. Something went wrong. The Winchester dropped his bag -the noise didn't even alert the hunter- and quickly walked towards Oya.

« Oya... » He announced himself, so she wouldn't be startled by his presence near her. She nodded but kept kicking the air. « What the hell, Oya? » He said loudly, forcing the petite hunter to stop kicking and finally notice him.

The pain slowly crept back into her brain, making her painfully aware of how exhausted she was and how overworked her body was. She dropped her head and closed her eyes. Dean came closer and grabbed both arms of the woman. Worried sick, he shook her up before she opened her eyes again and set them on him. She was upset, he could tell by the way she was stiff and her eyes were red from tears she probably shed when he wasn't here. He could see regret in her eyes, and guilt, the very same he felt when Bobby died and it was enough for him to know that her last mission went awfully wrong. People died. She shook her head, unable to speak through pain and gently laid her head against his chest. Dean wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her into a tight hug. She relaxed against his chest and sniffled. Oya rarely cried but he knew she needed to vent, so he didn't say anything. Instead, he let her weep against him, his left hand found a way into her heavy black locks while his right one was holding her into place.

He was here, so she could stop beating herself for the death of these kids she wasn't able to protect. How could she defeat a demon this strong, on her own? Her crippling fear of those creatures already made casualties she would never be able to get over with. Kids... she let kids die -well, she was bested by the demon but it still felt as if she was the one who let it happens. Dean shrugged and gently planted kisses on top of her head as he wanted to comfort her. He knew she was having a hard time, not just because of the bruises and the dried blood on her body, but also because she wasn't even talking to him. It was unlike Oya to not greet him, even when the day was tough and the hunt was difficult, she always said something. Today she simply couldn't and he knew that her trauma was bigger than she let on. She had to watch the worst happen, she had to take it personally and make herself responsible for the catastrophe. He knew she was blaming herself for failing, just like he would. As the petite hunter sobbed against the taller man, he gently walked her to the bed where he laid her on her back, carefully making sure she wasn't hissing in pain or too uncomfortable given her bruises. She did snarl, but when he tried to leave the bed in order to get her something more comfortable to wear or lay on, she held his arm and shook her head. Oya couldn't care about comfort as long as Dean was with her. So he changed his mind and laid next to her.

They remained there in silence, with him stroking her arms while she wept against him. It pained him to see her this distraught, but he knew that the best he could do in a moment like this one was to be there with her. Words couldn't mend broken hearts, but actions could. His warmth or hers, his smiles or hers, his...heart and hearts. All he could do was show he was here for her and she was safe with him. He would wait until she felt good enough to speak just like she did. Dean wouldn't sing to Oya, not when she was in shock like right now. He would hold her instead, hold her tight. He would make her listen to his steady heartbeats. He would anchor her back to reality, sometimes with kisses, sometimes with his hands roaming over the soft and toned skin of hers. And it worked... it always worked. Just like her singing appeased the man, his caresses did the same to her. After a couple of hours, when Oya was finally able to calm down, Dean sat on the bed. She pulled herself up and leaned against the headrest.

« They were just kids Dean.... babies... I couldn't protect them. » She finally let out, while her fingers fidgeted against the hem of his shirt.

« We can't always win, Oya. That's the ugly part of our job. We can't protect them all...The most innocents of us all always get the shorter end of the stick...And there's no real reason for this shit. » He said, looking up at the ceiling in hopes Chuck could hear him.

« I know...It sucks...Dean, they were too young to die,,, » She said, wiping her tears off of her face, with the back of her hand.

« I know, O.... but you've punished yourself enough already. » She nodded and rolled her eyes, but he was right. She had punished herself enough and had to deal with the pain she ignored for way too long. « Let's grab a shower and I'll take a look at your wounds? » She nodded and as he stood up, she followed him and wrapped her arms around his waist. « There, there...Leave it to me. » He planted a kiss on her forehead and quietly took her to the shower. Tonight, he would be taking care of her, no matter what.

