It is the nature of rulership. Strength by force, or strength by love. Both cannot coexist.
For what little comfort it might offer, I admire the effort. It's been a while since Mother had fought someone worthy.
[ he doesn't know how to offer comfort or kindness that doesn't come sharp, or edged, or otherwise hurting. but he's trying. this whole mess is regrettable, and he's trying. ]
( it's too strange and unexpected of a compliment for alina to be suspicious of flattery. unheard, she laughs quiet in her throat, and regrets it immediately for the raw scrape that tears through it. )
I'll endeavor to start more ill-advised fights once this is done, in case she finds things too tedious.
( her good-humored sarcasm fades, like an immediate dimming of one small fractal of light, gone too soon. the question, and the answer in alina's fingertips, throbs like a pained bruise. )
Alia is special. Many would call her an abomination for her birthright. She isn't, to me. I understand what it's like to be an oddity among people, and to be distrusted for what you are.
Alia was meant to be free of that here, and this place could have chosen to wield her like a knife. Now she worries all the things they say have truth to them. Now she worries she's the one that failed me.
To be exceptional is to be seen monstrous by many. To have true power, to witness even a fraction of it — many would find it grotesque. The commonfolk are not meant to perceive it in full, only to glance at its edges and settle with their small wondering.
[ how the smallfolk look at the targaryens and their dragons as gods. how revered their name is, how feared their dragons are — and this war between family has torn the shroud of their magnanimity. fire and blood — fire burns everything that blood cannot drown, and now they're laid bare for all to see. ]
I won't pretend to understand how you feel about her, or the circumstances that led to your Alia's incarceration. Is it love? Is that what compels you to stand by her even in the face of her aggressions, manipulated as she had been?
( the commonfolk. not so long ago, alina would have counted herself among them. now, she thinks of fingers scrabbling at her skin, wringing her hair — a thousand ravkan hands hoping for some token of sankta alina, some souvenir of her power to take for themselves, even at the cost of a pound of her flesh. )
We have a saying among my people. Like calls to like. It means ...
We're drawn to find the same elements that live inside of us. What we were born from, at the Making, binds us together.
Your Vhagar's fire calls to your blood, and so you understand each other, down to your soul, like no one else could. Alia and Paul are made from the same light that burns inside of me, and so we understand each other, down to our souls, like no one else ever has.
To be exceptional is to be seen as monstrous, I know that. And to be monstrous is to be unknown and alone. They're the only ones I've ever known that saw the whole of me, and never flinched from it or wanted me to be something I can't be. Everyone else who has ever claimed to love me only wanted whatever version of myself they found easiest to love.
That makes her special to me. Even when I'm frightened of her. Even when I'm frightened for her. Of course I love her.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
For what little comfort it might offer, I admire the effort. It's been a while since Mother had fought someone worthy.
[ he doesn't know how to offer comfort or kindness that doesn't come sharp, or edged, or otherwise hurting. but he's trying. this whole mess is regrettable, and he's trying. ]
Is she well, your Alia?
no subject
I'll endeavor to start more ill-advised fights once this is done, in case she finds things too tedious.
( her good-humored sarcasm fades, like an immediate dimming of one small fractal of light, gone too soon. the question, and the answer in alina's fingertips, throbs like a pained bruise. )
Alia is special. Many would call her an abomination for her birthright.
She isn't, to me. I understand what it's like to be an oddity among people, and to be distrusted for what you are.
Alia was meant to be free of that here, and this place could have chosen to wield her like a knife.
Now she worries all the things they say have truth to them. Now she worries she's the one that failed me.
no subject
[ how the smallfolk look at the targaryens and their dragons as gods. how revered their name is, how feared their dragons are — and this war between family has torn the shroud of their magnanimity. fire and blood — fire burns everything that blood cannot drown, and now they're laid bare for all to see. ]
I won't pretend to understand how you feel about her, or the circumstances that led to your Alia's incarceration. Is it love? Is that what compels you to stand by her even in the face of her aggressions, manipulated as she had been?
no subject
We have a saying among my people. Like calls to like. It means ...
We're drawn to find the same elements that live inside of us. What we were born from, at the Making, binds us together.
Your Vhagar's fire calls to your blood, and so you understand each other, down to your soul, like no one else could. Alia and Paul are made from the same light that burns inside of me, and so we understand each other, down to our souls, like no one else ever has.
To be exceptional is to be seen as monstrous, I know that. And to be monstrous is to be unknown and alone. They're the only ones I've ever known that saw the whole of me, and never flinched from it or wanted me to be something I can't be. Everyone else who has ever claimed to love me only wanted whatever version of myself they found easiest to love.
That makes her special to me. Even when I'm frightened of her. Even when I'm frightened for her. Of course I love her.