Chapter Text
This is no love story. Her life isn't a song, and no dashing knight will come save her from her deepest fears. And she want no knight, no man to come into her life and protect her from herself. She is a priestess, and in her world, she had to learn how to take care of herself since a early age. There was no space in her life for a knight, for a man.
But he was no mere man. He was a king, her messiah. There was no love for her in him, no affection. But at night, when the sun hides away and the terrors roam free into the land of man, he is everything.
His sense of duty, order and honor may have put a damper on her want to spend time around him. But this same things made him listen to her, in spite her being a woman, a foreign, a believer of faith.
She knows he doesn't really believe in the Lord of Light. He doesn't need to, Azor Ahai need only to fight. And fight he does. He fights with his brother, with his wife, with the realm, with himself. The king only know how to fight.
Probably explain why his hands are so brutish and clumsy when she kisses him. Those large hands don't know where to rest, not on my face, not on my shoulders. They grip my waist enough to leave bruises, bruises that will fade with the rising sun.
It isn't love that drive him to suck on my bottom lip, to bend his back to my level and to press his palm on my back, pulling me closer. He needs me not as a woman, but as an adviser, maybe even as a way to comfort himself. To make him forget the world that denies his birth right.
She let him have the command, guiding him from time to time, making him see that she's not pushing him away, but bring him closer. He is a difficult man to please, first because he believes he doesn't deserve to be pleased and second because he doesn't believe that he can give pleasure. Foolish man, his very presence gives her pleasure.
This wasn't love, of that she's sure, and she didn't care, for he was her king. And her king can do with her as he pleases.