-TBC-

GoT: Who am I ? (Missandei x Bäahal)

GoT: Who am I ? (Missandei x Bäahal)

A/N: I have missed my little princess and since this conversation didn't want to leave my mind, here you are. 

xxxx

« What if I survived this war? » The silver princess' voice echoed through her room. Missandei was brushing her silver locks, focused on her task when her best friend let out alarming words.

« You don't plan on surviving? » Her lips were dry, her throat hurt but the question had to be asked. Bäahal shook her head and looked at her reflection on the mirror.

« I do. However... I do not know how to handle what will come next. All my life, I have focused my mind on setting myself free but never went further than this. I was convinced that freedom was nothing but a dream to keep my mind from being swallowed all by doubt and fear. I thought I would never see the day...until it happened. »

« Daenerys came to our rescue and you found me. » Missandei finished her sentence and brushed her hair. « It was luck... »

« It was /Fate/! We had to meet 'Dei. We had to meet again and sail away from Mereen. » She smiled at her own words, briefly so before a more worried expression crossed her face. « It took some time but I finally realize what had just happened. I was given freedom, I took it from my master, but Daenerys helped me un-shackle my mind. You did too... » She said, leaning her head back against Missandei's chest.

The former slave put the brush on the table and gently wrapped her arms around the princess' shoulders. She understood how it felt, to finally be able to be your own person and given the luxury of choice and not being able to know what to do. It came naturally to Missandei, finding her place was easy, she would serve Daenerys all the while living the life she wanted to. Once the war would be over and the queen would be on the throne, Missandei was thinking about having a family with Grey-Worm. They would finally be free to live their romance in the daylight without the fear of losing the other to War. From her point of view, it was exciting actually and she was curious to see what was to come. For Bäahal things were different. She still had to figure out who she was and what she wanted in her life. Freedom tasted bittersweet because while it got her rid of people desires on her and directives, it burdened her with the ability to choose for herself and to decide for her life. How could one do just that? How could they know who they really were? Questions were plaguing the princess' mind who sighed and wrapped her arms over Missandei's.

« And I will always be there for you, pr----Büu.. it's a promise. «  She said, planting a kiss on top of the princess' head. Bäahal's purple hues stared at their reflections and she bit her bottom lip.

«I don't know who I am or what I can do. I am fine with the war because I have found my place. I support my sister, I help her defeat her enemies, I protect her. When she's queen and as she would rule with Jon Snow....what am I going to do? Who am I going to be? »

« What you've always been, Bäahal. What you've always been.. » She said as she planted another kiss on top of her head. « A sister...a friend...a fierce warrior, a survivor...a gentle soul. You have a fire in your heart, just like your ancestors and your siblings. You have a fire that needs to burn brightly if you let it. » She said as she gently pulled away from the princess and knelt near her chair. Her hand stroked her cheek and she smiled at her.

« I will have to leave the castle and find out. I am not meant to be locked in a pretty castle and look pretty while my sister governs. I am not meant to be in her council either... I need to breathe, but can I leave? »

« She will let you go if you ask her. Bäahal, you have your whole life to find out what you're meant to do. Don't hold back because of your fears. » She then cupped both of her cheeks. « And you are so much much than you allow yourself to think. You are my friend. » She said with a warm smile.

Missandei was sweet and soft with Bäahal. She knew her words could reach out to the princess and appease her. Her hazel eyes met purple hues filled with unshed tears and she laid her head against her lap. Bäahal chewed at her bottom lip but remained silent, instead, she let her hands run through her best friend's hair as she contemplated Missandei's words. She would have to ask Daenerys if she could leave her sides and visit the world to eventually know who she was beside her sister or a survivor. Maybe, and that was something she couldn't express out loud- she also wanted to get away from the place that would see Lord Jaime and eventually Lady Kyra dead. She would need to go away, reset her mind and forget about the conflicted emotions she felt for the Golden Lion. It couldn't be what she thought it was. He didn't stay long enough to imprint her mind and not enough to leave an eternal memory. She refused to believe so. Yet, her heart was beating faster when his name was said out loud, and the mere thought of him made her pulse go wild. He would die and maybe, that was the best thing to ever happen.

Maybe...

-TBC-