"Is that doubt I hear? On your part or mine, I wonder." He'll find she can rattle on like this for days without ever losing her breath and when she looks over her shoulder at him, she is grinning to herself. Without missing a beat, she turns to face him with the purpose of walking backward so they can speak face to face. She trusts him to warn her of danger for the sheer fact that she seems to be holding onto a dagger he prizes.
"Ao ȳzaldrīzes tolī byka," comes the accusation of her own with a hint of exasperation behind it. At one point she pretends to teeter like she might fall over then, at the last second, the corners of her mouth twist up into an impish smile. "You're making me feel less inclined to return this to you at the end of our adventure. There was a time that I would have given anything to be a knight or explore the world to my heart's content."
There's a hint of longing in her gaze that she stifles quickly enough, just in time for Aemond to refer to her as Your Grace. She can feel it blossoming in her chest, a feeling of pride that also comes with trepidation. Her claim still runs strong for the time being, but the feeling of doubt is suffocating. "Princess Rhaenyra," she corrects him, "and it wouldn't be the Realm you would have to contend with but my father. Who doesn't share in my vision of glory for myself." In fact, if Viserys saw her with the dagger in her hand, he would scold the both of them thoroughly, but the state of her dress would have him red in the face.
"There must be an interesting name to go with that pride." The pointed look she gives him hides nothing; she isn't asking a question. "Unless you prefer I call you my one-eyed savior." He's hidden it away like some kind of shameful secret, she's well aware of the fact that he will disapprove of his new moniker. Her determination when there is something she wants is unmatched and right now she desires his name above all else.
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"Ao ȳzaldrīzes tolī byka," comes the accusation of her own with a hint of exasperation behind it. At one point she pretends to teeter like she might fall over then, at the last second, the corners of her mouth twist up into an impish smile. "You're making me feel less inclined to return this to you at the end of our adventure. There was a time that I would have given anything to be a knight or explore the world to my heart's content."
There's a hint of longing in her gaze that she stifles quickly enough, just in time for Aemond to refer to her as Your Grace. She can feel it blossoming in her chest, a feeling of pride that also comes with trepidation. Her claim still runs strong for the time being, but the feeling of doubt is suffocating. "Princess Rhaenyra," she corrects him, "and it wouldn't be the Realm you would have to contend with but my father. Who doesn't share in my vision of glory for myself." In fact, if Viserys saw her with the dagger in her hand, he would scold the both of them thoroughly, but the state of her dress would have him red in the face.
"There must be an interesting name to go with that pride." The pointed look she gives him hides nothing; she isn't asking a question. "Unless you prefer I call you my one-eyed savior." He's hidden it away like some kind of shameful secret, she's well aware of the fact that he will disapprove of his new moniker. Her determination when there is something she wants is unmatched and right now she desires his name above all else.